by Stacy Reid
As a sergeant in the union Army he had seen too much death, and too much loss. He was broken after losing all he held dear, in a retaliation attack after the Sand Creek massacre. But being with Sheridan had made everything seem right. The sense of being broken, the displacement had been fixed somehow. He’d believed her when she said she was unattached, she had no man, had no one that she loved.
After days of dancing and flirting with him, she had crawled into his bed all soft, womanly, and inviting. They had come together with tempestuous passion. For three of the best weeks of his life, she had been his woman, and he’d hoped he would not let her go despite his fears. Then Thomas had returned and Elijah had learned Sheridan had never truly been his. Her deception had been a saving grace really, for without it, surely, he would have taken her to be his wife. And that would have been a blasted foolish thing to do.
***
Sheridan wished Elijah’s touch had lingered a little longer. The warmth of his palms had been a heated caress on her skin. Will I ever stop craving him? She wanted him so desperately she couldn’t stand the ache. Sheridan closed her eyes in bittersweet longing, wondering if he would ever soften toward her. She’d fought against heartbreak every day since they have been separated.
She removed the soaked pants and dropped them on the floor with the remainder of her bloody clothes. The shirt could not be saved, but she would rinse her pants and drawers and lay them out to dry. She turned on the spigot, crying out at the cold of the water. Sheridan dashed under the piping, moving with grim efficiency, scrubbing the blood from her skin with the sandalwood soap in the bath chamber. Within a few minutes she stepped from the bath area shivering. With brisk movements, she used the buffalo skin towel to dry herself. Her hands caressed the soft welt on her lower back. He had seen her lashes. Her stomach churned at the memory.
The lash of the whip as Thomas had wielded it had been like a red-hot iron brand against her flesh. Sheridan’s stomach had roiled, and sweat had broken out with shivers all over her body. She had collapsed to the floor from the first lash, too numb to even scream. The second stroke had loosened her tongue as true agony had engulfed her body. That was when Elijah came. The memory of the whip parting her flesh, and washing her with blood as cold pain gripped her, paled to the memory of the merciless calm with which Elijah had beaten Thomas.
Elijah had terrified her. Thomas had lain abed for days recovering. She had only known Elijah as the teasing gentle lover, but that day she had felt a sliver of fear for Elijah’s wrath. He’d held his hunting knife against Thomas’s throat, and she had pleaded for him to spare Thomas’s life. That was the last time she had seen Elijah, almost a year ago, until the funeral.
She exited the bath and climbed the stairway to the bedchamber. She hurried to the chest and withdrew a blanket, wrapping it around her body. Her eyes scanned the room, loving the rough rustic design of it. It held only a single large bed, a wooden chair, and several rugs.
With a heavy sigh, she turned her thoughts to the current situation. How am I to convince him? Elijah was so unapproachable. Her plans to seduce him and compromise his honor so he would marry her seemed so silly now, but was there really any other option?
There was nothing for her in London, and she doubted she could return if she wished to. The path she had set for herself was a bloody hard one, but she would travel it. He would resist her and if she was not careful he would destroy her. He had always been a hard man, but for a glorious while he had been hers, and she wanted that back.
She shrugged into a blue flannel shirt, inhaling his scent. It hung loose on her, the hem falling well below her hips to her mid thighs. Her stomach rumbled as she tentatively descended the stairs and stepped into the wide-open area that was the parlor. The cabin was smooth and polished to a fine luster. The furniture was simple, robust and masculine. A large fireplace graced one corner, with a huge bearskin rug. The fireplace roared but he was nowhere to be seen. She glanced at the door and knew that he stood outside in the bracing cold. She winced. Even now the chill in the cabin was unbearable despite the fire.
She took hesitant steps towards the door, and then squared her shoulders, lifting her chin. He needed to hear her out because there was no one else she could turn to for aid. She walked towards the cabin door, heart thumping, hoping that the memories of all they had shared would thaw him.
Chapter Four
“I have finished washing.”
The soft huskiness of Sheridan’s voice pulled him from his reverie and Elijah inhaled the chill into his lungs. He launched to his feet and passed her in the doorway using sheer willpower to prevent himself from drawing her into his arms. He had thought after being away from her sensual softness for over a year that the burn of betrayal would have lessened. It had not, nor had the deep visceral need for her sighs, laughter, and kisses.
Ah fucking hell, she stood in one of his flannel shirts. She was a tiny thing, with all womanly curves, which were more than a handful. She had nothing else underneath as her breasts thrust against the material. Her hair hung loose and wild and she had no idea how sensual she looked. His willpower was tested, as he had the insane urge to tumble her, part her legs and feast on her sweetness.
He walked into the kitchen and she followed. There was a stone island in the center of the area, the only thing that separated the living area from the kitchen. She sat on one of the stools in front of the island, calmly waiting. In silence he poured coffee into two tin mugs and slid one towards her. He placed slices of cheese, cold meat, and bread on a plate and handed it to her.
“Thank you.”
Thunder rumbled distantly and he glanced through the window into the night sky. It was black and starless, and in a few hours the rain would come. She inhaled the aroma of the coffee deep before taking tentative sips. She made a small sound of pleasure at the back of her throat.
His jaw locked at the sound. The sensual sight of her as she took in the scent of the coffee hardened him. What was it about her that always roused him so easily?
Ignoring the reaction of his body he queried flatly, “Tell me about the boy.”
Her eyes widened, and he could see the pulse that fluttered at her throat. She gently lowered the tin cup, and raked her hand through her mass of hair and bit into her lips deeply. “Grayson is nine months old today, but he is Beth’s son. His resemblance to your family is unmistakable. He needs your protection. If Mr. Sullivan were to ever succeed in taking over the ranch…it would not bode well for Grayson, Beth, and me.”
Elijah had not known Thomas’s sister had a babe. It was also highly unlikely one of his brothers would have a child in the world unclaimed. Her claim was possibly a ruse to drag his presence to the ranch. He did not like the desperation it implied. “If the boy is a Kincaid, why did you not travel to the Triple K?”
“I…” her throat convulsed and the knuckles that gripped the tin cup whitened. She held her head with a proud tilt. “Triple K is in Colorado. You were closer. And the baby is not the only one in need of protection.”
“Why do you need my help?”
She was contemplative for an infinite amount of time. Her face was very expressive, and he wondered how he could have ever been duped by her.
“Mr. Sullivan now owns the Double Diamond spread. He has bought out the Moutons and several others. His spreads now rival the Whispering Creek. He had approached Thomas about watering and grazing rights for his cattle, because his cattle outnumber ours by three to one.”
She shivered despite the fire that blazed from the hearth. He strode over to the sofa and grabbed the blanket and threw it to her. She wrapped it around herself, chafing her hands together for warmth.
“He has approached me several times to buy the ridge, several acres of our land and the mines. I denied him and his persistence is turning underhanded. He then made it clear that he will have me.” She swallowed, and her cheeks burned bright red.
“I refused, but he is getting frightening. I know he believes if he marries me he will get the land through me. I do not think he knows of your partnership with Thomas.”
“This does not tell me why you came up here, Sheridan. All you had to do was inform Sullivan of my ownership and let him bring the fight to me.”
She blushed. “I…He…he wants more than shares in the ranch. He wants…to marry me because of my inheritance.”
“And how is that my problem?”
The silence was tense as she looked at him with wide imploring eyes. “How can you be so indifferent to me? I made a mistake. I have tried to atone for it in so many ways, Elijah.”
She scooted off the stool when he prowled towards her. He looked down at her with a curious sense of emotional detachment. “Sheridan?”
“Yes?” She moistened her lips, hands gripping the blanket.
“You were lonely and I had an itch. We fucked. There is nothing more to it.”
Her face paled, but her head tilted at an even prouder angel. He almost smiled.
“I will tolerate no discussion on the matter. We will only discuss why you need my help and if I can give it. I already offered you a fair price for your shares in the ranch. Take it. I will take Beth and the baby to the Triple K.”
Her eyes flashed hot in defiance. “I am not selling! The reason you want me to sell is to avoid what simmers between us, Elijah. If you do not give me a chance to speak—”
“Test the truth of my words, Sheridan. I will return you tonight if you continue down this path.”
She remained silent for minutes glaring at him. He saw her need to press, but caution won out.
“Mr. Sullivan intends to return with the preacher tomorrow. I do not want him. I alone cannot stand against him. I need your help. I have held my own so far, but he scares me. Our cattle are being rustled. Beth and I are accosted when we travel to town in subtle ways. But they are all his doing. I made several reports in town but he owns them. His brother is the town’s sheriff and his cousin is the town’s mayor. I was not sure where else to go for help,” she murmured without a trace of bitterness, only a flat acceptance that rankled him.
“Hell.” As much as he hated to admit it, she did the right thing in coming to him. “I will deal with Jericho. I will provide protection to the stage coach when you are ready to leave.”
She frowned and stepped up to him. “I will not leave.”
The anger that colored her cheeks made her look tempting beyond endurance.
“Are you willing to marry?”
Hope flared in her eyes. “To you?”
He did not like her hopeful question or the ache that stirred in his heart “No,” he growled.
“Then no, I am not.”
“Then you sell.”
She stiffened. “Are you saying you are not willing to help me?”
“I will aid you. I will escort you safely to the stage, to which ever destination you wish. I will give you enough gold to establish yourself in another town. That is, in addition to what I will pay for your shares in the ranch,” Elijah promised, closing himself off from the panic lining her face.
***
Fear sat tight and hard in Sheridan’s stomach. Her eyes searched Elijah’s face frantically and the cool blankness frightened her more than Mr. Sullivan’s advances. Where was the gentle teasing lover that had taught her to ride? To swim? That had introduced her to pleasure with such patience? Anger surged in her. “Elijah, Thomas used our farce of a marriage to control my inheritance. The money that he has funneled into the ranch is mine, by God that land is mine as much as it is yours.”
She spun away from him, anger eating at her. How could he be so impervious to her pleadings? “It was not easy for me to come here to ask you for help, Elijah. And you have offered me no solution but buying me out. This is my home and I cannot sell. I need protection. I am wealthy and I fear Mr. Sullivan knows this.”
“Even more reason for you to leave, Sheridan.”
She suddenly realized what a fool she had been. How foolish had she been to think that he would want her to remain if she told him the truth. She swallowed as it dawned on her that she would really have to execute the plan she had concocted with Beth. But in truth, what did she really know about seduction? Nothing. Their first time together had been achieved with little effort on her part. In truth, she had been the one to be devoured by his shocking sensuality and expertise.
She made another stab at eliciting understanding of what she faced. “You don’t understand. Mr. Sullivan has decided he wants me. I believe he had Thomas murdered. He will not just let me leave.” Nothing betrayed Elijah’s surprise, but she must have stunned him despite his calm facade.
He moved closer. “Why do you suppose this?” His voice was bland but she could sense his sudden alertness.
“Mr. Sullivan visited the ranch several times. I believe they were planning some venture together. Thomas liked to brag. One night at dinner he bragged to Mr. Sullivan about how much money I was worth. He had always made my skin crawl with the looks he gave me. But after that his intensity changed. He stopped calling me Mrs. Galloway and he touched—” she swallowed and forced herself to continue. “He tried to kiss me several times. I went to Thomas and he offered no protection. I think because Mr. Sullivan was ignorant of your stake in the Whispering Creek, he plotted to dispose of Thomas, and then force me to marry him so he could control all I own.”
“Did you tell this to anyone?”
“I took my supposition to the Sheriff. He dismissed my allegations as a grieving widow and I have no proof. I have nothing except my fear, gut feelings, and the belief that some of the cowhands we hired in the months before Thomas died were Mr. Sullivan’s men.”
Elijah seemed to consider her words and she waited in an agony of hope for him to say something positive.
“If what you say is true Sheridan, you are not safe here. Pick any destination, and I will ensure that you reach it safely. Then I’ll return and deal with Sullivan’s interest in the Creek.”
She gritted her teeth until they hurt. She wanted to shout and rail at him, but forced herself to speak calmly. “Elijah you cannot just expect me to leave. This is my home.”
“Yes I do. What did you think would happen when you trekked up here? I would remember how intense it had been between us and allow you to remain at the ranch?” His sardonic question was like a whip, sharp and flaying.
Sheridan flushed because her heart had harbored such secret dreams. Her heart pounded against her ribs with arduous force. She hadn’t realized how violently he disliked her. “Why are you so cold to me? I know you are angry, but I never thought you hated me.” Her words barreled from her before she could stop them.
He shrugged as if she were unimportant and returned to packing his bag. “I do not hate you, Sheridan. I simply do not feel anything for you.”
Her heart slammed into her throat. How many times could she try to apologize? “I am sorry I lied to you. I was lonely and empty and so damn lost. I am sorry I foolishly told you I was free when I was not. If you will only listen to me, Elijah. Please let me explain—”
His eyes hardened. “I have told you Sheridan, there is nothing to discuss.”
She veered her eyes to the colt dragoon that lay on the polish oak table. She snatched it up, pointed and cocked the hammer.
He slowly spun and she was not sure what the smile that creased his lips meant. “Why have you pulled a gun on me?”
In the distance there was a roll of thunder and she jerked. Her hands trembled even though she knew she would not use it. “You are only so indifferent to me because you have refused to hear any apology or explanation from me as to what happened. I know I have done an unforgivable thing in the past, but I swear to you—”
He slowly stepped towards her. “What have I told you about drawing a weapon unl
ess you are willing to stand by your action?”
She forced herself not to twitch at his cool drawl. Sheridan narrowed her eyes, hating the amusement that edged his lips. “You are not listening—”
She gasped and recoiled as he grabbed the gun, parried it, and twisted. Her hands stung as the twist broke her clasp on the weapon. He spun her around, pressing her front into the wall, holding her wrists above her head.
She craned her neck to meet his eyes. “Release me,” she hissed furiously, hating that he had easily gotten the better of her, hating herself for the tears of frustration prickling beneath her eyelids.
His mask slipped and hunger moved over his face. He tried to shutter his gaze but she saw it. He wanted her. She shifted pushing her body against him, and became still. She felt a twitch of hardness against her backside. Shame and hope surged through her. She had to mean something to him if he reacted so strongly to her closeness.
She wriggled against him, and he bit off a curse. He used one hand to clamp her wrists and the other to grip her hips tightly. For a moment he held her against him, his erection an erotic brand against her buttocks. Suddenly she knew the plan she concocted with Beth might work. Elijah could be tempted.
Her heart surged wildly. Need dampened between her legs, and she prayed he would kiss her. He wrapped her in his sexual need and she watched the expressions that swirled in his eyes—hunger and desire, and something else altogether too dark. Her womb clenched and she whimpered in loss when his resolve won and the shutters came down.
“Elijah, I—”
He surged from her muttering curses. She flinched at the virulent nature of his profanities. She should have felt despair, but what curled in her heart instead was hope. If he wanted her, all could not be lost.
***
Hell! His cock probably had the imprint of his buttons in it. Elijah snarled. He wanted her too much. He reigned in his lust with cool logic. He was determined to not sink into the need that blazed from her. She had always been weak to his touch and he just as damnably weak to hers. “Get a good’s night rest. We will be heading out at first light.”
