Anson (The Black Stallion Book 3)

by Maggie Ryan

  Stryder rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me regret not collecting the bounty on your ass, Franz.”

  “Who’s Franz?” Zoya asked.

  “Tell you what,” Anson addressed Zoya, but didn’t take his eyes off his brother’s, “if your husband can explain and get it right then, well, he wins.”

  “Wins what? Am I the only one who is confused?” Natalia asked.

  Just like Anson, Stryder didn’t directly answer Natalia, his lips twitching in glee as he leaned forward. “Really, bro? This is even better than flipping a coin. Well, we all know how much of a crazed Ian Fleming fan Anson is, which, in this case, actually came in handy. The moment I heard that Montez was offering a huge bounty for a gringo named Franz Sanchez, I knew that Anson and Natalia were still alive.”

  “Fleming as in James Bond?” Natalia asked.

  “Well, it’s more like Bond, James Bond, but yes.” Stryder’s smile grew even wider as he flicked his eyes towards Jennie and then back to his brother. “So, pay up, I win.”

  “Please, you’ve only guessed the easy part,” Anson said, not ready to concede victory.

  Stryder wasted no time. “Franz Sanchez was one of Bond’s nemeses in a film where the villains were cutting cocaine with petrol and then selling the re-integration process to the drug lords who could afford their outrageous price point.” Stryder picked up his glass of tea and tilted both it and his head in Anson’s direction. “I do admit that you made the perfect choice of aliases, bro. Not only did you get the drug connection, but with the explosion at that bastard’s lab, the petrol as well. But the absolute best part is the title. That, big brother, was the cherry on top.” For the first time since the conversation began, Stryder looked around the table, his eyes settling on Natalia. “There has never been a more apropos choice than Anson choosing License to Kill.”

  Anson felt Natalia move a little closer and was about to draw her to his side, to reassure her that Montez was truly gone, when he saw her hand lifting. Moving his own to take hers, he saw hers dart forward and then pull back, something held in it.

  “Hey!” he said, as the entire family started laughing. “What is that?”

  Jennie’s voice brought his attention to hers. “Dulce de leche, of course.”

  “Isn’t that something having to do with sweet milk and caramel?” Anson asked, his eyes going around the table to see a dish sitting at each plate—two at Natalia’s.

  “Good grief, Anson, and you are supposed to be the brains of the family? What else did you expect me to serve for dessert?”

  “Dessert? Um… I-I well, we… um…”

  Anson’s stammering had the laughter continuing, his brothers’ guffaws the loudest of all. He shot them a dirty look before looking at Natalia.

  “Are you going to give that back?”

  “Hmmm, I’m not sure. With all those looks you and your brothers were exchanging, and your ignoring Jennie when she put the dish on your plate, I figured you must be disappointed that she’d not made… say, carrot cake—without the cake part, of course.”

  Jennie’s burst of laughter had Anson shaking his head. While he’d thought that he and his brothers had hidden their worry about what might be under that cloche, evidently Jennie had not only known, but Natalia had picked up on the unspoken nuances as well.

  He grinned and leaned towards the love of his life, slipping an arm around her waist, pulling her to him. “Very astute of you, but need I remind you of what happens when you scare me? Perhaps give a demon…” Anson chuckled when she couldn’t return the ramekin fast enough. Taking a huge spoonful, he rolled his eyes and moaned. “Jennie, this is incredible.”

  “Well, enjoy it while you can,” Jennie said, taking a much daintier spoonful. “Because after this feast, tomorrow there will be a round of good, healthy detox shakes for everyone.”

  They continued to sit around the table and talk for a while, allowing the delicious meal to settle. But before too long, Jennie turned to Drake. “I hope you brought plenty of quarters, old man. I feel the need to strut my stuff!”

  Drake grinned at the signal for the dancing to begin, rising and going to the Wurlitzer jukebox standing in one corner of the dance floor. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a roll of quarters, cracking it open and feeding one into the coin slot.

  “Make it a swing one,” Jennie called.

  “Make it a waltz,” Maddox countered. “Swing will cause too much jostling and we’ve got some expectant mamas here.”

  “Oh, like you and Stryder aren’t constantly jostling those mothers-to-be,” Adira said, rubbing her baby bump as Zoya joined in the laughter. “Pops, choose a disco song.”

  “Hey, it’s my quarter, so how about y’all let me choose?” Drake suggested, punching a couple of buttons on the front of the machine. As the mechanism began to move, the arm choosing a record from its slot, he grinned and turned to offer his hand to Jennie. “May I have this dance?”

  Anson smiled as Jennie dropped a curtsey and took his hand. As they all waited for the first notes to play, he pulled Natalia into his arms, her back to his chest. “Having fun?” he asked, bending to kiss the side of her neck.

  “Never had so much fun in my life,” she said, tilting her head to allow him better access. “I love to dance.”

  “Good to know,” Anson said, spinning her to face him as Waltz Across Texas began to play.

  The family danced, all together and yet each couple in their own world as they shared the night with the ones who completed their souls. The men took turns choosing song after song, returning to wrap their women in their arms again as waltz after waltz serenaded the night.

  “My turn,” Jennie said when the last song finished. “All this lovey dovey stuff is nice, but I came to do some stomping.”

  When Anson heard the first note, he grinned and slipped his arm around Natalia’s waist. “Just hold on and follow along,” he instructed.

  “What’s the name of this one?” Natalia asked as Stryder stepped in line next to her, dropping his arm around her shoulders, his other arm around Zoya’s waist.

  “It’s called Cotton-Eyed Joe,” Anson said as the other two couples lined up in front of them.

  Jennie turned her head back, a huge grin on her face. “But it’s really known by another name,” she said as Drake and Maddox began to move their women forward.

  Natalia’s dancing skills were evident as she quickly picked up on the steps, moving forward and then back as the couples danced around the perimeter of the floor.

  “Get ready,” Anson warned, and when he kicked up his leg, flexing his booted foot and yelling, “Bullshit,” Natalia gasped, then giggled, and never missed another beat. The night rang with the shouted curse word and laughter.

  They waltzed, they shuffled, they grew breathless with the swing dances, and a bit teary eyed when Drake’s voice rang out as he sang along to a ballad of love lost, then found again. When Anson walked towards the jukebox to make his selection, he returned to find Natalia looking at him in confusion.

  “Where did everybody go?” she asked when he reached her.

  “They’ve been slipping away for the past few songs,” he said, loving that she hadn’t even noticed as he’d guided her across the floor.

  “Why?” she said.

  “Because, colibrí, this dance is ours and ours alone.”

  Her eyes grew wide and then sparkled under the lights as the first strains of the tango began. Anson pulled her to him, his arm slipping around her waist. He bent his head, his forehead against hers, dancing without taking a step.

  “So, Dime Mi Amor,” he said, his eyes looking into the other half of his soul. “Tell me, my love, tell me what I can do to show you that you are my whole life. Tell me what I can do to every day caress your heart. Let me love you the way you want, I implore with my open heart… the one you hold in the palms of your hands… tell me that you will be mine forever.” Pausing, he took her hand, lifting it, his other fingers holding a ring.

&
nbsp; “Tell me, Natalia, that you will become my wife.” Though he’d taken liberties with the lyrics of the song, every word he’d added had come from the deepest part of his heart. And when her eyes filled and she reached up to cup his face, whispering, “I am yours, Anson, and you are mine, forever and forever,” he felt his soul merge with the only person on the planet meant for him as he slipped his mother’s wedding ring onto Natalia’s finger.

  He gave her only the briefest, gentlest kiss before taking her hand again and moving into the dance. The world disappeared except for a wooden stage in a star-lit field. The beat of the music stirred their blood as the beat of their hearts stirred their souls. Natalia slid down his leg, her hand trailing along his body, promising oh so much with every touch she would ever grace him with. Guiding her back up, his hand against the back of her neck, he swung her around, lifting her, holding her in the air for a moment and then slowly dragging her down the length of his body before allowing her feet to touch the floor once more. They moved across the smoothly varnished planks in perfect harmony, never a falter to their steps, their eyes locked on the other’s. The music swelled and ebbed, their pulses beating as one. Dipping her low, her hair cascading over his arm, he bent to kiss her, the sound of her mew, the look in her eyes telling of her love, her need. As he gently pulling her upright, she gasped as the halves of her halter dress he’d untied fell to reveal her breasts, breasts tipped with caramel colored nipples that were tightly ruched. His lips bent to suckle at each one as they continued to sway, her head thrown back, allowing him his way. Anson choreographed their moves, each one meant to pay homage to the woman who was his heart. By the time the last note drifted away, he had her in his arms, her arms wrapped around his neck, her face pressed to his chest.

  Anson carried her to the meadow, kneeling to lay her down on the quilt created by only God’s hands. Tall, thick grasses provided their bed, the wildflowers their perfume, and the moon and stars their light. Natalia, a gorgeous Latina woman, lay on the Texas soil before him, every inch of her seeming to pulse, to throb as his eyes slowly soaked in the beauty of her form, as he removed his clothes. Bending forward, he placed his palms on either side of her head, his mouth hovering over hers.

  “I swear to you, Natalia, I will spend every moment of the rest of my life thanking you for the gift of your love.”

  “And I promise that not a second will go by that you don’t know how very much I love you. You came for me, Anson… you saved me.”

  “No… mi amor, we saved each other.”

  She reached up and placed her hand behind his head, drawing him that final fraction of an inch, their lips meeting, their bodies, hearts and souls joining as two became one.

  The End

  Maggie Ryan

  USA Today Bestselling Author

  #1 International Best Selling Author in Victorian/Historical,

  Contemporary and Western Erotic Romance

  Multi-award Winning Author

  Fantasy is a world that offers endless possibilities. Whether you travel back in time to when the plains were open, take a journey to the cobblestone streets of London, take a stroll along the beach or walk through the streets of some foreign country, every letter of every word offers infinite possibilities. I love to write stories that take a reader on a journey, one they can disappear into and experience what might have been or what is to come. I never try to restrict myself to any one genre because there are just too many delicious possibilities out there and inside my head. I hope you will curl up in your favorite chair and take the journey with me. Happy Reading!

  http://www.maggieryanauthor.com/

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  http://www.maggieryanauthor.com/

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  Alta Hensley

  Alta Hensley is a USA TODAY bestselling erotic romance author who has had #1 top-selling books in Dark, contemporary, BDSM, erotic science fiction, humor, and historical. She writes the naughty... and then the cure for it.

  Being a multi-published author in the power exchange genre, Alta is known for her dark, gritty alpha heroes, sometimes sweet love stories, hot eroticism, and engaging tales of the constant struggle between dominance and submission.

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&n
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