The Unexpected Wife(37)
“With all those horses to round up, I won’t be around much. You’ll need to know how to defend yourself.”
She brushed a stray wisp of hair from her face. “I don’t know the first thing about guns.”
“I do. Go fetch the boys from the cabin. I want to know exactly where they are when we start shooting targets. I’ll get the shotgun from the barn.”
“Do you really think this is necessary?”
“Yes.”
“But I’ve got work.”
“It’ll keep.”
Before she could say another word, he turned and headed toward the barn. Ten minutes later they stood beyond the corral, which now held Holden’s tired team—two speckled geldings with black manes.
Matthias had hung six thick pieces of wood from a tree twenty paces away. Abby had settled the boys on a log behind them with orders for them not to move.
Abby’s skirts and apron flapped in the breeze as she watched Matthias pull a shell from his vest pocket.
He flipped a small lever and cracked the gun in half and positioned a large shell at the opening. “You put the shell in this way. Make sure it’s in good and tight, then close the gun.” To illustrate, he snapped it closed with the ease of a man who’d done this a thousand times before.
She flinched. “That looks easy enough.”
His gaze narrowed. “Now I want you to try it.”
“I don’t need to practice, do I? How hard can it be?”
He came up behind her and laid the gun in her hands. The smooth cold metal barrel and well-oiled wood stock felt heavy. Silent, he wrapped his arms around her and guided her hands to the right place on the stock.
His hard thighs pressed against her buttocks. She stood rigid, afraid to move forward or back.
He pointed to the small lever above the trigger guard with a long, tanned finger. “This is the release switch. Flip it up and you can open the gun. Go ahead and open it. Show me how to take the slug out and put it back in.”
Her heart beating against her ribs, she pushed the lever up.
“Good,” he said, his face close to her ear. “Now, open the gun.”
Gritting her teeth she pushed the barrel down. To her amazement, the gun opened easily. Inside the tip of the shell gleamed at her. With a bit of satisfaction, she pulled it out. “There.”
“Excellent. Now put it back and close the gun.”
She complied and was happy, if not a little relieved, to hand him back the gun.
“Now we shoot.” He nodded toward the first branch. “Watch.” He positioned the stock against his shoulder, lined up the first stick in his sights, then placed his finger on the trigger. He inhaled a deep breath, then exhaled slowly before he pulled the trigger.
The loud crack startled Abby as she watched the first stick explode in half. She glanced back at the boys who continued to play with their sticks.
“They’ve grown up around guns,” he said, following her line of sight. “They’re used to the sound.”
She pressed her fingertip to her ear. “I didn’t expect it to be so loud.”
He motioned her forward. “Now it’s your turn.”
He reloaded the gun and stood beside her. “This gun’s got one hell of a kick when you fire it, so I don’t want you to hold it up to your shoulder when you shoot. Hold it next to your hip.”
Matthias wrapped his arms around her and positioned the gun low against her hip. He moved the gun back and forth. “It’ll jerk back when you fire it. Don’t be afraid.” He draped calloused fingers over her hand. “Now aim at what you want to hit, and then place your hand on the trigger and squeeze.”
In the corner of her eye she saw the thick rich hair of his chest peeking out of the V formed by the unfastened buttons of his shirt. Her pulse quickened. Abby tore her gaze away and focused on the task at hand. Mimicking Mr. Barrington, she drew in a breath and let it out slowly. She pulled the trigger.
Ten paces ahead the dirt exploded in a plume of smoke.
“Looks like you managed to kill a patch of dirt,” he said, a bit of humor in his voice.
Her hands trembling, she stared at the small uneven hole in the ground. “I was aiming at the tree over there.”
His gaze trailed hers. “It takes practice. We’ll work on it a little each day.”
She arched an eyebrow. “A little each day? You mean until I leave?”
He stiffened. “Exactly.”
That night when Matthias fell asleep, he dreamed of Abby.
In his dream, he climbed the ladder to her loft. She was waiting for him, lounging on a pillow, her long honey-blond hair loose over her naked breasts.
“I want you,” she whispered.
His erection throbbed painfully as he slid off his pants and straddled her body. Candlelight glistened on her white skin. He slid his hand up her thigh over her flat belly. She felt hot and so very soft.