Fit to be Tied

by Myla Jackson

  The thought of Richard Rayburn came to mind and her body warmed. When was the last time she’d let a man take care of her? Her husband, over two years ago. And what had that gotten her? In the poor house. They’d had it all, a homestead, a fine house and all the food they could eat. Until Daniel squandered all of it away gambling.

  When they’d lost everything but the house, Daniel had the nerve to get bitten by a coral snake and die. Now all Julia had was the house with a lien on it she couldn’t afford to pay. “No thank you. I can take care of myself. Hopefully, I’ll get enough that we won’t have to do this again. Perhaps the sale of Daniel’s prized paintings will sustain us another year.” If the money ever came in. She’d begun to think the art dealer to whom she’d shipped them had absconded with what little they’d brought. She hadn’t shared her suspicions with her housekeeper. No use worrying the woman when there was nothing she could afford to do about the problem.

  Fiona laid the gown across the bed and held up a pair of black trousers. “The thought of you gallivanting around the countryside in men’s clothing must have your poor mother turning over in her grave.”

  “Better than starving or losing our home. Now hand me that vest and coat. I don’t have much time.”

  When she’d completed dressing, she tied her long black hair back with a strap of leather and shoved the length down the back of her shirt. She plunked the broad-brimmed black hat on her head and turned to Fiona. “Do I look like a man?”

  “Not in a million years, dear. You’re much too pretty.”

  “Then the dark and the mask will have to conceal the rest.” She stole out of the room and down the back steps, headed toward the grassy glen where she’d tethered the black stallion—the last of her husband’s prized racing horses. If she hurried, perhaps she could make more than one robbery tonight. A trickle of fear coursed through her body.

  When she located Demon, happily munching the grass in a circle around the tree he’d been tied to for the past two hours, she untied him and slipped his bridle over his ears.

  The horse tossed his head and pawed the ground as if he knew they were going on an adventure.

  Julia wished she could be as excited as she swung up in the saddle. She’d never robbed anyone before.

  With very little encouragement, the horse leaped out of the bushes and onto the road, racing like the wind away from town.

  Two miles out, Julia reined in Demon in a wooded area along the road, hiding behind a large stand of rock and the pile of brush she’d worked to gather next to the road. After spreading the branches and rocks three feet deep over the road, she crouched in the shadows, her heart racing and her hands clenched around her father’s pistol, awaiting her first victim.

  Chapter Two

  Richard dug his spurs into the horse’s flanks, driving him faster than was reasonable in the dark. He knew the road, and so did his horse. Frustration burned a hole in his gut. Despite Mrs. Clancy’s fine intentions, he left the party without choosing a bride. He’d searched the mansion for the illusive Miss Julia, but she’d disappeared as if she’d never been there.

  With one day left and no prospects, Richard had to face the possibility of Mathis taking the Spring Valley acreage.

  The road curved through a wooded area, overgrown with brush and low-hanging live oak. When Richard rounded a particularly sharp curve, his horse planted his feet into the earth so fast that Richard had not time to recover and flew over the horse’s head, landing in a pile of leafy branches blocking the road.

  Before he could extricate himself from the tangle of brush, the hard, cold metal of a pistol barrel pressed into his temple.

  Richard froze.

  “Give me all your valuables or die,” a gravelly voice spoke close to his ear. Was that rosewater he smelled? Surely not on a bandit. What manner of a man splashed rosewater on his skin before robbing another? His senses were playing tricks on him. Or maybe he was remembering the woman in the garden at the Clancy’s. What an odd time to remember her.

  When he attempted to turn toward the threatening voice, the pistol pushed more firmly against his skin. “Don’t turn around. My finger may slip on the trigger at any sudden movements. Do I get the valuables or do I find a new casing for my bullet?”

  “You’ll get the valuables,” Richard ground out. He reached into his fancy frock coat, removing a bag of coins, holding them high.

  A hand snatched the bag from his grip. “Your watch and ring too.”

  With slow movements, he removed his pocket watch and ring, regret burning against his chest. The watch belonged to his grandfather, the man who’d raised him since his tenth birthday. The ring belonged to his father, dead these past fifteen years. The ring and the land were the only things he had left of his father’s. His anger over his grandfather’s will didn’t compare to the rising tide of rage seeping into his heart over the humiliation of being robbed on his way home.

  Richard kept an outward appearance of calm, awaiting the opportunity to reap revenge on this thief.

  Once he’d been divested of his watch and ring, Richard attempted once again to turn.

  “Not so fast.” The cold steel pressed against his temple. “I’m going to back away slowly. If you so much as sneeze, I’ll shoot you so fast you won’t know what hit you.

  The sound of boots crunched against the hard packed dirt and loose gravel. A horse pawed the earth a few feet away.

  When he heard the squeak of saddle leather, Richard scooped a handful of dirt, rolled to the side and sprang toward the horse and the thief, tossing the dirt into the horse’s eyes.

  The sleek black stallion reared into the air, dumping its rider to the ground. The thief lay still in the shadows cast by the moon on the trees.

  Richard stood, brushed the dust from his good pants and strode toward the inert body. Had the fall killed the thief?

  The pistol lay to the side a yard from the black gloved hand. The man’s slight form led Richard to believe him but a boy or a very small man, though difficult to tell with his face covered by a black mask and his hat tightly tied beneath his chin. So tightly it hadn’t flown off in the fall.

  “Let’s see who the Black Bandit is.” Richard bent over the still form and removed the hat. Glossy dark hair caught in the strap and pulled loose from a leather band. A great deal of ebony hair. More than fashionable for a man. More appropriate for a woman.

  As he lifted the edge of the black mask hiding the bandit’s face, his heart beat like thunder inside his chest and his hands shook. Beneath the black hat and mask lay the face of an angel.

  The angel he’d met in the garden at Mrs. Clancy’s matching-making ball.

  Miss Julia Blackmon.

  * * * * *

  Julia’s head ached and light from a candle edged beneath her eyelids like miniature daggers determined to pierce her sleep. She ran her tongue across her lips, her mouth as parched as a desert. Was it morning? If so, why was a candle lit? They could little afford to waste even one candle. When she tried to roll to her side to snuff the candle out, she couldn’t move her arms.

  Her eyes sprang fully open and she stared around an unfamiliar room. A quick glance at her naked arms confirmed they were secured to a white, ornate iron headboard with thick leather straps. Her naked arms.

  Julia gasped when she realized her shirt, vest and coat had been removed sometime between her attempt at robbery and waking in this strange place. Light cotton sheeting caressed her legs and belly. Dear God! She’d been completely stripped of her clothing.

  What manner of monster had done this? And what more did he plan to do? Had her first attempt at thievery backfired on her? Was she now the captive? Was her captor someone from the party? Did she know him? Questions flicked around in her mind, foremost and most disconcerting—had he raped her while she lay unconscious? Julia squeezed her legs together, feeling none the worse down there despite finding herself lying naked in a stranger’s bed with little recollection of how she got there.

 
; Fear threatened to clog her throat when she needed most to yell for help. She gathered her courage and opened her mouth to scream.

  “I see you’ve decided to join the living.” A deep, resonant tone filled the air in the room, sending a warm shiver over her naked flesh.

  Julia knew that voice. She’d heard it in the garden at the Clancy’s house earlier in the evening. A groan replacing the scream she’d intended, she turned her head toward the man, confirming her worst suspicions.

  She’d been captured by Richard Rayburn. “Why am I tied up?”

  “That’s what we do to thieves in these parts.” He nodded at her wrists. “Though usually we tie the knot around his neck.” Richard reached out a work-roughened hand and slid it along the long column of her neck. “But with such a pretty neck, I couldn’t bring myself to tie a rough rope around it.”

  The movement was more sensual than threatening and Julia shivered, her skin heating at the knowledge she was completely naked beneath the thin layer of cotton sheeting and he was a very virile cowboy hovering over her. “What are you going to do with me?” Where she’d aimed for strength in anger, her words came out in a breathy gasp as his fingers found their way to her collar bone, hovering above the swell of her breasts barely hidden by white cotton. “Let me go at once.”

  “Let you go? I think not.” He sat back in the chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him, a devilish smile curving his lips. “There are so many punishments to choose from,” he said, using the same words she had at the ball. “I’ve known ranchers to shoot horse thieves.”

  She gasped, her life flitting before her eyes as the image of a gun pointed at her forehead filled her mind. “I wasn’t trying to steal your horse.”

  “Maybe so, maybe not. Then there’s the tantalizing thought that the sheriff would love to get his hands on the Black Bandit.” Richard’s brow rose as his gaze ran the length of her body, insufficiently covered by a thin white sheet. He rubbed his hand across the stubble on his chin. “Not that I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on her either.”

  A very unladylike snort escaped her nose. “Looks to me like you’ve already done that.” Heat climbed up her neck into her cheeks, her skin tingling with the thought of those rough fingers trailing over every inch of her body.

  “Yes, indeed, I have.” He lips stretched in a wicked grin. “But the sheriff hasn’t. With a catch like the Black Bandit, he’d likely become a local hero.”

  “I’m not the Black Bandit!” She jerked against her bonds, the action causing the sheet to slide further down her chest, dangerously close to exposing her— “By the way, did you or did you not undress me?”

  “I gave my cook the day off yesterday to go visit her sister and my brother stayed the night in town.” He stared into her face. “It’s just me and you. And might I say, you’re pretty well put together?”

  “Oh! You may not say that. What kind of gentleman are you? You had no right to take my clothing.”

  “You had no right to rob me. Consider it a tit for a tat. Like I told you at the Clancy’s, I’m no gentleman. I’m a rancher and I call it as I see it.” He leaned forward, tugging at the edge of the sheet until it crept lower. “And it seems as though I caught myself a thief tonight. Question is, what am I going to do with her?” He eased onto the bed beside her and lay facing her. “The possibilities are endless.” One broad finger traced a line from her chin down her neck to the top of the sheet.

  Shocked by the intimacy, Julia couldn’t speak, her breath caught in her lungs, refusing to push outward. All thoughts focused on that one finger poised above the swell of her breast.

  “I’d bet my last hound dog you’ve never had a man like me.”

  His warm breath feathered across her naked skin, sending shivers across her body and downward to that special place low in her belly. “I’m a widow, not a virgin. I’ve known a man’s touch.” Although none like she was experiencing with Richard. She forced herself to laugh without humor. “Rutting pigs that men are.” Nothing like a slap to a man’s pride to make him back down, she hoped.

  Richard’s brows rose and he leaned back. “Your husband? I take it he didn’t know how to please a woman.”

  “All he knew was how to please himself.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Julia clamped her lips tight. She’d never revealed to anyone her husband’s sexual deficiencies, thinking it had been all her fault he didn’t find her worthy of satisfying. Sadly, Daniel had only been interested in slaking his own thirst, never offering to see to his wife’s needs, claiming women weren’t supposed to enjoy fucking like men did. For a very long time, she’d believed him.

  Until Richard Rayburn touched her.

  His finger burned a path across first one peaked nipple and then the other. “I, on the other hand, had the best education a cowboy can hope to gain in the art of making love to a woman.”

  Julia sucked in a sharp breath as his finger slid the sheet below her breasts and circled the taut rosy nipple. To her dismay, it puckered into a tight bead. She closed her eyes against the rush of heat to her pussy. Warm liquid trickled from her, wetting the sheet beneath her bottom. She hoped he wouldn’t see the evidence of her arousal. When she should be protesting his advances, her body welcomed them. Keep calm and make him stop. “Where did you receive such a fine education about lovemaking, in a brothel?”

  Rather than the expected shock, he pushed his chest out and nodded. “Absolutely. The whore there taught me this.” Richard leaned over her breast, licked the tip and then blew a warm stream of air over the moistened nipple.

  Unable to stop her reaction, Julia arched her back off the bed, pressing her breast to his mouth. When she realized what she’d done, she dropped to the feather mattress, heat flaming through her cheeks. “Leave me alone,” she whimpered. Afraid of what he might do next. No, afraid of how it would make her feel and how she’d react.

  “Now that I’ve seen what was hiding beneath the men’s clothing, I can’t resist pressing my advantage.” He opened his lips and took her breast full into his mouth, nipping at the hardened bead, teasing it with his tongue before sucking hard.

  An answering tug pulled at her pussy and her legs fell open beneath the crisp cotton sheet.

  How could she want this man when he held her tied to a bed? He could rape, torture and kill her if he wanted and no one would be the wiser.

  Somehow, she didn’t think that’s what he had in mind. The torture part, maybe. Her cunt creamed at the prospect. Already his mouth tortured her breast, she could imagine what his hands and other body parts could do if he continued on in this manner.

  “Do you like that?” he asked, his warm breath brushing across her breasts.

  Yes! “Most certainly not,” she lied, resisting the urge to turn so that he could reach her other breast and apply the same techniques. Oh she liked it. Entirely too much for her own good. Since when had she become a wanton woman?

  “Want to know what else she taught me?” He slid his cheek along the underside of the full swell of her breast, the hard stubble abrading her sensitive skin.

  A moan escaped her lips. “Please.”

  “Already asking for more?”

  “No. Please stop.” His touch would destroy her defenses and leave her exposed to whatever brand of agony he chose to use against her.

  He drew away, his thumb circling her nipple where his tongue had been. “I thought you were interested in what else Tessa taught me. Was I wrong in that assumption?” With her nipple trapped between his thumb and forefinger, she had few thoughts in her head at all. Sensation ruled her world in that white iron bed where she lay completely at his mercy.

  “Her name was Tessa?” Why she asked, she didn’t know, she really didn’t care about some whore he’d slept with. But his gaze held hers mesmerized. Her other nipple ached for his touch and her body quivered all over in anticipation of further discovery. Was she so wicked and desperate she’d forget he held her captive? Or was the fact he held her captive so w
icked she wanted him all the more?

  When he didn’t make another move to tantalize and touch her, she squealed in frustration and stomped her foot against the bed. The movement only dragged the sheet further down her body, exposing the curve of her waist, cool air making her skin pebble with gooseflesh. “Let me go!”

  “I haven’t decided what to do with you yet. I’m still thinking.” He lifted the sheet and gazed the length of her, his eyes blazing. “You have all the makings of a fine ride. Perhaps I’ll have a little fun before I turn you over to the sheriff.”

  “You wouldn’t.” Her eyes widened at the depraved lift of his brows. “If you rape me, you’d be less civilized than an animal.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And what you attempted tonight makes you better?”

  “I did what I had to do to survive,” she flung at him. “You do not.”

  “Perhaps I do.” His hand splayed across her belly, the warm roughness igniting fires so hot that surely she would burn to ash in seconds. “Who said I was going to rape you? I wager you’ll be begging me to make love to you before the night is through.”

  “No, I won’t.” Her words were little more than a gasp.

  As his hand slid lower, he leaned close and licked a path from the underside of her breast down the length of her torso.

  Julia whimpered. “You can’t do this.”

  “You stole from me at gunpoint.” His fingers tangled in the furry mound between her legs. “I demand payment.”

  “You got your valuables back. I owe you nothing.” She could have kicked him, but her body played traitor and opened to his exploration.

  “I didn’t tell you what else Tessa taught me.”

  “Don’t tell me. You have nothing I wish to hear.” Her words fell on deaf ears.

  “Don’t tell you?” He considered her request, brows raised. “Okay. I’ll show you.” He broke contact and left the bed.

  Instead of breathing a sigh of relief, Julia could have cried. Her body wanted, needed, demanded fulfillment only her captor and tormentor could provide. She clamped her legs together, afraid he’d see what his work had accomplished, see the dampness glistening on her cunt. Once again, she tugged at her bindings, frustration lending strength to her movement, slamming the headboard against the wall with a resounding thud.