Judith E French by McKennas Bride

been … well … uncomfortable.
    She’d often wondered if her innocence had been to blame. She wanted desperately to be a good wife to Shane, and she’d supposed that whatever had gone wrong with their wedding night could be corrected in time.
    Still, the intensity of her resentment over Shane’s involvement with this woman Cerise shocked her. Caitlin thought that she was practical and not given to spitefulness, but it was a slap in the face to find that her husband expected her to raise his lover’s son as her own.
    He’d asked a lot of her, damn it. Maybe more than she could give.
    Shane sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Why the hell did you shave half of my face?”
    Justice snickered and backed out of the room. “Told you not to do it.”
    The wound on Shane’s head began to bleed again, and Caitlin sighed impatiently as a crimson drop rolled down his forehead and soaked into his eyebrow. “Now see what you’ve done. Lie down and let me see to that wound on your head.”
    “What? And let you shave me bald?”
    “If you can be difficult, you’re going to live,” Caitlin answered, fighting to keep her anger hidden. Berating Shane for what he’d done with a dead woman would only harm her chances of making the marriage work. And shedesperately wanted it to succeed. She’d have to swallow the hurt and go on as if she didn’t suspect Shane’s relationship with Justice’s mother.
    “My head doesn’t need sewing,” Shane said. “And it sure as hell doesn’t need shaving.”
    “If you’re afraid of the needle—”
    He glared at her but sat in the chair and let her wash and examine his head gash. “Do your worst.”
    To Caitlin’s relief, the injury was not as severe as it had seemed. She poured a little of her father’s cherry brandy into the wound to prevent infection and tied the edges together using strands of Shane’s hair.
    “This wouldn’t have happened if you’d kept Derry away from the bull,” he admonished.
    “No, I suppose not,” she admitted reluctantly. “But it’s as clear as the nose on your face that you’ve had little experience with children.” Shane was right, and she knew it. Derry could have been killed, and it would have been her fault.
    “I’ve done all right with Justice.”
    “He’s hardly a normal child. And you’ve allowed him to use language that would shame a tinker.”
    Shane nodded. “He’s like a wild bronc that’s never known a bridle. But the foul talk he picked up in his mother’s care. I’m trying to curb it. And maybe I should be harder on him, but it’s not easy.”
    “Neither is being a mother.” She gave the last knot a hard tug and Shane winced.
    “Why do I get the feeling you’re enjoyin’ this, woman?”
    She tucked the silver flask of brandy back into her petticoat pocket and set about cleaning up. “I meant what I said earlier. You’re a brave man, Shane. A braver one I’ve never seen.”
    He flushed a little under his tan and rubbed at his eyes.“My head feels like Goliath’s still in there and tryin’ to kick his way out.”
    Caitlin turned her attention to Shane’s lacerated hands. He made no protest as she gently soaped first one and then the other. Next she opened a tin box and smeared his torn palms with a paste of comfrey root and goose grease that she’d brought from home.
    “I suppose you think that no child has ever come to harm under the hooves of a bull in County Clare?” Caitlin demanded. “Derry was so frightened, I vow she’ll not go under any fence again.”
    Shane’s eyes shadowed. “I was wrong to blame you. If one of the kids had been killed or crippled, the fault would have been mine. I knew the danger. You didn’t. Maybe I should have left you home with your father.”
    “Small chance that,” Caitlin answered tightly. “My father’s dead.”
    “Dead?” Shane’s shocked gaze met hers. “You mentioned the loss of your mother, but you didn’t tell me about