Broddock-Black 05 - Force of Nature

by Susan Johnson

  His dancing was adept like everything he did, she thought— peevish and jealous and too much in love for her peace of mind even while she knew it would never do to be in love with Flynn Ito. He was unreservedly single, self-indulgent, impossibly profligate and all the ladies he’d left behind were testament to his dissolute existence. A shame he could be so affectionate and appealing as well, worse that she didn’t have the strength to resist his allure.

  When the music came to a stop and the last note died away, it seemed for a moment as though everything was over.

  “Would you like another song or should I take this off instead?” he murmured, his voice low and silken, touching the sleeve of her robe.

  Like a moth to the flame, she thought, eager and impatient, heedless to all but her insatiable cravings. Pulling open the front of her robe, she pushed his aside enough so she could melt against him, so she could feel his hard arousal, flesh to hot flesh.

  Sliding his hands down her back, he cupped her bottom, pulled her closer so the imprint of his ardor was unmistakable. “No more dancing, then?” he queried, husky and low.

  “Yes, please ... no more dancing.” Her voice was trembling, her gaze imploring, her hips moving against his erection in a feverish rhythm.

  He kissed her lightly on the cheek, avuncular and courteous. “Thank you for the dance.” And then he lifted her into his arms and moved toward the bed, responding as he had so often in the past when women looked at him like that, when they wanted what she wanted.

  But he felt a curious warmth quite separate from sex as he carried her across the room, a tenderness and undefinable gratitude. A feeling of fascination and wonder. He wanted to dance with her again . . . sometime, here, like this—or just like this—anywhere.

  Glancing out the window, ever mindful of what morning would bring, he saw the stars fading in the sky.

  The gods willing, of course.

  Chapter 19

  Flynn woke at the first distant rifle shot, heard the second, counted slowly to five waiting for the third. There.

  He was out of bed before the echo had faded.

  One of his scouts had sighted riders approaching.

  In afterthought, he glanced at the bed as he reached for his trousers and was grateful to see that Jo still slept. His mind was focused, the past night no longer relevant regardless of its extravagant pleasures.

  He had to mobilize his defenses.

  The dogs started barking as he strode through the house buckling on his gun belt. Only partially dressed in trousers and boots, his shirt still undone, he’d shoved his father’s swords into the braided silk tied around his waist, and slipped two ammunition belts over one shoulder.

  He hadn’t had time to leave a note. He hoped Jo would understand. But with riders on his land, he had to forgo the courtesies.

  When he came out on the back porch, the stable yard was already filled with milling horses and men in various states of readiness. A groom came running up with his favorite paint, saddled and prancing to be off. Some horses were born for battle, like people he supposed, and Genji was such a mount.

  Springing into the saddle, Flynn gave Genji a murmured command and the stallion leaped forward, his nostrils flaring in excitement, his gait shifting from jog to lope to gallop in mere seconds.

  With his men strung out behind him, Flynn had just cleared the drive when the sound of rifle shots rang out in the still morning air.

  Four shots in quick succession.

  All clear.

  The troop of armed men surged to a stop, but the dogs didn’t cease their barking, which meant they were getting visitors of some kind.

  Flynn surveyed his armed troop with a smile. “That was damned good speed, men—under five minutes.”

  “At least they didn’t come in last night and cut into our sleep,” one man said with a grin.

  “Speak for yerself, Mike,” another man drawled. “The boss had a female visitor that kept him awake, I’m guessing.”

  “As for that,” Flynn said, clearing his throat with a rare look of embarrassment, “the less said, the better. The lady won’t appreciate being discussed.”

  A great many eyes widened in varying degrees of shock. Flynn’s amorous adventures generally weren’t so delicately handled. The women who came out to the ranch to visit him weren’t the shy kind. And he’d used the word lady as though he meant it.

  “Whatever you say, boss,” McFee replied, surveying his crew with a quelling glance in the event any of them didn’t understand this woman wasn’t to be the stuff of gossip. “Will the lady be staying long—I mean—under the circumstances,” he added with a wary look.

  “No,” Flynn firmly said. “She leaves today. I’ll need the very best escort for that duty. Twenty men. Armed to the teeth.”

  “Yes, sir. You’re figuring before the Empire comes, right?”

  McFee just wanted to make sure Flynn hadn’t forgotten his enemies, lady or no lady.

  Flynn nodded. “Once we find out who our visitors are, I’d like Miss Attenborough taken to the stage office at Great Falls. The passenger list has to be checked for undesirables before she gets on. If there are any, see that they’re removed.”

  “Yes, sir.” McFee didn’t so much as bat an eyelash, although he had thoughts aplenty concerning his instructions. This lady must be right fine to be treated like a queen by a man like Flynn who was charming enough to the ladies and generous from all accounts, but never so conscientious and softhearted like this. Undesirables? Hell, that could mean half of Montana.

  “Be ready in an hour or so.” The rifle shots had come from a scout on the fence line, which meant the riders were still miles away. That meant he had time to talk to Jo before they arrived.

  She wasn’t going to want to leave—that was a given.

  Nor would he want her to if circumstances were different.

  He sighed. Now, if only wishes were horses ... as his mother used to say.

  ❧

  Jo was pacing as he quietly entered the bedroom. She wore a robe half draped over her shoulders, leaving a delectable amount of silken skin showing and for a transient second, he wondered if she’d mind living in his basement until he could kill everyone on the Empire crew. His brief lapse in sanity quickly passed; they’d tried to burn him out last time and even a basement wouldn’t guarantee her safety against fire.

  “That robe looks a lot better on you than me,” he said, shutting the door behind him.

  She spun around at the sound of his voice, took one look at his gun belt and swords and went motionless. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

  “No, it was a false alarm.” He slipped the cartridge belts from his shoulder and tossed them on a chair. “However, we do have visitors arriving.”

  “I’ll stay in here.”

  “That would be best.” Unbuckling his gun belt, he hung it on the chair back.

  She smiled. “Is that solicitude for me or you?”

  “For you.” Pulling his swords from his belt, he laid them on the dresser top and tried not to dwell on her lush availability.

  “How sweet.”

  “Don’t start.” It took enormous will power not to untie the robe she wore, slide it from her shoulders and make love to her—very quickly, he waggishly thought—with visitors on the way.

  “May I thank you for last night without getting a rebuff?”

  “My gratitude to you as well, darling”—he smiled, a sweet, boyish smile she hadn’t seen before—“from the bottom of my heart.” Which was all he could offer her at the moment.

  “I didn’t know you had a heart.”

  “For you, I do.” His expression suddenly turned grave. “But much as I’d like you to stay, you’re not safe here as you well know. I’m having some of my men escort you out.”

  “Is there anything I can say to change your mind?” She had to at least try.

  He shook his head. “Sorry. After our visitors leave, my men will take you to the stage office in Great Falls. A
nd as soon as I’m finished with Empire Cattle Company’s newest levy of hired guns that seem to come in like clock work, I’ll ride down to see you.”

  “That would be nice, although I’d rather you didn’t have to fight anyone.”

  “So would I, but, unfortunately, they keep coming.”

  “Then I’ll wish you luck and wait in Helena.”

  His gaze narrowed. “You’re usually not so amenable.”

  “I don’t want to put you at risk,” she said softly.

  He’d been equivocating about his feelings for Jo, hoping to deal with his affection in some sensible manner, but the sweetness of her reply touched him more profoundly than he wished.

  “You can’t do your best if you have to worry about me. Come to Helena when you can ... you see I’m without pride.” She opened her arms, a vulnerable, artless gesture and when he didn’t immediately respond, she whispered, “Hold me, please.”

  He went to her, unprepared for the tumult of emotions that overwhelmed him as he held her close. He should be feeling only cold vengeance on the cusp of the bloodiest battle of his life, not this chaos of tenderness and passion. “This will be over soon,” he said, forcefully suppressing his unwanted feelings, offering platitudes in lieu of more personal pronouncements.

  “Be careful.” She was terrified for him, for herself now that she knew love existed.

  “I have good men.”

  “But your enemies want you. ”

  “Too bad. They can’t have me.”

  “Promise me anyway,” she said as a child might, wanting blanket assurance.

  He tightened his hold. “I promise,” he whispered.

  She gently touched his cheek. “I love when you indulge me.”

  He smiled faintly. “I’ll indulge you in any way you wish when I come down to Helena again.”

  “And I’ll have some slippers embroidered for you when you get there.”

  His smile widened. “Now there’s an incentive to get this thing over with.”

  Chapter 20

  Flynn stood on his porch, waiting for his visitors, braced or resolute depending on the whimsy of his turbulent thoughts.

  McFee had reported the identity of the riders five minutes ago, the scout on the stable tower recognizing Hazard and Trey through his field glass.

  Flynn hadn’t yet told Jo. Nor was he sure what he’d say to her father other than express some form of apology. Hazard had distinctly told Jo not to ride this way. Although, Flynn reflected ruefully, so had he.

  After he greeted his visitors, Flynn invited them inside, deciding his explanation might first require a stiff shot or two in his coffee. He was experiencing the apprehensions of an erring adolescent for the first time in his life, a novel sensation for a man who had taken on an adult role early.

  Flynn’s cook brought in coffee promptly, but the addition of liquor notwithstanding, the subject remained difficult for him to broach. Even with the pleasantries exchanged, he still hadn’t decided how to segue into the topic.

  “You’re well prepared for an invasion from the looks of it,” Hazard said. “We heard your signal shots the moment we crossed your fence line. What does that give you for warning—forty minutes or so?”

  “Your horses are prime stock. The Empire won’t come in that fast. I’m calculating an hour.”

  “Is your whole perimeter covered?”

  “Every foot.”

  “We didn’t see your scouts,” Trey remarked. “Are you using some of our clan?”

  “Always. The Absarokee are the best scouts.” Flynn’s crew was extraordinarily diverse, his own heritage predisposing him to look at a man’s ability, not his skin. At first his troop had been looked on with derision, but it wasn’t long before his men were not only given respect but a wide berth. Dark or light, young or old, each man was brave, competent and willing to follow Flynn to hell and back.

  Hazard glanced out the window, the stable yard crowded with men. “How large a crew do you have?”

  “With additions from Kinnert’s and Bensen’s, say a hundred and a half.”

  “Add our thirty. We thought you could use some help.”

  “I appreciate it. There’s something you should know though,” Flynn said, hesitantly, his discomfort plain. “Jo’s here. Don’t get riled,” he hastily added as Hazard’s expression turned grim. “I didn’t bring her. She came herself—late last night.”

  Trey was grinning from ear to ear. “She came alone through fucking Otter Greek Pass at night?”

  “She hired a guide in Great Falls. Howard Nagel.”

  “At least she had sense enough to get someone good,” Hazard growled, setting his cup down so hard the coffee sloshed over the rim.

  “He only took her to the fence line. My men brought her in.”

  “Howard knew better than to test your hospitality at night,” Trey sportively noted.

  “Apparently. I’m sending her home, of course. I said as much to her directly she arrived last night, but it was after midnight. She was tired.”

  “Do you have a way out that’s safe from the Empire crew?” Hazard’s voice had moderated although his frustration was still evident in the scowl creasing his forehead.

  Flynn nodded. “McFee will escort her, along with twenty of my best men. I’m sorry; I know you didn’t want her here.” “Not much you can do about it when she shows up in the middle of the night,” Hazard said, gruffly.

  At Hazard’s acceptance however grudging, Flynn came to his feet. “I’ll tell Jo you’re here.”

  “And tell her I’m furious.”

  When Flynn acquainted Jo with the identity of their visitors, she stared at him in shock. “They’re here!”

  “In my study.”

  “Oh, my god!” She quickly glanced at the cheval glass. “I’d better get dressed.”

  “That might be wise. Your father is angry, as you might guess.”

  “Damn, this far from Helena. What kind of miserable odds are those?”

  Flynn smiled. “Some people are more lucky than others.” “I’d appreciate a little empathy, if you please,” Jo muttered, “and some clean clothes,” she added, surveying the room. “Where are my saddle bags?”

  “I’ll get them.” Although knowing it meant walking by his study, it was his turn to experience a twinge of discomfort.

  “At times like this I could do without a father,” Jo groaned. There were distinct merits to being on your own, she decided. Her life in Florence had been essentially without restrictions unless Father Alessandro’s admonitions about hell fire counted.

  “I’ll just apologize again and refill everyone’s cognac and coffee. Don’t worry,” Flynn said in soothing accents. “Trey’s amused, by the way.”

  Jo’s brows rose. “Why am I not surprised? Although, perhaps if I take my time dressing, Father’s good humor might soon be restored as well.”

  If his good humor wasn’t fully restored, Hazard had resigned himself to Jo’s escapade by the time she entered the study. Reminding himself that his youth wasn’t precisely a time of prudence had been instrumental in his newfound acceptance. And Jo’s politic and lengthy apology further improved his disposition. When she called him Papa, which she rarely did, he caught a glimpse of her mother’s cajoling flattery, but her smile was sincere as was her contrition and he surrendered to her charms. “You could have been seriously hurt. That was my only concern,” he did say in the way of a scold. “But as for the rest, do as you like.” Her liaison concerned him less than her safety; Absarokee culture recognized adult pleasures as a natural part of life. “Although Flynn assures me you understand now that it’s more prudent for him to visit you in Helena than for you to be here.”

  “Yes, Papa. I understand,” Jo said, meekly.

  Trey grinned. “If we could only freeze this moment in time—Jo contrite.”

  Jo glared at her half brother. “I’m not sure I’ll live long enough to see your moment of contrition.”

  “That will do, Trey,
” Hazard admonished. “Everyone understands the seriousness of the situation. The discussion is closed.”

  And despite the softness of his tone, Hazard’s unmistakable command resonated in the room.

  “I, for one, could use a refill now,” Hazard pleasantly noted, holding out his cup, putting an end to the critical review of Jo’s rash adventure.

  Flynn refilled cups, offering Jo unadulterated coffee at that early hour, and the conversation turned to the most casual of events: the spring roundup, the expected runoff from the mountain snows, whether Stewart Warner would have another of his annual picnics after the gunfight at last year’s festivities.

  Despite the relaxed atmosphere, Jo was well aware that Hazard and Trey were dressed for hostilities—the light sweep of red and black war paint under their eyes and across their foreheads evidence of their purpose and resolve, their fringed leather clothing and moccasins not their usual dress, their well-oiled holsters gleaming on a nearby table along with their cartridge belts.

  And Flynn had been fully armed this morning, his numerous weapons the necessary accoutrements to war.

  How different these men were from those she’d known in Florence where the judicial system dated to ancient times. On the northern plains, the rule of law was very recent and often a day’s ride away. Protecting one’s own became a personal mission and only men of courage and boldness prevailed.

  The worldly pleasures that had been the staple of her mother’s sphere and the backdrop for hers seemed empty and vain in this brutal country where life and death were daily uncertainties. And whether her personal desires were immediately sated or her passionate feelings reciprocated suddenly seemed trivial set against the larger issues of survival.

  She was truly contrite.

  She gave no further thought to cajoling Flynn into letting her stay and before long she was escorted outside where McFee and twenty men were mounted and waiting. As Hazard spoke to McFee and Trey exchanged greetings with several of the men he knew, Flynn lifted Jo onto her horse. A personal farewell was impossible before so many watchful eyes. She sat stiffly in the saddle, trying to think of something appropriate to say within earshot of everyone, and purselipped, Flynn busied himself adjusting the bridle on her horse. His fingers lightly touched hers as he handed up the reins and the contact however lambent, jolted him. Compelled by uncontrollable impulse, he looked up and met her gaze.