by Jenny Penn
“She doesn’t belong out here.”
“No, she doesn’t, but I ain’t got the coin to get her back east.”
“Damn,” Mike sighed. “I wish Digger was here. He’s probably the only man alive who’s hard enough to resist Mary Anne.”
That caught Richard’s attention, and a stray band of hope lightened his eyes for a moment. “Is he close?”
“Not near at all. He and Charlie went after gold in Colorado.”
They found it, too. Charlie and Digger would be pressing to pull as much gold out as they could before they made the trip north to the ranch. Gold digging wasn’t a sure thing. When a man found the magic spot, he took all he could because who knew when he’d find the next one.
That’s why their money went into the ranch because ranching would always be there. In fact, Mike knew there would be others coming. Right now, the valleys stretched clear of other ranches, but that wouldn’t last. They would need a way to protect their ranch as more settlers rolled in.
Guns worked fine on raiders like the Willis gang, but money and power worked better on the rest of the world. That was the plan, and there wasn’t any room in it for a woman. Not now. Not when all their determination and focus had to be building a life that could actually support the wife and kids they all hoped for one day.
Well, everybody but Digger.
“Hell, they might be closer than I think. They’re supposed to be coming in with supplies before winter, but I don’t expect them for at least another few weeks.”
No doubt with the money they dug out of the ground, they’d be living it up for a few days in town. Mike wouldn’t begrudge them the fun, knowing they’d all be suffering through the long winter months bored and alone.
Richard perked up at that. “Maybe they’re down in South Pass right now.”
“We could send Eric down with Malcolm and her to South Pass to wait for them. The two of them should—”
“I already told you Mary Anne can’t go to South Pass. She goes from here to Cheyenne and onto the train back east. That’ll be the only way she goes.”
The harshness in his friend’s tone had Mike stilling. He knew when something lay hidden in the dark. Richard had some secrets he hadn’t shared yet. Mike didn’t like not knowing.
“Okay, Richard, why can’t Mary Anne go to South Pass? What’d she do? Kill a man?” He smirked at the very idea of that extreme suggestion, but Richard’s cold stare had his humor falling away from his lips. “Ah, hell.”
Chapter 2
Mary Anne pressed her ear to the small hole in the middle of the knot and strained to hear the muffled voices on the other side. Built from the pines that surrounded the Tanners’ cabin, the hand-planed walls provided many holes. Most came with splinters.
Mary Anne gave up and pulled back to rub the sting from her ear. The men kept their tones low. No doubt because her brother figured she’d press an ear to the wall. Richard always tried to make her life difficult. As if God hadn’t already given her a father, Richard felt the need to play that role as well.
Bossing her around, making her lose her temper, she’d be good and glad if he did ride out and give her some peace from that surly temper he carried around these past few months. Ever since she’d shown up in Cheyenne, he’d been intent on shoving her back on the eastbound train.
He needed money for that. Money her brothers didn’t have. Money the Willis gang stole. Mary Anne shivered as the fear and terror of the attack echoed back through her. Richard said she didn’t understand, but Mary Anne understood. He wouldn’t have been the one raped. She would have.
Mary Anne understood that also could happen in the East just as easily. A woman had to see to her own protection. Mary Anne had been seeing to hers for many years now, and she’d seen to it when she shot her way free of the Willis gang.
Richard just underestimated her. She’d come to the West on her own, and if her brothers forced her, she’d find a way to stay on her own. The weight of her worries sat heavily on her shoulders as she heard the back door bang closed. The sign of movement in the other room had her standing on tiptoes to peer through the biggest hole large enough to let her see everything.
Only Mike and Richard remained at the table, sharing the whiskey. Richard had always referred to Mr. Tanner as Big Mike. The title certainly fit the broad, hard cowboy leaning back in his chair. A good man, that’s what Richard called him.
Even if he hadn’t, Mary Anne would have known. Mike reminded her of the paintings of archangels she saw in England. He stood battle ready and full of strength with features cut hard around bone and muscles tightened with tension.
He’s certainly a lot nicer to look at than my brothers.
Mary Anne sighed. He was nicer to listen to, too. Mike had a deep, soothing voice that just made her skin shiver. It would be so easy to fantasize of long nights listening to that deep timber warming her through while she read by the fire.
Snuggling down into the covers and feeling the hard comfort of him holding me close.
He’d keep her safe. Mary Anne trust in that. How long had it been since she felt safe? Since she felt secure enough not be the one watching her own back?
Too long. The sadness of that answer caught her off guard as longing for a fantasy that would never come overwhelmed her. Mary Anne lost herself for the moment in the dream, staring right through Big Mike to a future she’d never actually have.
It got rudely blotted out by an eyeball. Mary Anne squealed and jumped back as a brown eye pinned her through the looking hole.
“Just what you looking for, Mary Anne?” Richard hollered through the wall quite clearly. “You need some help in there?”
Scowling at the authority in his voice, Mary Anne leaned into a lower hole to yell back. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“I’m fine, Richard.”
“Okay, then.”
Just like that a white chunk of fabric got stuffed right through the hole she’d been using to spy on Big Mike. Growling over Richard’s obnoxious audacity, Mary Anne latched on to the fabric and tugged. It tugged right back because Richard apparently knew what the response would be.
Even knowing it was pointless, her temper led her into a tug of war she didn’t win. With her defeat came a very clear male laughter on the other side of the wall.
“You go on and laugh all you want, Richard. I’ll…” She had nothing to say, while her temper kept flaring.
“What was that, Mary Anne?” Richard gloated through the wall. “I didn’t catch the end. You’ll what?”
She didn’t need any peephole to know what kind of grin he wore. “Oh, shut up, Richard!”
Storming away from the annoying argument, Mary Anne threw her agitated energy into tending to her patient. Mike’s younger brother, Malcolm, lay buried under the mountain of covers she hoped would help to ward off fever and infection.
Younger than Big Mike, Malcolm’s body showed his youth in the smoothness of his skin. When she stripped him earlier, his hard body had bore not nearly as many small scars as she could see on his fully-clothed brother. Malcolm might be on his way to catching up with Mike with this new wound. The years separating them would always keep Malcolm looking the sweeter of the two.
The slightly round curve of his jaw gave him a more charming, rascal look even as he sweated a river down his face. Frowning at the evidence of the man’s suffering, Mary Anne tried to think of something to do for him. She really didn’t have any expertise in dealing with bullet wounds.
When he twisted and moaned with pain, she had little to offer but the instinctive need to comfort. Treating him more like a child than a sick man, she settled in along his side to soothe him toward a restful sleep.
Keeping her words soft, she ran a gentle hand over his head as she began talking. Telling him stories from her childhood, she kept up the one-sided conversation as he settled back down. He may have relaxed, but her concern grew.
Sticky with sweat, his forehead nearly
burned her hand. As much as she knew fevers needed to be sweated out, Mary Anne fretted over his condition. Fevers meant infection. As little as she knew, Mary Anne knew enough to know infections meant death.
Mary Anne braced herself to pull back the covers, convinced the best way to keep Malcolm living was to keep his wound clean. She’d seen a man naked before. It just had never been one that looked like Malcolm. Having to wash down all the hard ridges and planes of his body gave her feelings that should have shamed her.
Wringing out the water of a clean cloth, Mary Anne told herself she couldn’t be blamed for a having a normal response to an attractive man.
Feelings don’t equal actions, and actions are what count.
Mary Anne nodded at that and turned to face her duty. Pulling back the covers and unwrapping the bandages, she refused to let herself get distracted by the warm scent of leather and musk coming off the hard wrangler.
The sight of the ugly, bruised, bloody, and repulsive wound in his side helped her forget. Mary Anne truly hated this part, especially when it caused him to flinch and groan. As gentle and as fast as she could, Mary Anne cleaned and re-bandaged his wound.
Then it came time to wash the rest of him from the waist up. Mary Anne didn’t dare go near anything from the waist down and thanked God his bullet hadn’t been located in that direction. He had nice arms, though.
They bulged just right, looking thick and strong. Mary Anne bet any woman snuggled up to him would feel safe and secure.
And probably loved.
He had that look, the same as his older brother. It was something in the square cut of their jaws or perhaps in the straight ridge of their brow. Strength showed in the hard angles of his body, but the clean cut of his features made a woman feel protected, safe, in his presence. Mary Anne couldn’t explain it, she just felt it. .
Silly thoughts. Probably even a little wicked, given his condition.
Lifting the sheet to rebuild his cocoon, Mary Anne’s hand slipped over the sheet’s edge. Like a banner collapsing in the still air, the cotton wafted into neat little folds. Her gaze followed the gentle motion until it settled over Malcolm’s semi-erect dick.
Gasping out a squeal, her mouth snapped down on the sound just as her eyes closed on the sight. Horribly embarrassed and completely unsure of what she should do next, Mary Anne knew the one thing she couldn’t do was open her eyes.
Blindly, she reached out to pat her way up his thigh in search for the end of the sheet. The stupidity of that idea presented itself a second later as her hand closed over the very thing she hadn’t wanted to look at.
Going still with shock, the only response to her inappropriate touch came from Malcolm. With a groan that had nothing to do with pain, his hips arched upward, rubbing the heated velvet of his flesh right into her hand.
It grew right against her palm, making her eyes bulge back out as she stared down at him. Before her very eyes, he outgrew the length of her hand and kept going. Just like his hips.
Temporarily overwhelmed by the sheer girth of the cock in her hands, Mary Anne stared at him in utter fascination vaguely aware of the way his breath had grown shallow and turned into a ragged panting. The hand that covers hers, forcing her fingers to squeeze down on a hard pull, nearly had her jumping out of her skin. She could have easily levitated several feet back if he hadn’t latched onto her wrist and yanked her forward.
Unbalanced by her own startled reaction, Mary Anne fell right on top of the naked cowboy. Malcolm didn’t give her time to react. With one hand pinning her wrist to his side, his other came up to grip the back of her head.
Before she could finish her gasp, his lips crashed into hers. Smothering out her protest with his invasion, Malcolm accepted no rejection and took no mercy. Relentlessly demanding, his tongue stroked, rolled, and teased until Mary Anne’s world became defined only by his kiss.
All other pesky concerns, like her brothers or Malcolm’s injury, disappeared beneath the wrath of her own raging desires. Primitive urges that had never been lured toward freedom now exploded through her body, an unstoppable force Mary Anne had no ability to control.
Giving in to the instinctive needs driving her forward, she caught his devilish tongue with her lips and sucked. Malcolm retaliated instantly. With a growl, he tightened his hold on her and rolled.
Her world spun to the left, coming to a stop only after he pinned her. Breasts crushed against the hard wall of his chest and legs trapped beneath the heavy weight of his thighs, Mary Anne became immobilized.
Vulnerable to his advances and on fire with lust, she struggled for her breath. Breaking free of his kiss, Malcolm stole the air right from her lungs as his fingers came up to curl around the neckline of her dress.
Richard bought the oversized garment at the mercantile store without any consideration for fit. She hemmed it as well as she could, but under the strain of Malcolm’s grip, the threads started to give.
The buttons gave first, the top one popping off as two more snapped out of their holes to release her breasts. Like a bird on a fish, his mouth swooped down to cover the tender tip of her breast right through the sheer cotton of her chemise.
Mary Anne gasped and twisted with electric bolts of pure desire shooting out of her chest to ignite an inferno of need within her womb. She could feel her flesh go soft between her legs, weeping with the agony of unfulfilled desire.
Stripped of decency and reason by lust, Mary Anne could not bear the pain. This time, her hand gripped his wrist. Feral lust fueled her muscles and gave her the strength to pull his fingers free of her swollen globe.
He resisted, growling and nipping her nipple in retaliation. The tiny pain raced over the waves of pleasure billowing through her, igniting a torrent of rapture as the two sensations merged.
Panting out mews as she grappled with the desire trying to tear her in two, her hold went slack. His hand ran back toward her breast, but she needed his touch about two feet lower now more than ever.
Digging her nails into his flesh, she broke his strength to shove his hand right down. The hem of her skirt brushed over their fingers and in that instant he stopped fighting.
He didn’t need any prodding to start shoving his hand beneath the lacy folds of her petticoats. Searing over the side of her calf, the rough scrape of his palm ate up the tender skin of her inside thigh.
Sweet mercy of God!
Then Mary Anne’s world exploded.
Thick, rough fingers parted her tender folds, opening her sex to the hard slide of his thumb. Devilishly intent, his thumb settled right over the most delicate spot on her body. Her legs went limp, sliding open to give him room to roll that tender bud and making her whole body writhe in beat.
“You like that?” He growled a second before he impaled her with one thick, lonely digit. Mary Anne moaned and scrapped her finger along his neck and up into his hair as he began to pump his finger as deep as it would go.
Panting, her hips humped and ground against his hand in a demand her broken plea asked for. “More…oh, please, I need more.”
She needed more thickness, more depth, and more power driving each stroke harder and faster into her. Mary Anne arched under the pain of being left unfilled.
No reassurance came from Malcolm as he chuckled. His hot breath fanned over her breast making her twist and turn as her desire tightened into an urgent need. With a quick lap at her nipple, he eased and tormented her puckered flesh.
Chuckling as she whimpered and squirmed, he gave her another quick lick. Then another until he had her so desperate, her hands wound into his hair and forced his kiss down onto her breast.
His mouth latched back onto her nipple, rolling it and nibbling over its sensitive curve in heart pounding rhythm with the finger circling below and rubbing hard on her throbbing bud.
Held hostage in his merciless hold, her most intimate flesh wept and pulsed, still not appeased as he fed another callused finger. Then another filled her, pressing hard against her inner wall an
d finally beginning to bring the pounding power she needed to find ease.
Hard and fast, just like her soul ached for, he drove her closer and closer to the edge of a climax so big she began to fear falling into it. Mary Anne moaned and shuddered, clinging to him as an anchor in the storm taking over her body.
She didn’t even notice when he stopped everything at first. Caught up in the chaotic whirl of her impending release, it took her lust-fogged mind a moment to realize the world really had shifted around her.
No longer pinned beneath Malcolm, Mary Anne levitated above him, held there by the hands biting into her sides. The massive folds of her petticoats offered little protection from the cock she could feel trying to grind its way through her undergarment.
A chance at escape presented itself, but no sanity came to urge her in that direction. Instead, a growl of frustrated desire rolled out of her chest as her hands sank to work her petticoats out of the way.
Rushing through the task, she couldn’t wait to feel him pressed against her.
Hard, hot, velvety.
Her womb clenched down unleashing a whiplash of pain when nothing so sweet pressed back against its tender walls.
Snarling over the pain, Mary Anne just ripped the material out of her way, clawing back the lacy folds until, finally, the swollen head of his cock pressed right into her.
Slowly, savoring every second, Mary Anne lowered herself down. Biting her lip, she held back her moan as she felt his delicious thickness part the tight ring of muscles at her entrance. As one solid inch forged into her tight channel, she felt her entire womb convulse, and she gasped out as her weight sank her down over another inch.
Gripping her hips tighter, his fingers bit in as, with a grunt, he slammed her down his entire length. Mary Anne barely managed to hold back a scream at the sudden, deep penetration. A second later, it expelled itself in a rush of soundless air as Malcolm began pounding her up and down his length.
