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Samhain Publishing, Ltd.577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520Macon GA 31201
Riding WestCopyright © 2007 by Emma WildesCover by Anne CainISBN: 1-59998-846-1www.samhainpublishing.com
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: December 2007
For my good friend, Olinda. May your own Parker West stroll through your door sometime soon.
The sun cast lazy afternoon shadows, the heat rose from the earth like a palpable presence and a slight breeze carried the tang of sage and mesquite. The leaves in the cottonwoods rustled faintly in a hushed and subtle whisper of sound. Stepping out onto the wide front porch, Celia Evans shaded her eyes with one hand and saw the small plume of rising dust with a touch of curiosity.
The rider coming up the long lane toward the ranch had his horse at a full gallop, she saw that much, and suddenly she wished her father and brothers hadn't just left for town to purchase supplies. The ranch hands too, she realized with a small tremor of trepidation, were all out repairing fences or searching for missing cattle.
"Who is it?" Rose, her older sister, came outside to join her, gazing at the approaching horseman with interest. "He's moving right along."
"I can't tell from here." As she spoke, Celia registered the long-legged, signature gait of the black horse before she could recognize its rider. "I think it might be Parker. There can't be two horses like that in Colorado. Surely that's Diablo---look at him move."
Next to her, pretty in a simple gingham gown suitable for the hour and heat, Rose murmured, "He's coming fast, I'll grant that. Parker usually has a good reason for everything he does, so something must be going on."
"That's the truth," Celia said tartly. "He's practical to a fault."
"You're a little hard on him, aren't you? I realize he didn't quite propose to you in the romantic way a girl expects, but you lead that poor man a merry ride." Rose shook her head, her blond hair shining in the afternoon sun. "He's smart, good-looking and steady. He comes from a nice family that's well off, and he's been head over heels in love with you for years. When he finally gets up the nerve to ask you marry him, you up and turn him down. I don't understand what you want."
Maybe a little excitement, Celia thought cynically. Parker West was the most practical, levelheaded young man she'd ever met. His idea of courtship was damned boring because he was so infernally polite. In fact, all he'd ever done was steal one or two chaste kisses. It almost made matters worse that Rose was right. He was one of the best-looking men she had ever seen and Celia found him very attractive...physically, that is. She'd known him most of her life since they were neighbors and friends, but he seemed way too content with that platonic arrangement.
Or if he wasn't, he certainly kept that information to himself.
In short, he was just a little too nice.
The horse thundered forward and she could now see it was indeed Parker, his easy seat in the saddle recognizable. He was a fine horseman, whatever his other faults.
"What I'd like is a little sentiment, Rose." Celia lifted a brow in open derision. "When a man asks a woman to marry him, he shouldn't first list the logical reasons why it would be a suitable match. For heaven's sake, he shouldn't even say the word logical at all."
Rose gave a small hiccup of a laugh. "It was probably a poor choice, I agree. Parker should have known better since you aren't exactly strangers, but I expect he was nervous."
"He didn't seem nervous."
"Does he ever? He's been perfecting keeping his feelings under control around you for the past five years."
Was that true? Celia hadn't seen him since she'd turned him down nearly a week ago. He hadn't shown it, but she sensed her refusal had hurt him. She had the cowardly urge to go hide inside until he left, but she was also curious as to why he'd ride toward the house at such a breakneck pace.
He didn't slacken his speed until he thundered into the yard, pulling the horse up just a few feet from the porch where they stood. Diablo jerked restively at his reins as his rider slid off in one lithe movement. Parker controlled the stallion with a quick word and tightened grip, not even bothering to look at the animal.
Tall, wearing worn jeans that hugged his long legs, dusty boots, and a light blue shirt that spanned his wide shoulders, he doffed his hat, revealing slightly tousled dark wavy hair. His features were finely modeled and classically handsome; high cheekbones, dark arched brows, a straight nose and sensual mouth. "Good afternoon, Rose."
Celia saw her sister dimple in a smile. "Hello, Parker. I hope nothing is wrong. You certainly were coming right along."
"Nothing is wrong," he said coolly. "I'm just leaving on a little trip and anxious to get going."
"You sure must be." Rose obviously noticed he hadn't bothered to greet Celia, and the tone of her voice showed a shade of discomfort.
"I am." His eyes were a pale blue, like the sky at dawn, and when that light, intense gaze transferred to her, Celia felt a small quiver in her stomach. To her amazement, he said in the same unemotional tone, "You're going with me, sweetheart."
Rooted to the spot, all she could do was stare. Normally he was easygoing, with a quick, charming smile that she didn't see nearly often enough, and a reserved air. At this moment, however, as he took a long stride toward the steps to the porch, he looked downright...dangerous. His gaze glittered as it locked with hers and his mouth was a tight line.
Celia said incredulously, "I'm what?"
"Going with me." He looped his horse's reins around the post.
She took an involuntary step backwards as he bounded up the short stairs. "Are you out of your head?"
"Absolutely."
Strong hands caught her shoulders and spun her around. She heard Rose gasp and in moments, to her utter shock, her hands were bound behind her back. He did it so neatly and deftly, she didn't even have time to struggle. Being a working cowboy, he certainly knew how to tie a good knot and do it fast, and must have carried the rope in his pocket. He turned her back to face him and bent, heaving her effortlessly over one hard shoulder like a sack of grain, his arm coming around the back of her knees as he turned to walk back down the steps to his horse.
"Tell your parents we'll be back when we work things all out, Rose. I'll keep her safe, they know that." His tone was even, and his arm tightened as Celia began to squirm in real protest, her undignified position uncomfortable with her bottom in the air and his shoulder in her diaphragm.
"Parker," she gasped as she spoke, "let me go. What on earth are you doing?"
"Stop struggling," he said curtly. "I promise you Diablo won't like it and will toss you on your sweet backside in the dirt."
In seconds she was perched in the saddle sideways, her bound hands making her seat precarious. Her outraged glare went from the man who put his booted foot in the stirrup and swung up behind her, to her sister watching from the porch with a look on her face that seemed a mixture of astonishment and laughter.
"You can't do this," Celia said between her teeth as his arms came securely around her to take the reins.
"The hell I can't, Miss Evans," he told her and touched the stallion with a heel so they jumped forward. "I believe I just did."
---------
He'd expected her to be spitting mad, and he certainly wasn't disappointed.
After about twenty minutes of her furious protests, Parker finally decided to gag his beautiful prisoner, and if looks could kill, he would be stone cold in a grave somewhere.
Jesus, he certainly hoped he knew what he was doing.
Sitting in front of him, her back stiff with outrage, Celia's gorgeous dark blue eyes flashed pure fire. He'd seen her mad before---considering her somewhat tempestuous disposition, that wasn't new---but he was not sure she'd ever been this mad.
Damn, though, it might all be worth it---even if she ended up hating his guts---for the sensation of holding her in his arms. Her soft bottom bounced against his thighs as he urged Diablo into an easy canter, and he could smell the sweet scent from her hair. Her delicate features were flushed with anger, the smooth skin of her cheeks bright red, a bandana he'd brought for that purpose tied across her tempting mouth. She wore a light blue dress with tiny flowers patterned on the cotton material, and he could feel the voluptuous curves of her body through the thin cloth. Her hair was a lustrous gold touched with platinum glints in the light of the warm sun. It was tied back simply at her nape, and he couldn't wait to slip that piece of ribbon free and watch it spill over the sheets of his bed.
If his wild plan worked, in a few hours he'd find out if she was as spirited in bed as she was in every other way. His cock stiffened from his wayward thoughts and the slight sway of her breasts against his arm. Trying to ignore it before he got a full-blown erection with a long ride still ahead of them, he scanned the horizon periodically from habit.
In less than two hours, rangeland gave way to small hills. Ridges of timber rose in front of them, dwarfed by the majestic peaks in the background. Aspens fluttered leaves in the dying afternoon breeze as they began to climb in elevation, and it was considerably cooler under the shadows of pine and spruce. Parker knew the way well and judged they'd get there just before dark, which was exactly what he'd expected.
So far, so good.
The gag, once she'd tired of making muffled protests, seemed to have the effect of calming Celia a little and he felt slightly guilty about it in the first place. After they splashed through a small stream and he slid off to let Diablo have a short rest and a cool drink, he lifted her from the saddle. "If you promise to not screech at me like an angry bluejay, I'll take this off."
There was a moment of hesitation, her blue eyes defiant, but Celia finally nodded. He loosened the bandana and slipped it back into his pocket.
"You can untie my hands as well," she said in a voice that was only slightly uneven. "It's pretty uncomfortable, Parker."
Tying her hands had been both to make a point and to make sure she didn't scratch his eyes out or try to pull his gun and shoot him during the actual abduction. Celia was more than capable of doing both. Parker lifted a brow sardonically. "I value life and limb. I don't think so. We're getting close to our destination. I'll free you then."
The expression on her lovely face was a mixture of surprise and fury. He'd never denied her anything---few men would. "You don't care my arms are half-numb?"
"Nope." It was a lie, for his first inclination was to untie her at once and abjectly apologize, but being a perfect gentleman around the very tempting, very spoiled Miss Evans hadn't ever gotten him anywhere. She was almost twenty, and he'd been in love with her for years. Hell, he'd known her most of his life, he'd probably fallen for her when he was about five and he saw her right after she was born.
Lush lashes lowered slightly over the dark blue of her midnight eyes. She asked tightly, "What's gotten into you?"
Ignoring the question, he pointed at the bubbling stream. "Are you thirsty? I'll get you some water."
"No thanks," she replied in a scathing, bitter tone.
"Suit yourself." He shrugged and got out a flask from his pocket, uncorking it and taking a theatrical swig.
"You're drinking?" Celia's delicate features registered slight shock.
"Sure am." He stuffed the bottle back in his pocket and gave her a deliberately wicked grin. It wasn't that he didn't ever drink whiskey---he did in moderation---but never in front of her. With her father owning a big ranch, she saw plenty of drunken cowboys, and he'd never wanted her to think of him in that way.
"Maybe you'd better tell me just where we're going and what the purpose of this is. If you want to talk to me, we could do that at home. You don't have to drag me off like some barbarian."
"Talk? It doesn't work. I tried it. You were pretty lukewarm over talking about us. I have a better idea." Parker lifted a brow and deliberately ran his gaze over her slender form in a suggestive inspection, lingering on the full curve of her breasts. "I think you can guess what I have in mind, Celia."
Her lips parted and a small flush crept up her neck and into her face. She half-whispered in outraged protest, "Parker."
Catching her by the waist, he lifted her back on to the horse and swung up behind her. "Don't worry, sweetheart, we'll talk afterwards if that's what you want."
---------
The man had gone insane.
That's the only thing that could account for the transformation. Parker West was not a whiskey-drinking, high-handed wild cowboy. She'd met plenty of those in her life. He was a hard-working, sober young man who helped run a very prosperous cattle business, respected his parents, and was kind to children and little old ladies. Around Tijeras and the entire area, he was considered, in short, a paragon. A saint. A gentleman.
Thank goodness Rose had seen him grab her, tie her hands and ride off with her. Otherwise no one would believe it. Celia was pretty sure she still couldn't believe it herself.
The cabin stood in a small clearing, the location away from any semblance to a path. The small structure wasn't recently built by any means but seemed well kept even in the gloom of descending dusk, and there was a neat stack of firewood by the front door. The roof looked solid and next to it there was a small corral and a lean-to big enough for one horse. When they rode up, Parker dismounted and reached for her, lifting her in his arms instead of setting her on her feet. Cradled against his broad chest, Celia felt a small thrill in the pit of her stomach she wasn't sure was alarmed panic or furtive excitement. He was strong---she'd seen him work before and knew it, but he carried her as if she weighed nothing at all. Whatever his intentions might be, she needed to face the fact she was at a pretty severe disadvantage. Normally, Parker would do anything to please her, but in his current unprecedented mood, she just wasn't sure if he hadn't meant exactly what he'd insinuated earlier.
Her face heated as she remembered how he'd looked at her. There had been a dark sensual promise in his eyes she'd never seen before.
Shouldering his way through the door, he effortlessly carried her inside. The interior was dark, but she got an impression of simplicity in the plain small table with two chairs, stone fireplace and of course the bed that took up one corner of the room. That was where he put her, setting her down and saying curtly, "Stay put. After I see to Diablo, I'll come back and untie you." He pointed a finger at where she sat. "If you aren't right there, your hands stay tied, got it, Miss Evans?"
"I've got it," she said sarcastically, giving him a level stare. "And for God's sake, stop calling me Miss Evans. We've only known each other for about twenty years and you've never called me that before."
There was a flicker of something in his light eyes. One ebony brow edged up. "I can do whatever I want," he said pleasantly enough. "You might just keep it in mind."
Celia watched him stalk off in his loose-limbed graceful stride, not certain if she wanted to laugh or scream in outrage. However, though she fibbed earlier about her arms being numb, they had begun to ache in earnest now. Both curious and apprehensive to see what happened next, she sat in uncharacteristic meekness on the edge of the bed and waited.
The slow, melodic jingle of a spur signaled his return in what seemed like forever, but was probably only a few minutes. Coming inside, he carried a load of firewood, which he took to the hearth and deposited. It had been hot down in the valley, but once the sun went down, the air began to cool rapidly. Deftly, he stacked the logs and used a bit of tinder to ignite a small flame, fanning the kindling. Celia watched the way the flickering light played over the planes and hollows of his handsome face and felt the same betraying thrill twist inside her.
"I thought you were going to untie me."
He glanced up. "In a minute. Are you hungry?"
"No," she said truthfully. The odd sensation in the pit of her stomach was definitely not hunger.
"Good," he responded. He stood and came toward her, tall and seeming to fill the small space. When he was next to the bed, he bent and slipped a knife from his boot and with one quick movement, cut the bonds around her wrists.
"It's about time," she muttered irritably, rubbing her wrists. "For future reference, Mr. West, having a man tie me up doesn't particularly endear him to me."
"It's kind of hard to figure out just what does endear a man to you, so I guess I won't worry about it." The corner of his mouth quirked and he moved to drop into one of the chairs at the table, facing her. As she watched, he pulled out the flask again and took a drink, stretching out his long legs. "Now then, since your hands are free, you can put them to good use. Take your clothes off."
She stared, unable to believe he'd actually just issued that instruction. Frostily, she said, "I beg your pardon?"
"Take off your clothes." Sprawled in the chair, his booted feet crossed at the ankle, he gave her a lazy smile. He had taken off his hat, and his glossy dark hair was disheveled attractively, unfairly long lashes veiling his blue eyes. "It's a pretty simple order as far as I can tell, sweetheart. And by the way, it is an order. In case you haven't noticed, I hold all the cards here."
"If you think I'm going to strip naked in front of you, Parker West, you're insane." Celia took a trembling breath. It was hard to tell just how serious he was, but the way his gaze glittered, she was afraid he was dead serious.
"You are going to strip naked one way or the other, and if I'm insane, you've damn well made me that way. Now, are you going to do it yourself, or shall I help?" The question was spoken very softly, barely audible above the growing crackle of the fire.
The threat in his voice was real, even if the situation felt as if it were part of some bizarre dream. Her pulse beat rapidly, but she wasn't sure if it was fear or something else entirely. "I don't want your help, don't worry." Her voice was embarrassingly unsteady. "Maybe you could tell me the purpose of your request."
He laughed and it was a genuine sound of mirth. "Jesus, Celia, you must be joking. Surely you can't be that naïve. But if you'd like, I'll spell it right out for you. I want you to take off all of your clothes. Then I am going to take off all of mine. Then the convenient bed you are sitting on is going to be put to good use."
"What if I'm not willing?" She simply couldn't believe her ears. Had Parker---staid, steady Parker West---actually just said that to her?
"That doesn't matter much to me right now." The answer was swift and flat. He held the flask and gazed at her with no hint of remorse in his azure eyes as he lifted it to his lips.
Good God, had she done this to him? Celia knew she'd teased and flirted with him unmercifully the past few years, ever since she realized the depth of his interest in her. Parker was not the kind of man to compromise a woman's reputation, so he'd let her tantalize and string him along with his usual good-natured equanimity. Her family had scolded her over it often enough, and she had ignored their warnings that some day he might just get darned sick and tired of it.
Apparently that was exactly what had happened.
This was all her fault. She had two options. If he was serious, and he sure looked it, she could resist and make a decent, nice man into a rapist and a kidnapper.
Or she could give herself freely. Actually, she'd always assumed one day she would marry Parker, and if he hadn't waited so long to ask and bungled his proposal so badly, she would have said yes. When she turned him down, it wasn't like she didn't expect him to ask again. She'd counted on it, once he'd thought it all over in his practical way and realized she needed a declaration of his feelings, not a stupid list of why they suited each other.
For most of her life, she'd been more than a little bit in love with him. However, she had taken him for granted, that was for sure.
Maybe right now, she could make amends. In fact, the idea was intriguing down deep if she admitted it, because she'd always wondered what it would be like when they finally did make love.
Celia stood and began to unbutton her gown. "All right, Parker, you win."
The flask hung suspended in his fingers.
Parker watched, fascinated and incredulous, as the woman in front of him calmly let her dress slip off her creamy shoulders.
It worked!
He wasn't good at bluffing, or at least he didn't think he was, but this outrageous gamble had actually paid off. The very idea Celia believed he'd force himself on her was a little insulting, but then again, he'd done his best to convince her he would. When her mother had come to visit his folks a few days ago and taken him aside, he'd been a bit humiliated when she'd brought up his illfated marriage proposal. Mrs. Evans had diplomatically discussed a more straightforward approach with her independent and headstrong daughter. He'd listened, too, frustration, both emotional and sexual, making him open to any suggestion.
Even this drastic one.
If Celia ever discovered her own mother was the one who told him to just take her off somewhere and be a little more persuasive in a physical way, she would be livid.
On the other hand, he was grateful as hell.
In a few moments shoes, stockings and petticoats were also in a heap on the floor. A telltale flush of embarrassed pink in her smooth cheeks, Celia stood in her thin cotton shift and lifted her chin. Her long-lashed eyes, so lovely and blue, showed her usual challenge. "I thought you were going to undress."
His mouth had gone entirely dry and Parker swallowed, remembering his role as forceful abductor with difficulty. When he spoke, his voice sounded hoarse. "You aren't finished. Take it all off."
Her upper teeth sank into the softness of her lower lip, but she didn't look away as she pulled free the ribbon at her bodice. The material gaped open, exposing the tantalizing swell of high, full breasts. Celia eased the garment down her arms and over the curve of her slim hips until it pooled at her feet and she was completely naked.
All he could think was that in his entirely male fantasies about this particular moment---and he'd had plenty---he hadn't done her justice. Her skin was flawless ivory, her limbs long and supple, and her firm breasts had a lush ripeness in comparison to the slender dip of her waist and length of her legs. He couldn't help but stare, his heated gaze examining the soft rose of perfectly shaped nipples and then slipping lower, to the small dark gold triangle at the juncture of her thighs. "Oh my God," he said involuntarily.
Her blush intensified, turning her cheeks scarlet. "I'll take that as a compliment," she said tartly.
"So you should, sweetheart." With effort, he lifted his gaze back to her face and repeated, "So you should. You are more than beautiful, Celia."
"Thank you." Her slim throat rippled as she swallowed. "But quite frankly, Parker, I've never stood in front of anyone in my life without a stitch on and it isn't exactly fair you're still fully dressed."
He was rock hard already, his cock so stiff it felt like he was going to burst out of his jeans. Considering her innocence, she was about to get an eyeful, but he was more than happy to oblige. Her easy acquiescence was a little unexpected, for he'd thought she would be more resistant, but who was he to argue. He stood and swiftly unfastened the gun belt around his waist, setting it on the table before he went to work on his shirt. "Let your hair loose."
There was a brief flare of irritation in her gaze over the autocratic tone of his voice, but she complied. When she lifted her arms to untie the ribbon, her lush breasts rose and quivered slightly in provocative invitation.
He tossed his shirt on the floor and fairly jerked off his boots. Stifling a groan when he opened his jeans, he pulled them down his hips and stepped free. Celia made a small noise---a swift inhale of breath---and she stared at the rampant length of his erection, swollen and high against his stomach.
"My enthusiasm over being here with you is darned obvious, isn't it?" He moved toward her in a long, slow step, not wanting to scare her to death. "I'm pretty much this way every time I'm around you and it isn't the least bit comfortable, I promise you."
She looked startled, her gaze traveling from his stiff penis up to his face. "You are? Why didn't you tell me?"
That question was so illogical, he had to laugh. "What exactly was I supposed to say?"
"You never even tried to do more than kiss me once or twice." She actually sounded a little miffed over it.
"Of course not. A decent man isn't supposed to take advantage of a woman who isn't his wife."
Her hair was a curtain of shimmering gold down her back, the tumbled curls reflecting the firelight and framing the delicate features of her face. Dark blond brows rose but she didn't step away when he reached for her. "Then perhaps you'd better put your pants back on, Parker West, for in case you've forgotten, we're not married."
"We will be."
He pulled her close and cut off her undoubtedly caustic reply by lowering his head and capturing her mouth. The sensation of her nude body pressed against his was more intoxicating than anything he'd ever experienced, her lips warm and soft. She was right, he hadn't done more than attempt a few chaste embraces, mostly because he wanted her so damned bad he didn't trust himself to stop when he should. When he exerted gentle pressure and she complied and parted her lips, his tongue slipped between and he felt the jerk of her surprise as he began to explore her mouth.
He was both relieved and pleased she'd obviously never been kissed so intimately, for he certainly wasn't the only man dangling after the gorgeous Miss Evans by a long shot. She was generally considered the most beautiful girl for hundreds of miles in this section of Colorado, and her three brothers and formidable father kept a pretty close eye on any man that came sniffing around. Luckily, Parker was good friends with the whole family, otherwise he could count on them wanting his blood for what he was doing right at this very minute. When he'd talked to Celia's father before his doomed proposal, Gerald Evans had welcomed the idea of him as a future son-in-law.
Her tongue tentatively touched his as she responded, and the palms of her hands slid over his bare chest upward, so she could clasp her arms around his neck and press against him tighter.
Parker was pretty sure at that moment he had died and gone to heaven.
He broke the kiss, the throbbing in his cock and the ache in his testicles making him wonder just how long he would actually last once he was inside her. He kissed the fragile line of her jaw, the small hollow beneath her ear, and whispered, "Let's get into bed."
Not waiting for a reply, he lifted Celia in his arms and laid her down on the soft, patterned blanket. He followed at once, covering her body so his erect cock rubbed her thigh, his mouth taking hers in a kiss that this time was neither gentle nor in the least chaste. He invaded and probed with his tongue, rubbing hers suggestively. Celia opened for him willingly, and the light sensation of her fingers exploring the contours of his shoulders and back made him dizzy with need. His hand cupped her breast as they kissed, and he felt her tremble slightly.
"So beautiful," he murmured against her lips. "Do you have any idea how you feel to me?" He stroked the abundant fullness of pliant flesh in his hand, his thumb slowly circling the nipple.
"No," she whispered. "Tell me how I feel."
"Like a dream come true."
"Oh..."
She gasped when he lifted his mouth from hers and moved lower, to first lick one taut nipple, and then suck it slowly into his mouth. He massaged her other breast as he suckled, testing the fullness and weight. Her reaction was immediate as she arched with a small wild cry.
Parker had always wondered if she would be as audacious in bed as she was in everything else.
The answer was yes, he had a feeling. He was a damned lucky man.
"That feels so good." Her fingers sifted through his hair and she pressed closer. "I never imagined."
The rhythm of her breathing already suggested arousal, as did the restless way she moved beneath him. Some women had very sensitive breasts, and apparently she was one of them, he realized with an inner smile. He transferred to the other breast, lavishing attention on not just her nipples, but the valley between, playing with the mounded flesh, nuzzling the undersides until she panted and moaned.
Perfect. He'd imagined having her hot, wet and willing beneath him a thousand times.
He shifted lower, skimming his mouth down her ribcage, licking her navel in a teasing stroke of his tongue, and then kissing the dainty blond curls between her legs. "Spread open," he urged, his fingers insistently easing her thighs apart.
"What are you going to do?" Surprisingly, she didn't resist but let him push her legs apart.
Parker grinned and positioned himself. "Something you'll like a lot. Just relax and enjoy yourself, sweetheart."
"I don't think---"
Her protest was cut off sharply at the first glide of his tongue between the moist folds of her labia. Her clitoris was already slightly engorged in arousal and he began to lick gently and circle the small bud. His hands slid beneath her to cup her luscious bottom and hold her in place. Celia reacted almost violently to the touch of his mouth between her legs, her slender body jerking. "Parker!"
Then she moaned.
She tasted sweetly female and it gratified him to know he gave her pleasure. More than anything, he wanted to feel her first climax with his mouth on her wet, warm sex. He teased and tasted, parting the folds to expose the pink satin flesh, savoring every secret place. Within moments she moaned in open abandon and spread her legs wider, her pelvis lifting in supplication. He could feel the rise of her approaching orgasm and certainly hear it in her obvious and vocal enjoyment.
Her low scream echoed in the quiet of the cabin when she went over the edge and her body twisted and shuddered in release. Parker waited until she was still and lax before he moved up between her open legs and kissed her lightly.
"Since I could tell you liked that, I'll share with you a little secret, sweetheart. We're just getting started," he told her with a dark smile.
---------
That thing was just too big, she knew it as she watched from beneath the veil of her lashes. Surely all men weren't so large? Parker positioned himself between her legs, and with his hand guided his swollen penis so the dark crest touched her female entrance. Celia was too sated to be truly afraid of what came next, though normally she imagined she would be. Her body felt light, floating. That Parker would put his mouth there was an astounding concept. That it would feel so absolutely wonderful was just as shocking.
"That's it," he whispered, the pressure of his penetration beginning to stretch her vaginal passage. "Don't tense up. I don't want this to hurt you."
She wasn't at all tense---she felt marvelous. Her breasts tingled and were oddly tight, and between her legs there was still a small pleasurable throbbing. Perhaps she should be more intimidated over the act she knew little about but was certainly going to happen. She just wasn't, because after all, this was Parker about to take her virginity. If anyone could be trusted to take care with her---his audacious kidnapping aside---he certainly was the one.
Celia rested her hands on his wide shoulders, relishing the feel of his muscled, male body. He was lean but hard, and seeing him naked and aroused had awakened feelings she didn't even know she possessed. His bare chest was solid and sculpted, and when it brushed the erect tips of her breasts, she felt a thrill of pleasure.
Shamelessly, she opened her legs wider, wanting him inside her with an inexplicable combination of instinct and desire. His cock felt as big as it looked, stretching her very wide, and his jaw clenched as he braced himself above her. Dark hair curled against the strong, tanned column of his neck.
"Are you all right?" The question was asked in a rough tone that sounded nothing like his usual voice. "Jesus, you're so tight."
"I'm fine," she replied, but as she spoke, she felt a stinging pressure. "Wait, stop...it hurts."
To her dismay, he completely ignored her request and instead, with a low murmured apology, thrust forward in an act of complete and full invasion.
It wasn't horrible, but the discomfort took the pleasure out of the moment. Celia cried out, more in surprise than pain. Now fully imbedded inside her, Parker looked into her eyes, his light blue gaze tender. "There's only one way to do this, sweetheart, and it always hurts the first time for a woman. Here, kiss me, and we'll wait until it feels better before I do anything else. Deal?"
"Deal," she responded in a whisper, not certain what else he was going to do exactly, but the way he looked at her made her heart beat faster. Their intimate position, too, was exciting, with his cock completely filling her and his lean hips resting between her open thighs. Celia ran her fingers through the dark silk of his hair and her lips clung to his when he lowered his head and took her mouth.
They stayed that way for a long time, softly kissing, his arms braced to keep his weight balanced. Until this moment, Celia wasn't sure she'd ever realized just how much bigger he was, his long body dwarfing her smaller, lighter frame. The frank masculine desire she saw in his eyes was exciting, also, and before long she shifted restively, lifting her hips a fraction.
He seemed to understand the signal instantly.
His cock slid backwards in a long withdrawal. When he moved forward again, a sound, unbidden, came from deep in her throat. She wasn't sure what was happening, pleasure or pain or a bewildering mixture of both, but whatever it was, it held her entirely captive.
"That's it," Parker told her thickly, "let me know you like it. I sure as hell have never felt anything so good in my whole life."
It wasn't like she wanted to make such unladylike sounds, but it seemed impossible to stay quiet. As he began to thrust in and out of her body, Celia got lost in the rising sensation of sexual enjoyment, the discomfort pushed to the background. Her head tilted back, and her hands grasped the solid strength of his upper arms. She gave a small, soft cry with each measured stroke.
He felt so big, his hard cock stretched her wide, and the sensation was incredible.
It was building again, she realized. That marvelous blissful pinnacle of release edged upward, spiraling through her body, making her moan louder and louder. He moved faster, as if he knew exactly the right pace, and she moved with him in accord, her hips lifting in carnal need.
His lashes drifted shut and he said through his teeth, "I know you're close, but I can't hold on. I'm coming, sweetheart."
At that moment, she shattered into a thousand pieces.
The pleasure was so intense, she could feel the fierce inner clench of her muscles as the first spasm came. The second wave came just as quickly and she cried out, holding on for dear life, her nails frantically digging in.
Parker went very still, deep, deep inside her. His powerful body shuddered time and again, and he groaned her name in a way that penetrated her haze of incredible enjoyable release. To her amazement, she could feel his cock pulse with the contractions of her passage, and the warm flood as he spilled his seed against her womb.
The sound of ragged breathing drifted with the low call of an owl outside the cabin. Parker stayed inside her, not moving, and when she finally opened her eyes, his finely modeled mouth was lifted slightly at the corner in a satisfied half smile. "That was a good start."
It certainly had been. Her heart still pounded. Celia reached up and touched the clean line of his jaw, sliding her fingers to lightly trace his lower lip. "A good start to what?"
"I'm not planning on us going home for a few days at least."
The feel of him still inside her and the husky promise in his voice made her stomach tighten. "Is that so?"
"We need some time to talk, and maybe we'll find time for other things, too." His lashes, so dark and long, lowered a fraction.
He was too damned handsome for his own good, Celia thought. She arched a brow. "What kind of other things?"
"It'll be my pleasure to show you." His smile slid into a wicked grin.
Gerald Evans tossed his dusty gloves on the table and scowled. "He did what?"
His oldest daughter, Rose, looked unhappy at having to repeat the story. "Well, he actually tied her up and tossed her over his shoulder. Then he just rode off."
"This was yesterday?"
Blond and pretty in a light green gown, the spitting image of her mother twenty years ago, Rose reluctantly nodded.
"They've been gone the whole night?"
"Yes."
"I'll kill him."
"No, you won't." His wife handed him a cup of coffee and smiled.
The day had dawned with beautiful clear skies and the kitchen was bright and sunny, fragrant with the homey smell of baking bread. Outside, his three sons unloaded the wagon of supplies, and he could hear Joshua and Jared having a good-natured argument over where to store the new fencing wire. Gerald had stayed overnight in town because he'd met with his banker to arrange a draft for some new stock he'd planned on buying, and so he'd been darned happy to be home.
Until he'd found out his youngest daughter had been kidnapped from his own front porch.
Holding the steaming cup, he registered his wife's serene expression with suspicion. In her fifties, she was still a lovely woman with blond hair showing just a hint of gray, unlined skin and refined features. Lila looked back innocently, but they'd been married a long time and he knew her well. He asked curtly, "Give me one good reason I shouldn't beat that boy to a pulp. Any man who ties up a woman and carries her off overnight has some pretty obvious intentions."
Pulling out one of the pine chairs from around the huge table, Lila sat down and calmly reached for her own coffee. "Yes, I'd say he does."
"They aren't married yet. Parker had better have kept it in his pants." Normally he never would have said such a thing in front of his daughter, and he felt his cheeks flush. "Sorry, Rose."
She laughed and gave him a slightly mischievous look. "With three brothers and a bunkhouse full of ranch hands, I've heard worse around here, Pa, believe me."
Lila said reasonably, "He wants to marry her, Gerald, so quit blustering. You know how he feels about Celia, just about everyone around here knows how he feels. If this is how he thought he could convince her, who cares if they marry before or after." One dark blond brow rose just a fraction.
Dammit, she still had the ability to leave him speechless after more than thirty years of marriage. They hadn't exactly waited until their vows had been legal and binding to consummate their passion for each other, but the gentle reminder didn't make him feel a whole lot better. Joshua had been born eight months after their wedding.
"She's my child, and I want her to be happy. If she turned him down flat the first time, what makes you think things will be different now?"
His wife and daughter exchanged a look that made him feel like an idiot. Rose said, "She's every bit as in love with Parker as he is with her, Pa. I know she's a flirt sometimes, but that's the exact point. Celia never pays attention to anyone else unless Parker is around to see it. Otherwise, she pretty much ignores other men, she always has. It's been Parker all along. She's just never let him see it."
The last thing he wanted to do was defend the man who'd essentially abducted his daughter against her will, but Gerald found himself saying, "Teasing him that way...it's plain mean."
"She does it---consciously or unconsciously---to rile him up enough to declare himself." Lila looked a little too pleased with herself. "I guess it finally worked."
Women, he thought in disgust with a mental shake of his head. He had a pretty good idea his wife had a hand in all of this, because he just didn't see the very patient and responsible Parker West concocting such a harebrained scheme.
Yes, this was definitely Lila's meddling.
Gerald muttered to his wife, "I hope you know what you're doing."
---------
Her lashes fluttered and lifted, registering dappled sunlight at the same time she caught the tantalizing smell of frying bacon in the air.
Where was she?
Celia lifted to one elbow and blinked at the unfamiliar surroundings. The small space was neat and tidy, the plain rough table set with two plates and cups. There was already a pile of biscuits in a tin bowl. The sizzle of meat in a skillet made a soft, comforting sound.
She was entirely naked under the blankets, Celia realized with a jolt of memory. Her thighs, also, were slightly sticky. As the night before began to return in a small rush of erotic images, she blushed even though she was completely alone.
Parker West had done some fairly outrageous things to her body. Things she didn't imagine men and women ever did together. He'd had his mouth between her legs, for heaven's sake, and acted as if he liked doing it.
He'd put more than his mouth there. She remembered what it was like to be filled with his long, hard length, and a treacherous throb began in the very spot he'd invaded so carnally.
God help her, she'd liked it. Worse, he'd known it too, for she'd been vocal enough about her enjoyment.
It was a little humiliating.
But not enough to keep her from wanting to do it again.
The door swung open and he came inside, carrying the odor of pine and a breath of fresh mountain air. Dressed in his faded jeans, a patterned flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and hatless, he looked boyishly handsome with his carelessly combed hair and a grazing of dark whiskers on his jaw.
She tried to ignore the treacherous reaction she had to his presence. "Good morning."
His smile always had the power to beguile and disarm, no more than a quick, almost shy curve of his well-shaped mouth. "Good morning. I hope you slept well."
It was a polite thing to say, but ridiculous, as he certainly knew just how she'd slept. Naked, curled against him, his arms loosely clasped around her waist as they shared the bed. "I slept just fine," she told him, unaccountably chagrined. She pulled up the blanket to cover her bare breasts.
"Are you hungry?"
She was famished actually. They had never eaten supper the night before as they'd been too busy doing other things. Celia nodded, watching him crouch to adjust the coffeepot on the coals in the fireplace.
"It's about ready," he told her with a nod toward the table.
Glancing around, she looked for her clothes but saw nothing but the swept floor and plain, sparse furniture. "I wouldn't mind getting dressed," she said pointedly. "Where are my clothes?"
"You don't need clothes." His expression was perfectly bland.
Speechless for a moment, she stared at him.
"I like you naked," he explained as if it were the most reasonable thing on earth he'd obviously taken her clothes and put them somewhere. "Shall we sit up and eat?"
Celia sputtered, "You expect me to sit at the table nude and calmly eat with you?"
He winked, an uncharacteristic wicked grin surfacing again. "It's a little fantasy of mine."
A part of her wanted to laugh, but a greater part of her wanted to strangle him. "Well, too bad. Parker, give me back my shift, at least."
He shook his dark head. "Not right now. I make the rules, sweetheart, in case you haven't noticed. It never did get me anywhere to let you lead me around by the nose, so while we're here anyway, things are going to be as I like them." His ebony brows lifted in open amusement. "And I like you naked. I like it a lot."
He had to be the most infuriating, high-handed...outrageously handsome cowboy west of the Mississippi. Celia furiously watched him fill two plates with crisp bacon, steaming beans and biscuits, and had to admit the food smelled wonderful.
He looked wonderful, too. So tall and graceful in his quick, economic movements, the chiseled planes of his face and lean length of his body utterly masculine and entirely too attractive for her peace of mind.
Trying to eat with a blanket wrapped around her probably would be awkward and he'd end up getting an eyeful anyway.
Perhaps it was best to just comply, she decided with an inner glimmer of an idea. He might just be sorry he'd ever suggested this particular disgraceful notion.
When he set the plates on the table and gazed at her expectantly, an infuriatingly smug smile tugging at his mouth, Celia smiled right back. "I don't suppose there's much I can do about this...fantasy, is there?"
"Nope."
"I am hungry," she admitted, eyeing the steaming plates.
"It's not fancy but I'm a decent cook." Parker stood politely by the table, waiting for her.
"It smells good but I need to..." She wasn't sure exactly how to express what she needed, and that was to relieve herself and some water and a cloth would be welcome.
It was a little disconcerting to realize he understood perfectly. "I heated some water earlier," he said in an off-hand voice. "It's in a bucket on the porch."
"You don't expect me to go out there without anything on."
He just lifted his brows. "Who's going to see?"
Fine. If he wanted to be that way, she could give it right back.
She let her lashes drift down a fraction as she eased the blanket over her breasts, slowly exposing them. Sliding her legs over the side of the bed, she stood and stretched a little in a deliberately provocative way that thrust out her breasts as she shook back her long, tangled hair.
When she walked the few steps to the door, she saw his gaze had darkened slightly and he certainly wasn't looking at her face.
Good. If he was hoarding her clothes and making her walk outside naked, she was going to exact a little revenge.
True to his word, a bucket of warm water sat outside, and once she'd availed herself of the nearby bushes, she washed quickly, the morning air warming but still cool and crisp. He was still inside, standing by the table when she went back in. She shivered a little because she had no clothes but he pretended not to notice.
At least she was pretty sure he pretended. He seemed a bit distracted.
She sat down, waiting for him to sink into the opposite chair. The table was small, and they were close enough to touch. Picking up her fork, she asked pleasantly, "Any other fantasies I need to be aware of?"
His gaze was fastened on her bare breasts, but flickered up to meet hers briefly. "When it comes to you, I have quite a few."
The heat in his sky blue eyes made her feel that pleasurable pulse again between her legs. Celia took a small spoonful of beans and chewed and swallowed before she said dryly, "I'm almost afraid to ask."
"I think you'll find out soon enough." He seemed to have forgotten he had a fork. The utensil sat by his plate as he watched her eat.
"That sounds interesting since last night wasn't too bad," she said in a teasing tone, moving a little so her breasts swayed slightly. She might be fairly sheltered in some ways, but she did have three older brothers who occasionally made comments about women when they didn't know she could hear. Men seemed to have a fair fascination with a particular part of the female anatomy. Parker certainly seemed riveted on her chest at this moment.
"Aren't you going to eat?" she asked innocently before she took a bite of flaky biscuit. He hadn't lied about his cooking abilities. It was surprisingly light and delicious. "Or are you just going to sit there and let your food get cold while you stare at my tits?"
Looking startled, he growled, "Where did you hear that word?"
"Oh, come on, Parker. I have brothers and there are over a dozen hands on the ranch. I've probably about heard it all here and there."
"They should watch their mouths around you."
"This from the man who is forcing me to eat breakfast naked?" She couldn't help it, she laughed.
He was good-natured enough he also laughed, his mouth curving ruefully. "Maybe this was a damned poor idea after all," he muttered, and shifted a little in his chair.
"Are you...like that again?" Celia asked the question in mock sympathy.
What ever he was, Parker was not a fool. "I suppose you think it serves me right?"
"I sure do." She took another bite of her biscuit, looking at him in open challenge. "The question is, what are you going to do about it?"
---------
She was a little witch, that was all there was to it.
It wasn't like Parker didn't know she could be a tease---she'd done it to him often enough before, but this time things were entirely different.
His gaze dropped involuntarily to the spectacular swell of her bare breasts. She truly had perfect tits---as she put it---beautifully shaped and full, with those delectable pink nipples that fit so well in his mouth. Parker didn't think he'd ever seen anything quite so arousing. When she moved, even just to take a dainty bite of her food, the luscious weight of her flesh swayed in a slight quiver.
There was no doubt about it, his prick was at full attention and even though he'd been darned hungry before, it paled beside the ravenous carnal hunger he felt right at this moment. All he wanted to do was to take her, and take her hard. He wanted to hear those small, sexy sounds she made as he plunged inside her warm, wet sex, and he wanted to feel her come all around him again.
For the past five years, he'd longed for her so badly he couldn't sleep at night. Though he didn't think it possible, having had her, he needed her even more.
"What do you think I should do about it?" he asked in a voice that didn't even remotely sound like his own.
"You could fuck me again," she said, her blond hair a glorious riot of disheveled curls around her bare, ivory shoulders, a glint of mischief in her dark blue eyes. "I'd guess it's the obvious way to relieve your discomfort."
Yeah, a wickedly gorgeous little witch who had definitely heard a few words not meant for her ears.
"Is that an invitation?" he asked.
"Do you need one?" Her mouth curved slightly. "You didn't seem to need one last night."
He didn't. Unless the open challenge in her gaze and obvious peaked state of her delicately pink nipples was an invitation. She looked like she wanted it, and he was more than willing to give it to her.
Parker stood and scooped her out of the chair. Taking her back to the rumpled bed, he deposited her without ceremony and unfastened his pants to free his straining erection. Celia watched him shove his jeans down his hips. She said breathlessly, "Hurry."
Oh God.
He couldn't get out of his clothes fast enough. He heard the rattle of a button as it hit the floor when he pulled his shirt off, and it seemed forever to get his boots off his feet. Celia watched him with languorous invitation in her beautiful eyes and her glorious body was posed seductively, slim thighs slightly parted so he could see the promise of heaven. As he finally tossed his jeans aside, she deliberately and slowly spread her legs open in an unmistakable carnal signal of exactly what she wanted.
God in heaven, he could tell she was already wet and ready.
He covered her and with one smooth thrust, sheathed himself to the hilt inside her luscious wet heat.
When she cried out, he had one split second of fear he'd hurt her, but then her legs wrapped around his waist and her nails lightly scored his back. She said breathlessly, "Oh, yes."
He should at least kiss her, he thought as he began to move, but from the urgent lift of her hips and the grasp of her hands, he guessed she was more interested in speed than finesse. The night before he'd taken care to make love to her as gently as he knew how and initiate her to sexual intercourse with a care for her innocence.
Right now, as she so saucily suggested, he simply fucked her.
His buttocks flexed as he thrust between her legs, his harsh breathing mingling with the soft sounds of her moans of enjoyment. The pleasure of being inside her was exquisite, and the soft friction of her tight nipples against his chest aroused him further. For someone who had been a virgin just the night before, Celia seemed to possess an innate sensuality. She knew just how far to lift her hips so he slid in as deep as possible, and the flush of enjoyment on her lovely face was unmistakable.
When it came to sex, she wasn't exactly quiet either, and he found it sexy as hell.
"Parker," she moaned, her inner muscles tightening with perfect, tantalizing pressure around his surging cock.
"Come for me," he urged, a faint sheen of sweat breaking out over his whole body. "I want to see you climax, sweetheart."
Her throat arched back, and her eyes drifted shut, the lashes dark against the elegant curve of her cheekbones. Celia panted, "Ooh...I...can't...take...it."
But she did take it. She took it hard for about another three deep strokes before she screamed and convulsed around his insistent penetration in open, abandoned release.
He climaxed in a violent rush of response, the pleasure so acute the entire world went blank. He ejaculated so hard his muscles shook as he emptied into her vagina. Parker buried his face in the fragrant silk of her tumbled hair and gasped, feeling small aftershocks of pulsing pleasure, only barely aware enough to keep his weight braced so he didn't crush the woman beneath him.
Tangled together in an intimate joining of damp skin and entwined limbs, they stayed that way without speaking for a few moments until Celia gave a small, soft laugh. It turned into genuine mirth, and Parker finally lifted his head and wryly raised his brows. "For your information, a man isn't flattered if a woman laughs at him after sex."
Her slender fingers lifted to stroke his cheek and she shook her head. "I'm not laughing at you, quite the contrary. I'm laughing at my mother."
"I'd appreciate it if when we're in bed together that we not mention our parents." Parker said it with a small grin, entranced with how beautiful she looked beneath him with her burnished gold hair and fragile features. Everything about her was feminine and alluring, and even though he'd kidnapped her and dragged her up to the secluded cabin, he had the distinct feeling he was the one who was a prisoner. "For instance, I'd take money on it your father would like to lynch me 'long about now."
Considering his cock was still buried deep inside her; that was undoubtedly true. In fact, if Gerald Evans saw them as they were in bed right now, Parker would be a dead man. Celia didn't deny it either. She said softly, "He likes you. My mother does, too. The reason I was laughing is because she took me aside a couple of days ago and gave me a pretty frank talk about what we just did. It was almost like she knew this was going to happen."
"Really?" Parker tried to seem bland. He gave her what he hoped was a questioning look, still braced on his elbows above her. "This I'm dying to hear. What did she say?"
"Actually, she told me the absolute truth in pretty accurate anatomical detail." Celia's dark blue eyes were amused. "I was horrified, if you want to know, and I really didn't believe her. I have to say when described, the whole process of sex sounds rather disgusting."
Considering she lived on a working ranch, she couldn't have been completely ignorant even before her mother's lecture. Parker gently slid free from between her legs and rolled over on his back, settling next to her. He really couldn't remember being more content in his life. "You've seen the stallions cover the mares. Not to mention the bulls with the cows."
"That's not a particularly gentle act and not at all the same thing."
"I wasn't exactly gentle a few minutes ago, either." He felt a little guilty, for she surely had to be sore from the night before. "I hope I didn't hurt you in any way."
"No, you didn't. Or if you did, I didn't care at the moment."
"You're sure?"
Celia, as usual, had the ability to unsettle him. She rose up on one elbow and brushed his mouth with a light kiss. Lush and gorgeous, with his sperm gleaming on her pale thighs in glistening rivulets, she whispered against his lips, "I liked it."
God help him, he was completely at her mercy.
"Me, too," he said in husky response and pulled her into his arms.
The fence had been cut. This wasn't the first time, either.
John Evans swung off his horse and studied the tracks with a practiced eye. There had been about five of them as far as he could tell, and a good amount of cattle had been herded through the gap.
Parker West, when he got back from his little impulsive outing with Celia, was going to be livid. They were all losing stock, but their own operation and the West ranch had borne the brunt of the rustlers' attention.
True, the Wests ran more head than they did, but they were definitely both targets.
John wondered if he didn't know why, for he'd be damned if he didn't have a pretty solid suspicion of just who might be behind the recent upsurge in stolen cattle. He'd been thinking about it for some time but had been reluctant to say anything.
Joshua trotted up on his bay and swore softly, taking in the damage. "Fucking lowdown thieves. Parker is going to be pissed as hell."
Out looking for a stray mare that had escaped their pasture, they'd ridden all over the West ranch to see if she might have ended up there. This wasn't the only place that had been used to steal stock.
Taking out a paper and his bag of tobacco, John deftly rolled himself a cigarette with one hand, pouring the tobacco with the pouch between his teeth. He tucked the pouch back in his pocket. "I've got a theory about all this," he drawled.
"Oh yeah?" Josh slid off his horse, squinted at the tracks with an expression of disgust, and shook his head. "Enlighten me whenever you're ready, little brother."
"Colter's doin' this. Well, not him specifically, but he's backing them."
Josh was built like their father, heavy in the shoulders, and had a shock of brown hair, but they'd all inherited their mother's signature blue eyes. His eyes narrowed. "Rance Colter's rich. He doesn't need to rustle cattle."
John gave his brother a level glance. "Ever wonder how exactly he got so rich? I have. Besides, Rance Colter has been panting over Celia for the past year and she won't have anything to do with him. Has it never struck you as odd that we're losing cows right and left now that she snubbed him, and even more odd that Parker's getting it even worse? No one else seems to be having much trouble. Oh sure, here and there maybe, just for appearances, but we are definitely being singled out, Josh. Colter claims his cattle are being rustled too, but I don't trust that son of a bitch any farther than I can toss his sorry ass. I bet if we rode all around his property, we'd find his fences just as right as rain."
"Maybe." Josh looked thoughtful.
"If it is Colter, he's not goin' to be real happy when Parker and Celia come back married. Because believe me, Parker is smart enough to know when he brings her back, there had better be a ring on her finger."
"I'll kill him myself if there isn't." Josh said it with conviction.
The afternoon was warm and John gazed out over the grass to where the mountains rose above the valley. "I have a fair idea where he's taken her."
"Do you?"
He and Parker West were the same age, had been neighbors all their lives and they were solid friends. Parker had told him about the cabin a few years ago, but John wasn't sure exactly where it was located. West could be pretty private about some things and he liked his solitude now and again.
"I think I could find them. He's got a place he goes to hunt and fish and told me once where it was."
"So?" Josh scuffed the trampled soil with his boot. "What are you going to do, bust in on them?"
"No." John frowned. "Of course not. I'm just wondering if I'm the only one who knows where they might be."
His older brother's jaw tensed and his eyes flashed. "If you think for a minute Celia's in danger, you'd better say so right now."
They were all protective of their two younger sisters, but there was no question that while Rose was practical and demure, Celia was neither. Oh yes, she was a lady, their mother and three years at a private Eastern school had seen to it, but she had an underlying reckless streak that was not easy to rein in. Coupled with the fact she was so pretty, it made for a combustible combination.
Parker---if he had his way and actually got her to the altar and everything tied up right and tight---was going to have his hands full.
"He keeps the cabin pretty secret," John said after a moment of contemplation, uneasy, but not uneasy enough to ride up there. "I doubt anyone else knows about it."
"I wish the entire territory didn't know he up and took her," Josh muttered, staring at the mangled fence. "If you're right about Colter, it might set off something I have no desire to deal with. Colter has lots of friends. We could have ourselves a little range war damned easy."
"They aren't exactly his friends," John pointed out, gathering the reins in his hand and swinging into the saddle. "Let's keep in mind he has lots of money, which buys loyalty, but only so far. Shit, this could be a mess. I'd guess he owns every judge between here and Denver. Even if we could somehow prove he's behind this sudden increase in our stock being rustled, we can't fight this legal---it isn't going to work."
Josh grinned, vaulting on to the back of his big gelding. "Then we'll fight it the other way. Come on, let's follow those tracks."
---------
The pool was cool and deep. Celia sank in, feeling the water rush over her thighs and then her breasts. Her first reaction was a shiver, but then she sighed with pleasure. The stream was a fast-moving rush of water, but this sheltered nook, bordered by a small drop-off and some large rocks, was a very nice place to bathe.
Rinsing her hair, she washed afterwards, the crystal water turning foamy from the soap before it ran clear again in seconds due to the current. When her soapy hands slid over the curves of her breasts---an act she'd done many times before as she bathed, but had never enjoyed---she felt a languid sense of pleasure and her nipples hardened.
What has Parker done to me? she wondered. Experimentally, she brushed her nipple again, rubbing lightly. It pebbled further under the light press of her fingers and between her legs she felt suddenly warm.
He could do that to her instantly. With a glance or the lightest touch. They'd been at the cabin for three days now and it seemed all they did was make love. Her body had become attuned to pleasure, and she was both sexually curious and eager to learn more about this sensual world she had no idea existed before this trip.
Not, she thought with a small smile, that Parker seemed to have any trouble obliging her. He looked at her with a pure male hunger in his eyes she found as arousing as the actual feel of him inside her.
However, he still hadn't told her he loved her. Neither had he officially proposed again.
Leaning back against a flat rock, she semi-floated in dreamy contentment, letting the stream run over her skin.
"Now that's any man's dream come true."
Her lashes lifted at the familiar timbre of the deep voice. She knew he was nearby, because despite their seclusion, he refused to leave her unguarded at any time. Parker stayed fairly close to the cabin even when he was doing necessary chores like gathering kindling or hunting. Celia smiled lazily, a deliberately provocative curve of her mouth. "I was just thinking about you."
He stood on the bank, his blue eyes slightly narrowed as he examined her nude body through the running water. He'd been out earlier looking for game, and his rifle was still in his hand. "Were you?"
"Yes." She moved upright so her breasts bobbed in the water, drawing his gaze.
"Care to tell me more?" There was a slight husky edge to his voice she now recognized. The dappled sunlight gleamed off his dark hair.
"I was thinking about how much I like it when you fuck me." It wasn't a thing any lady would say and her mother would faint if she heard, but Celia gave him a provoking grin and said it anyway.
His brows shot up. He said dryly, "That might just make me the luckiest man on this earth, but we are going to have to do something about your language, sweetheart."
"I thought all the rules were suspended here. You're sure acting like they are. Besides, at home, I have to be the perfect proper young lady my parents think they raised. As far as I can tell, nothing proper has happened between us since you tossed me on your horse." She was only half-teasing, for she did feel a certain lovely sense of liberation, and not just sexually. On the ranch, someone pretty much kept track of her all the time, and a lot of it was simply her older brothers were so protective of her. She appreciated their concern, but it was stifling at times. Lately they wouldn't even let her take an afternoon horseback ride on her own.
She wouldn't mind a ride of an entirely different sort now.
"We're going to have to go back soon, you know," he told her.
She did know, but at this moment, she simply felt needy in a way that was as old as man and woman. "Well, if I'm not mistaken, right now we're here, and we're alone. If you want to truly feel lucky, come on in." She stood up, giving him a full view of her naked torso, droplets running off the curves of her breasts and pearling against her skin. Cool water swirled around her waist.
"There's an invitation I'm not likely to turn down." Parker set his rifle aside carefully in the soft springy grass by the side of the stream, and his gaze suddenly glittered.
Celia watched him undress, anticipation weighing her limbs with a delicious potent languor. He stripped with efficient swiftness, and she saw that he was hard already, his erection stark against the flat taut plane of his stomach, lifting the full sacs of his testicles. When Parker waded into the water, he stopped and swore briefly, giving her an accusing look. "I forgot how cold this water is."
"You get used to it." Celia moved toward him. Where he stood, the water was only about thigh deep and she could feel the sandy bottom under her feet. Unmoving, he let her come closer, the ripple of the current gushing around the well-muscled contours of his legs.
Reaching out, she slipped her fingers around his blatantly aroused cock, registering his slight gasp. "Is my hand cold?"
"Yes, but I don't care." His voice sounded strangled.
She had already learned he liked it when she touched and stroked his testicles and cock. In fact, it gave her a certain sense of power whenever she caressed him so intimately, for it was clear how vulnerable he was to just her touch. Running her fingers up and down, she explored the velvet-tight skin of his stiff erection, felt the distended veins and the smooth hardness. The engorged tip seeped a clear sticky droplet and on impulse, she bent and licked it off.
His whole body jerked. "Jesus!"
It didn't taste bad, she decided, and his reaction was definitely worth it. "Don't women do this?" she asked curiously, giving another small swipe of her tongue over the swollen crest. "You do it to me."
"Some women do." His powerful body was tense as a bowstring. "But I would never ask you to do it."
"Why not?" She glanced up from under the veil of her lashes, her mouth still just an inch or so away from the crest of his erection. "Doesn't it feel good?"
His broad shoulders lifted a fraction and his response was ragged. "It feels...I can't find the adequate word to describe it, so yeah, I guess I'll say it feels good. Too damned good, but..."
"But what? Tell me what to do, Parker."
"Celia, you can't ask me that." It wasn't more than a whisper but his eyes were half-closed and she could feel the surge of his penis in her hand in response to her question. He definitely wanted her to do it, she decided, but as usual was too polite about the whole thing.
She said tartly, "I guess I'll have to give it a try and see how it turns out."
It felt wickedly naughty to drop to her knees in the streambed and let the cool water caress her back and shoulders as she took the tip of his cock in her mouth. Parker's hands wove into her wet hair and he groaned. It was pretty easy to guess he wouldn't ask her to do it because proper young ladies didn't put their mouths on a man's erect sex. No matter all that had happened between them the past few days, he apparently still thought of her that way.
She liked to unsettle him, and old habits were hard to break. Besides, maybe in the past her flirtatious teasing had left him frustrated, but he certainly wasn't going be left unsatisfied this time.
Celia took as much of his length to the back of her throat as possible, licking, tasting, gently sucking. He mumbled another incoherent protest, but she ignored it, her hands grasping his thighs for balance. It wasn't long before he gasped out, "Stop."
She would have continued but he tugged her head up forcefully enough that she obeyed, and this time she was the one who gasped as he lifted her out of the water. Wading deeper in the pool, Parker had a taut, almost fierce, expression on his face. Celia felt the coolness of the flat slanted rock at her back as he braced her against it. He parted her legs almost roughly underneath the water and thrust inside her throbbing cleft.
Perfect.
The contrast of the cool water and his hot cock pushing into her was arousing, and so was how he held her hips in place and moved with a wildness that was unlike Parker's normal reserve. She liked making him lose control, and her arms wound around his neck as she spread her legs wider and clung to him. It wasn't long before she felt the escalating rise of orgasmic pleasure, the tempestuous rhythm of his lovemaking a perfect match for her own raw need.
When she climaxed, her cry rose above the sound of rushing water, and her thighs tightened around his lean hips. Parker pushed into her contracting passage until he exploded, pouring into her in a hot rush of liquid release.
He held her there, pressed against the rock. His uneven breathing was warm against her cheek and his arms felt strong and secure.
That was perfectly fine with her, Celia thought, gazing at her lover. She wouldn't mind if they stayed that way forever.
It was certainly the best bath she'd ever had.
---------
Parker crouched down and stirred the pot, glad he'd taken the time to bring supplies up to the cabin a few days before he'd gone after Celia. The stew smelled darned good, if he did say so himself. He'd killed and skinned a rabbit earlier, and with carrots and potatoes from his mother's carefully tended garden, it promised to be delicious.
"I hope you know I can't cook."
He glanced up and smiled wryly. "I know."
Celia sat at the table, her arms folded as she watched him with a slightly rueful look on her lovely face. "I really can't sew much either. Both my mother and Rose say I'm pretty hopeless when it comes to domestic skills."
"Luckily, those aren't the skills that interest me." Still crouched by the hearth, Parker gave her a sinful wink. "You're damned good at what pleases me most and you're still just a beginner, sweetheart."
She blushed, her cheeks tinting a delightful, enchanting pink. "I suppose you're an expert judge, is that it? I have to say it has occurred to me the other night sure didn't seem to be your first experience with sex, Parker."
Whoa, he didn't want to travel through this particular territory, though it did please him Celia seemed a little jealous. Her blue eyes held a hint of unhidden resentment.
He said cautiously, "I'm twenty-five."
"What has your age got to do with anything?"
"Men are a little different than women." He straightened and leaned a shoulder against the mantle, hoping he didn't sound defensive. "We kind of regard virginity as something to dispose of as quickly as we're able to do so."
That response apparently wasn't the one she wanted. Her chin lifted a little and she gave him a level accusing look. "I see. Just how old were you when you were able to dispose of it?"
He'd been fifteen, and his first time had been with a beautiful Spanish girl a few years older. Conchita had eventually married one of his father's cowboys and moved to New Mexico, but he still thought of her from time to time. Since then he hadn't been exactly celibate, but once he realized exactly how he felt about Celia Evans, his cock had more than a passing acquaintance with his hand. Parker said coolly, "Pretty young. But I've never regarded sex as a casual thing, Celia. I wouldn't ever pay for it like a lot of men do---and I haven't really even looked at any other woman since I fell in love with you a good five years ago."
Her expression changed then, softening from defiant accusation to something entirely different. "You've never said it to me."
Parker blinked. "Said what?"
"That you're in love with me."
He shoved his fingers through his hair in exasperation. "The whole world knows I'm in love with you. There isn't a question you've known it for a long time."
She shook her blond head, soft golden curls brushing her slender shoulders. "You can be so dense, Parker."
Maybe he was, because he sure as hell had no idea what exactly she wanted from him. "I proposed," he pointed out.
"You told me you thought we should get married because we'd been neighbors all our lives and you thought not only would we suit each other, but it'd be nice that I would live so close to my family."
Put that way, he supposed it didn't sound particularly romantic. Parker crossed his arms over his chest and flushed slightly. "All of that is true."
"This is big country but we have other neighbors. I suppose I should consider marrying one of them."
Her flippant tone irritated the hell out of him, not mention the fact he intensely disliked the idea of any other man touching her, even if she was being sarcastic. "You're marrying me tomorrow in Tijeras, sweetheart, so you can get over that notion. The judge comes into town every Thursday."
Celia shook her head and stood up, looking luscious in her simple blue dress, her eyes flashing. "You can't tell me to marry you, Parker."
"I think I just did, Miss Evans."
"Go to hell."
"That sassy mouth of yours has got to be reined in."
"I dare you to try." She looked more beautiful than ever with high color in her cheeks and fire in her gaze.
"We have to get married, sweetheart. I've fucked you, remember?" The minute he said it, he regretted it. He wasn't handling this right, but she had the ability to get under his skin the way no one else could. She used the crude word now and then in playful banter because he disapproved, but he knew she didn't really think of what happened between them in bed---and a few other places---that way.
He didn't think of it that way either.
Her soft mouth tightened. "You sure have. Just like you fucked all those other women, however many there have been. I notice you didn't marry them, so it makes that particular argument invalid, I'm afraid. Excuse me, I think I'm going outside for a short walk. I don't think much of the company in here."
Lord, this is not going well.
She turned and stalked toward the door and at first Parker figured he'd just let her go cool off outside. When Celia thought about it, she'd know they were obligated to get married, and more than that, he was convinced she felt the same way about him as he did her. Then he'd ask her politely again to be his wife, and leave out all mention of the points of his first proposal she apparently didn't appreciate.
She furiously swung open the door, and Parker changed his mind.
No, she wasn't walking out on this argument. Whenever he played the passive suitor, he lost ground. It was an old pattern, and it had gotten him nowhere. On the other hand, she seemed to like it when he was a bit more assertive. Letting her flounce out would be a mistake.
He lunged away from the mantle and caught her in three long strides, just as she stepped out on the tiny front porch of the cabin. Celia made a choked incensed sound of surprise as his hands grasped her waist, and he barely avoided a wild swing of her fist he suspected would have hurt if it connected. Parker dragged her back inside and kicked the door shut, ignoring her struggles.
"Get your hands off me," she said icily, doing her best to kick him in the knee. "I do not want to talk to you right now."
"Too bad. I do want to talk. Right now." Crossing the small space, he fairly tossed her on the bed.
She tried to sit up but he wouldn't let her, catching her arms over her head and pinning her to the thin mattress with his longer, much larger, body. She always felt wonderful beneath him, and he could feel the generous swell of her breasts through her dress and his shirt, not to mention the perfect cradle of her hips against his crotch.
With a lethal glare, she called him a very, very bad name.
In answer, he kissed her.
It was his intention to be forceful, but instead he found he molded his mouth to hers with gentle persuasion that said more than any words he could find. At first she was stiff and unyielding, but it lasted all of two seconds. Her lips parted and let him inside the sweet recesses of her mouth, welcoming the gentle glide of his tongue.
His bride-to-be loved sex, he'd already discovered that. With her tempestuous personality he wasn't precisely surprised, but her uninhibited reaction to the physical act was more than what he expected. In the past three days, she had initiated sex as often as he had, and he simply could not believe how incredibly she responded to him.
That was a weapon he wasn't too proud to use.
He kissed her long and slow, until he could feel her lift her hips in supplication and need. Trailing small nips along the elegant line of her jaw, he nuzzled the hollow beneath her ear. "You make me crazy, Celia."
"Do I?" He'd released her arms and she slid them around his neck.
"I think you have a pretty clear idea you do," he said, not able to help a small note of cynicism in his voice. "In fact, I'm sure you do it on purpose, damn your sweet hide." He kissed the slim column of her throat, finding the place where her pulse beat quickly under the delicate skin.
"But you fell in love with me anyway?" There was an underlying note to her voice he recognized as arousal, coupled with a question she apparently needed answered.
"I sure did." It was perfectly true.
Her pelvis lifted again, pressing his growing erection. "Show me, Parker."
"If you agree to marry me, I'll be more than happy to oblige, ma'am."
For a moment, the dreamy look in her eyes clouded. "That's not fair."
"Is there anything about what's between us that is fair?" The raw note in his speech was as honest as anything he'd ever expressed in his life. "Let's talk about fair for a moment, sweetheart. If you knew how many hours of my life I've spent thinking about you, wanting you, and not just this way," he lightly thrust against her with the bulge in his jeans, "you'd realize just how much I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
For a moment, she said nothing. Then she lifted her mouth to his in a passionate, searing kiss. When they broke apart, she said huskily, "That isn't precisely what I was looking for, but it's good enough. Fine, I'll marry you."
He wasn't about to let her refuse, but still Parker felt a thrill of elation at her capitulation.
Her lashes lowered and her gaze was pure feminine allure. Her soft lips moved in a slow, enticing curve. "Now, if I'm not mistaken, you're in good form to hold up your end of the bargain." She wiggled suggestively against him, making his cock swell even more. "Prove to me you love me."
He had absolutely no problem with that request. Parker grinned. "If you insist."
Her blue eyes held the heavy look of sensual need. "Believe me, I insist."
John Evans lounged in the doorway of the shop, one shoulder propped on the doorjamb. His seemingly casual pose was at odds with his heightened attention.
As he predicted, Colter was in town, and he could smell the stink of real trouble.
Shit.
Sometimes he just plain hated being right.
His gaze narrowed on the small, dusty little building that served as both jail and courthouse, John waited. Across the street, his brother Jared stood by the entrance of the general store, his stance just as deceptively relaxed. Joshua was outside the saloon, watching for the small group of men Rance Colter had brought with him to town to leave.
If Colter had a notion of self-preservation, he wouldn't try anything. Yeah, he had more guns if it came down to a count, but Parker was no slouch shot, and Jared was generally considered to be one of the best in Colorado. John knew he and Josh could handle themselves just fine as well, but they were there more for prevention than anything.
It couldn't be coincidence that on the day the circuit judge came through, Colter suddenly decided to make an appearance. Any fool could figure out if Parker wanted to marry Celia, this was the day he'd bring her into town.
Which is exactly what had happened. A few minutes ago they'd ridden up and gone inside to see the judge. John had a glimpse of a small boy, who had been loitering by the courthouse steps, running off toward the saloon where Colter and his men had been drinking most of the afternoon.
Not a good sign.
Intent on the façade of the building, he almost didn't realize a woman walked by until he caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. He glanced up and straightened immediately, politely touching the brim of his hat, his expression neutral. "Good afternoon, ma'am."
"Good afternoon, Mr. Evans." She smiled faintly, holding an infant in her arms, two small children crowding her skirts. Dressed in a blue gown, Mrs. Reed looked young and pretty, with her dark hair neatly in a bun and her eyes showing a hint of curiosity over his vigilant post outside the dressmaker's shop.
He glanced at the wide blue eyes of the baby she held for a long moment, and then back at the doorway of the saloon. Very quietly, he said, "You might want to take the children inside and off the street."
Maybe it was the tone of his voice, but the young woman complied at once, hustling the children through a nearby doorway.
Sure enough, a few minutes later, six men came out of the Lucky Lady.
Fuck.
The stickiest part of this was to make sure Celia stayed safe. That was why John had insisted they all come to town today. He'd heard rumors Colter had made a few drunken public comments to the effect that if he'd known all he had to do was tie Celia Evans up and ride off with her, he'd have made his move a long time ago.
John just had a bad feeling in his gut. The rancher was a ruthless bastard. He knew it, and most of the area knew it. He'd completely approved of Celia's lack of enthusiasm for his attempted courtship. Unfortunately, Rance Colter was also used to getting his own way, especially in this section of Colorado.
As he watched the tall, lanky form of his adversary walk purposefully down the street, John loosened his gun a little in the holster at his hip. That son of a bitch was going for six-to-one odds. Well, he was in for an unpleasant little surprise because the Evans boys were in town to even things up a little.
Jared made his move exactly on time. "Hey, Colter," he shouted, tipping back his hat a little.
The slow way he strolled out into the dusty street in front of them didn't look threatening, but the way he held his body spoke volumes. Jared might be the youngest of the three of them, but he was by far the wildest. On cue, John walked out from the opposite direction to stand by his brother between the group and the courthouse.
He said pleasantly, "Good afternoon, Rance. By the way, just so you know, Josh is behind you all, watching your backs, so to speak."
All six men had come to a halt at their sudden appearance, and John saw several of them glance back to make sure what he'd just said was perfectly true. Josh stood a ways back in the middle of the street and it was easy enough to see he was armed and didn't look all that friendly.
"Hello, Evans," Colter said coolly, but his face suddenly looked a little flushed. He was older, in his mid-thirties, with handsome, almost sharp, features and eyes so dark they looked black. He dressed with dandified care, and today he'd played it up more than usual. His frock coat, brightly embroidered vest and trousers were well-cut and expensive, and a gold watch chain glittered beneath his coat. Even his hat looked new, and his boots were polished to a high sheen.
He looked like a man planning to get married.
Hell.
Without taking his gaze from the group, John said conversationally to his younger brother, "Our friend Rance here sure is dressed up. I'm wondering now if Parker is unexpectedly having trouble getting the judge to cooperate. I'm also wondering if that same judge is expecting our well-dressed friend to appear and maybe substitute in as Celia's new husband, and Parker might wind up dead in the bargain."
Only a year older than Celia, Jared had a good dose of the same hot-tempered disposition. He spat out, "Jesus, I think you might be right, John."
Colter attempted a pleasant smile but it came off as a sickly smirk. "Look, boys---"
"If John is right, that's the dumbest plan I've ever heard of, Colter." Jared slightly shook his blond head in derision, but his gaze stayed watchful. "Even if you managed to pull it off and coerce Celia into marrying you, your life would be a living hell, man. Not that you'd suffer for too long, because I'd kill you, if she didn't do the job first."
They must have hit close to home, because Colter's mouth tightened and his eyes glittered. "Last I knew, your sister was kidnapped. That's against the law, even here. Let's just say my affection for her compels me to make sure she isn't made to do anything against her will. West should be strung up for taking an innocent woman by force up into the mountains for the better part of a week. The judge happens to agree."
John gave a small, hard laugh. "I'm sure he agreed after he saw your money. And for your information, it's damned hard to make Celia do anything she doesn't want to do. If she's marrying Parker West, it's because she wants to marry him. If I didn't think that, Josh, Jared, or myself would take care of the matter, believe me. This isn't your affair."
"I can't see as how you all have taken care of anything. You let him ride off with her." Jealousy, open and undisguised, twisted Colter's face. "She's soiled goods now, but I'm still willing to make her an honest woman."
"What'd you call my sister?" Jared's face had gone livid, but his voice was icy and his hand hovered close to his hip.
Colter wasn't a complete fool. He could hear the very real menace in the question and his expression changed from fury to fear as his swarthy complexion went pale. Several of his men moved uneasily, showing their discomfort with the situation. One of them muttered something under his breath about not signing on for a big fight over a woman.
The last thing John wanted was for things to get out of hand. Since they stood in the middle of the street, here and there people had begun to notice the confrontation. John said tersely, "Look Rance, there's more of you, but all three of us are damn good shots and I'm pretty sure your men here don't get paid enough to die. Besides, with Josh back there, we kinda got you surrounded. If we start firing, who knows what direction you need to look, and believe me, you go first. Here's what's going to happen. Your men are going to step aside. Then we are going into the courthouse, and you're going to tell the judge it's just fine to marry my sister and Parker West. In exchange for your cooperation, I'll do my best to keep him from killing you when he finds out what you've been up to. Right now, I'd guess he's already pretty mad. It takes a lot to get him going, but he can be dangerous if you push him too far."
For a moment Colter looked like he might argue. Jared said in a brittle, sarcastic voice, "You got a second choice, of course. I could call you out for what you just said about Celia. You see, I'm sure you know I'm not nearly as reasonable as John here, and you just thoroughly pissed me off."
Looking a little green, Colter visibly swallowed, obviously backing away from the challenge. "I meant no offense. I've got some influence in these parts and I'll be happy to talk to the judge if that's what you all want."
Every man with him looked a little disgusted, John was glad to see.
Jared said scathingly, "Yeah, that's kind of what I thought you'd say, but I have to tell you, I'm damned disappointed I don't get to kill you."
---------
Parker stared at the man sitting behind the small desk and actually looked a bit dangerous for a change, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by a visible lethal anger. He said in an ice-cold voice, "Do you mind repeating that?"
Judge Ramsey, portly and ruddy-faced, looked unfazed. "I said my authority permits me to refuse your request on the basis that this young woman is apparently here under duress."
Celia laid a restraining hand on her bridegroom-to-be's arm, feeling the tension in his muscles. "I assure you, Judge, I'm here of my own free will."
Ramsey transferred his attention to her, his gaze brushing her probably somewhat disheveled appearance after their long ride down from the mountains. "Did Mr. West here abduct you, Miss Evans?"
She'd been raised to respect the law---such as it was at times in this part of Colorado---but she had a distinct feeling that no matter what she said, for some reason this man had it in for Parker. She lifted her chin. "Where did you hear that?"
"I'd appreciate it if you'd answer my question, young lady."
"I can't see if it matters how Parker chose to convince me to marry him, as long as he did convince me. I want to marry him and that's why I'm standing here."
"I'm not going to reward a crime by making a mockery of the sanctity of marriage." That pompous statement was made with a smug smile.
"Crime?" Parker's voice held a lethal note and Celia tightened her fingers in an unspoken message. She'd only seen Parker truly angry once or twice in her life and when he did finally get to that point, he was as volatile as a sweeping summer storm. "I've been courting Celia for the past five years. When I asked her father for his permission to marry her, he gave me his blessing. I made a mess of my first proposal and just wanted a chance to talk to her alone. It worked, I might say, and all we want is to make this legal and be on our way."
"Well, too bad, Mr. West, I---"
The door into the small building---used to house extra prisoners when the jail was full or to conduct legal proceedings---flew open and Ramsey stopped midsentence as a man stumbled as he was pushed inside. Celia recognized Rance Colter with a lurch of her stomach, compounded by astonishment when she saw her brothers---all three of them. Jared had his gun drawn and the forbidding look on his face would give anyone pause.
"What's this?" Judge Ramsey demanded, but the superior look on his face had vanished. In fact, he'd lost some of his ruddy color.
"Howdy, Your Honor." Jared indicated Colter with his pistol. "This here gentleman has something to say to you. I suggest for his health you listen."
"You cannot come in here waving weapons at innocent citizens." The bluster was unconvincing as the judge refused to even look at Rance Colter.
Celia wasn't too fond of looking at him either. He made her skin crawl and had from the first moment she'd met him, but at the moment, she couldn't help but stare, wondering what was going on.
The tall rancher shot Parker, who looked more furious by the moment, a baleful glance, but cleared his throat. "I might have been mistaken. Rumor had it Miss Evans was taken against her will. Apparently she had no problem riding off with West..."
He trailed off in a squeak as Parker swung furiously around. Celia quickly stepped in front of the man she wanted to marry and blocked him from doing something damned foolish, like murdering someone in front of a judge. She said softly, "Don't. He isn't worth it."
The plea registered but still his expression was deadly.
John stepped forward and stood next to her, on the opposite side from Parker. "I'll stand in as witness and best man, Your Honor. Do it."
The judge seemed to realize that just Colter's health wasn't in question and fumbled to pick up a small book. As he hastily recited the words she barely registered, she made what must have been the appropriate responses because a few minutes later, Parker turned to her, hauled her into his arms and kissed her.
Hard. Long. Until she heard someone---it sounded like Josh---chuckle.
---------
Her wedding had been a circus, and now her wedding night seemed to consist of a long, grueling ride to the West ranch and an armed escort in the form of her three brothers.
It was probably not an auspicious way to start a marriage.
She was half asleep when they rode up to the ranch house, and it was full dark. For a moment she blinked, not sure where she was, still comfortably resting against her husband's broad chest.
Her husband. That seemed extraordinary. She and Parker were finally married.
"You got it from here?" John said it with a slight amused tone to his voice, reining in his restive mount. "If so, we'll be off home."
Parker gave a grim little laugh. "Yeah, I got it. She'll be safe. Thanks for being there today. I guess I didn't realize how far Colter had gone around the bend. I knew he tried to court her, but Celia didn't tell me he was so intent he'd try something like what he did with the judge."
"I doubt she suspected. I just took a guess myself. I've got a few other guesses you might be interested in. My father and I will ride over tomorrow and I think we need to have a talk." John's face looked tight in the thin light of a few stars visible through a haze of high streaming clouds.
At the mention of her father, Celia stirred with a small, sleepy yawn. Her other two brothers sat on their horses in the shadows. "Will you all tell him I'm fine? I don't want him to try and kill Parker or anything."
Jared grinned at her, a flash of white teeth in the dark. "Hey, sis, if we haven't killed him, Pa's not likely to do it. We've all been waitin' for you to come around and marry him. I guess Parker finally lost patience and took matters into his own hands."
His hands, yes, certainly, Celia remembered very well those hands...everywhere. There wasn't a part of her body he hadn't touched and done a thorough job of it. However, it was irritating that everyone seemed to be on Parker's side all the time.
Her husband slid off Diablo in a graceful movement and nodded at her brothers. "I guess I'll see you all tomorrow, then."
They rode off in a small thud of hoof beats that retreated into the distance and died. She felt a small qualm as Parker's hands closed around her waist and lifted her from the saddle. "I guess I live here now." She didn't mean for her voice to sound so subdued, but as her brothers left without her and headed toward the only home she'd ever known, it struck her deeply just how much her life had suddenly changed.
"Hey." Long fingers touched her chin and tilted her face up. He peered down at her. "We live here. Together."
"That just feels so...different."
"Yeah, I know, sweetheart." His fingers trailed down her throat and along her collarbone in a light caress. "But do you know how long I've wanted to bring you here as my bride?"
She shook her head.
"Let's just say it's been a very long time. Come on, let's go inside. I'll tend to Diablo in a few minutes."
The house was low and rambling, and Celia knew it almost as well as she knew her own home. It was a clear evening and the windows were open, the aroma of fresh baked bread mingling with the cool, sweet air. Inside, the big house was furnished in a curiously charming mixture of antiques that Parker's mother had brought with her from her childhood home in Connecticut and practical, plain handmade pieces. A huge stone fireplace dominated the living room, and there was a brightly patterned Indian blanket on the wall along with a few framed portraits. A beautiful cut glass lamp from France sat on a rough-hewn pine table in a corner, and on the floor there were several luxurious oriental rugs.
It was a lovely place and she wasn't certain why she felt so unsure of herself. It certainly couldn't be wedding night jitters, for she'd practiced that part of marriage often enough in the past few days.
"My mother's bound to be in the kitchen," Parker said, giving her hand a slight squeeze. "I can smell something wonderful. I told her to expect us sometime this evening, so she's probably gone all out."
Celia stared at him. "You told her to expect us this evening?"
"Do you think I'd just ride off and not tell my family when to expect me back?" His ebony brows lifted a fraction, and Parker looked genuinely puzzled.
Of course he wouldn't. He was Parker West and that would be irresponsible. Even when he planned on outrageously kidnapping someone, he'd let his mother know just when he'd be back home.
She resisted his tug on her hand. "Forgive me if your arrogance irritates me," she snapped out. "If you told your mother to expect the both of us, that certainly seems to mean you didn't ever intend to particularly give me a choice in whether I wanted to marry you or not."
"Oh Lord, are we going to have an argument now? We just walked through the door, sweetheart, and quite frankly, I'm tired and hungry."
Thin-skinned and more than a little tired herself, she asked sharply, "Did your mother approve of you riding off to abduct me?"
Parker looked at her, his blue eyes direct. "Yes, she did. Since it was her idea, your mother approved of it too. I was a little skeptical because I was pretty sure you'd be mad as hell at me if I tried it, but I must say it all worked out just fine. Now, please, aren't you interested in some hot water, hot food and then afterwards a soft bed? I know I am."
"My mother?" She felt her mouth fall open, shut it, and then felt more furious than ever. "She told you to tie me up and ride off with me?"
"Not precisely. Let's just say she suggested I needed a different approach."
It was hard to believe but since she knew Parker was not a liar, it must be true. She sputtered, "Well...well...for your information, I was mad as hell."
"But you got over it." His fingers raked through his hair in evident exasperation. "Look, I know this afternoon was probably not how you imagined getting married---it wasn't exactly my ideal wedding either---but let's not fight over it."
Parker had a vision of an ideal wedding?
There was probably nothing he could have said that would have dissolved her anger more quickly.
He was right, she was being unreasonable and argumentative for no reason.
Well, maybe not for no reason, for it had been a pretty stressful day. If her brothers hadn't been there this afternoon, who knows what might have happened. She utterly despised Rance Colter.
Something could have happened to Parker. In fact, it was more than likely he would not have survived a confrontation with Colter, for she knew full well he would die to protect her and he'd have been completely outnumbered without her brothers.
Celia burst into tears.
She had absolutely no control over the sudden emotional reaction and it embarrassed her, but it happened just the same. Obviously it wasn't quite what her new husband expected either, for he stood in unconcealed dismay for a moment or two before she felt the comforting strength of his arms come around her shaking shoulders and draw her close.
Her face buried against his chest, she sobbed. He said nothing at first and she felt his mouth graze her temple. Eventually he whispered uncertainly, "Sweetheart?"
She loved the inflection in his voice when he said the endearment. "I'm sorry," she mumbled against his shirt, trying to stem the tide of tears. He smelled wonderful, like the forest in summer, clean, with a hint of spice, and entirely male.
"What's wrong?" His fingers sifted gently through her hair. After a small hesitation, he asked quietly, "Are you sorry you married me?"
It was so far from what she was actually feeling that Celia gave a muffled laugh. "No."
His lean body relaxed a fraction. "Then what is it?"
"I love you."
Pressed against him, she could feel him go very still. His long fingers tightened around her nape. "What did you just say?"
"You heard me." It was a little humiliating to realize she'd said it before him. In fact, even though he'd confessed he'd been in love with her a long time, he had never said it flat out. Celia pulled away and wiped her damp cheeks, giving him a defiant look. "Not that you aren't completely irritating in about one thousand ways."
She expected him to at least smile, but he simply stood there staring at her.
"Parker?"
The sound of his mother's voice calling out in question broke through his apparent trance, and he glanced down the hall toward the kitchen. He said in a somewhat uneven tone, "They must have heard us ride up. Come on, sweetheart, we'd better go on in. I know my family is anxious to welcome you."
---------
The glow of a pipe and the scent of tobacco mingled with the night air. Soft sounds of the insects in the long line of cottonwoods bordering the lane to the house made a backdrop for the distant bark of a coyote. Sitting in a chair next to his father on the long porch as was their habit each evening, Parker said neutrally, "I didn't want to discuss it in front of the women, but there could have been real trouble this afternoon."
Puffing on his pipe, his father, Russ, exhaled and said succinctly, "So I understand. I never did trust Colter, but that was one hell of a high-handed plan, even for him. Did he think the Evans boys wouldn't come after him for ambushing your wedding, or for that matter, I wouldn't get my men together and track him down?"
Somberly, Parker stared over the corrals and neat fences, shadowed in the thin light of a rising moon. "Think about it. His ranch is built like a fortress and would be damned easy to defend. Once he got holed up, especially with Celia inside, anyone would be hard pressed to do much. Unfortunately, if he had managed to forcibly marry her and get her back to his place, he could do whatever he wanted with her---and we both know exactly what that is---and her brothers would have damned little recourse. Legally wedded and bedded, even if it is akin to rape, would brand her as his for the rest of her life, even if she managed to get out of there. He'd own her, and around here, possession means a lot."
His father raised a brow and said dryly, "Luckily, you beat him to it, though I have a feeling that wasn't the exact order of things."
"It worked, that's all I care about. I've finally figured out a very direct, firm approach works best with the former Miss Evans." Parker grinned.
"I'm happy for you, son. Your mother and I both are. She is a fine young woman, though I suspect you aren't going to have a calm, uneventful life." Chuckling and shaking his head, the older man murmured, "She may look like an angel, but she has a lot of fire."
Yes, she certainly did. Parker couldn't help but think of her wild, flaming passion in bed. Or for that matter, the turbulent look in her blue eyes after she told him she loved him. "She's a handful," he said in rueful agreement, "but I always knew it. I guess I just can't help how I feel. There have been times, believe me, when I would have preferred to be head over heels for someone else. Hell, for that matter, Rose is sweet and pretty and utterly docile and we probably would suit each other better, but I've always just regarded her with brotherly affection, whereas Celia..."
"I understand. There's nothing platonic about the way you look at your new bride, Parker, but that's how it should be."
"Yes, sir." Parker stood and smiled. "Speaking of which, this is officially my wedding night and as much as I enjoy talking with you---"
"She'll be waiting, I expect." Even in the gloom, his father's eyes twinkled. "I'm counting on grandchildren, so I wouldn't dream of keeping you. Try and get some rest, son. Tomorrow we need to repair the cut fences and get an idea of how much stock we lost. I think it would be prudent to hire more hands, to stock up on ammunition and make sure they are all well armed, and take charge of what is starting to be a real problem around here."
Parker agreed completely, but his attention was not particularly on missing cattle and damaged fences. With a nod, he went into the house. His mother sat by the fireplace in the living room, her sewing in her lap, and he bent and gave her a kiss on the cheek before heading toward his room. The bedrooms were at the back of the ranch house, down a long hallway, and his was the first on the left. The door was shut, and he paused for a moment, the concept of knocking on his own door novel and a symbol of the change in his life.
He had married Celia Evans. She was his wife, and every single night she would sleep in his bed, in his arms. His heart tightened in pure joy and even as he lifted his hand to knock, he decided against it and simply opened the door.
She was in bed already, her shining hair spread over the pillows, sleeping soundly. Stifling a small oath, he felt a small wellspring of amused chagrin as he began to undress in the unreliable moonlit illumination let in by the thin curtains at the window. It had been a trying afternoon, and he really couldn't blame her for being tired. She'd even wept, and he had never seen that before from his gorgeous, but obstinate and willful, bride. He sensed her sudden trepidation over her new wifely role, especially since she had lived her entire life in the same house with her protective family constantly around her. Though his father and mother welcomed her without reservation, finding her place in a new household was going to be a drastic change.
Slipping under the blankets, he moved closer, doing his best not to disturb her slumber. Inhaling her sweet scent, Parker closed his eyes.
The house looked dark except for one lone lamp burning in an upstairs window. John dismounted and quietly led his horse around to the back, where a small, weathered barn sat behind the house. The lone occupant was a rawboned draft horse and it nickered softly in the shrouded gloom, the smell of hay and manure in the air. John put Mercury, his sorrel gelding, in one of the empty stalls, tossed in some hay, and made his way soundlessly toward the porch. He knocked, two very soft raps of his knuckles, and waited.
The woman who opened the door wore her dressing gown, and she stepped back without a greeting. He slipped inside and closed the door, dropping the latch into place. The place smelled good as it always did, like cinnamon and fresh baked bread, and he said quietly, "We saw Parker and Celia safely home. I rode straight back."
"You haven't eaten, then. I've got stew, pie and coffee."
He nodded, following her toward the kitchen. Alice Reed motioned him to the table, but didn't light a lamp, so he watched her in the semi-darkness as she moved to set the pan of stew back on the cookstove and pour the coffee. Dark hair, thick and curly, hung down her back, and her profile was clean and calm as she worked.
As usual, they didn't talk, but sat companionably while he ate, the faint howl of the rising wind outside the only noise. When he finished his coffee and the last bite of pie, he nodded his thanks and she smiled slightly. He helped her clear the table, and when her hand slipped into his, followed her into the bedroom.
With her three children sleeping in the next room, quiet was a necessity. The first time they'd been together, he had been disconcerted by the situation, but he was used to it now.
He undressed quickly, unbuckling his gun belt and making sure it was within reach. Alice took off her robe and prim nightdress and lay down on the narrow bed, her nude body gleaming in unspoken offering.
Just the sight of her, compliant and waiting, made him harden painfully, and he unfastened his pants with a suppressed groan and eased them down over his erect, pulsing cock.
She made love like a lady always, all soft, quiet sighs and light touches, but there was nothing ladylike about her opulent body. Her breasts were generous, the translucent skin showing a faint veining of blue, larger than ever since she was still nursing the baby she'd had last fall. He took the soft, heavy weight of one in his hand, lightly stroking. Her expression, shrouded in the dark room, went from almost wistful to dreamy as he gently touched and fondled her to readiness, knowing it was time by the way her breathing grew erratic and the urgent glide of her fingertips down his spine. When he moved over her, she opened her legs and grasped his hips, her eyes drifting shut in the darkness. John was hard as hell, throbbing, and he pushed inside the wet, warm heat of her welcoming vaginal passage with a low growl of pleasure locked in his throat.
Perhaps it was her fragile vulnerability that always made him so gentle, maybe it was because her bastard of a husband was abusive, but he moved slowly, almost reverently loving her with his body. Sexual intercourse was a matter of soft, wet sounds as he slid his cock deep inside with slow penetration, and withdrew in a delicious slide of carnal friction.
It was heaven to be inside the woman he loved. It hurt like the very devil to know he couldn't claim her because she belonged to someone else.
Her inner muscles began to contract around his possession, he could feel the tiny, subtle ripples around his rigid penis, and Alice made a small noise, no more than a low whimper as she started to climax. She clung to him, shuddering, and his heart began to pound as he felt his own orgasm rise in response.
At the last moment, he withdrew and held his rigid body above her as the force of his ejaculation spilled hot sperm over her stomach and ribcage. It was too soon for her to have another baby and it was the last complication she needed right now, anyway.
The entire time, they didn't say a word. But then again, there was nothing to say. She was married, and though her husband had disappeared about six months ago, Harold Reed had done that before and turned up again like the no good drifter he was. John knew she struggled during the times her husband was gone, but any offers of money had been met with quiet, dignified refusal.
He worried like hell about her, and about the children, especially because he was damned sure her last baby was his. Alice hadn't confirmed or denied it, but he'd done some figuring and if Reed wasn't such a self-absorbed, selfish drunk, he might have come to the same conclusion.
She'd named the child John, which might easily have been a small act of defiance her husband would never appreciate.
"I was worried today," she whispered so low he almost couldn't catch it. "They're saying in town Colter was trying to strong-arm your sister into marrying him and he'd paid off the judge."
He reached for his kerchief and carefully wiped his discharge from her smooth skin. "Yep, I think that's pretty damn close to the truth."
"Be careful. The man's a snake."
"Parker is the one who needs to be careful." He spoke in the same almost inaudible tones.
One slim hand lifted, very briefly, to touch his cheek. "When I saw you there, my heart froze. It's harder than ever in public, John. Maybe we should stop this."
He knew exactly what she meant, but he had no intention of stopping, not as long as he still breathed. He drew her close, his lips against her ear. "Maybe he won't come back this time."
Dark hair moved against her back as she shook her head. He could feel her despair. "Maybe he will."
"If he lifts his hand to you ever again, I swear I'll kill him. You can't ask less of me."
"Shhh." She lifted a finger and pressed it to his lips. "The only thing I have in this life is the fact I am at least a respectable woman. If you kill him, people will know. Besides, he is the father of my children. I can't wish him dead."
John stared at her and she looked away. With one finger, he tilted her face back up so she was forced to meet his steady gaze. "What am I, then?"
Her eyes glittered with tears. "The only man I have ever loved. That has to be enough."
By God, it wasn't, he thought as he slipped his arms around her and cradled her close.
It wasn't nearly enough.
---------
She woke alone, which was a definite disappointment, but then again she wasn't surprised. The sun was fairly high and Parker undoubtedly rose early---a prosperous ranch didn't run itself.
It felt odd to look around and realize this room, so starkly masculine in its plain wooden walls and simple dresser, the only decoration a patterned Indian blanket on one wall, was now the private space she shared with her new husband.
Celia rolled over and sighed, pressing her face into the linens that still held the impression and scent from his rangy body. A curious feeling washed over her and in direct reaction to the familiar masculine smell, her breasts tightened. His absence caused a twinge of regret, for she could feel the weight of the blankets on her bare skin, the softness of the downy mattress, and a sudden acute desire to be near him.
It was startling to realize after resisting the notion of being in love with calm, practical, boring Parker West for so long, how deeply her emotions truly ran.
He was anything but boring, actually. No, he hadn't courted her with flowery words, nor was he audacious and bold in his pursuit, but what she had seen as being unassertive and a little dull was simply his normal quiet and easygoing personality.
She had been exhausted, both mentally and physically, the evening before and it was typical of Parker to let her sleep even if it was their wedding night. She hadn't intended for it to be that way. In fact, it was a little disappointing he hadn't wakened her.
What did he think, she pondered in exasperated chagrin over his consideration, that she went to bed stark naked every night? She had intended to be waiting for him, ready---and eager if she admitted the truth---to make love for the first time as husband and wife.
Now she would have to wait all day and after the sexual freedom of the privacy of the cabin, that was a frustration. After nearly a week of his constant companionship and ardent attention, she was a little spoiled.
She stretched and shook back her long hair, and finally slid out of the warm bed. The floor was cool and she quickly padded over to the basin on a small stand. The water in it was still slightly warm, which meant Parker must have brought hot water while she slept, and there was a clean towel. A trunk containing some of her clothes sat in the corner of the room. Apparently once her new husband had performed his outrageous abduction, her family had sent it over, the outcome of his wild plan not in question.
A quick wash felt marvelous, and she dressed in a plain rose-colored gown. Combing her hair and tying it back simply with a matching ribbon, she left the room and headed for the kitchen. Her mother-in-law was there stirring a pot on the cookstove, and she greeted her with the same beaming smile of welcome as the night before. "Good morning."
"Good morning." For no reason whatsoever, Celia blushed. Or perhaps there was a reason, for she had slept naked next to Rita West's son last night. Her new status as a married woman meant everyone now knew she and Parker had sexual relations. It was perfectly natural and acceptable, but still, it was a little embarrassing.
No wonder brides blushed, Celia thought as she accepted a cup of hot coffee and sank down into a chair at the wide plank table.
Mrs. West was a slender woman with dark hair just beginning to show streaks of gray and the same sky blue eyes as her tall son. The older woman wiped her hands on her apron and, with a knowing smile at the pink color of Celia's cheeks, asked in open amusement, "I take it you slept well enough, dear."
"Yes," she admitted, taking a quick sip of the steaming beverage in her cup.
"Parker was up at dawn." Rita put a biscuit on a plate with quick efficiency and ladled milk gravy over the top. "I must say he was in a right good mood for having to ride out to look at the damage the rustlers did to our fences while he was gone."
Not certain how to reply to that comment, Celia hastily drank more coffee.
"It's good to see him smiling again. After you turned him down that first time, he was pretty subdued, let me tell you." A slice of fried ham went on the plate and Parker's mother came over to slide it in front of her. "I worried a little you wouldn't come around and instead marry one of those wild cowboys always dangling after you. No matter he's a grown man, no mother wants to see her son's heart broken. He never said much, but there was simply no hiding the way he has always looked at you, my dear, so I am glad things have turned out as they have."
"I'm glad too," Celia admitted. She said with just a shade of defensiveness, "I would have said yes the first time he proposed, but you should have heard it."
Her mother-in-law sat down opposite and smiled ruefully. "That bad, was it? I'm afraid men don't understand much about being romantic, and Parker has always been so practical and steady."
"I've noticed," Celia muttered. "His new approach was entirely different."
"But effective, apparently." Rita gave her a shrewd look. "You accepted him this time."
She certain had accepted him in a very earthy, carnal way, but that had nothing to do with his marriage proposal. Heat filled her cheeks again and she mumbled, "Yes." Quickly she added, "Breakfast looks wonderful, thank you very much."
"Go ahead and eat, child. I'll not put you on the spot any longer."
The food did smell delicious and dismay filled her as she picked up her fork. On a working ranch, everyone contributed and she didn't have a lot to offer as a new daughter-in-law. At home, she had helped with the various odd jobs her mother gave her, but a lot of her time had been spent out of doors. She loved to ride, and her family had indulged her. In fact, as the youngest of five, with three overprotective brothers and Rose, who was a whiz at everything domestic, she hadn't had much responsibility. Celia cleared her throat and said apologetically, "I am not much of a cook, I'm afraid."
"Oh honey, I already know that. Your mother told me. Nor a seamstress either, I hear." Rita looked serenely unperturbed. "That's perfectly fine, for if you make my son as happy as he was this morning, that's a wonderful contribution to the household. Of course," her light blue eyes held a small twinkle, "I wouldn't mind grandchildren as soon as possible. If you wouldn't balk at working on it, I would appreciate it."
She wouldn't balk at all, but it didn't seem ladylike to say so. For the third time, Celia blushed vividly.
---------
Parker urged Diablo along, anger seeping through his veins, making his formerly buoyant mood slowly dissolve. The big stallion stepped daintily around the ripped-out posts and bits of curled wire. The day was fine, with blue skies and wispy high clouds. The smell of sage mingled with the tang of autumn.
Next to him, his father, John Evans and Gerald Evans rode in the same angry silence. The sheer audacity of the thieves was evident, as was the fact the substantial herd that grazed in the north pasture was severely depleted. What cattle hadn't been stolen had probably wandered off, for the section of missing fence was almost a quarter-mile long.
"This is worse than I thought," he finally admitted, reining in. "What the hell? Don't they think we'll react to something this blatant? It's one thing to steal a calf here and there and brand it before we can get to it, but it's another entirely to drive so many of our stock any distance. For that you need a lot of hands. We have a lot of land to cover, but I'll hire more men to guard the fences before I lose another cow."
"Where you goin' to get them?" John asked, his hat pulled low, shading his fine features. "Colter is behind this, Parker. Both Dad and I are convinced of it, and he owns a lot of men around here. You hire someone, and they could easily already be working for him. So they take your pay and help him steal our stock. The bigger he gets, the worse this thing will fester."
"John thinks this recent upsurge in activity has a lot to do with Celia." Astride a big rawboned roan, his father looked at Parker, his eyes a little shadowed. "After what Colter tried to pull yesterday, maybe it's true. He thinks he's above the law, that he owns it and can do as he pleases. Maybe that's even true. You need to watch your back, son, for you have the woman he's decided he wants."
Parker felt a sort of helpless fury at the notion of having to guard his life---and his new wife---against the machinations of a man who was both a bully and coward. "I'll watch it," he said curtly. "And I'll watch her."
Gerald Evans looked at him. "You do that," he said coolly. "While I am not sure I approve of your methods in persuading her to do so, you are now married to my daughter and I have to trust you to keep her safe."
"When you try to bridle her, she'll not take the bit easy." John gave him a quick grin that lightened the grim expression on his face. "Celia is hard to curb, but then I expect you know that. She likes to ride every afternoon, and to be able to do as she damned well pleases in general. Making her stick to the house is the best way to keep her from trouble, but she isn't likely to look kindly on it."
Unfortunately, Parker was pretty sure he was right. "I'll reason with her."
Both Gerald and John burst out laughing. Even his own father looked faintly amused.
"Well, hell," Parker muttered. "I'm glad this is so funny."
"You're the one who was so hell-bent on marrying her," John pointed out, relaxed and graceful in the saddle, his mouth curving. "Don't say I didn't warn you. And it isn't funny at all, except the way the two of you deal with each other. Sorry, Parker."
Celia's older brother, had, upon occasion, pointed out her headstrong streak. Parker agreed slowly, "You warned me, all right. How we deal with each other is my problem, I'll own it, but that aside, let's face it---Colter is unbalanced. That makes him both ruthless and dangerous. I can't tell what he might try."
Gerald Evans said gruffly, "If we stand together, we have a much better chance of catching his men at work, and maybe even get someone to talk and admit Colter is paying them and pocketing the proceeds from the stolen cattle. I think Russ and I should talk to some of the other folks who are losing stock, see if we can figure out how to stop this wholesale thieving and let us all get back to the business of honest ranching in this valley."
Parker's father nodded in tacit agreement. "I'm game."
As he gazed at the wide area of ruin and saw the few grazing animals where there had once been a sizable herd, Parker also inclined his head in agreement.
He wasn't really concerned over the missing livestock, though he supposed he should be. His concern was more for his beautiful, passionate wife.
Celia had been hard won. There wasn't much doubt about it.
Hopefully she wouldn't be even harder to keep.
The slight crackle of the fire lent a subdued noise to the background, but Celia barely noticed. Up and down she moved, her hands braced on her husband's wide chest, his hard cock sliding in and out, going so deep inside her she could not believe the sheer joy of it.
It felt too good. Despite her resolve to not make a sound, a moan escaped. A loud one.
Beneath her on his back, Parker said in terse urging as his hands clasped her waist, "God, yes, Celia, don't hold back."
"I don't want anyone to hear us." She gasped, and her body continued the urgent motion, straddling his lean hips, her need so fierce that she couldn't have stopped if her life depended on it. The bedroom door was shut, of course, but she couldn't help but wonder if the slight rhythmic creaking of the bed was audible to anyone passing in the hallway.
"No one will hear us," he promised, his good-looking face flushed with arousal and pleasure. "Ride me hard, sweetheart."
She did, not able to stop her compliance to that gentle but insistent demand. Her movements grew faster, and her heart pounded as she felt the approach of her climax. "I'm coming," she said raggedly. "Oh, Parker."
At the exact crucial moment, he thrust up hard, giving her what she wanted, the forceful penetration pushing her off the edge. She could feel her vaginal passage squeeze tight around his stiff shaft as acute pleasure washed through her, and suddenly all inhibitions were lost as she gave a low keening scream.
Parker's hands tightened on her hips and his eyes closed. The eruption of his orgasm was an unmistakable hot flood, his cock flexing erotically as he spilled deep inside her. Dazed a little, Celia slid forward on his damp chest and sprawled in abandon on top of him. He felt so good, she thought, drifting in complete physical contentment. So hard, so male, so utterly attractive. Since he'd taught her the incredible pleasure men and women could give each other, she just couldn't keep her hands off him.
It was a little irritating because for so long, he'd been the one trailing around after her. When had the tables turned? She had practically dragged him off to bed after helping clean up after the evening meal, barely able to wait for nightfall and his return from a last trip to the corrals. Hopefully her eagerness hadn't been apparent, but she had the embarrassing notion it had been.
"That certainly made my uncomfortable state when I tried to go to sleep last night worth it," he murmured, breaking the silence of their post-coital afterglow. "It was bad enough when I would get a raging erection from just thinking about you miles away, but lying in my bed with your very tempting naked body next to mine took discomfort to a whole new level, believe me, sweetheart."
He still felt fairly hard and big between her open legs despite his recent climax. Celia lifted her head and smiled playfully at her husband, arching her brows. "You have yourself to blame for that one, Mr. West. Next time, wake me up."
One long-fingered hand caressed her back. She could feel the calloused hardness from all the work he did handling ropes and other tools, but the touch was gentle and almost reverent. Against the clean white pillowslip, his hair looked very dark and was rumpled from where she had run her hands through it. He explained in his typical logical tone, "Yesterday was a long one. You were exhausted, Celia. I'm not such a selfish brute as to not allow you a decent night's sleep."
"You think I would have minded?" She shook her head and laughed lightly at the sincere expression on his handsome face. "Good heavens, Parker, it was our wedding night and you didn't even make love to me."
His brow furrowed a little. "Like I said, you were tired."
"You are the most unromantic man sometimes."
Defensively, he said, "I was trying to be thoughtful."
As usual, she simply was unable to resist teasing him. He made it so easy with his serious nature. Celia rubbed her hand seductively across one muscled shoulder and traced the impressive bulge of his biceps. "Hmm, well maybe you were, but that doesn't change the fact that we didn't celebrate our marriage like most newlyweds. Tell me, if you weren't so darned considerate, Parker, how many times do think we would have done it?"
There was a slight wariness in his light blue eyes. The dancing light from the fire played over the clean planes of his face. "Made love?"
"Yes." She gave him an audaciously wicked look from under her lashes. "So think about it. If you had to estimate, how many times would you have fucked me?"
"Celia." His voice held exasperated reproof over her shocking language.
She ignored the censure, their bodies still intimately joined and the feel of him beneath her, and in her, arousing despite their recent satisfying activity. She shook back her long hair and gazed into his eyes, letting her lips tilt into a teasing, provocative curve. Her breasts were against his chest and she moved so her taut nipples rubbed his skin. "At the cabin it was often three or four times each night, not counting what we did during the day. So, I'm afraid, you see, I know that you are capable of making it up to me I was utterly neglected last night. The way I see it, you owe me at least five."
"Five?" His eyebrows shot up. "How's that figure come to mind, Mrs. West?"
She loved the husky timbre of his voice when he was aroused and could feel evidence of it also in the slight swell of his cock within her. "Well," she whispered and leaned forward to lick his lower lip. "At least three from last night---that's a low figure, by the way---and then three for tonight. Now, we just took care of one...so that leaves five."
"I take it you are trying to kill me," he said dryly, but his azure eyes glittered suddenly with pure male anticipation. "However, I would be the last person to want our marriage to get off on the wrong foot and it would be one hell of a way to go. I'll do my best to make up for my lack of sentimental impracticality."
"That sounds fair enough," she purred, and then gasped as she suddenly found herself flat on her back, his movement so swift as he rolled over, she was unprepared.
"How do you want it this time?" he asked, rocking against her open thighs. "Slow? Or hard and fast? In case you haven't noticed, I'm nearly ready for our second go."
"I've noticed," she responded, lifting her hips and relishing the way his swiftly returning erection stretched her wide, the tip against her womb. "Believe me, I've noticed. And as for how I want it...you know how I like it."
"Hold on." He kissed her hard, with open salacious intent, his tongue suggestively twining with hers as he began to move in long strokes between her legs.
Celia sighed with pleasure into his mouth, opening wider, lifting her legs to wrap them around his lean waist, taking and giving in the same erotic measure. The palms of her hands rested on his hard buttocks and with a small thrill she felt the powerful flex as he pumped into her.
It was a little wild, it was a bit forceful, and not anything like Parker's usual unruffled calm.
It was exactly how she liked it.
She reveled in the fact she could make him lose control, but even more in the fact he wanted her so fiercely.
But most of all, she reveled in the fact she loved him.
---------
It was damned late and fire had died completely away, but that didn't matter because he was so warm, the cooling air felt wonderful.
There wasn't much doubt his new wife was one wicked little temptress. Both of them panting, they lay in the wrecked bed in a tangle of arms and legs, a sheen of perspiration on their bodies. Parker wasn't sure just where he was in terms of making up his supposed neglect from the evening before, but they had to be close to their goal.
Right now, he needed a moment.
Not just physically, because he was sure Celia could get him hard again in an amazing short span of time, but he needed to talk to her and maybe this was a good opportunity. Carefully, he eased out from between her legs and propped himself on one elbow.
His wife looked more than delectable with her glorious pale hair in disarray around her slender, flushed body. Those spectacular bare breasts he so admired were a little swollen from his attentions, the nipples still erect from her recent orgasm. It wasn't surprising he could see small runnels of sperm on her creamy inner thighs and he felt a sense of pure possession and satisfaction he had branded her his so thoroughly. On her side in a languid repose, she looked a little sleepy, and maybe that would make her more cooperative.
Maybe, he thought with an inner grimace. At the best of times she was disturbingly independent.
He never had been good with the careful way he approached her, and she certainly never had any trouble letting him know it. So a direct statement seemed best. "I want you to stay close to the house for a while, Celia. No rides, no visits to town, no excursions of any kind unless I say so and send a guard."
The look of sated contentment vanished and her dark blond brows snapped together. "What?"
"I don't want Colter carrying you off."
She rose up and stared at him. "Don't be absurd, Parker. Not even he would kidnap another man's wife."
"I'm not so sure, and until I am, you need to stay right here." He'd never been so sincere, especially when gazing at her perfect, alluring beauty. Naked, her voluptuous body tinted pink in orgasmic afterglow, she was enough to take any man's breath away.
Her lovely mouth tightened mutinously. "Like hell I will. I am not going to skulk inside because of that cur. I think you're crazy, anyway. He didn't try it before, why would he now?"
"No, I beat him to it, didn't I? Besides, I know for a fact your brothers kept a very close eye on you, sweetheart."
"If he tried anything like that, Colter knows you'd kill him, Parker."
"I would, or die trying, that's for sure," he admitted stoically, knowing he'd made his point when she blanched, some of the rosy glow fading from her smooth cheeks. "But he has a lot of men bought and paid for, not to mention the law around here. You saw what happened with the judge. That was a bit of a crazy plan, which is exactly what he is---crazy. The man is plain loco to try something so blatant. Unfortunately, he also has a lot of money and a lot of influence and he wants you bad, apparently. Let's face it, if it wasn't for John's instincts, he probably would have gotten away with it. We've never cared for each other, but I expect now he hates my guts knowing I've had you."
Uncharacteristically silent for a long moment, Celia simply looked at him, her lovely eyes showing consternation and defiance.
He played his trump card by adding softly, "You say you love me, sweetheart, well prove it and do as I've asked. Hopefully he'll be run out of these parts or hung from a tall tree for rustling before long, because John is sure he's the force behind our recent big losses and is determined to prove it. Not even a bought judge could save his neck if we have good enough evidence. It's a pretty serious crime."
"I know that," she said crossly, "I'm not a child and I've lived out here my whole life. Damn you, Parker, I hate being cooped up inside."
A flicker of triumph went through him, for the sulky tone of her voice told him he'd won. "No, you aren't a child in any way," he agreed softly, shifting so he loomed over her, their mouths inches apart. "You are a damned sexy, gorgeous woman."
Lush lashes lowered a fraction. "Am I?"
"It's been proven beyond a doubt I think so, but let me demonstrate one more time."
With leisurely thoroughness he kissed her, their mouths melding together, lips clinging, tongues brushing in small erotic strokes. He moved to her breasts, gently licking her sensitive nipples, taking the rosy peaks into his mouth, stroking the mounded flesh with his hands as he listened to the telltale sounds of enjoyment she couldn't seem to stifle. When she reached for his cock and circled him with her slim fingers, he felt a surge of sensation as he stiffened in response. As he lavished attention on her beautiful breasts, she brought him to readiness with light, sliding caresses, fondling his testicles until he groaned against her soft, satiny skin and moved between her parted thighs.
She was wet and well-lubricated from repeated intercourse and his cock slid in easily, sheathed by exquisite tight heat. Never docile during intercourse---or out of it either---Celia moaned and opened wider, her hands urgent as they pressed the small of his back. "Yes, just like that...I want every bit of you inside."
Enraptured enjoyment flooded through him as he glided backwards. Through his teeth, he said, "Believe me, I want to give you every hard inch, sweetheart."
"Then do it," she ordered, her throat arching back as he drove in deep, not shy in bed, not since that first time when he'd taken her virginity at the cabin.
Hell, even untutored and innocent, she hadn't been particularly shy in the act of sex.
Marveling at the depth of his need even after so much sexual excess, his lower body thrusting with increasing speed, Parker heard his harsh breathing in staccato gasps as his orgasm rose. Celia clung to him, matching every possessive thrust with the acceptance of her body, her eyes darkened with passion.
Her vaginal walls began to contract, gripping his surging cock. He knew so well the signs of her impending climax by now that it was easy to gauge exactly how to move and when he could let himself go. She began to shudder and moan his name and he put his arms under knees and lifted her legs, pushing in as deeply as possible.
She climaxed in spectacular abandon, and his own release was ferocious and left him numb and shaken. When he collapsed to his side, he could barely speak, but managed to say between gasps, "Am...I...still...unromantic?"
His wife laughed, a small musical sound that was entirely feminine. "Sex isn't romance, Parker."
"It is for men," he argued with a small, teasing grin, pleasantly exhausted, his senses replete. "And tonight I think I've been very romantic, Mrs. West. Besides, I think I just finished making up for your lost wedding night."
She snuggled up to his side. "Don't be so smug. I suppose we're even, though our notions of romance aren't quite the same."
The light, curvaceous feel of her body next to his felt as wonderful as making love to her. Knowing she was almost asleep already, he tenderly brushed a stray tendril of blond hair from her cheek and kissed her forehead. "I love you, Celia. I think I was born to fall in love with you, to be your lover, to take care of you and hopefully raise our children. I would sacrifice anything to keep you safe and give my life gladly in exchange for yours."
Her eyes, which had been half-shut, flew open. After a moment, she whispered, "Heaven help me, though I believed it was hopeless, I think you were just romantic, Parker West."
With a low laugh, he gathered her closer and drifted into a contented sleep.
---------
Rose gave her a mischievous smile as they walked along the path to where the barns sat by a small grove of cottonwood trees. "John brought me over. I haven't seen you since Parker stalked up onto the porch, tied you up, and rode off. He and John were supposed to ride out early but somehow your husband overslept."
Celia murmured, "We were up late...uhm...talking."
Her sister snorted in an unladylike sound. "Yeah, talking, I bet that's what you were doing, all right."
"Maybe not just talking." Celia laughed.
"I'd say very little talking and more other things. Good heavens, why did you wait so long to marry him?"
In retrospect, she had no idea. Defensively, she protested, "He didn't even ask me until right before he had his wild idea---no, Ma's wild idea---to just carry me off."
Rose looked startled. "Ma told him to do that?"
A rueful smile curved Celia's lips. "So he claims and we all know Parker is as honest as the day is long."
"That's true enough. And apparently it was good advice." Rose gave her a sidelong glance.
Since she was just too contented to argue or even be embarrassed, Celia merely asked, "Speaking of such things, how is Robert?"
Robert Campbell was her sister's beau and though he was just a ranch hand, he seemed to be steadier than most of the cowboys in their father's employ, and there was little question they were smitten with each other. Rose sighed. "He wants to ask Father if we can get married but we're both afraid he'll say no. I know Josh, John and Jared like him well enough."
The morning was clear and a little cool, and the air smelled like early autumn with a delicious tinge of Indian summer. "Marry him," Celia advised, still bemused from the night before, the slight soreness between her legs the evidence it hadn't been some sort of erotic, sensual, blissful dream. "Make Pa agree. I promise you it is worth it."
"Is it?" Rose, dressed in demure dove gray, looked at her curiously. "The way Ma described it...well, it didn't sound so appealing." She added somewhat shyly, "But I do like it when he kisses me."
"Just wait until he actually takes you to bed." She and Rose had always been very close, and though she wouldn't talk about something so personal with anyone else, it seemed natural to discuss it with her sister. Celia felt an inner, secret shiver of memory. "It is indescribable. I had no idea it would be so wonderful."
Rose looked dubious, but intrigued. "It sounds...messy."
She couldn't help it, recalling the stickiness of her thighs that morning, and the absolute chaos of the bed, she laughed out loud. "It is, I'm afraid. But you won't mind a bit."
"You don't, that's obvious."
"How is it obvious?"
"You are glowing, Celia."
Was she? Well, she didn't doubt that. "I'm happy."
"I take it you are. Parker looks a little on the happy side himself, even if he did seem a mite tired." Rose's smile faded. "But let me tell you who isn't happy."
It wasn't hard to guess. Celia frowned and said quietly, "John."
Her sister nodded. "I have no idea what's wrong, and it isn't just this rustling problem, Celia. He's restless and rides out often, sometimes gone the whole night. I don't know exactly how to describe it---"
"You don't have to, I've sensed it too. But you know John, he isn't likely to talk about it."
It was true, their middle brother was the most private of all of them. Celia added slowly, "I think maybe that's why he's so focused on catching whoever is stealing our stock. He wants to forget something else."
Her blond hair shining in the sun, Rose nodded. "That makes sense, I guess."
"A woman?"
"He isn't courting anyone that I know of." Her sister shrugged.
That in itself was curious when she thought about it, Celia realized. He was good-looking, steadier than most of the wild young men she knew, and yet he didn't pursue every available female in sight like other cowboys. Jared and Josh were a little legendary for their interest in the opposite sex and John used to be the same way, but over the past couple of years, he had changed.
"I'm worried about him," Celia confessed uneasily. "He's edgy and has been for some time."
"That's my feeling too," Rose agreed somberly.
The corrals were nearly deserted, but as they strolled up to look at the new colts born the night before, two men came into view. One was mounted, his horse poised on a small rise in the distance where there was a clear view of both ranch itself and a good deal of the valley. He appeared to be just sitting there, but every once in a while he'd lift something to his eyes and scan the horizon. The other was a young cowboy, dressed for the range in chaps and boots, who leaned against the rails of the main corral. Celia didn't know him personally, but she smiled automatically. She couldn't help but wonder why he seemed to simply be loitering about when everyone else was out working, either on repairing the fences or trying to round up lost stock.
"Ma'am, miss." He tipped his hat and smiled, acting nonchalant, but there was a watchful expression on his lean, sunburned face. He was also more heavily armed than an average cowboy, even carrying a rifle for no apparent reason on a pleasant late summer morning. From his vantage point, he would have the drop on anyone riding up the main drive to the house.
It wasn't too hard to figure out, Celia mused with some irritation, that Parker really was having the ranch guarded.
No, he was having her guarded, and it made her feel like a bird with clipped wings.
The bastard was back.
John heard the news first from his mother, who mentioned it in passing, not having the slightest notion of his feelings for Alice.
Apparently Harold Reed had ridden into town two days before, half-drunk as usual, and the general consensus seemed to be pity for his poor wife.
He really couldn't bear to think about it and now was not the time anyway.
The night was almost pitch, with low clouds that obscured the moon and a heavy wind picking up from the north. They were in for some weather, he could smell it in the air as he crouched behind a small group of trees, most of them dead, and listened to the unmistakable sound of hoof beats grow and swell in the darkness.
Maybe this hadn't been such a long shot gamble after all.
He and Parker had ridden over what felt like half of Colorado earlier that day, and both had come to the conclusion that if they wanted to steal cattle and easily herd them south, this would be the place to do it.
Parker hadn't agreed it was a good idea to sit in the dark and wait to see if it happened, most probably because he wanted to get back to Celia. John, on the other hand, didn't have a beautiful woman who waited for him at home in a warm bed with open arms.
He had nothing but a hopeless passion for another man's wife, a child he couldn't know or acknowledge, and a helpless fury that translated to restless nights and a sick feeling churning in his gut.
Was he with her now?
John shook it off, narrowing his eyes against the shadows. He was one man against what was undoubtedly an outfit of dishonest cowpunchers who didn't mind taking the risk of hanging for money.
It sounded like perfectly good odds to him and suited his mood.
Carefully, he lifted his rifle and waited until he could see the shadowy forms loom up, a single-file line that followed the fence. One, two, three...five altogether, that wasn't so bad. With the advantage of surprise, he could handle five of them, but his real purpose was to keep one of them alive. Stealthily, he followed on foot, staying a good distance back. He had one of his usually accurate hunches about where they were headed and it wasn't far.
Sure enough, in less than half a mile, he could hear their voices, and proceeded slowly, edging along the fence line. The occasional low of a cow came from the small herd grazing still in the inadequate light, their forms indistinct.
There was not much cover, and it was a disadvantage, but he really wanted to catch them in the act. Not just trespassing, which they certainly were, but actually showing their dishonest intentions. When he did, well, they were going to get a little warning on how slinking midnight thieves were welcomed on the West ranch. He wasn't a patch on Jared on the draw, but he was one hell of a good shot with a rifle.
Suddenly the clouds tore open for a moment, giving him a clear glimpse of exactly what they were doing. Two were still on their horses, but the other three were hard at work on the fence. He could hear the snap of the wire and felt a cold fury that made his hands rock steady as he aimed his weapon. He narrowed in on the man closest, not more than a hundred yards away. The shot rang out, startling in the quiet of night, and there was a small cry as his target staggered backwards, tripped over one of his companions who was cutting the bottom wire, and fell.
Chaos broke out as the startled thieves scrambled for horses and guns, the two mounted men whirling their mounts, trying to find him in the dark. Crouched next to a thick fence post where he was probably hard to spot, John smiled grimly and fired again. One of the mounted men pitched forward and his horse cantered off, the slumped figure sliding off its back.
Two.
With the second shot, the men were able to figure out the direction of their danger. However, they had no more cover than he did, and were vulnerable because a man on a horse was a sight more visible than one on the ground. Wisely, all three seemed to decide it was better to cut and run than try a gunfight in the darkness. He got off two more shots that as far as he could tell didn't find their mark, before they vanished off in a flurry of pounding hooves in the opposite direction.
"Fucking bastards," he muttered in satisfaction, standing up. Still cautious, gun in hand, he walked over to the closest rustler, the man's prone form unmoving. In the dark, it had been a little tricky to know exactly where he'd hit him, but he hadn't aimed to kill, just to wound. Unfortunately, when he nudged the body over with his booted foot, he saw the sightless stare with resignation. The rustler had hard features with a grizzled dark beard and John did not recognize him.
It was a different story with the second man. Not only was he still breathing, he was conscious, a low moan echoing out when John knelt next to him and pulled open his vest. It looked like the bullet had caught him low in the shoulder. It was hard to see properly, but from the liquid gurgle in his labored breathing, it had nicked a lung.
"Goner?" The wounded man asked with effort, his face waxy in the gloom. He was young and fair-haired, with the reddish complexion of a range hand.
"I'd guess so," John confirmed with a curt nod, feeling a pang, because even if he had meted out justice in his mind, it was a shame someone so young had gone wrong. "You fell in with bad company, cowboy."
"It feels like...like a hoss is sitting on my chest. Gawd Almighty, I told 'em we should lay...low...for a while after the past few weeks. Ranchers were going to get riled after such...big raids."
"Told who?" John asked urgently, seeing the sudden flutter of the man's lids. "Look, it's pretty low down, stealing another man's cattle, trespassing on his property. Make it up to me by telling me who you work for. You haven't much to lose at this point."
"Nothing...to gain either, mister." The young man gave a ghastly smile. "Who are you---West?"
"No, John Evans. I'm his brother-in-law, but you haven't exactly been ignoring our stock, either. Is Colter behind you?"
A small bubble of frothy blood stained the man's lips. He stared upward, and then blinked and seemed to refocus. "Aw...what the hell. I hate Colter's guts anyway, but the money was good...yeah, I'll tell you if you give me your word you won't leave me until I'm gone. I don't fancy dyin' all alone. Don't ask me what the difference is."
"I'll stay. You have my word on it." John felt another shimmer of regret.
"Okay, it's this way... Colter hired the band in Abilene months ago. Half of us rustle the cattle, the other half drives it east. Our cut is..." A coughing fit made more blood bubble forth, flowing over his chin, but he went on. "Our cut is big, we couldn't...turn it down...man. Easy money, he promised. Hole up in the mountains, ride down for a raid now and then... Gawd, I'm so cold."
"How many of you?" Still kneeling at his side, John could see the young cowboy was fading fast.
"Must be...twenty. Most of us are wanted somewhere or other. We stay out of town." A low gasp whistled out. "Out of sight...he has more men at his ranch. His regular hands are as crooked as we are."
Shit.
"Can any of his men be bought?"
The boy nodded weakly. "Hell yes, we can all be bought. You think any of us have any loyalty to a man the likes of Rance Colter? Nah...it's...about the money."
Well, that was interesting information. "Give me a name. Anybody hate Colter and the deal he's giving us as much as you do?"
"A couple...let me think...leave a note at the saloon for Uvalde. He's decent down deep...we were pards. He's Texan...but he likes redeye a might too much. Killed a man in a fight he doesn't even remember and now he has a price on his head."
"Will do."
"One more thing...Colter's plain loco to ruin...West. It's personal...something about a girl. Offered a bonus to anyone who can kill him. I think...thet's all...I know."
"Much obliged." John asked quietly, "What's your name, cowboy?"
Silence.
The wind whispered past, low and eerie, but the sound of labored breathing had ceased. Stiffly, John got to his feet and felt more than a little weary, though he at least had confirmation of his suspicions.
Goddamned Colter. That greedy bastard had killed this boy as certain as if he had pulled the trigger himself.
---------
Parker was having a fantastic dream. In it something warm and soft and infinitely smooth rested in his hand, the luscious weight stirring a light sigh of male appreciation from his chest. Silken strands of tangled hair tickled his nose, and there was a tantalizing fragrance to it, familiar and arousing. What's more, he could feel the warmth of a satiny bare bottom nestled perfectly against his groin...but unfortunately a sharp staccato of insistent sound rang in his ears and ruined the whole thing.
He opened his eyes and in that exact moment, Celia mumbled sleepily, "I think someone is knocking."
The weight in his hand was her all too-enticing breast, the curve of her body fitted closely to his, and considering he had a good start on a sizeable erection, the interruption was not particularly welcome. Hell, it was still dark outside.
"I'm coming," he grumbled, reluctantly rolled away from his lovely wife, and slid out of bed to reach for his pants. Jerking them on, he stalked to the door and yanked it open.
To his surprise, John stood there outside, looking gaunt and strained. Parker swept his gaze over haggard features, a bloodstained shirt, and registered the tense set of his brother-in-law's shoulders.
"Sorry," John said tersely. "Your father heard me ride up and let me in. He's making coffee."
That was enough. "Go to the kitchen and wait for me," Parker said with a small nod of acknowledgement, his voice low. "I'll be right there."
He found a clean shirt, ran his fingers through his hair, and smiled reassuringly as his bride sat up in a flurry of gleaming pale hair and ivory skin, an alarmed expression on her face. "Who was that?"
"Go back to sleep," he suggested evasively.
"What's so important so early?"
"I'll let you know when I find out, sweetheart."
"Maybe I should---"
"No, you shouldn't," he said firmly, knowing that if she saw how her brother looked at the moment, she would be more than just a little alarmed. "Get some rest, because with any luck, I'll wear you out later."
"Parker---"
"Stay in bed." He said it curtly, with as much authority as he could summon, and her mouth parted in surprise at his vehemence.
After a moment, she sank back down and gave him the utterly female seductive smile that made him have those arousing dreams in the first place. The blanket had fallen down around her slim waist, exposing the luscious curves of her bare breasts. Her nipples were high and pointed. "All right, if you promise to come back soon. I was half asleep, but it seems to me we were just about to start something interesting."
If he wanted anything on earth, it was to crawl right back into bed, settle on top of her lissome and desirable body, and oblige her. He managed to say in a reasonable tone, "I'll be back just as soon as I can."
Even with John bloodied and obviously bringing urgent news, it was damned hard to close the door and walk away. Parker shook his head in resignation as he went toward the kitchen. The powerful effect she had on him in the past was nothing compared to what he felt now that they were lovers. Bewitched, enthralled, captivated---he wasn't sure how to classify it, but it was a powerful combination of physical attraction and emotional commitment.
He simply couldn't imagine his life without her.
Both his father and John sat at the big table in the kitchen, the sky outside just beginning to show a touch of indigo, but he judged dawn was still an hour away. The comforting sound of the coffee just starting to boil filled the room.
Parker dropped into a chair and leveled a look at his brother-in-law. "I take it you couldn't get the idea of waiting by the north pasture out of your head. Looks like the hunch paid off. Is that your blood? Celia would have my head if we didn't patch you up right off."
"Not mine. I don't have a scratch." John had removed his hat and his blond hair was disheveled, a light dusting of a gold beard showing on his lean jaw. There were lines by his mouth that weren't usually there. "There were five of them, bold as hell. Rode right past me and started to cut the fence. I killed two of them, but one of them lived long enough to hang Colter out to dry."
The ranch was just so big, there was no way he could possibly guard every inch of it, so Parker had concentrated on placing men around the best grazing land where he had most of the stock. For whatever reason, John had been certain they would strike at a much smaller herd to the north, and apparently he had been right.
"Too bad he didn't live, if he was willing to turn over. Maybe he would have testified in court."
Parker's father said forcefully, "Little good that would have done. The word of one thief against Colter's? Not in any court around here."
"Your father's right." John leaned back a little in his chair, his blue eyes holding an icy resolve. "We're going to settle this ourselves. It's the only way. After tonight, they'll know we're fighting back. Colter has an outfit hired to do the dirty work. They stay out of town and out of sight." He paused, and then added coolly, "It seems you've got a price on your head, Parker. Besides that, the rustler swore Colter was out to ruin you."
"That lowdown slinking skunk," his father said through his teeth.
The news wasn't much of a surprise, but it still wasn't all that wonderful to hear. "Don't tell Celia," he said quietly. "She'll think it's her fault, and indirectly it probably is. The day we were married I realized just how crazy jealous he is. He looked at her like a hungry wolf looks at a doe."
"Don't I know it." John's mouth tightened into a thin, dangerous line. "He was trailing her like a hound until she finally made it clear she wasn't interested. I'm not sure exactly what she said, but to say he didn't take to the rejection kindly is an understatement. We started to lose stock right away in significant numbers. The correlation of those two events sure stuck in my mind, and it was the first time I started to suspect he might be behind the outbreak in thieving."
"It didn't occur to me," Parker admitted, anger and apprehension clear in his voice. "But I've never liked Rance Colter, and the reaction was strictly from my gut. Maybe I did know deep down he was a sidewinder, but now it is way too personal. I don't care so much about him offering money to get someone to kill me, but he wants my wife." He looked deliberately at his father, and then John. "Let me tell you, he isn't getting her, not on God's green earth."
John nodded coolly. "You up for a fight then? Because I'm going to tell you, this is going to get worse before it gets better, Parker. Luckily, I have an idea."
He looked at his brother-in-law. "I'm all ears."
"Colter buys his loyalty. For a price, let's see if we can turn one of his men. It'll cost, but it might be worth it if things get more out of hand than they already have."
Never in his life would it have come to mind to pay a dishonest cowpoke for information, but maybe John was right. He nodded reluctantly. "You know how to go about doing this?"
John said, "Yes, indeed, I do."
---------
Celia settled onto the wagon seat and adjusted her skirts, giving her brother a curious look. "Not that I'm objecting because I'm tired of being stuck inside, but why did Parker agree to let you take me to town?"
"Most of the men are out," John informed her curtly, his blue eyes distant as he climbed up on the seat. "We need supplies and you'll be safe enough with Jared, Josh and me, I reckon. Better than at the ranch with only two or three men posted."
"I certainly should be," she retorted. "You all are packing enough hardware for a small army. Mind telling me exactly what's going on? Parker has been a little tense these past few days, though with him it's hard to tell sometimes. His father, too, is suddenly carrying a gun, even inside the house."
John slapped the reins and they rolled forward. "You know we got trouble with Colter, Celia."
"I know Parker thinks there could be. I take it you agree."
"'Fraid I do." His hat was pulled low and his profile was unnaturally stern.
It was a lovely day, one of those clear Colorado mornings when the air smelled as sweet and intoxicating as wine, and every brilliant detail of the landscape stood out in jeweled colors. The breeze was spicy with sagebrush, and the touch of it was cool and clean. Celia turned her face into it as they rumbled along, a small trail of dust in their wake.
She would be enjoying herself if it wasn't for John's grim expression and the fact her two other brothers each rode just ahead, one on either side of the buckboard. "Has something happened I don't know about?" She spoke slowly, assessing his reaction. "I mean it, John, you'd be better off not keeping secrets."
"Parker doesn't want you all upset."
"I don't give a damn what Parker wants." Celia felt a flicker of annoyance over being treated like some fragile bit of china.
John gave her a level look. "No? Well, if that's true, and I suspect it isn't, you should give a damn. He's your husband, and as far as I can tell, loves you enough that he'd die for you, little sister. Make sure it doesn't come to that by taking a few orders now and then. You aren't good at it, I know it full well, but you aren't stupid, either. This thing is going to get settled one way or the other. Blood is going to be spilled, mark my word. Do as he says, and the chances of it being his go way down. He's a levelheaded man in every way except when it comes to you."
It was a fairly long-winded speech for her middle brother and Celia was taken aback by his vehemence. For a few moments she stared out over the landscape, seeing the brilliant blue of the sky only abstractly. Then she said in a subdued tone, "I'd die for him, too, John."
"I bet you would, Celia, but it would be best if it didn't come to that." John had a welcome note of humor in his voice. "I've wondered more than once if Colter realizes just what he'd be getting if he did manage to make off with you. I don't do a lot of gambling, but my money might be on him trying to give you back as fast as possible."
"Very funny," she said, but couldn't help but give a small laugh.
Her brother sobered. "Actually, I wasn't trying to joke about it. I'm glad you know how to shoot straight, and even more glad you can ride like an angel."
"Do you seriously think he'd try something? I mean, I'm married to Parker. He must know he can't kidnap me and get away with it." She still felt disbelief over even the notion of it.
John said with chilling conviction, "All I'm sure about is that I want to be around when that lowdown coyote is strung up."
He sat on Diablo and surveyed the swale with a jaundiced eye, seeing the hoofprints where horses had trampled the ground not more than a day or so before. Instead of rage, Parker felt a calculated need for both revenge and justice.
Next to him, his foreman scratched his balding head. "Drove 'em off toward the east, boss."
"Yes." Parker gazed over in the direction his cattle had disappeared. "Okay, Leighton, let's bring the rest of the herd down. Even if we have to bring in feed, I want all the West cattle concentrated in as small an area as possible where we can at least attempt to guard them."
The older man nodded in approval and spit a stream of tobacco juice on the ground. "That'll be a mighty big undertaking for the next few days. We're talking about thirty thousand head at least."
"Not as big as it would have been last week. We're losing stock right and left."
"Same amount of land to cover, though."
"I know it." He had thousands of acres and animals scattered all over it. "We're just going to do our best. If we can get them together, at least we can keep them. As it is, this ranch is easy pickings for those rustlers. They just pick a pasture and take when they want."
"You got it. I'll spread the men out."
"Make sure they're all armed. John Evans is going to town today to stock up on ammunition. That'll send a message to Colter sure enough."
Lean and wizened, with a face weathered to the texture of soft leather, Leighton gave him a steady look. "I'm glad yer fightin' this thing. Me and the hands talked it over and if he's really behind this, Colter's dealing you a bad hand."
This wasn't exactly news, and Parker felt his lips curve in the parody of a smile. "I agree."
"He ain't going to stop easy. I've lived out here most of my life and seen his kind come and go. Crooked as a rail fence and mean as a snake isn't a good combination. On the other hand, he's pretty lily-livered, if you ask me, hidin' behind hired guns and keepin' that big ole spread of his like an armed camp."
"I know he isn't interested in an open fight."
"His kind never is." Leighton stared out across the vista and tipped back his hat. "I've seen range wars before. This ain't gonna turn out that way, take my word."
No westerner got to be Cap Leighton's age without acquiring some wisdom, so Parker raised his brows, tightening Diablo's rein just barely to keep the restive animal still. "No?"
"Nope. Range war takes two sides, and usually neither one of them is entirely wrong or entirely right. This is just really between you and Colter, boss. He's thievin', lyin' and generally fighting dirty because you took the woman he wanted. That ain't a range war, that's a personal brawl."
"Maybe so," Parker agreed grimly, "but in the meantime I have to try and protect my stock, and more importantly, my wife."
"He won't come out in the open." Leighton spat again, as if in emphasis. "If he goes after her, it's gonna be underhanded and sneaky, like a fox creepin' into a henhouse. No matter how many guns he has, he isn't up to a real battle."
"I pretty much think he's a coward myself, but until he does something---"
"Oh, he'll do something." Leighton nudged his horse with his heel and said over his shoulder, "I'm just predicting it ain't gonna be what you expect."
---------
Her mother-in-law had given her a small list and Celia dutifully picked up thread and two bolts of calico, a bag of salt, and she was in the act of reaching for the sugar when a raised voice drew her attention. She glanced up to see a tall man lurch toward the dry goods, his face drawn into a formidable scowl. He was lanky, and his clothes hung on his bony frame, while a scruffy grazing of whiskers made him look even more unkempt. A dark-haired woman with two children at her skirts and a baby in her arms watched him approach with a completely impassive expression on her face.
It wasn't her business, Celia reminded herself, but though Alice Reed might not show any emotion at the approach of her drunken husband, she had gone pale. Celia's mother had mentioned Reed had turned up again, like a persistent toothache, and it sure looked like he was hitting the liquor just as hard as ever.
"You don't need that, woman." He snatched a small package of buttons out of Alice's hand and tossed it randomly so it fell into a bin of dried beans.
"Your shirts...the children's clothes need mended, Harry---"
"I said you don't need it. Come on, let's go home. I'm hungry."
She fumbled in her pocket and produced a crumpled piece of paper. "My list...I haven't finished shopping yet...we need coffee, and---"
He cuffed her on the side of the head. It wasn't a hard blow, but it wasn't gentle either, and she staggered back a little. "Shut up. We're goin'"
One of the children, a little boy with wide eyes and a headful of curly dark hair, began to cry. Immediately the other one began to sob too, but it was clear from how quiet they kept the sound, they'd learned the hard way not to make too much noise. Mrs. Reed clutched the baby in her arms closer to her breast and looked over to where the proprietor, Tom Delarney, stood behind the counter. Celia had always liked jolly Mr. Delarney, and his plump face wore the same disgusted expression she imagined she had herself. Tom said kindly, "You just leave the list with me, Alice, and I'll get the stuff together for whenever you want to pick it up."
"Thank you." Alice held out the paper, but before Tom could move to take it, Harold Reed snatched it from her fingers and ripped it into tiny pieces, letting them litter the floor. "We ain't made of money. Now move."
This time he slapped her. Maybe it was harder than he intended and in his inebriated state he couldn't judge correctly, or maybe he intended to snap her head back and send her stumbling into the counter.
Either way, Celia didn't care. There were a few other customers in the store, some of them men who might have intervened, but she was standing fairly close to the fracas. Without thinking, she moved, suddenly finding herself positioned between Harold and his now bleeding wife. "Touch her again," she said with lethal sincerity, "and I'll see to it you never have any other children, Mr. Reed, for you'll certainly be lacking the right equipment."
For a moment the loutish Reed looked surprised and taken aback by her defiant protective stance and the less-than-ladylike threat, but then his eyes narrowed into glittering slits. "This ain't your business, young lady."
"No?" Celia was so furious she could barely speak. "The moment you struck a woman holding a baby, you made it my business. You are a coward and a lowdown drunk. I can smell you from here, and it isn't at all pleasant. I suggest you leave right this minute before one of my brothers comes in. Go home, take a bath and sober up."
"The Evans boys don't scare me none, but sure, I'm goin'. With my wife." He jerked his head sideways. "Alice, move it."
"No, she's staying," Celia countered. "She hasn't finished her shopping."
"Listen, Miss Evans, you are starting to rile me."
"It's Mrs. West," she said coolly, tilting her chin and looking him squarely in the eye. "And quite frankly, I don't care about you in any way."
He raised his fist, his face contorting. Celia braced for the blow, knowing he was more than capable of doing it, though if he were sober he hopefully wouldn't ever be so foolish.
A voice rang out, cold as ice. "I wouldn't. Do it and you're a dead man, Reed."
John. Well, it was about time, Celia thought with relief as the man in front of her lowered his hand and went rigid.
Her brother walked slowly toward them, tall and wide-shouldered, the low jingle of his spurs audible in the sudden silence. His gaze swept over the tableau, assessing Celia's strategic position between Alice Reed and her husband, and something settled into his expression that made Celia take a deep breath. Her brother was slow to anger, but when he truly lost his temper, it was an impressive display.
"You strike your wife?" John asked between his teeth. His eyes looked like two blue chips of ice.
Behind her, Alice made a small sound, like a moan of despair. Reed blustered, "What if I did? This ain't yer interfering sister's affair, and it ain't yours, Evans."
"Like hell it isn't." John didn't take his eyes from the man, who now looked a little green under his untidy beard. "Celia, take Mrs. Reed and the children outside. Have Jared escort you to the buckboard. They'll be coming home with us. I'll be there in a few minutes."
Glad enough to obey, because she had a feeling what happened next was not going to be pleasant, she nodded. Quickly, she took the infant from Alice's shaking arms. "Come on," she said reassuringly as they started for the door, cradling the child who stared up at her with wide blue eyes. "Everything will be fine."
The corner of her mouth bleeding, Alice glanced back, trembling. "John is going to kill him. He isn't armed, I don't want---"
Celia interrupted tersely. "How can you worry over him when he treats you so terribly?"
Alice Reed looked at her with tearful dark eyes and her expression momentarily tightened. "I meant that I don't want John to be charged with murder because Harold doesn't have a weapon. Believe me, Mrs. West, it isn't my husband I'm worried over. I've been concerned all along it would come to this."
That seemed to be a strange statement. Celia looked at the child she held and took in a quick breath, seeing the shock of thick fair hair and having a sudden glimmer of what the pretty Mrs. Reed might mean.
Jared waited for them outside, an unmistakable look of astonishment on his lean face as she emerged from the store without any purchases, but instead a bleeding woman and three children. "Mind telling me what's going on? John went in to fetch you. Where is he?"
Celia shook her head, seeing with relief the dusty street was fairly empty. "Ask him later, will you? In the meantime, go inside and make sure he doesn't kill anyone. We'll wait at the wagon."
Jared flashed his reckless smile and shook his blond head. He muttered, "I told John and Josh bringing you along was just asking for trouble."
---------
The fight had been short but satisfying.
He stood over the prone body of the man he despised more than any on this earth, and felt fury seep from his veins like a drug. Reed was no longer moving, collapsed in a tumble of fallen boxes, blood running freely from his mouth and nose. John looked up and saw Jared a few feet away, looking nonchalant and laconic, a slight grin on his mouth. His younger brother said, "I thought you said it would be a nice, peaceful trip to town. Celia sent me in to make sure you didn't kill anyone. Is he dead? 'Cause I sure as hell don't want her mad at me."
"He's not dead," John muttered in disgust. "The drunken fool didn't even throw a punch." He glanced up and said, "I'll pay for any damages, Tom, you know that. Just add it to my tab."
Delarney ambled out from behind the counter, his sizable bulk precluding any fast movement. "Don't worry about it, son. It needed doing and if I was about twenty years younger, I'd have done it myself. You boys carry this piece of refuse out and dump him in the street, will you? I don't need him trashing up my place and bleeding all over. You get him out of my store and we're even."
"That's decent of you." John bent and grabbed Reed's shoulders and Jared took his feet. None too gently, they dragged him outside and tumbled him into the dusty street. John looked at his younger brother and saw the open curiosity there with resignation. "Alice is going home with me. Where she belongs."
"I gathered that, somehow, from the way Celia herded them all toward the buckboard." Jared looked noncommittal, but added quietly, "I guess I'm not surprised. I knew there was someone---both Josh and I did. We talked about it, but hell, it's your private business."
"Did you see the baby?" John asked, now that the first wave of anger had passed, feeling both relieved and released now that things had come to a head. "He's mine, Jared."
"I saw him." Jared tipped his hat back. "So I'm an uncle, huh? That'll take some getting used to but I figure it's a fine thing."
"Yeah, well, the way Parker and Celia stay in bed half the day, you'd better get adjusted to it. Come on, I bought all the ammunition they had in stock. Let's get it and the women back to the ranch."
As they walked down the street, John glanced around, wondering if Colter had any other men in town. He'd guess there would be at least a few, and Celia's interference in the Reed's quarrel would not go unnoticed.
A small smile curved his mouth. His sister was a lot of things, among them headstrong, independent and stubborn, but she had spirit and a fierce sense of right and wrong. When he had walked into that store and realized what was going on, he'd felt both furious and grateful. The way she stood there, just daring Reed to hit her, well, it might not be the bravest thing he'd ever seen, but it was damned close.
Alice sat on the seat of the vehicle, her dark eyes haunted as she watched him and Jared approach. He met her gaze head-on, and noted the small crust of blood and her swollen lower lip with as much detachment as possible. Celia sat in back with the children, still holding his son. He saw from her speculative look that she just might have figured a few things out.
Good. It saved him an explanation. He'd have enough of those when he arrived home and told his parents what was going on. He didn't have any doubts that his mother and father would welcome Alice and the children, but he'd been keeping secrets a long time.
That was all over.
Without a word, he climbed up next to Alice as Jared and Josh swung onto their horses. Then he gently slapped the reins and they moved forward.
Between getting to beat the hell out of Harold Reed and his brief meeting with the young outlaw who worked for Colter, it had been a satisfying afternoon.
---------
Parker rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I'm not precisely angry, Celia."
"You act angry." His beautiful wife unbuttoned her gown as she spoke, her slim fingers slipping each fastening free. "Or as angry as I've ever seen you save for at our wedding, though I can't figure out why. Since you rode in, you've barely spoken to me."
He watched her slip her dress off her shoulders as she readied for bed. "I'm bone tired from herding cattle all day. Then I come in to hear you were involved in some confrontation in town in which you actually could have been hurt. I agreed you could go because your brothers would be with you, looking out for things. I guess I thought you'd have the sense to stay out of trouble. Obviously giving my permission was a bad idea."
Clad only in her lace-trimmed shift, Celia tossed back her loose hair and gave him a furious look. "Don't act like I'm some sort of child you have to be responsible for, Parker West. And for your information, Harold Reed was slapping his wife around in front of me while she was holding a baby. Her children were crying, and he'd hit her so hard her mouth was bleeding. I hate to disappoint you, but I was not going to just stand there."
"He could have done the same to you, Celia. He's a mean drunk, and he's a hell of a lot bigger than you are. If he hurt you, I'd have to go after him, and I've got to tell you, I have a feeling there's going to be plenty of killing without throwing in another feud on top of it."
"I can fight my own battles, don't worry. If he had hit me, it probably would have been the mistake of a lifetime. As it is, I suspect John more than took care of the problem."
As usual, riding herd on a bunch of ornery cows was nothing to managing his lovely spitfire of a wife. When he heard what happened, he couldn't help but admire her nerve, but most certainly was unhappy over the fact she'd stepped straight into the path of an abusive bully. Every time he thought about it he got angry again because her impulsiveness frightened him to death.
He loved her too much to let anyone harm a hair on her head, and worrying over Colter was bad enough.
"Until further notice, that's your last trip to town," he said with imprudent authority. "Don't even bother to ask me."
Half-undressed, with the glory of her unbound hair in a golden mass around her face and bared shoulders, Celia gave him a glare that rivaled a cornered mountain lion. "Go to hell, Parker. I'm your wife, not your prisoner."
He was glad their bedroom door was firmly shut, and hopefully his parents were already asleep down the hall and couldn't hear the argument. "If I have to keep warning you about your language, sweetheart, you're going to regret it." He sat down in a chair to take off his boots.
"If you think you're sleeping here, think again," Celia informed him, her cheeks pink with affront. "I'm not interested in bedding down with a narrow-minded ogre who treats me as if I haven't a lick of sense."
Unperturbed, he neatly set aside his boots and proceeded to unfasten his shirt. "I'm sleeping right here with you."
"I'm sure they'd welcome you in the bunkhouse." Her tone was saccharine with sarcasm.
"I'm sure you'll welcome me just fine, my sweet wife."
"I'm not going to fuck you, if that's what you're thinking. Right now, I don't even like you." She stood on the other side of the bed, her chin tilted upward and her blue eyes flashing fire.
God, she was beautiful and desirable as hell.
God, she had quite a sassy mouth.
"You really love to push me, don't you?" Parker jerked his shirt off over his head, leaving it half buttoned. "And for your information," he dropped his tone to a husky, suggestive whisper, "you don't have to like me for it to feel good."
He had really thought he was too damn tired to make love to her, but his cock had decided otherwise the minute she had started to undress. He was hard, pulsing, and when he deliberately shoved his pants down his hips, it jutted upward in an obvious declaration of his intentions.
"Will you force me?" She eyed his rampant erection. "Because I'm not interested, Parker."
Like hell she wasn't, and he didn't miss the flicker of excitement that crossed her face, no matter how much she tried to hide it. From past experience at the cabin, he knew she liked it if he acted like he was going to give her no choice, though he was sure she knew down deep he wouldn't make her do anything she didn't want to in bed. "I might," he lied, moving around the bed in slow steps. "Are you going to fight me?"
"I'll scream," Celia informed him, backing up as he advanced, still clad in her chemise.
He grinned. "I know. You always do."
"I mean it. Your parents will hear."
"That's fine with me. What? Do you think they'll come running? I doubt it, not if our bedroom door is closed." He crowded her into the corner on the other side of the bed and placed an arm on either side of her shoulders. "You see, sweetheart, as your husband, I've got certain rights."
That infuriated her, but he had known it would. Celia shoved at his bare chest and looked adorably irritated. "You can be an arrogant ass, Parker West, though most people don't see it."
In response, he captured her hands and pushed them up above her head, his body pressing hers against the wall. He rubbed his stiff cock against the warmth and softness of her body through her chemise and inhaled her fragrance. Lowering his head, he whispered suggestively in her ear. "I bet you're already wet, Celia."
She kicked him in the shin, and he winced, but didn't let her go. Instead he transferred her slim wrists to one hand and with the other delved beneath the short hem of her shift. She squirmed in resistance and made a small sound as his fingers slid between her legs.
Sure enough, she was wet, hot and ready. He slipped two fingers all the way in, exploring her vaginal passage with leisurely thoroughness, amused and aroused as she parted her thighs even as defiance sparked in her gaze. "Go fuck yourself, Parker, and leave me alone."
Okay, well if the lady wanted outrageous language and the pretense of resistance, he'd give it to her.
"No thanks, I'd rather fuck you," he said calmly, and in one swift movement picked her up and deposited her on the bed. She tried to roll away but he caught her easily and settled on top of her, using his weight to keep her pinned to the bed while being careful not to crush her in any way. Celia gave him a mutinous look, but her cheeks were flushed becomingly, and he could feel the tight points of her nipples against his chest through the thin cloth of her chemise.
He kissed her lightly, and then nuzzled the side of her neck as he bunched the material of her shift around her waist. "You want it, sweetheart, let's face it. Hard and fast in that tight, wet pussy of yours, my cock pushing in as deep as possible, and you taking it like you always do, to the hilt. We both know you're going to come for me over and over, and I am more than happy to give you what you like so much."
Finally, he'd shocked her a little, for her eyes widened.
Parker smiled with dark purpose. "Spread your legs. Why make us both wait?"
"No," she said faintly, but it was the merest protest and her lashes drifted downward as he easily pushed her thighs apart with his knees and positioned himself.
At the first plunge, she gasped and arched. His cock found heat and heaven, and he felt the wash of pleasure like a warm, enchanting tide. He began to move, at first slowly, but there was something about the frantic lift of her hips that spoke volumes about what she needed and he was just the man to oblige her.
The only man, he reminded himself as he drowned in sensation.
Heated, urgent and captivatingly passionate, Celia moaned with each thrust. For someone who had supposedly felt resistance to the idea of lovemaking, she certainly seemed to be enjoying it. Parker hadn't any doubt in the first place of her capitulation. It was a decided bonus in marrying someone with her fiery personality.
If every argument ended this way, he wouldn't mind a little spat now and then at all, he decided as he felt the riveting rise of his orgasm. Beneath him, his beautiful wife responded to his penetration with complete surrender and her usual uninhibited recklessness.
"Parker," she breathed as the first tremor of her climax began.
The exquisite contractions of her inner muscles as she began to quiver and arch took him the last step, a searing burst of pleasure assaulting his senses as he emptied into her in a forceful, red-hot rush. Gasping and spent, he rested his forehead against the silken skin of her shoulder and felt the thrumming of his heart finally begin to slow.
Celia's fingers slid through his hair in light strokes. "That was a dirty, rotten thing to do, Parker."
A faint smile tugged at his mouth and he lifted his head. "How so?"
Her blue eyes were full of reproach, but she continued to toy with his hair, sifting through the wavy strands. "You can't use sex to win an argument."
"All right." He kissed her, slow and sweet, his lips moving softly against hers. "We can pick up right where we left off, if you'd like. Or, better yet, we could take off the rest of your clothes and make love again."
"I thought you were tired."
"I thought so, too."
Celia squirmed a little against his hips, his half-rigid cock still inside her. "I suppose we could discuss your despotic ways in the morning." Her smile was pure teasing coquetry.
He licked her upper lip with a seductive glide of his tongue. "You like it when I'm despotic."
"Sometimes." Her lashes fluttered a little. "I know I like it when you fuck me like you just did."
"Sweetheart, what will it take to rein in your language?"
She laughed, sliding her hands luxuriously up his back. "I don't think it's possible, Parker."
"Is that a challenge?" As always, her striking beauty mesmerized him, and her sensuous nature made him feel humbled by his good luck. "You definitely need a firm hand. I might just plant mine on your tempting backside the next time you choose to cuss like a grub-line-riding cowboy."
"That," his lovely wife said with a mischievous grin, "sounds like it could be fun."
The acrid smell was the first sign of disaster on an otherwise calm summer morning.
Running from the kitchen, Parker's mother gestured frantically toward the corrals. "Fire! Celia, quick, grab a bucket. The barn is on fire!"
It had been dry lately, and something like that didn't bode well. Celia dug out two buckets they used for carrying water for washing dishes and hurried outside. What she saw made her heart freeze, for not only did smoke billow from the big barn, but it looked like the bunkhouse was also engulfed in flames. The two little buckets she held seemed ridiculous compared to what was happening, but she dashed to the well, just the same.
The horses trapped in the burning building were screaming, she realized, the shrill sounds rising above the distant roar of the flames.
Oh God.
"I'm going to free the horses," she shouted, and shoved a bucket toward Parker's mother. The older woman said something back, but she didn't hear it as she ran toward the blazing building.
The haze of smoke made it impossible to see what exactly was happening, but she needed to reach the frightened animals. Running, eyes streaming as she got closer, she wondered where the men Parker had left on guard duty were.
In a moment she had her answer.
She tripped over one of them and went sprawling, the bucket in her hand going flying. For a moment she was stunned, and then Celia scrambled to her feet and stared at the prone body of the man lying in front of the barn doors. He was young, his face turned away, and she saw the glassy reflection of his open eyes.
Dead. Her mind registered the word even as she emotionally rejected it.
A great gust of smoke whirled around her and the crackle of the flames brought her out of her stupor. Whatever was happening, she suddenly knew the two buildings were not on fire by accident. She stooped and gently eased free the knife still strapped to the young cowboy's lean waist, touching him with reluctance. His gun was nowhere in sight, so probably whoever killed him took it.
Maybe Parker had been right all along. This certainly seemed a bold frontal attack.
Armed with the knife, she eased toward the barn doors, only to find a second man there, half-propped against the building, his head hanging on his chest. She could see the crimson dribble of blood soaking his shirt and a small sob caught in her throat.
With effort, she stepped past and frantically tugged at the bar holding the doors closed. Inside, it was chaos, with the animals kicking at their stalls and whinnying. She could barely see, but moved to open the doors, trying to stay out of the way as they thundered out toward freedom. Luckily, Parker pastured most of his horseflesh, and there were less than a dozen animals to free, but Diablo was among them and she knew he would be heartbroken if anything happened to the stallion. The big black was in the one of the last stalls and he bolted the minute the door was opened, clattering outside in a wild flurry of flying hooves.
Her lungs felt as if they would burst, and Celia staggered back outside in the wake of the last escaping horse.
It was surreal to emerge into fresher air, and she coughed, stumbled and tried to blink away the burning in her eyes.
A shout drew her attention. There were riders, she realized, at first with a stab of relief, and then with a jolt of fear. She swiped at the smoke-induced tears on her cheeks and registered these were men she'd never seen before. They rode dark horses, and as they spotted her, they spurred their mounts her way.
In a haze of panic, she turned to run. She made it past the corral before she heard the thunder of her pursuers right behind her. There was no place to go, she realized in despair, for the long lane was open and made her easy prey.
In minutes, she was surrounded.
Chest heaving, she stood in the crowding circle of the riders and counted at least six men. "What do you want?" She managed to ask it in a thin, breathless voice.
One of them, burly and bearded, with flat dark eyes and a red bandana around his thick neck, spoke up. "Jest for you to come on a little ride with us, ma'am."
"No, thank you." Celia gave him a level stare, trying to catch her breath. "Go back to whatever hole you inhabit and tell Rance Colter to go to hell."
"You can tell him yerself, if you'd like, Mrs. West." He slowly dismounted. "Come on, now, I'd jest as soon make this easy on you."
Well aware of the amused gazes of the other men, most of which gave the impression of seedy dishonesty, Celia felt the weight of the knife in her hand with a little comfort, though not much. At the moment, her hand hung at her side, the weapon concealed in the folds of her skirts.
"What are you," she asked contemptuously, "procurers for a man without the guts to do anything himself? You stack the deck, don't you? Six men to capture one woman?"
The big man narrowed his eyes a little. "We git paid well, that's all we care about."
"To murder innocent men, burn down buildings like cowards and condone rape?"
His face reddened a little and he reached out to take her arm roughly. "What happens to you after we take you to Colter ain't our concern."
"Isn't it?" Stalling for time, Celia tried to shake off his grip. "Unless you sprang out of a pile of horse dung, which is possible, you had a mother once, maybe even a sister. Would you take one of them to him and leave her there?"
One of the men was younger than the rest, not so hard looking, and glanced away as she deliberately raked the group with her scathing gaze. His discomfort showed at least a modicum of decency, but he was in the minority.
The stocky outlaw pushed her toward his horse, none too gently. "Mebbe it would be best if you kept yer pretty mouth shut."
The push, which sent her almost staggering into his horse, made her furious. She was past being frightened. Even now she could hear the roar of the fires as they consumed the two outbuildings. The abduction seemed a continuation of the nightmare.
She needed to do something to stop this.
Parker loved her. It wasn't simply desire, it wasn't merely their undeniably electric physical bond, it was emotional and deep and as essential as breathing.
If it was in her power, she would not allow him to suffer knowing she had been kidnapped. For he would suffer, horribly, and as sure as the sun came up in the morning, he'd ride straight to Colter's ranch, probably getting himself killed in the process.
The bearded man grasped her waist and hefted her onto his horse.
At the same moment he grasped the saddle horn to mount up, Celia leaned over and sank the blade of her weapon deep into his brawny shoulder.
He screamed and cursed, the sound giving her a small thrill of primal satisfaction. In a flash, she grabbed the reins and dug in her heels, scrambling to get a better seat as the animal took off in startled reaction. She was nearly thrown out of the saddle, but managed somehow to hang on, the stirrups dangling wildly as the horse plunged away.
If there was one thing she could do, it was ride. In moments, she found the stirrups and leaned over the neck of the outlaw's horse in encouragement as she guided it at a full run away from her captors. At least some of them came after her, for she could hear the sounds of pursuit, but she had two advantages. She was light, and the burly outlaw had a big brute of a horse, rawboned but muscular. The second was she had ridden over to the Wests' so often before her marriage, she knew the land like the back of her hand.
In fact, it felt good to feel the lash of the wind, the wild flick of the horse's mane against her neck and cheeks, and see the ground flashing by beneath them. Without hesitation, she rode west toward the nearby river and its concealing line of cottonwoods and oaks. There was only one decent place to cross it, and if she could get out of sight long enough, they might get delayed looking for a way over.
Anything, she thought grimly, to escape Colter.
Daring a swift backward glance over her shoulder, she saw with a glimmer of hope that the closest of her pursuers was a fair way back. Still uncomfortably close, but not breathing down her neck either.
Yes, she could definitely lose them.
Exhilarated, Celia sent the horse recklessly down a small ravine and up the opposite side in a full gallop. Behind her someone shouted and she urged her mount to veer toward the left, avoiding uneven ground.
Disaster happened in the form of an unseen hole. The big horse hit it with his right front leg and went to his knees in full stride. Celia barely realized what happened before she was pitched from the saddle, the world turning crazily as she flew through the air. She hit the ground hard enough that the breath left her lungs in a gasp, and for a moment everything went black.
Hell, she thought hazily as she fought the horrible sensation of not being able to breathe.
---------
Tightlipped and grim, Parker stared at the smoldering remains of the bunkhouse, but his mind was elsewhere. His heart felt like it was squeezed in a vise. "Jesus, I thought I was being careful. Four men are dead and my wife is missing."
His mother looked at him, her face still streaked with soot, her red-rimmed eyes brimming with tears. "When I realized what was happening, I went inside for the shotgun. When I came out, I saw her riding away." She added in a whisper, "They went after her."
Not violent by nature, he fought the urge to plunge his fist through the one wall still standing, the wood charred and smoking. "I'm going to kill him."
His father slipped his arm around his mother's trembling shoulders in an unspoken gesture of comfort. "Maybe she got away, son."
"If she did, where is she? This happened hours ago." There was no way Parker could keep the bleakness from his voice---it just wasn't humanly possible.
"Boss, jest stay calm. We can track 'em if we hurry." Cap Leighton rubbed his grizzled jaw. His pale eyes reflected outrage. "Still plenty of light left."
He had to do something, make good steady decisions, and in his whole life that had never been a problem. Now, when he needed a clear mind, all he could do was feel a terrible despairing panic. He dragged his hand across his face and took a deep breath as he looked at his father. "You and Cap take half the hands and try to track her and the men who went after her. I'm going to where she's likely to be."
"If you ride straight on over to Colter's place, he'll be more than happy to make your wife a widow." His father had deep lines around his mouth, making him look a decade older. "You can't go there and face him head-on. You know you won't make it anywhere close to the house. He'll be expecting you, Parker, and he'll be ready with an ambush. That won't help Celia, just the opposite."
"What the hell else you expect me to do?" Usually he watched his language very carefully in front of his mother but at this particular moment, he didn't even bother to apologize. "I can't wait around trying to figure something else out. I don't have the luxury of time, and we all know it. If Colter is crazy enough to set fires and have another man's wife kidnapped, he's capable of anything."
Dear God, he couldn't bear to think of Celia being brutalized. It made him physically ill, and he couldn't afford to feel that way at this moment.
"That girl has a lot of spunk," his mother said softly. "Don't sell her short, Parker. Whatever Colter has in mind, she isn't going to make it easy for him. Endangering your life needlessly won't make her happy."
"Maybe not," he acquiesced painfully, "but we all know she is one woman in what is virtually an armed camp, Mother, and I love her. I have to go after her. It isn't a choice."
His gut clenched again and he turned to Cap. "You get your men and go. Tell the rest of the hands we're riding out immediately and to bring as much ammunition as they can carry."
"You got it, boss."
"Send word to the Evans ranch. You know they'll stand beside you." His father gave him a sympathetic but steady look. "The delay will chafe, son, but take as many men as you can."
He'd done so already, having dispatched one of his hands the minute he saw the smoke rising as they rode in back from the range.
"I won't wait long," Parker said curtly. He added with despairing sincerity, "I just can't."
---------
Celia sat on the edge of the chair and tried to stifle a wince. Her hands were bound, her feet were tied, and she was locked away in what looked like an unused storage room. Other than the chair she sat in, it was bare except for a dusty floor. The walls were adobe and looked thick, and the ceiling low.
Not a very heartening prison, but better than Rance Colter's bedroom. It wasn't promising just the same.
Luckily, the damage to her person from her precipitous fall seemed to be mostly superficial. Her dress was torn and dirty, and she had a significant scrape across one shoulder, but she had hit a patch of scrub grass and at least not broken any limbs, or worse, her neck.
What she wanted to do was cry or scream. Neither seemed productive. The ache in her injured shoulder throbbed in time with her heart.
The rattle of the key in the door made her look up. The creak of the hinges sounded like a shriek in the otherwise complete quiet.
Colter.
He stepped into the room and she fought a shudder of revulsion. Since his men had dragged her off, she hadn't yet seen him, and his presence filled her with an intense loathing. The glitter in his dark eyes as his gaze swept over her didn't bode well for what came next. "Hello, Miss Evans."
Her chin came up in a gesture of obvious disdain. "That's Mrs. West."
"Not for long." As usual, the rancher wore the latest style in trousers and waistcoat, his step into the room a slight swagger. Even his boots held a high shine. He wore his hair a little long, like a fancy gambler, and his olive skin held a flush, as if the success of his scheme excited him.
Why wouldn't he look triumphant and self-satisfied, she thought bitterly. Here she was, tied up like a prize steer and at his mercy.
If he even had any.
"You rash little fool," he remarked, looking at where her shoulder was bared by her torn dress, "you could have been hurt trying to get away."
"I was hurt," she responded pointedly. "Notice the blood? Maybe you could summon the decency to untie me and send someone with water so I could at least wash it off."
"Once a few things are settled," he said with a meaningful, unmistakably salacious look. He openly studied her breasts beneath the thin material of her gown. "I'll make sure you are taken care of in every way. Right now, it's best if you stay put here, out of the line of fire."
"Parker's going to kill you."
"There's no way he can get past my men."
Celia let her lip curl in a small, scornful smile. "No? We'll see."
"Yes, we will. I'll win. Money always does, make no mistake." He sauntered closer, and she felt ill from the way he stared at the skin exposed by her torn dress. Even his hired lawless thugs hadn't ogled her the way he did. "When Parker West is dead, you'll be free and clear."
She laughed, even though a chill ran up her spine at his statement. "My husband won't be that easy to kill, Colter."
"Really? I figure you'll learn how wrong you are here in a little bit. I'm expecting him to arrive any time."
"Maybe," she responded, looking him in the eye. "This is an uncertain part of the country. Sometimes things don't go according to the way men expect."
He leaned in close, so close she could smell the whiskey on his breath. She recoiled, but he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. "Let me tell you what to expect, you haughty little bitch. Tonight you're going to lose some of that uppity air, believe me. I'm going to use you like a half-breed whore and no one is going to stop me. Remember when you told me you would never consider marrying me? Well, I'll just take what I want from you anyway. It isn't like you aren't a soiled little dove. You've been spreading those pretty legs for West, so I'm sure he's got you well broke in. I'd rather have been first, but I'm looking forward to this just the same."
It wasn't like she had any illusions over the purpose of the abduction, but that flat declaration made her feel sick. The nausea became acute when Colter let go of her chin and instead cupped her breast through her gown. He squeezed, watching her expression, and she returned the look with stony hatred.
"I'll be back," he vowed and stalked out.
The sound of the door closing brought relief he was gone and an acute dread for what might happen next. She wasn't even all that worried about the disgusting threats her captor had just made, for in truth, if something happened to Parker, she wasn't sure she wanted to live.
Please be careful, she prayed, shutting her eyes tightly, fighting the hot sting of tears.
Please.
I love you so much.
---------
John squinted at the sunset, oblivious to the glorious rosy hue spreading across the horizon except that it signaled the coming dusk.
Perfect.
The lone horseman trotted up and slid off. He didn't offer his hand, but his nod was brief and said it all. "She's tied up and stuck in one of the ranchero's old rooms. It's at the back, on the left side. The door is locked, but it's old. He isn't worried about her escaping."
A muscle twitched in John's jaw. "Has Colter touched her?"
The cowboy, young, sandy-haired and obviously Texan from his accent, shook his head. He had a hungry look in his eyes, but hadn't quite acquired that ruthless air that characterized so many outlaws. "Not in the way you mean. He went in there for about five minutes." His mouth curved in a humorless smile. "Surely even a dog like him would take longer than that. Besides, I was outside the door the whole time. They just talked."
"I bet that wasn't a pleasant conversation." John relaxed a fraction. "I know my sister. When she's mad, she's like a West Kansas tornado. Anyone with smarts will get out of her way."
The young man, who had only given the name Uvalde in their previous dealings, laughed shortly. "Yeah, I noticed that. You should have seen her face us all down. Then she stabbed Moze, who's three times her size, and if her horse hadn't fallen, would've gotten clean away."
"Is she hurt?"
"Scraped up a little." Uvalde glanced at the scarlet sky, his profile melancholy. "Tonight ain't going to be pleasant for her if you don't get her out. I admire her pluck, but Colter's gone to a lot of trouble to make sure this all happens his way."
It was something John already knew. "Explain to me exactly where she is."
Uvalde nodded and dropped down, finding a small stick and sketching a diagram in the dirt. In the fading light it was a little difficult to see, but John memorized it.
He glanced up. "Do I need to know anything else?"
"There's a sharpshooter on the roof. Name's Henderson. He's good. If you take him out, it's gonna make things a lot easier for West and his boys. He's right here." He pointed out the location.
Considering Jared and Josh were both riding with Parker, not to mention their father, it was good information to have. Of course, once John started shooting, it would be pretty obvious he was on the opposite side. It was risky, but then again, he'd known it would be. "Much obliged."
The young man gazed at him with somber eyes. "This ain't my kind of deal, and most of the hands---good men or bad---feel the same way. Stealin' stock is one thing, but I was raised to respect women. Your sister's only fault is to be too pretty for her own good. Most of the men think Colter's a coward. They ain't going to hold over this."
"Both Parker West and I are banking you're right."
"I can see where you might not trust me easy. I'm wanted in two states." Uvalde swallowed convulsively and looked away. "I'm not proud of it. Who would be? But deep down, I'm still decent. I hope you get her out. I also hope Colter hangs. If anyone deserves it, he does."
John hoped to hell the young man was sincere. "We'll handle the money as agreed, when she's back in our hands safe and sound."
"Nope." The young outlaw shook his head decisively. "I've thought about it. I'm doin' this on my own hook. Double-crossing Colter feels right to me. Taking money for it doesn't. Tell West I'd like a job. A good, decent job riding cattle. If he's willing to forget what's happened, that'll be enough for me."
"To get his wife back unharmed, I'm banking he'd give you almost anything you asked for."
"They say he's a fair sort."
"Sure is," John confirmed, taking off his hat and handing it to the other man. "He really loves her."
Uvalde gave him an undecipherable look. "Maybe something like that will come my way someday if I can make a fresh start." He took off his own hat and put on John's.
"Maybe, cowboy. At any rate, as long as we live through this, I think you can count on a job and that second chance." John pulled out his rifle and checked both his revolvers. Then he mounted the other man's horse. As a disguise, it wasn't much, but he figured they were about the same height, both wore dark shirts, and the hat shaded his features. Riding the outlaw's horse, he might just pass for Uvalde and get inside unnoticed. "West and his men are waiting about a half a mile away, behind that ridge." John pointed in the right direction. "Tell him to give me a small head start before they ride up and start shooting."
Uvalde nodded.
John thought about Alice, waiting for his return, and his sister, tied up somewhere and despite her usual spirit, probably deeply frightened. He added somberly, "Also tell him not to get himself killed."
"Will do."
---------
The knife slid cleanly between her wrists and the rope miraculously fell away. Celia rubbed her chafed wrists with relief and felt like sobbing with relief. "John."
He'd never been particularly demonstrative, but his arms slid around her briefly in a tight hug. "You hurt?"
"No." For a moment she let her head rest on his shoulder. It felt solid and safe.
"Good. Come on, now, steady up. We've got to move because all hell is about to break loose."
Even as he spoke, the first report of gunfire rang out. Her brother grabbed her hand and shoved his revolver in it. "You know how to use this, Celia. I may need you."
She nodded, hearing more shots, her stomach clenching in both fear and worry. Silently, she followed her brother through the door, grateful to be out of the dank little room. It was almost dark, she saw, and as they edged along the side of the building, most of the commotion seemed to be to their left. Rifle in hand, John led her to the edge the wall.
In front of them was the courtyard, the ranch house built on three sides around it in a Spanish hacienda style. Once there had been a fountain and a small pool, but the pool was dry and the tiles crumbling. There was no actual gate any longer, but an opening that was still easily defended, because anyone trying to come through it was fair game. On either side of the entrance, several men crouched on the thick walls, just waiting for a clean shot at the approaching rescue effort. They had their backs to Celia and John, and it would be simple to kill a few before the others realized what was going on, but once they did, they would be vulnerable as hell.
"Hold on," John said so quietly she almost couldn't hear it. "They haven't rushed it yet. That's good. Parker's keeping his nerve. Don't move. I'll be back."
"John---"
"I'll be back, Celia, I swear it. Just stay put."
In the fading light, she could see a faint sheen of sweat on his face. He boldly stepped around the side of the building. If any of the men guarding the wall had turned around, they would have seen him, but they were riveted on whoever was firing at them from the other side of the courtyard wall. John walked about ten yards, and then he threw his rifle up, steadied it at his shoulder, and shot.
She saw a man pitch from the roof of the structure across the courtyard to go sprawling on the ground.
John was right, at that moment, all hell broke loose.
Several of the men turned, startled at hearing gunfire so close behind them. Her brother dove for the broken fountain, found cover, and began to shoot. Exposed and susceptible from an inside assault, men scrambled to get out of the way, and suddenly Colter's front wall defense was no more.
The riders came through fast, the thunder of dozens of animals clattering through the entrance filling the air. Parker was in front---Celia would recognize the gleam of his dark, wavy hair anywhere, even in the semi-darkness, and Diablo was unmistakable. Shots continued for what seemed like forever but probably was only a few minutes. The entire courtyard was a melee of plunging horses and shouting men. She still held John's gun and would have fired, but it was impossible to tell friend from foe.
The sudden quiet was eerie and the acrid smell of gun smoke drifted in the air. Shaken, Celia scanned the scene with numb apprehension. Where was her husband? John...
A hard hand clamped over her mouth. "Here you are," a voice hissed in her ear. "You are one troublesome little bitch, Miss Evans. The good news is, while I still have you, I hold the upper hand."
She didn't even think about it. Her elbow came back sharply, catching Rance Colter in the gut with as much force and pent-up desperation as she could summon. He grunted, and in the moment his grip loosened, she turned, shoved the gun into his chest and pulled the trigger at point-blank range.
"I'll race you." The challenge was both breathless and laughing.
Parker shook his head, eyeing his wife's beautiful face. Her cheeks were flushed, and her blue eyes sparkled. "No. Sweetheart, you're pregnant. You promised to be careful."
Her mouth formed a disappointed moue. "You are so damned cautious, Parker. I'm not going to fall, don't worry."
It was a gorgeous day, a warm touch of Indian summer amidst the chill of the approaching winter. The Rockies were golden with the changing aspens. Their horses ambled along a path by the river, and he, for one, was feeling a level of happiness he still wasn't sure was humanly possible.
"I do worry," he said without apology. "Humor me."
Celia gave him a look that sported defiance. "I'm not incapacitated. I'm just going to have a baby."
"I know." His smile was pure male pride.
"Don't look so smug."
"I'm not sure smug is the appropriate word." It actually could be, though. He felt so pleased with life it frightened him. "I'm..."
"What?"
"Happy," he finally supplied. It was simple maybe, but right on the mark.
Celia's lovely face softened. "Me, too."
He cocked a brow. "So, we're agreed? No race. A nice ride is just as good."
Tossing back her golden hair, his wife gave him a meaningful sidelong look. "Well, that depends. A nice ride can be just as good. It's pretty private here."
There wasn't any mistaking her sexual innuendo. In fact, since they had discovered her condition, she'd been insatiable.
It wasn't like he was going to object. "There's a grassy spot up just ahead."
Why wasn't he surprised she urged her horse to a gallop and pulled up before him. Even before he could slide from the saddle Celia had dismounted and started to undress. Her breasts, fuller now with the promise of the coming child, showed pale as she unfastened her bodice. "Oh Parker," she breathed, "hurry. I need you."
He obeyed, hearing the urgency in her request with an inner welling of desire that seemed to flood every nerve ending. His cock was erect in seconds, and when she lay down on her back and lifted her skirts, he felt as if he had suddenly been lit on fire.
Still booted, with nothing more unfastened than his trousers, he joined her and moved between her parted thighs, relishing the pleasure, the consummation and the communion of not just their bodies, but their souls.
He kissed her in the aftermath of orgasmic bliss, and thanked the stars, the moon and the God he had never been sure existed before now, for his good fortune. Their mouths melded tenderly, and he felt the unexpected sting of tears, hot and fierce.
"I love you," he whispered, in her and over her. "You and our child. It's too..."
"...much?" she supplied, caressing his cheek. "I know."
"I'll always feel this way." He knew it to be true.
Her eyes gleamed. "I'll be fat soon."
"So?"
"Extremely fat."
"Beautifully fat." He smiled. She would never allow him a minute of boredom in his entire life. Of that, there was no question.
"You'll still want to fuck me?" Her angelic expression belied her deliberately shocking words.
"Your language leaves something to be desired, Mrs. West."
"Oh yeah? You think you can do something about it, Parker?"
He lowered his head and murmured against her mouth, "Nope, sweetheart, you win."
Emma Wildes is the award-winning author of over twenty books. She is the 2007 Eppie winner for best historical erotic romance and a 2006 RWA Lories third place finalist for best novella. Emma lives in rural Indiana with her husband, three children, and various pets.
To learn more about Emma Wildes, please visit http://www.emmawildes.com. Send an email to Emma at chris.smith6@insightbb.com. She loves to hear comments from her readers.
Coming Soon
Lawless
The Face of the Maiden
When Noah Calhoun finds his place in the world,he discovers a woman who makes him whole.
The Legacy
© 2007 Beth Williamson
Book Seven of the Malloy family series
Noah Calhoun always felt like an outsider in the Malloy family, even though he'd been legally adopted at age fifteen by Nicky, the only sister in the pack. After an accident nearly kills his father, Tyler, Noah decides to leave and find his own place in the world. Using the skills his ex-bounty hunter father taught him, Noah finds a job as a small-town sheriff.
Rosalyn Benedict didn't need a fresh-faced do-gooder sheriff trying to help her. She'd been surviving just fine on her own. Living on the streets since she was a child, Rosalyn was smarter, tougher and stronger than most people ever hope to be.
With her stubbornness and his pigheadedness, will Noah and Rosalyn find that one place where they both belong?
Warning, this title contains the following: explicit sex, graphic language, violence.
Enjoy the following excerpt for The Legacy:
Noah clenched his shaking hands into fists so Rosalyn wouldn't see how much she affected him. He ran up the steps and dug around in his saddlebags for his second set of clothes. He shed the sodden ones, and they plopped to the floor. How had things gotten so out of control in a breath of a moment?
He only wanted to talk to her to find out who she was and why she lived on the streets of Chancetown. When she pushed him in that trough, Noah was overtaken, awash in emotions that he didn't know what to do with. He'd been battered by deep anger, a thirst for revenge and raging passion, as if Rosalyn had reached in and pulled it all out of him. Suddenly there he was, dunking her in the water and throwing her in the jail cell. What had possessed him?
Growing up under the thumb of an evil man had taught Noah how to be small, to be unseen. Living with his adoptive parents for six years had brought him forward but not completely out of the four walls he'd built around himself so long ago. With one twitch of her mouth and a laugh that would likely haunt his dreams for weeks, Rosalyn laid siege to those walls.
Noah had nothing to towel off with since he'd given her the threadbare one he had. He used his clean shirt to blot the water. He'd find the bathing house another time. He was sure Marina knew who he could pay to do his laundry and where to take a bath---two things he really needed to do. With Mayor Dickinson watching his every move and rumored sheep and cattle rancher problems, the job that had seemed like a dream, an easy solution to a tough problem, was going to be harder than he'd ever anticipated.
When Noah left home three years ago, his mother asked him not to go. She didn't beg, or tell, she just looked at him with those green eyes and asked. Noah hadn't been able to stay. He was grateful to the Calhouns and Malloys for all the love and family they gave him. Something he'd never had, even from his own mother who'd died when he was twelve. Nicky had given him love and the confidence to be who he was. Tyler had given him the skills to survive. Together they had given an orphan a home and a new life.
Noah pulled on his dry clothes, wondering why, now, he was so melancholy about leaving home. It had been three years and he thought he'd be over the sadness, the ache of wanting to see his family again. His little sisters and brother, the cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents. He shook his head to clear it. Getting maudlin while he had a woman locked up in his jail cell was not a good idea.
He dumped the water out of his boots the best he could and left the sodden pile of clothes for later. He grabbed his soap from the saddlebags as well as a chipped pitcher of water from the dresser in the room. As he walked downstairs, he braced himself for another confrontation with Rosalyn. She stood where he'd left her, arms crossed, violet eyes flashing. Her tangled black hair fell in wild waves around her heart-shaped face. The shapeless brown rag that passed as a dress clung to every bit of her body.
Noah had been too angry to notice that Rosalyn was definitely not a young girl. She was a woman, all woman, with gentle curves and full breasts his hands twitched to trace. His confusion was kicked aside by the passion that again surged inside him. It seemed ridiculous to feel such intensity for a woman who lived on the streets, who'd probably like nothing more than to never see him again.
His blood thrummed through his veins, and his balls grew heavy as tingles raced up and down his hardening staff. She must've seen something in his eyes because her angry gaze turned wary and she stepped back, her arms in a protective pose.
"I ain't giving you nothing."
Noah shook his head. "I'm not asking you for anything."
"You lie. I see it in your eyes, Sheriff." She glanced at his trousers. "Oh, you definitely lie."
Noah stepped closer. He could see her tremble as if forcing herself to stay put, to not be intimidated by him.
"I won't hurt you, Rosalyn. I promise." He moved even closer. "You might want to dry off. It still gets pretty chilly at night."
He hoped to do more than scare her and throw her in a jail cell, but unless she was willing to let him, he couldn't. The last thing he wanted was to force Rosalyn into letting him help her. She was a person and deserved more respect than that, but she also couldn't go around pushing the town sheriff into a trough on his first day.
Noah knew about appearances and what people thought. He'd lose credibility if there were no consequences. What he was doing to her wasn't exactly punishment, he was helping her. He had to keep repeating that to himself, then perhaps he might believe it.
He reached through the bars and set the pitcher and soap on the floor next to the towel. "I'm leaving to get supper and see about getting you some dry things."
"Don't you dare." Her anger ballooned into a threat.
"Dare what?"
"I don't need your charity, Sheriff."
"Call me Noah."
"I don't need your charity, Noah," she repeated. "You let me out of this cell and I'll go get my own dry clothes."
"Sorry, I can't do that. You broke the law. For that, you're going to spend the night in here."
She bared her teeth in a snarl. Noah reacted like a dog scenting a bitch in heat. He stood straighter, trembling with the force of the blood rushing around in his veins. Their gazes locked.
"I hate you." The venom in her voice was enough for three snakes.
Noah flinched. "I'm sorry to hear that because I really only want to help you."
Rosalyn strode forward and gripped the bars, narrowing her gaze. "You're a liar. If you wanted to help me you wouldn't keep me locked up in here. You think just because you're a man that you can do whatever you want. Just look out, Sheriff Noah. Soon as your back is turned, I'll be gone so fast you'll never catch me."
Noah believed every word of it. She didn't want his help and from what she said, she didn't need his help. He was going to give it to her whether she objected or not.
Passion flares between a federal marshal and his enemy's wife.
Another Man's Wife
© 2007 Denysé Bridger
Outlaws descend on a stagecoach winding down its long journey between Missouri and Wind River, Wyoming. Federal Marshal Chris McQuade is one of the two occupants of the stage, and the ensuing battle leaves three dead men on the trail.
McQuade's unlikely partner in the deed is a woman he's been attracted to from the start of the trip. It isn't until they're forced to go on alone together that he realizes he's falling for the wife of the man he's been sent to bring to justice. Despite the ring on her finger and the role he plans to play in making her a widow, passion ignites and McQuade is surprised to discover that Elizabeth Davis is as helpless as he is to deny their need for each other.
But Elizabeth's husband has witnessed a much-too-intimate encounter between his enemy and his wife...and now he is out for revenge.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Another Man's Wife:
"Is this my horse?" she asked, inwardly shocked by the husky rasp of her voice. This was as close to Chris McQuade as she'd ever been, and it was an overwhelming experience for her senses. Awareness of him filled her; the mixed scents of man and horse, the mesmerizing depth of his dark eyes, the wind-ruffled disarray of his hair, and the sheer masculine strength that emanated from him. She wanted to touch him, to taste him, to feel his hands on her. The very thoughts made her weak in the knees.
Chris lifted his hat off the pommel of the saddle and stepped back to give her room to mount the gelding. She swung into the saddle with natural ease, and the seconds her bottom swayed before his face were almost his undoing. The next few days were going to be painfully long, some inner voice warned as he tried to ignore the surge of lust that shot straight to his groin. He pulled his hat low and went to the second horse, settling on the saddle and turning west without another word. By the time she came alongside him, he was reasonably certain he could safely look at her.
Elizabeth's eyes drank in the beauty of the landscape around them. The Wind River Mountains loomed far in the distance and it was difficult to judge just how far away the town might be. "How long before we reach Wind River?"
"Likely be a few days," Chris replied, peering intently ahead. "We're going to have to ride hard to get to the foothills, then head north. Town shouldn't be too hard to find from there."
"Have you been there before?" She moved easily with the horse, well accustomed to riding. The gelding was a spirited animal, and she felt an affinity for him already. She suspected he'd move like the wind if the need arose, and she named him Wind Dancer in her mind, smiling at the whimsy.
Chris obviously caught the expression and she enjoyed the telltale tug at the corner of his mouth as he watched her with open amusement.
"Somethin' funny goin' on, ma'am?" he said, the natural drawl flowing into his voice again.
She shook her head and bit back the grin that wanted to spread over her features. "Nothing funny, Mr. McQuade," she assured him, then urged Wind Dancer into an exhilarating gallop, leaning over the pommel of the saddle and reveling in the movement of the horse beneath her. Only seconds later she heard him closing the distance between them. Instead of censure or the anger she anticipated, Chris whooped loudly as he passed her and she laughed with pure pleasure and let her horse's gait open up further. The two animals were well-matched for strength and speed and it was a long while before Chris slowed and pointed to a copse of trees less than a mile ahead.
"We'll make camp there for the night," he told her when she drew up next to him.
The sun was sinking rapidly on the western peaks of the mountains and the color streaked the sky with a splendor unlike any she'd seen before. She stared, enchanted and enthralled by the fiery display that crested the snow-capped mountaintops. The orange-gold orb of heavenly fire gradually dipped behind the ridge of darkening mountains, its last searching fingers splaying over the tops, turning everything to purple tinted pink. Chris nudged his horse forward and she followed, caught between the glory atop the mountains and the magnificence of the man and horse moving ahead of her.
Less than an hour later they sat in front of a fire, coffee brewing and filling the night air with its enticing aroma. They shared some of the hard tack and jerked beef from Tom Caden's saddlebags, and Elizabeth felt a rare moment of tranquility as she gazed upward at the glittering sky. The moon was making a slow climb into the center of the tapestry of black velvet that draped over them, its silvery crescent growing brighter and brighter.
"What exactly do you do, Chris?" She finally dared ask the question she'd been thinking about from the first time she'd glimpsed him back in St. Louis.
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