InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Short Straw ❯ chapter sixteen ( Chapter 16 )

The Short Straw

By Flamingwillows

Chapter sixteen

When Kagome opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was the flowers. They were lying on the pillow next to her. She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them again. The flowers were still there. When she slid one hand out from under the covers to touch them, she half expected to find they were figments of her imagination, but the coarse stems were solid beneath her fingertips.

Koga.

She sat up abruptly and looked around the room, but she was alone. He'd brought the small bouquet in and left it lying on the pillow for her to find when she woke. The idea that he'd been in the room, perhaps stood by the bed watching her sleep, made Kagome's heart beat a little faster. Had he been tempted to wake her, maybe with a kiss? She felt a small twinge of something that could have been disappointment that he hadn't done just that.

She picked up the bouquet and lifted it to her nose. It had an herbal, slightly medicinal smell. Kagome thought it was wonderful. Her mouth curved and tears stung her eyes.

Koga had brought her flowers.

Koga saw the flowers as soon as he came in for breakfast. Kagome had put them in his mother's cut glass vase and set them on the windowsill. He remembered his mother using that same vase, filling it with roses and setting it on a mahogany sideboard in the dining room of the big old house back before the war. The ragtag bunch of wildflowers looked pathetic in comparison to that memory, and Koga winced. Maybe the flowers hadn't been such a good idea. He'd probably just reinforced Kagome's annoyance with him.

But when Kagome turned away from the stove and saw him, her face softened in a shy smile and there was no mistaking the warmth in her eyes. Koga felt something loosen in his chest; a tightness he hadn't even realized was there until it began to ease. He missed that smile, missed seeing it turned in his direction. She looked as if she was about to speak but, if so, she changed her mind when Miroku entered the kitchen behind him.

"Breakfast's ready," was all she said as she turned back to the stove and began dishing up the food.

Koga took his place at the table, his eyes lingering on his wife. She was wearing a plain dress in a warm shade of golden brown. It covered her from throat to toes and couldn't, by any stretch of the imagination, be called seductive. But in his mind's eye Koga saw her the way she'd looked this morning when he'd crept into their bedroom to leave the flowers on the pillow.

Her face softly flushed with sleep and the lush curves of her figure outlined beneath the covers, she'd looked like temptation personified. His fingers itched to loosen the heavy braid that confined her dark hair, and it had taken every ounce of self-control at his command to resist the urge to slide into bed next to her, to wake her with a kiss. His instincts told him that she wouldn't have resisted but he'd learned something of his bride's stubborn pride these past weeks and he knew that, while she might have given into him, she'd have bitterly resented it-and him. He wanted an end to this war between them, not a new battleground, so he'd turned and walked away, leaving her in her solitary bed.

Breakfast was normally a quiet meal, and this morning was no exception. The cowboys cooked their own breakfast in the bunkhouse, so it was just family in the big kitchen. Since the night Kagome had found out about him and Miroku drawing straws, the meal had been generally marked by hot food and a chilly atmosphere. Koga knew it wasn't his imagination that there was a definite warming in the air, a warming that had nothing to do with the cast-iron stove that radiated heat into the room.

Several times he was aware of Kagome sliding quick glances in his direction, glances that did not come with the rapier edge most of her looks had held lately. If he'd known a few flowers would have such an effect, he'd have picked her a washtub full, Koga thought, feeling a little smug. He finished his bacon and eggs, enjoying the meal more than he had any in recent weeks. Things were definitely looking up.

"Could I speak to you a minute?" Kagome's voice stopped him on his way out of the kitchen.

Miroku glanced from his brother to his sister-in-law, one eyebrow raised in silent question. It was the first time in two weeks that Kagome had shown any desire to spend a moment more than she had to with Koga. Koga caught his eye and gave him a look that promised severe-and painful-retribution if he said anything. Miroku's mouth quirked and Koga could see him almost visibly swallowing whatever he'd been about to say.

"Breakfast was real fine, Kagome." Miroku pushed open the door and went out into the ranch yard. His departure left a pool of silence in the kitchen. Heat radiated from the big iron stove, comforting in the chill dawn hours. The room was filled with the smell of bacon and biscuits. Crisp muslin curtains hung at the windows, pushed open now to show the pale gold of first light spreading across the prairies.

"I wanted to thank you for the flowers. They're very pretty." Her smile was warm but held a touch of wariness that made Koga wonder if she thought that he might be expecting a reward in exchange for the bouquet-like an invitation to return to their bed. The fact that the thought had crossed his mind made Koga feel a little guilty and put a gruff edge on his voice.

"They're not much."

They're wonderful!" Kagome's quick defense of the small gift added to his guilt. "No one's ever given me flowers before," she added with a shy smile. "Thank you, Koga."

"You're welcome." They stood there looking at each other a moment, the air full of things unsaid. It was Koga who broke the silence. "I'll see you later." He smiled at her then pushed the door open and stepped outside.

His smile lingered as he strode across the ranch yard. A little time spent courting his wife was a small enough price to pay for putting a smile back on her face. If he played his cards right, it wouldn't take him long to convince her to forget about the broom straws that had caused all this trouble. A few more days and he'd be back where he belonged-in his own bed with a warm and willing Kagome beside him.

~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~

"I can't believe you paid that kid two bits for that mangy hunk of fur," Miroku shot a disgusted look at the small basket Koga had tied to the saddle horn. The plaintive mews emanating from the basket made it clear that the occupant was no happier about the situation than Miroku was.

"It's for Kagome." Koga told him, not for the first time. "Women like cats."

"They can have `em." Miroku pulled another face. "Nasty, sneaky critters with claws the size of daggers."

"The whole damn kitten isn't any bigger than a table knife," Koga noted. "I don't think you have to fear for your life just yet."

"Just you wait." Miroku gave the basket a dark look as they rode on. "It'll grow."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience."

"I used to see a widow woman who had a whole houseful of the things. There was one-a huge white critter with claws a yard long and a yowl that'd raise the dead-that hated me. Used to lie in wait and then jump out at me and sink it's claw into anything handy. I had nightmares about that cat."

Koga's unsympathetic bark of laughter echoed across the prairie and earned him a sour look from his brother.

"You can laugh, but I've got scars from that thing. Haven't been able to abide cats ever since."

"I wonder if the widow Kurata has a cat," Koga said, sliding Miroku a look of sly malice. "Maybe widows have a particular fondness of cats."

Miroku grunted, narrowing his eyes and looking out toward the horizon.

"Too bad they don't all share a fondness for you. Sango Kurata doesn't seem bowled over by your charms."

"It's those damn straws we drew," Miroku snapped. "Your wife has her all het up about it. It didn't have anything to do with her! Hell, it didn't even have anything to do with Kagome."

"Women have a different take on things," Koga said, glancing down at the basket. The kitten was the latest step in his campaign to soothe his bride's temper. The flowers had been such a success that he had been at a loss about what to follow up with. Though the atmosphere between them had been distinctly warmer for the past two days, Kagome hadn't shown any inclination to invite him back into their bed. Obviously he needed something with which to follow up the posies. The kitten was the perfect choice. What woman could resist a kitten?

"I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be trying to bribe your wife to let you back into your own house," Miroku said, glaring at the basket as if it's occupant was somehow to blame for the situation.

"I'm not bribing her." But Koga was aware that there was an uncomfortable element of truth in his brother's accusation. He liked to think of the flowers and the kitten more as peace offerings than bribes. And what difference did it make if it made Kagome happy and persuaded her to forget all about that miserable broom straw?

"Looks like a bribe to me," Miroku said.

"Seems to me that it might not hurt you to watch and learn a little from your older brother. Unless you like having Sango Kurata glare holes in your back."

"I don't much care what she does." Miroku said with studied indifference. "There's plenty of other fish in the sea."

"I haven't noticed you looking at any of those other fish the way you look at her."

Miroku shrugged. "She's a pretty woman."

"I hear Hojo thinks so, too." Koga said casually.

"That stick?" Miroku snorted his contempt of the storekeeper. "She wouldn't look twice at him."

"Maybe not, but I wouldn't bet on it. He's got a solid business, and a widower with four kids is the sort of thing that's inclined to fill a woman's heart with all kinds of maternal urges." Koga shook his head, narrowing his eyes as he looked out across the prairie. "No telling what a woman might do if she thinks there's kids that need taken care of."

"She wouldn't have him, kids or no." But Miroku's tone was less sure than his words.

"Probably not." Koga agreed after letting the silence stretch long enough to convey his doubts. "Still, those kids are a powerful draw."

He slanted his brother a quick sideways glance, barely restraining a whoop of laughter at the set of Miroku's jaw. Just as he'd thought, his little brother had it bad for the widow Kurata. And, from the way she'd all but snubbed him in town today, Miroku had his work cut out if he was planning on making any progress in that direction.

"She'd never have Hojo." Miroku said again, more forcefully.

"Of course not." Koga agreed. As far as he knew, Sango Kurata didn't have anything more than a nodding acquaintance with Hojo, but he provided a handy prod. It was the least Miroku deserved for causing him so much trouble. And if Miroku took a dislike to the skinny little storekeeper it was the least Hojo deserved for the proprietary looks he'd given Kagome before their marriage. Not to mention selling her that god-awful hat. He still hadn't figured out how to get rid of the wretched thing.

But he could worry about the hat later. Right now he needed to concentrate on persuading Kagome to forget that damned straw. The kitten was the next step in that particular campaign.

"A kitten! Oh, Koga, thank you!" Kagome cradled the tiny ball of flaxen fur between her hands as she smiled up at her husband, her eyes sparkling with pleasure.

"I thought she might be good company," he said, stroking one of her dark stripes with one finger.

"She's adorable." Kagome felt as if her heart was literally swelling with joy and she had to blink against the sting of happy tears. "It's the most wonderful present anyone's ever given me."

On an impulse she rose on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to Koga's mouth. She'd intended to simply brush her lips against his, but he moved automatically to steady her, setting his hands on her hips, and the feel of his mouth tantalized her into lingering. The scent of sunshine and horse clung to him-warm, masculine smells that reminded her of hungers she'd been doing her best to pretend she didn't feel. With her hands full of kitten she couldn't push him away, even if she'd wanted to, and the sudden weakness of her knees made stepping back an impossible option.

Koga tasted her surrender and deepened the kiss. He could have her right here and now, he thought as her mouth opened for him. No more nights in the barn. No more crawling around on the damned prairie looking for flowers and paying small kids to part with kittens. He could end it all right here. She wanted him. He could feel it in the yielding curve of her body, taste it in the soft surrender of her mouth. If he carried her upstairs right now, she wouldn't offer so much as a whisper of protest.

Only she'd hate him for it.

Koga shut out the warning voice that insisted that he was about to take one step forward and two back. He drew Kagome closer, sliding his foot between hers and shifting his hands so that his fingers cupped the fullness of her bottom. She gasped, the sound muffled against his mouth, but she didn't pull away. Instead, her mouth softened even more as Koga's body hardened with need.

It was the kitten, still cradled in Kagome's hands, who put an end to the moment. She'd been willing to tolerate close quarters, but when Koga slid his hand up Kagome's back, pressing her closer to him, the quarters went from close to downright confining and the kitten's patience came to an abrupt end. With a shrill mew of annoyance she sank her claws into the nearest surface, which happened to be Koga's shirtfront.

"Ouch!" Koga jerked back with a startled oath. His quick movement didn't allow the kitten time to loosen her grip, with the result that she was jerked from Kagome's hold. She responded the only way possible, digging her tiny claws deeper into Koga's shirtfront and, by sheer coincidence, into the skin it covered. Feeling as if a dozen needles were stabbing him in the chest, Koga grabbed at the kitten, who, thoroughly upset now, dug her claws in even tighter and yowled her displeasure.

"Don't hurt her," Kagome said, taking a quick step forward as Koga managed to wrench the kitten loose.

"Don't hurt her?" he asked. "You're warning me not to hurt her? Seems it ought to be the other way around. I think she just tried to kill me."

"She was just scared." Kagome said in defense of her pet.

"She's bloodthirsty." Koga glared at the kitten dangling from his fingers by the scruff of her neck. She glared right back at him, her sharp eyes promising future retribution. Remembering Miroku's words of warning, he wondered if he'd have been better off picking another bunch of wildflowers. At least they didn't have claws.

~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~

Miroku hitched his horse to the rail outside the general store. Koga had smirked when he'd announced that he was making a trip into town for the second time in less than a week, but he was definitely here to get something and that something had nothing to do with Sango Kurata. It was just that when he'd seen her walking into Hojo's, it occurred to him that whatever he needed was most likely to be found in the general store.

He walked across the boardwalk and into the store, mentally mulling over the problem of just what it was about Sango that had worked it's way under his skin. She was pretty, but he'd known other pretty women. Maybe he'd even known some prettier, though he couldn't swear to that. But there was something about the way Sango looked at him. There seemed to be a challenge in her dark eyes, one he just couldn't ignore.

Miroku paused inside the door, letting his eyes adjust to the light. At first the store seemed empty. His eyes skimmed over stacks of canned goods and shelves laden with clothes, looking for Sango's slim figure. She'd been wearing a dress of some rosy pink color, he remembered. He was starting to wonder if he'd imagined seeing her enter the store when he heard a soft feminine laugh, blending with a deeper, masculine chuckle. The sound made his hackles rise.

Miroku started toward the back of the store with long, predatory strides. So, Koga hadn't been lying when he'd said that Hojo had his eye on Sango. The pasty-faced, underfed clerk actually thought he had a chance of drawing and keeping the attention of a woman like Sango. Well, he'd see to it that Hojo was weaned of that notion.

Rounding a display of hats, Miroku nearly ran over Sango, who was walking toward the front of the store. He caught her by the shoulders, steadying her.

"Mr. Sukanami!" Sango's voice was breathless with surprise.

"Mrs. Kurata." He let go of her reluctantly and reached up to take his hat off. "I hope you're not hurt?"

"Not at all, Mr. Sukanami." Sango put her hand to her chest, as if to still the pounding of her heart. It was just that he'd startled her, she told herself. Her accelerated pulse had nothing to do with those gray eyes or the way his dark hair fell onto his forehead in that way that made her fingers twitch with the urge to brush it back.

Better that her fingers twitch with the urge to smack his face, she reminded herself sternly. If not for Kagome's sake, then for her own. She hadn't been a widow for two years without learning to recognize the look of a man with improper notions. And the fact that she'd had an improper notion or two about Miroku Sukanami only made her more determined to keep her distance.

"If you'll excuse me, Mr. Sukanami."

"Certainly, Mrs. Kurata." He stepped back with a polite gesture to let her pass. His response was the epitome of gentlemanly courtesy, but there was something in his eyes that made a mockery of her careful formality. Sango's back stiffened, her mouth tightening with annoyance. Her skirts swished against the wooden floor as she swept past him, her chin thrust into the air. Hojo followed behind her, his steps an anxious clatter. But neither the rustle of her skirts nor Hojo's footsteps were enough to drown out Miroku's soft, knowing chuckle.

He followed them to the front of the store. By tilting his head a little, he could look past Hojo and admire the inviting sway of Sango's skirts. Her spine was as rigid as a poker and he was willing to bet that her expression was just as stiff. He just couldn't seem to resist the urge to ruffle her feathers.

He waited while she paid for her purchases, making no pretense of having any business of his own to transact. When she turned from the counter, Miroku was amused to note that she managed to avoid noticing him, not an easy task, considering he was standing right behind her. She strode briskly to the door, and it took some quick footwork on his part to get there ahead of her.

"Allow me," he said, bowing at the waist as he pulled open the door.

"Thank you." Frost dripped from her voice and her expression was hardly indicative of gratitude. As she swept through the door, even the swish of her skirt sounded annoyed. Grinning, Miroku followed her out. He couldn't say just what it was about her that made him want to rile her, but the urge was irresistible. Two long strides took him to her side.

"Allow me, Mrs. Kurata." He said, reaching for the parcel she carried from the general store.

"That's quite all right, Mr. Sukanami. I can carry it myself."

"I won't hear of it," he said with exaggerated gallantry. A brief tug-of-war ensued, with Miroku finally gaining control of the paper-wrapped package. He smiled at her, his eyes bright with mischief.

"Really, Mr. Sukanami, it's not at all necessary." She said between gritted teeth.

"Nonsense. A lady should never carry her own parcels when there's a gentleman nearby."

"If there were a gentleman nearby, Mr. Sukanami, that might be relevant," she snapped, driven beyond endurance.

Miroku laughed out loud. Sango tried not to notice how attractive he was, but it wasn't easy. It simply wasn't fair that one man-one incredibly annoying man-should be so wickedly good-looking.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you'd just insulted me," he said, grinning down at her.

"Please give me my parcel and let me go on my way," she said, her voice strangled. She was aware that they were receiving interested glances from passersby. "We're starting to draw attention."

"No one would look twice if you would simply allow me to walk you to your destination," he observed in a tone of such innocence that Sango's fingers curled into her palm against the urge to smack him.

Without a word she spun on her heel and stalked off down the boardwalk. Miroku was beside her every step of the way, seeming to cut off the very air she was breathing. At least, she assumed that was why she felt so breathless. They walked in silence for a few yards. She was determined not to speak another word to the wretched man, not even if they walked from here to Denver.

"I guess I should apologize," Miroku said after a moment. "I just can't seem to resist the urge to ruffle your feathers. It's just that you-" He broke off as Sango stopped abruptly, rounding on him with a look in her eyes that spoke of violence to come.

"Mr. Sukanami, if you tell me that I look pretty when I'm mad, I'm afraid I just might forget that I'm a lady and attempt to enact a violence upon your person."

Miroku was so surprised that he actually took a step back, eyeing her warily." I wasn't going to-"

"Yes, you were. Believe me, Mr. Sukanami, there isn't a clever line I haven't heard. In the two years since my husband's death, I've had and number of gentleman-and I use the word lightly-express their sympathies over my loss, tell me that they understand the loneliness I must be feeling and make a gracious offer to alleviate that loneliness. I neither need nor want that sort of assistance. I do not understand why men assume that when a woman loses her husband, she also loses her morals. I assure you that I have not done so, so you can stop wasting you time and leave me in peace. Good day, Mr. Sukanami."

She wrenched her parcel from his suddenly slacken hold and nodded briskly before spinning on her heel and walking away, her heels clicking on the boardwalk, the sound as hollow and empty as the feeling in her chest.

Miroku stared after her. She was prickly as a damned cactus but he was uncomfortably aware of the element of truth in her accusations. It had occurred to him that, being a widow, she might be open to a less than proper suggestion or two. His conscience nipped uncomfortably. Underneath the prickliness he'd seen something that looked suspiciously like hurt. He'd never meant to hurt her. Dammit all, he liked her.

Cursing under his breath, he strode after her. Catching up with her in front of the newspaper office, he reached out and jerked the parcel from her hand, the brown paper crackling in protest at his roughness.

"I said I'd carry your parcel." He snapped when she opened her mouth to protest.

"Your excessive graciousness makes it difficult for me to feel grateful, Mr. Sukanami." Sango snarled in return.

"Anyone ever tell you that you've got a temper like a cat with it's tail caught in a trap?"

"Why, no. She widened her eyes in mock pleasure and gave him a smile that carried a cutting edge. "Coming from you, I'll take it as a compliment."

"It wasn't meant as such."

They stood in the middle of the boardwalk, glaring at each other, oblivious to the curious glances being cast in their direction

"What is it with you?" Miroku asked, his tone filled with frustration. "No matter what I say, you poker up like I've just insulted your mother. Are you still mad about those blasted straws Koga and I drew? That didn't have anything to do with you."

"A man who `d draw straws to decide a lady's future is not likely to inspire great trust in a woman."

"We weren't drawing straws to decide anybody's future but our own." He all but shook her abused parcel in front of her nose as he tried to make his point. "Koga didn't decide on Kagome until after that."

"That's not the point."

"Seems to me that it's exactly the point," he said. He'd never in his entire life met such an exasperating woman. "Since we didn't know Kagome, we weren't drawing straws for her."

"But if you hadn't drawn straws, Koga wouldn't have decided to marry Kagome. And what made him pick her, anyway?"

"He thought she'd be biddable."

The sentence seemed to hang in the air between them. They both considered how biddable Kagome had turned out not to be. Despite her annoyance, Sango's mouth twitched.

"Biddable?"

"That's what he thought. Miroku had a sudden image of his sister-in-law standing over the table like an avenging angel, spoon in hand and fire in her eyes, and felt his mouth curve in a reluctant smile. "Guess he got a bit of a surprise."

"I'd say so. Biddable isn't exactly the first word that comes to mind when I think of Kagome."

"I think Koga's figured that out." Remembering his brother's frustration with his bride, Miroku chuckled. Sango joined in, the anger evaporating between them.

"Perhaps there's a greater justice at work here," Sango said, still smiling.

"Maybe." Miroku found himself wondering if her skin could possibly feel as soft as it looked. He didn't want to talk about his brother's marriage any more. "If I asked, very politely, would you allow me to carry your parcel for you, Mrs. Kurata?"

Seeing the warmth in his eyes, Sango felt her cheeks flush. He really was impossibly good-looking. If she had the sense God gave a gnat, she'd rebuff him politely, reclaim her battered parcel and go on her way. Miroku Sukanami was trouble, even when he smiled. Especially when he smiled.

"You may, Mr. Sukanami," Smiling up at him, she was aware that trouble had never looked quite so inviting.

~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~