“For Christ’s sake, Matthew. Knock it off!” Exasperation magnified Charlie’s complaints, the train ride back to Monroe having jarred her broken ribs, leaving her surly as a sober sailor.

Accustomed to her protests after the woman’s two complaint-ridden hospital stays, Matthew ignored it and continued to bear her weight up the steps. Eli followed with their bags.

Once inside, Matthew sat her down in her chair, went to fetch her damn cat, and plopped Gus in her lap with a warning that she better behave and rest.

Nathaniel came and sat at her elbow to keep her company. “I have seen a lot of crazy things… but watching you run through that gunfire, eyes like the devil while you mowed down those bastards… that tops it all. I’m damn proud you’re gonna be my sister.”

Before he was allowed to speak another word, her hands came to his scruffy face. Nathaniel’s wild hair was tamed by loving fingers. “You utterly adorable jackass. You’ve been my brother from the first day.”

He cleared his throat, the bear nodding. “You’re an Emerson through and through.”

There was a loud grunt of approval from the grill where Matthew was preparing her tea.

But she wasn’t, not yet. “I’m not gonna be an Emerson until I can walk down the aisle without limping.”

Matthew heard her and approached with a scowl. Their wedding was already planned to take place in one week. “What do you mean?”

She met his eyes, knowing she looked like hell. Harboring no intention of celebrating her wedding day covered in sickly bruises, Charlie said, “Our wedding might have been planned for next week, but I won’t marry you until I’m healed up.”

He was not happy. “How long’s that gonna take?”

It was moments like those that Charlie felt precious to him. She knew that the stormy expression he was leveling her way only had to do with him wanting to make her his. “The last time I had a broken rib it took six weeks to mend. That was one broken rib,” Talking so much was uncomfortable; standing at an altar would have been unbearable. She wanted the moment to be special, memorable, “I’ve got three broken ribs this time.”

Matthew’s lips went into a tight line. “I’m taking you to the courthouse tomorrow.”

“No, sir. I have a perfectly beautiful gown upstairs and I intend to wear it.” With the cat purring loudly on her lap, Charlie cuddled the beast and simpered. “You’ll just have to wait.” Muttering under her breath she added, “And we’ll see how you like it this time…”

Nathaniel stood from his chair, pressing an extended kiss to her unkempt hair, ruffling her mop until it resembled his own.

It was not the early April wedding they had planned, but mid-June was just as beautiful. With healing ribs, it had been some weeks before Charlie could really move without pain, but that glorious spring morning she felt nothing but joy.

After her face had been plastered all over the newspapers from the Radcliffe Bridal Shower, Monroe had begun to look at Charlotte Elliot in a far different light. Those who had talked down to the strange blonde were suddenly quiet. She became a marvel to the locals, an exotic phenomenon.

The morning of her wedding, after Ruth helped her dress, Martha clucking orders from the side, Charlie wanted to run to the church. When the time came for her to walk down the aisle, the entirety of Creekside Methodist was packed to the rafters with uninvited Monroe residents gathered to gawk at the glamorous niece of Beaumont Radcliffe. Half the congregation practically fell over themselves when the infamous gangster himself marched in with the smiling bride on his arm.

Charlie didn’t see the masses of people, the ridiculous flowers Martha had arranged, or how dapper Nathaniel and Eli looked in their fine new suits. Her eyes were on the man waiting for her by the preacher.

Matthew Emerson stood tall, eyes shining at the beauty of the woman he loved in her fine dress and long lace veil.

Not a bruise marred her skin and there was no more pain in her eyes.

Charlotte was whole and beautiful - and going to be his wife.

The ceremony was simple, nothing flowery - just a boy marrying a girl. When the time came to seal the vows, there was nothing shy in the kiss he gave her. In fact, he hadn’t been allowed to kiss her in so long, one might say it was a little scandalous for the country folk in attendance.

Charlie got the photographs she dreamed of before the wedded pair found Devil’s Hollow about bursting. It was supposed to be an intimate reception, yet somehow had turned into a whole county affair. Monroe was going to celebrate whether Matthew and Charlie wanted it or not.

Several men pulled out instruments and dancing began. Matthew obliged her, taking her hand before she even had to hint. Charlotte Emerson got Matthew’s full attention; the whole time the man’s lips hinted at a smile. His only glares came when Nathaniel, Eli, or Beaumont stole her away for a few moments of their own.

While the party was still going full swing, the bride and groom vanished. Matthew stole her away, carrying her so the pure ivory of her lace gown would not be spoiled.

Through the dusky woods he went, all the way to their dilapidated house. With a small grin hinting he was up to no good, he carried her over the threshold and into the only room the workmen had seen to. Their foyer, full of glowing lanterns, housed a nest of quilts and a few special jars of shine.

In the soft glow of lamplight, Matthew saw her naked for the first time in weeks. Not a trace of bruised skin remained; no red angry welts, no gashes. She was glowing, perfect no matter the scars, his big, calloused hands running from her shoulders, over ripe breasts, to settle on the swells of her hips.

Matthew wanted her to know. He was going to tell her every minute if he had to. “I love you.”

Blushing shyly, Charlie grinned. “I love you too.”

He wanted Charlotte to know how bad he needed her. “I’m always going to love you.”

“I know, Matthew.” A languid kiss followed, slow and delicious.

Just like that first night, Matthew began to kneel, kissing a trail down her body. Every scar he adored, every nick.

She still stood when he darted that tongue between her thighs. Gripping his shoulders, Charlie swayed, made a noise so perfect he lapped at her slit to hear it again.

The man just kept going, even long after Charlie had sagged against the banister, splayed wantonly for him to do with as he pleased. He wanted to give her so much, wanted her to never doubt again, but he wasn’t good with words... never had been. Instead he took that pert clit between his teeth, sucking, and groaned at the taste he loved. Those sweet parts he toyed with, just as his fingers played inside where she was eager, Charlie pleading for him to fill her up.

He smiled.

Hard, ready for her, he pulled her sweet body to his lap and slowly made her his wife.

She came quickly, mouth agape, eyes wild.

He breathed at her ear. “I love you.”

Head falling back, loving the feel of his mouth on her neck, Charlie rode him, so he too might be brought to bliss. “You’re a wicked man, Matthew Emerson.”

Husky, he spoke, “Now you’re my wife, Charlotte Emerson.”

God, how she loved the sound of that name.

Strong hands lifted and lowered her weight, Matthew growling, “Those precautions you been takin…” He gave her one sharp thrust, he filled her up. “No more.”

Lost in pleasure, a “Hmmm,” was all that she could manage.

“You hear me, Charlotte?” Matthew nipped her earlobe.

When he did not get an answer, he bit her harder, marking her neck with his teeth.

It only drove her wild. Her fingers tangled in his hair, she kissed him for all she was worth.

All his perfect movements stopped.

Panting, Charlie opened her eyes and found a hungry and adorable Matthew waiting.

“No more precautions, Charlotte.”

Caught somewhere between bashful and wicked, Charlie asked, “You telling me you want to make a baby with me?”

Matthew grunted and rolled his hips, savoring the pleasure of her gasp. “More than one.”

A dark smile teased at Charlie’s lips. “Is this where if you don’t get your way, you’re going to spank me until you do?”

One smack on that round bottom gave far more pleasure than pain. Eyes hungry, full lips curled into a dark smile of his own. Matthew eased the sting, kneading the flesh of her backside.

She bit her scarred lip and rubbed against him like a cat in heat. “I’ll give you children, Matthew Emerson. I’d give you anything in my power if you asked it.”

His approval was immediate. Bobbing her on his lap, he reveled in the wet grip of her, their eyes locked, the grunts of their love making filling the room. Charlie came crying out his name. Two thrusts later and Matthew spurted his seed inside the woman he could not live without.

They had been married less than five months before Matthew discovered he got what he asked for. The Emerson men had all gathered for breakfast, making a clamor below stairs in the morning. Feeling tired even after so much sleep, Charlie came down to join the boys. One look at the plate of scrambled eggs Matthew slid before her and she was running out the door to vomit in the bushes.

Matthew pushed through the screen just as Charlie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You alright?”

After two deep breaths, she answered, “Yeah… don’t know what came over me. Must be all this heat.”

She skipped breakfast that day, and spent more time napping then waking. When flapjacks were served the following morning, Charlie felt right as rain. It was not until a few days later when she came down for breakfast and just smelled scrambled eggs that she pressed her hand to her mouth and ran for the toilet.

That afternoon Matthew took her to the doctor, proud and puffed up as a peacock when his suspicion was confirmed.

Yup… he’d knocked her up good.

Not knowing a damn thing about pregnancy, Charlie tried to take it in stride. Her inexperience became a game for Nathaniel. He would fry an egg and eat it right in front of her. Omelet, hard-boiled, poached… no reactions. But the second she caught a whiff of scrambled eggs, or god forbid, saw them gold and fluffy on a plate, she was off running. When she caught on to what he was doing, she came at him with her own brand of revenge. The next time he teased her by scrambling himself some eggs for lunch, Charlie felt her stomach lurch, walked right up to him, and puked all over Nathaniel’s boots.

Matthew had been about to throttle his brother, but felt no need seeing his little spitfire fight her own battles.

His older brother just stared down, completely disgusted as the lady walked on past with a, “Fuck you, Nathaniel.”

When his brother looked up at him, Matthew warned, “You best clean that up. And if I see one more fucking scrambled egg, I’ll break your goddamn nose.”

Charlie had greater problems than Nathaniel’s nonsense. When she needed a woman to talk to about babies, it was hard to know who would help her. She’d brooded over it, worrying the little insight she’d gained from Ruth wasn’t enough.

Just shy of seven months into her pregnancy, it was clear something was bothering her. Charlie rocked in her chair with a scowl, stroking the ever-expanding Gus. Eli was at the grill, Nathaniel sipping a jar at his perch, Matthew puffing a cigar as he sat with a few men from town. When she sniffed, all three Emerson boys looked up to find her burst into tears for no apparent reason.

Matthew pushed back his chair and went to his wife, helping her stand and taking her to the privacy of his office. Once the door was closed, he sat her down and waited for an explanation.

Blubbering, a complete mess, Charlotte tried to calm down but only got more worked up. “I can’t find any women to talk to. I have so many questions, and Ruth hardly knows a damn thing. I keep going to town but everyone is afraid of me, standoffish, or just wants to ask me about Beau. AND I don’t know which ones have babies. What the hell do I know about this shit? Why am I acting all crazy?” Charlie was getting hysterical knowing she was being ridiculous and at a loss to stop it. “This is all your fault!”

Hands in his pockets, Matthew looked her over, scowling as he thought through the best way to handle this particular situation. Pursing his lips, he looked to the side, clearing his throat before looking back to her pouty lips. She looked so cute, even with the tear stained cheeks and red nose. His expression softened. “Walter Diggs has six children. I’ll ask him to send his wife over tomorrow.”

Walter was one of the local men sitting at her husband’s table that very night, a fellow bootlegger and a man who’d always been polite and normal with Charlie. Suddenly happy, she started to wipe her face on her skirt. Matthew stopped her and used his handkerchief to clean away the tears.

“You let yourself get all worked up broodin,” Matthew softly chastised. “I’m your husband - next time, tell me what’s botherin you.”

Charlie offered an apologetic glance before sharing one last complaint. “I also really want to eat peaches and we don’t have any.”

A twitch of a smile came to the corner of his mouth at her uncustomarily whiny tone. He helped her stand and took her back to the main room, depositing her at her rocking chair before going back to the men. The room took notice of the suddenly content woman and the stoic Emerson who’d fixed her in less than five minutes.

“Diggs,” Matthew spoke around the cigar he was lighting, “Send Gertrude on over tomorrow round noon.”

Charlie heard Matthew’s idea of “asking” and fought not to chuckle.

Come morning, Matthew had Eli buy all the canned peaches in stock at the General Store and was feeling pretty proud of himself for finding her a woman to share her wisdom. At noon sharp, the middle aged Gertrude Diggs came calling. Together, they sat at the corner table, speaking out of earshot of the menfolk.

From the looks of it, Matthew had chosen well. Nodding to himself over a job well done, he left her to it and went to tend the stills with Nathaniel.

When he came home, Charlie was nowhere to be seen. Assuming she was upstairs napping, he did not think of it until she came in through the backdoor, hair wet and her rifle hanging from her shoulder.

He scowled, not happy with the sight before him. “Where you been?”

Running her fingers through her mussed hair, she waggled her eyebrows and teased, “Swimming.”

The instant darkening of his eyes proved he did not approve. “Charlotte…”

“Did you know that if a woman with child swims backward in cool water from one side of a pond to the other she will have a boy?” Charlie was snickering at the old wives tale, one of many Gertrude had shared. “I just about died laughing when Mrs. Diggs told me that ridiculous fable… but it did offer some inspiration. And before you get all huffy, it’s hot as hell today and just cause I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I can’t have any fun.”

Hot? It was the middle of October.

Before Matthew could rail at her, something caught her attention and Charlie’s eyes went wide as plates. “You making fritters, Eli? I am sooo hungry.” She pushed past her husband and went, salivating, towards the food.

One bite and she just melted. “You battered and fried peaches… Eli, you are a brilliant man.”

“It was Matthew’s idea,” Eli said with a shrug and boyish smirk.

Mouth full, she turned towards her glowering husband. “Matthew, you are amazing and I love you more than I love these frittered peaches… which is a lot.”

Eli flat out laughed at Matthew’s instant inability to scold her like he wanted to.

Matthew set down his hat, about to start speaking when Charlie gasped and looked down at her stomach, causing Matthew to worry until she let out a satisfied hum and cradled her belly with her hand.

Full of awe, she whispered, “He’s moving...”

The peaches were forgotten, Charlie taking Matthew’s hand, pressing it to where the little one was causing a ruckus. The glowering man went soft, when his baby began pressing back. Captivated, he continued to pass his palm over her belly, following each little sensation until the little one settled down, comforted by his daddy.

“He likes when you do that,” Charlie murmured lovingly, her fingers smoothing Matthew’s hair. Her expression changed when their eyes met, as did her tone. Suddenly full of hunger for something other than peaches, Charlie whispered, “Take a walk with me, Matthew?”

He grabbed his hat and followed her out the door, Eli confused, but the customers, having seen this particular show several times before, smirked knowingly at the backsides of the pregnant couple.

Tugging her husband down the well-known path towards their house, Charlie led her man to a familiar secluded clearing. Matthew stopped walking, gave her a long, heated stare.

She giggled wickedly, pressing close. “You wanna spank me for going swimming?”

A deep growl came from his throat, Matthew drawing her in until his palm was running over her bottom. “I wouldn’t have to spank you if you’d simply learned how to behave.”

“But I like being bad,” she pouted, giving him a come hither promise of something... naughty.

He growled against her lips, knowing just how bad she could be.

After a quick fumble with clothing, Matthew found himself sitting on a stump with her on his lap, her skirt up, his cock sliding in and out of a place wet, hot, and needy for him.

Tongue dancing between her lips, Matthew kissed his golden girl, grunting when she squeezed around him and made that little noise of pleasure he loved. Urging her on, he felt his wife come so quickly it was glorious.

For Charlie, it was one of her more blissful releases, extended and splendid. When she felt him stiffen and spill his seed a few moments later, she watched that perfect man groan.

“My god, woman.” There would never be enough of her; Matthew would always want more. “There ain’t no way I am ever letting you go.”

Pressing her lips to his, she offered a very wicked leer and whispered, “I’m going swimming again tomorrow... naked. You can join me if you want to.”

The baby came a few months later. Being the difficult woman she was, Charlie hid the earliest pains of labor, rocking in her chair with Gus on her lap as she hoped the nearby radio concealed her muffled groans.

They’d argued about where the infant would be born, Matthew demanding the hospital twenty miles down the road, Charlie saying it would happen right there in their fine house. They had come to a shaky compromise that the local doctor would be sent for and she could have her way. But Charlie did not trust him to keep his word, keenly aware of Matthew’s constant need to mollycoddle her.

“You can stop pretendin, Charlotte,” he grunted, a puff of cigar smoke leaving his mouth. “I can see plain as day what’s going on.”

“If you try to drag me to the hospital, I will knock you upside the head,” she grunted out, teeth clenched, as another contraction crept through her. After a few panting breaths, she pleaded, “They won’t let you stay with me at the hospital.”

That was all she had to say to get him to nod in agreement. “I’ll send Nathaniel for the doctor.”

“And Gertrude!” Charlie added. “Men don’t know squat about having a baby. I want her here.”

When news spread that Charlie was in labor, all the clan came to the fine new house. Ruth and Gertrude were above stairs with the doctor, the three Emersons below. Matthew was quiet, ignoring the teasing of his kin as he endured the sounds of pain coming from his bedroom.

He’d stayed by her side through hours, he’d seen her pain... until Gertrude shooed him off.

It was nigh on midnight when the first lusty screams of his firstborn filled the house. The dark glower on Matthew’s face crumbled, a delighted smile came in its place. He stood and walked right up the stairs.

Charlie lay in their bed, hair damp with sweat but face glowing. In her arms she cradled their bawling little boy. Pushing past the doctor and ignoring the women, Matthew sat by her and reached out a hand to touch the baby’s clenched fist, instantly quieting the little one as he always could.

End