Rocky Mountain Rose (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 3)

by Lee Savino

  By the time the men were finished, Rose was saddled and waiting.

  Jesse strapped the shovels to the little mule that carried the heavier saddlebags, then swung up onto his own horse, urging it forward to stop near Rose. “How long did you know him?”

  “Years,” Rose replied. “He was a street urchin, taken in by the show I traveled with. When I wanted to leave, he came with me. He was my only friend.”

  “You loved him,” Jesse said, and Rose jerked her head no.

  “I’m incapable of love. The world I live in, I don’t have the luxury.”

  Jesse’s brow furrowed, then he shrugged. “Well, if you’re gonna cry, here’s your chance. We won’t be stopping much on the trail out of here.”

  “I never cry,” Rose said. “Tears never help anything. I learned that long ago.”

  The younger Wilder blinked in surprise and frowned as if he didn’t quite know what to do with her. She met his gaze, keeping her own cool and steady.

  Clearing his throat, Lyle pushed between them on his stallion. “We best get moving.”

  Jesse dropped his head and guided his horse and mule forward. Rose kept glaring at the younger brother’s back, until Lyle cut across her sights. The older Wilder’s handsome face was thoughtful. She tried frowning at him, but the pity in his eyes was too much to bear, and she spent the rest of the ride focused on the trail in front of her.

  *

  They rode into a new town at sunset. Outside the hotel, Lyle helped her dismount, then carried her bags inside. Rose thought how nice it was to have a strong man at her side.

  He could not shield her from the scrutiny of all the men on the street. Even with a bonnet, her red hair spilled out and caught the eye. Add to that her extreme paleness and beauty, and men practically walked into porch posts staring at her. The second time a youth wrapped himself around a railing, she smirked until a shadow fell over her face. Lyle stood there, his height enough to block out the sun.

  “Enjoying yourself?” He didn’t sound amused.

  “Always,” she murmured and accepted his offered arm. Lyle shot a glare around to all the watching men, and her insides curled with glee. This might be fun, after all. As long as she felt safe, she liked being the center of attention. Years in the spotlight cursed with incredible beauty taught her there was no escaping it. She might as well enjoy it.

  Rose entered the boarding house, lifting her chin to meet the stares of ten or so rough-looking men. With Lyle at her side, she was free to look around. He kept a hand at her back as they headed for the front desk. She couldn’t stop a little grin from perching on her face as they paraded together through the room. He would have to keep on his toes if he was going to fend off her admirers.

  Once they reached the desk, Lyle herded her in front of him, his large body blocking the stares of the rest of the room. His possessive clutch wasn’t enough to stop the innkeeper’s eyes flickering to Rose’s bosoms then up again.

  “A room,” Lyle said, jaw clenched. His arm went around Rose, pulling her into his side. Staying meek, she let herself step closer to him, telling herself it was only an act, ignoring the way her heart jumped at his closeness.

  “Two,” Rose corrected. Lyle transferred his glare to her.

  “Dearest,” he ground out the endearing term. “Why go the extra expense?”

  She smiled with a coldness that would chill any man’s heart. “You know why, honey lumpkin,” she answered. “And I will pay the extra expense.” She froze a little when she remembered her gold was gone, but didn’t lose face. A song and a dance, a turn about a room, and she could earn what she needed.

  “You will not.” Lyle put his hand on the counter, with his own purse. “One room,” he ordered the innkeeper, then gripped Rose’s arm and led her to the side.

  “Your enemies are looking for a band of three. Two brothers and a single redhead. It’s bad enough you turn every man’s eye in town.”

  “That’s hardly my fault,” she hissed.

  “We share a room,” Lyle said, grip tightening. Not enough to hurt, but enough to give her pause. “And we act married. Do not cross me in this.”

  “Fine,” she whispered back.

  They stalked back to the innkeeper, who looked from one to another at their obvious snit, eyes lingering longer on Rose.

  “One room,” Lyle repeated. “And I’ll thank you to keep your eyes off my wife,” he said.

  Rose’s head whipped around to stare at Lyle, but he kept glowering at the innkeeper, blue eyes like ice. To Rose’s surprise, the hotel man ducked his head, muttering apology. He scrambled to take their bags and lead them upstairs.

  They repeated the act of walking across the room, Lyle’s head up to meet all challengers. Rose went ahead of him on the stairs, then let him lead her down the hall to their room. Once he opened it, she sailed inside, waiting until the innkeeper had scuttled off before confronting her ‘husband’. “Married? Is that really necessary?”

  “Yes,” Lyle said, setting his dusty bags on the floor before stripping off his coat. “Jesse will meet up with us tomorrow.”

  “I’d feel more comfortable if I had my own room.”

  “That’s not what you thought last night. In fact, you cuddled quite close.” Now Lyle’s face had a grin.

  Rose stamped her foot, unable or unwilling to think of an answer. Lyle ignored her pique, going across the room to pour a cup of water. He drank it and then used the basin to splash his face.

  “That’s better,” he sighed. Wet fronds of hair danced over his face, black as a crow’s feathers. His jaw was grey with the day’s stubble, but nothing could mar the beauty of his sharp features.

  He noticed her watching him and winked. “Not as good as a bath, but it’ll do in a pinch.” Turning back to the mirror, he rubbed his chin, then started to unpack and set out his shaving things. After a few slices on the leather strop to sharpen his razor, he lathered and set the blade to his throat, then paused. “You want to help, darling?” His eyes pierced hers in the mirror.

  She swallowed hard, feeling her body start to come alive. Lyle set about shaving and finished.

  “If I called for a tub, would you scrub my back?”

  Her lady parts clenched, but the rest of her decided she’d had enough teasing. Jaw clenched, she started for the door. “I’m getting my own room.”

  In a flash, Lyle was across the room, in her space. She backed away, and he shut the door firmly, then crowded her backwards, his big form looming over her. The jovial light gone from his eyes.

  “Listen, Rose, I’m not going to fight you any more on this. Push it again, and I’ll turn you over my knee. Understand?”

  Her eyes spit fire at him, but she nodded. With a toss of her hair, she flounced away, unpacking her own clothes to air out while he put his shaving things away. Lyle guarding her was one thing, but letting a man dominate her every move wasn’t something she’d signed on for. In the last town, with Doyle threatening, she’d tolerated it. The sooner she got her own cash and autonomy, the better.

  She felt a tingling on the back of her neck and glanced back to see Lyle standing close.

  “I’m going out,” he said, and when she ignored him, he took a handful of her red hair and tugged it lightly.

  “Stop it.” She swatted at him.

  He stepped back, grinning like a mischievous boy. “You hungry, Rose? You seem awful cranky.”

  “No.”

  “All yesterday you didn’t eat, and today you had nothing but some hardtack and jerky on the ride. You must be hungry.”

  She shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

  “Rose.” He tugged her hair again, and she pivoted to see him frowning at her. “You’re gonna eat. I’m going to take care of you, like it or not.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that, so she said nothing.

  “Do you have your gun?”

  Blinking at this change in subject, she nodded.

  “Let me see it.”

  Silen
tly, she fished in her sash and offered the pearl handle to him, then dug out the box of bullets he’d thought to take from her trunk. After inspecting the gun, he gave her more gun powder from his own stash and gave it back to her reloaded.

  “This only gives you one shot.”

  She nodded.

  He patted his coats and took out his twin revolvers. “We’ll have to see about getting you one of these.” He handed her one of the Colts and had her grip it. “Next time we make camp, we can practice shooting. The way those men looked at you, I want you to have plenty of firepower ready in case we’re separated.”

  “Nell does just fine for me,” Rose said.

  “Nell?”

  “That’s her name.”

  Lyle stared at her, then burst out laughing. “You named your gun?”

  “Why not?” Rose raised her chin “She’s my most steadfast friend.”

  Still chuckling, he took back his Colt and picked up her Nell. Pulling her close, he tucked the gun back into her sash, smiling down at her the whole time. Eyes locked with his baby blues, she felt her heartbeat quicken.

  “There.” He secured her sash and then gripped her hips, still gazing down at her. For a second, the world tilted around them; it was her and Lyle, and nothing else existed.

  Dropping his head, he rested his forehead against hers. “Just when I start to wonder why it’s all worth it, you remind me.”

  A strange feeling went through her. “Lyle…”

  He put his finger against her lips, and all of a sudden she was staring at his perfect mouth, mere inches away from hers.

  Then her stomach growled angrily.

  Lyle chuckled. “Best be about my business, so I can feed you.”

  He raised his head and she felt strangely bereft. She could still feel the brush of his black hair on her forehead.

  With a rueful grin, he broke away, but not before he pulled her hair again like a miscreant school boy. She raised her arms to defend herself, but he was already halfway to the door. “I’ll tend to my business, then escort you to the dining room.”

  “Is that really necessary? We could eat in the room.”

  “The more men who see me as your husband, the better. Until later, little wife.”

  “Get out!” She was reaching for Nelly when he closed the door, laughing.

  *

  With Lyle gone, her confidence seemed to wane. What was his business in this town? More importantly, what was hers? She had no money, no connections, unless she could get a ride to the show she’d spent years traveling with once she escaped her father.

  She mulled it over while she performed her own toilet. To empty the washbasin, she carried it to the window and dumped the dirty water out. One man stepped into the street at the wrong time and found himself wet with soapy shaving water.

  “Hey,” he shouted up, face angry until he caught sight of Rose leaning out the window. Arranging her face into an apologetic pout, she gave a shrug and a little wave that he returned, a goofy look on his wet face. Before he could holler up to her, she stepped back and drew the curtains.

  By the time she finished her washing up, she was decided. She may not have any prospects, but a few minutes in the company of men, and she’d find a position quickly. Her looks would do the talking. Brushing dust off her riding dress, she inspected herself one last time in the little shaving mirror. The green cloth was faded, but the color set off her milk white skin and red hair to perfection. Satisfied, she strutted out of the room and downstairs to conduct business of her own.

  The dining hall was already full in anticipation of the meal. In the corner, the innkeeper had set up a makeshift bar, and Rose headed straight for it. Every head turned to watch her progress, and when she leaned on the counter, the innkeeper turned pale.

  Rose’s smile turned wicked. “Whiskey.”

  As the man fumbled with the bottle, she looked coyly over her shoulder at the rest of the room. Some of the men were staring at her face, but most attention was paid to her bustle, showcased as it was by her position leaning over the bar.

  She caught the nearest man’s eye and winked.

  “Here.” The innkeeper placed a glass in front of her. She made a show of reaching for her purse, but he waved it away. “On the house.”

  “Thank you,” she purred and lifted the glass. “A toast to this fine establishment.”

  The room echoed her in a murmur, and the innkeeper turned bright red.

  Letting the amber liquid wash her lips, she started to take a turn about the room, strutting to show off her figure. She needed a mark, a man old enough to be successful, ugly enough to be flattered by her attention, yet brave enough to speak to her first.

  A few feet from the bar, she found her man.

  “Hey, pretty lady,” a grubby man said, pushing up from the table and adjusting his trousers at the same time. “Share a table with me?”

  He was the right age and weight for an established miner. His mouth cracked open and she got a full view of rotten teeth, but she smiled against her repulsion. “Why not?”

  But as soon as she sat down, the man put his hand on her thigh, a forwardness she might indulge in a better man. “Always loved redheads,” he leered.

  Raising a hand to ward off his fetid breath, she slipped her leg out from under his grip, only to find another man had sat down on her other side and was starting to put his arm around her.

  “Women round this town have to learn to be generous,” said the first man. “But there’s more than enough milk in this cow to go around.” His hand started for her breast, and Rose twisted, half caught in the second man’s arms.

  “Give us a kiss then,” the second man said, and Rose snarled, starting to push back her chair to leap away.

  She found herself propelled backwards, then the man who had been holding her flew through the air. Mouth open, she turned just in time to see him crash into another table. His foul-toothed partner followed in quick succession.

  As one, the men of the room came to their feet and started shouting. Rose started to back away, looking for escape, but a hand curled around her arm, and she found herself pulled into Lyle’s side. His hair was wild, but his face and body were taut with perfectly controlled rage as he raised his Colt in the air and cocked it.

  “The next man who touches my wife gets a ride in a cold meat wagon.”

  Faced with the ready fire-arm, a few men nearby raised their hands in surrender. Lyle started backing towards the door, dragging Rose along with him.

  “Wait, stop.” She tried to pull away. In one movement, he whirled and bent, coming at her. His shoulder hit her mid torso, and he bounced her up onto his shoulder. Rose found herself in the familiar position, staring at a sea of staring faces through the hair hanging over her face, feeling her stomach whoosh and dip as Lyle’s muscles bunched and flexed under it.

  “That’s it, mister,” one muttered. “Rein her in.”

  “Lyle,” she snapped as soon as she got her breath back. “Put me down.” Her feet kicked and fingers scrambled over his back, looking for purchase.

  “Be still,” Lyle clipped, adding a sharp smack to her bottom.

  Fuming, she let her body lie limp for the rest of the ride, conserving her energy. As soon as Lyle slammed open the door to their room, she started tensing for the fight. He dropped her onto the bed, ordering her to “Stay.”

  Bouncing off the bed, she scrambled to her feet. “What are you doing?” she screamed. He moved like a panther across the room, shutting the door before turning to freeze her with blue eyes.

  Rolling up his shirt sleeves to bare taut forearms, he advanced on her slowly, until she was staring up at him, backing up against the chaise. Flushed in anger, his face was striking, with clenched jaw and hollowed cheeks. Her lady parts fluttered.

  “Taking you in hand,” he growled. “I told you to stay in the room. I won’t tolerate you disobeying me when I’m trying to keep you alive. Nor will I sit back while you flaunt yourself to every m
an in sight like a cat in heat.”

  “How dare you,” she cried, and rearing back her fist, threw a punch right at his perfect face.

  He dodged, easily, then grabbed her around the waist, tipping her over the chaise so her face planted in the cushions and her bottom was high in the air.

  “You’ve earned one hell of a spanking, missy.” One strong hand secured her, tossing up her skirts and ripping down her drawers with the other.

  Again, Rose felt a tremor go through her, not altogether unpleasant, as she felt him squeeze her bottom with one hard hand. Then the spanking started, along with his lecture, as she roared her outrage into the chaise cushions.

  “I am trying to help you,” Lyle said, slapping one cheek, then the other. “You will not punch or throw things at me. You will not stir up trouble. You will not flirt with other men.” The room filled with the sound of the smacks raining down on her bouncing bottom.

  Rose reached back, trying to protect her poor hindquarters, and Lyle paused the spanking long enough to catch her wrists and hold them in the small of her back. Without her arms to hold her up, Rose felt trussed and helpless as a holiday ham. That just made her cry out louder, in rage and humiliation.

  “That’s it, shout for me, Rose,” Lyle said. “Let everyone hear how I take you in hand. You may not believe it yet, but here, I am your master. I lead, you follow. That’s the way it is to be, if you want to stay alive.”

  Immediately Rose fell silent, pressing her lips together with fury as her eyes grew sore from holding back tears. The spanking went on, Lyle’s hand falling with greater and greater force.

  “You will submit to me,” he went on. “It is for your own good.”

  Rose kicked a little and tried to shift so her feet could touch the ground and give her some sense of control. Lyle pushed his hand on her back, keeping her unbalanced and at his mercy. What was worse, she could feel a sweet ache starting between her legs. Lyle’s deep, commanding voice, his firm hand, even the punishing smacks sent sparks of arousal flying through her. The spanking ignited something inside her. No tears fell, but she could feel them gathering, a storm of them threatening to break if she didn’t submit first.