Sweet Trouble

by Sasha Gold

  “If I don’t tell the judge what you did, and let that marriage license stand, then I’ll basically own you. I figure all this land belongs to me, too.”

  The moment he said the words he half-way wished them back. The last of her bravado drained from her, and she regarded him with shock. Her distress came from his words, and he should care, but he didn’t. He wanted her beholden to him. When she forged his signature, she’d signed up for a whole lot more than a fake marriage.

  “What about the boys?” she whispered. “Would you allow them to stay?”

  “Of course I would.”

  She closed her eyes and let out a trembling sigh. Did she really think he’d send the boys somewhere? He might want to torment her a little, but he had nothing against those two boys.

  “You would lay claim to me and the land?” Her voice was soft and tremulous, and it worked on him like the touch of her hand might, trailing down his chest and teasing his cock.

  He released his grip on her waist. “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

  She got up from his lap and tossed a few small pieces of wood into a barrow. “Then I’m not answering any more questions.”

  “I should spank you again for that.” He nudged her away from the wood pile and began loading the barrow.

  She gave a small huff of indignation. “Try it. I’ll get even with you.”

  He laughed. His newly acquired wife was as tough as any woman he’d ever known, and the thought of making her submit to him sparked savage need inside him. Never in his life had he imagined tossing a woman over his shoulder and carrying her off to bed. He liked his women eager and experienced, but Isabelle challenged him in a way he’d never known.

  The little hellion had no idea that her threat of getting even with him made his cock hard and his hands itch to snatch her off her feet. One thing was certain. Her spanking hadn’t changed her tone one bit. Clearly her next spanking would need to be on that sweet, bare ass, with her pantalets yanked down to her knees.

  Chapter Eight

  Matt went to bed that night in the room he imagined used to belong to Jerome. Isabelle retreated upstairs to the loft, and he heard her speaking softly to the boys. It seemed she was telling them a story, and it brought a smile to his lips. The story was about a golden horse named Arlo and how he was made of gold because he belonged to King Midas. Seth wanted to know who King Midas was. Instead of telling him the true story of King Midas, she told him he was the king of horses and could turn any horse into any color.

  Matt could tell Isabelle was exhausted, and the story took every bit of her energy. Her voice slurred, and she drifted, returning to the story when Seth prodded her, asking about the different colors of horses. Did King Midas choose all the colors? How many colors were there? And could he have a pony that was the same fantastical color as Arlo? Could he do the same for dogs, and maybe that was where the pup got his eye patch…

  From downstairs he listened, waiting to hear Isabelle's response. But it was quiet. She'd fallen asleep, and Seth must have fallen asleep shortly after. He considered going upstairs to check on them. He imagined what Isabelle looked like. Wild, golden locks cast across the pillow. Her plump lips parted. He wondered if she slept on her side or on her tummy.

  He sighed and tried to get comfortable in Jerome’s bed, but it was impossible. The man must have been not much taller than Isabelle. He had to sleep diagonally, and even then his feet stuck off the end of the bed. Restless, uncomfortable and aware of Isabelle upstairs, he didn’t fall asleep until almost dawn.

  In the morning when he woke he found both boys standing at the side of the bed watching him. Their eyes were wide with curiosity. Sounds came from the kitchen, the clatter of pans, the sizzle of bacon, and something being stirred.

  “Belle wants to know if you want some coffee, Mr. Hudson.”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. He felt like he’d been pitched from a horse and stomped on a few times. “Tell her yes.”

  Seth grinned and left the bedroom with his younger brother trailing behind.

  He groaned. He’d slept better in a bedroll in the desert than he had last night in Jerome's bed. He threw the covers back and got up. After he dressed, he wandered into the kitchen. Isabelle worked, scrambling eggs and slicing bread. She glanced up at him and frowned. He probably looked like hell. She looked fresh as a daisy, dressed in a pale blue dress, a white apron tied around her narrow waist.

  “Did you sleep alright last night?” she asked.

  “Terrible.”

  She suppressed a smile.

  He grimaced. “I suppose you slept like a princess.”

  She bit her lip and nodded. “I'll admit it is a comfort to have a man under this roof.”

  He glanced over his shoulder and saw the boys carrying the small puppy outside. He drew a little closer and lowered his voice. “I could be more of a comfort. But first I need to build a proper bed.”

  She kept her gaze on her cooking. “Aren’t you leaving?”

  “I have nothing to do and nowhere to be until they hang Hughes.”

  “Please don't talk about such things in front of the boys.” She heaped eggs and bacon onto a plate and offered him a cup of coffee.

  “No ma'am. That sort of ugliness isn't for young children to hear about.”

  Isabelle poured herself a cup of coffee and nodded. “A few days after Jerome died, the boys started having nightmares.”

  Matt shook his head. “They’re young to have lost so much. It’s a good thing they have you.”

  She flushed, her skin turning rosy. It wasn’t an idle compliment. Her devotion to the boys was clear, and he respected that.

  “Last night I slept in the boy’s room, and I noticed that some branches brush against the window. It made me wonder if that's what gives the boys bad dreams. They scratch, and it sounds like claws on the outside of the house. Seth always dreams of monsters, and I thought to myself that branch sounded just like something bad outside the window. Or it might, to a small boy prone to nightmares.”

  Matt pushed his cup and plate aside. “Let's go have a look.”

  They walked outside and around the back of the cabin. A tree had blown over in a storm and lay against the cabin, its branches splayed over the roof.

  “I never noticed that before. I wonder when that happened,” she said.

  Matt walked around and looked at the tree. It was dead, and its brittle branches rested against the wall of the boys’ bedroom.

  “I suppose I should feel lucky that it didn't damage my roof,” she said.

  “Don't you have a man around that helps you with these things?” Matt couldn't help the irritation in his voice.

  Isabelle pursed her lips with clear resentment. “I do have people who help me. I suppose they forgot to walk around the cabin.”

  “That's ridiculous. This tree has been dead for months. It should have come down when the cabin was built. It's dangerous to have trees growing so close to a house.”

  “Well thank you for the lecture. I'll be sure to keep that in mind the next time I build a cabin.”

  Matt growled and turned in the direction of the barn. As he passed the boys, Seth got to his feet and ran after him.

  “Where are you going Mr. Hudson?”

  “I'm going to tack up Arlo. Want to help?”

  “Sure I do. Are you leaving?”

  “I'm going to pull down a big tree.”

  Seth chuckled. “Can I watch? Is Arlo going to help you?”

  “He is. He’s good at pulling down trees.”

  “I bet Arlo is good at everything. I bet you are, too, Mr. Hudson.”

  Matt glanced down at the boy. “Well, not everything, son, but I know how to pull down trees.”

  He tacked Arlo and showed Seth how to bridle a horse. Arlo cooperated, even going so far as lowering his head so Seth could adjust the bridle. When they were done Matt set Seth on the saddle, handed him the lasso and led Arlo back to the cabin.

  Matt lifted t
he boy from the saddle and set him on the ground. “Now we're going to lasso that tree and pull it away from the house so it doesn't make noise at night while you boys are resting. No need to have a tree right up against the house.”

  He swung the lasso over his head, and it whistled in the air and landed on the top of the tree where a broken limb jetted out. Next he wound the other end of the rope around the pommel of his saddle. When the rope was tight he told Seth to move away from the horse a bit.

  “Think he’s ready, Seth?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, then tell him, Gee Up!”

  Seth grinned and did as he was told. Arlo took a few steps, and the rope tightened. The tree shifted and fell from the side of the house with a crash. Most horses would have shied, but Arlo kept moving forward, dragging the tree behind him. Matt led him further away from the cabin to the edge of the woods. Seth followed close behind.

  “All right, son, tell the horse Whoa!”

  Seth did as he was told, and Matt untied the lasso from the pommel and the tree. He put Seth back in the saddle, and they returned to the barn. Matt spent the next hour showing Seth how to groom Arlo. Isabelle walked down to the barn to check on Seth several times. Later that afternoon Matt chopped firewood for Isabelle. If she appreciated any of his efforts she gave no sign.

  Ornery woman. She wanted him to leave. She wanted him to stay. A few times he caught her looking at him with a mixture of interest and wariness. When he spoke to one of the boys, her expression always softened. If he offered to be of some help to her, she shook her head and murmured a quiet refusal.

  He had no business staying on. He should pack up and ride out of there, leaving her and the boys with the protection of his name. Sheriff Reid was drunk by lunch every day, and Matt worried that Hughes would escape. He should be in Colter Canyon keeping an eye on things, but all he wanted was to guard over Isabelle Hudson.

  In the late afternoon, he found her taking clothes off the line. Seth and Luke were teaching Patch to fetch a ball, or at least trying to. The pup ran after the ball and continued past, apparently forgetting his errand along the way.

  “I want to take a dip in the river,” Matt said. “Get some of this grit off me. Can’t remember the last time I got a bath.”

  Her gaze settled on him in a way that made him restless and irritable. Her lips curved into a smile.

  “Well, go on then,” she said softly, toying with him.

  “I want you to come with me.”

  She lifted the basket and set it on her hip. “All right. I can show you where the river is.” She kept her gaze on him, and it was clear she found something terribly amusing. “C’mon boys, Mr. Hudson wants to take a dip in our nice warm Diablo River.”

  Chapter Nine

  Isabelle bit her lip as she listened to Matthias’ muttering. He’d been careful not to curse. She could tell, and for that she was grateful. He bathed in the river, in what state of undress she wasn’t sure. She’d kept her eyes averted and suppressed her laughter when he’d entered the frigid river, growling at the temperatures.

  While he bathed the boys amused themselves along the bank, tossing rocks into the water and looking for frogs and tadpoles. An evening breeze blew. One that probably chilled the grumbling Mr. Hudson to the bone.

  Luke frowned and sucked his thumb, a sure sign of hunger. Tiny creases etched his brow, and he gazed at her as if he fully expected her to understand and solve his dilemma. She knew all this because she’d studied the boys to find what made them tick, and she knew their cues. She went to the willow tree and tugged a sandwich out of her satchel, unwrapped the linen and handed it to the boy.

  “Seth would you like a sandwich?” He’d say yes, not because he was hungry but because Luke was eating.

  “Mm…yup.”

  She went to the bank where he crouched, peering into the river, and handed him his ham sandwich.

  “Have you spotted any mermaids yet?” she asked, tousling his hair.

  He looked up at her and grinned. “Only five.”

  “Ah, well. They’re shy this evening. Mr. Hudson’s frightened them all away. Who could blame them? They’re afraid of ogres.”

  She heard Matthias chuckle. She stole a glance at him and took a moment to admire his immense shoulders. He sat in the shallows, the water swirling around him. She knew the water was almost unbearable, and she had to give him credit for lingering in the icy river.

  He must have felt her eyes on him, and he glanced over his shoulder. “Come wash my hair and my back, like a good wife.”

  His words dismayed her. He hadn’t made any demands on her in front of the boys, until now. She let out a slow simmering huff of indignation. Seth would have a thousand questions if she didn’t go to Matthias and do his bidding.

  She shed her boots, turned her back and rolled down her stockings. Tucking her skirts in her belt she waded into the water, gritting her teeth. She glanced back at the children. Both boys were occupied with their sandwiches. Seth stirred the river water with a long stick while he ate.

  “Nothing like getting a bath from a pretty girl,” he drawled.

  “You’re a beast,” she hissed.

  “You have no idea,” he said, holding the soap over his shoulder.

  She rubbed the soap over his shoulders, along his neck and across his scalp.

  He groaned. “Take your time, Mrs. Hudson.”

  Isabelle tried to keep her gaze on her work but couldn’t resist glancing down. Just a quick look she told herself, but the fading daylight prevented her from seeing anything.

  “See something that interests you, darlin’?”

  She snorted. “I wasn’t looking.”

  “Liar. I’m all yours if you change your mind. Marital rights and all that.”

  Isabelle looked over her shoulder to check on the boys. When she saw they were safe, she turned her attention back to Matthias, scrubbing his head while he groaned with pleasure.

  “You’re a little rough,” he said with a chuckle. “I like it. Pull my hair a little.”

  She stroked her hands down his neck and along the span of his shoulders. He let his head fall, and she concentrated on working his knotted muscles. He let out deep, rumbling sounds of pleasure.

  The noises he made registered somewhere along her thighs and traveled to her sex. The excitement she felt, the slick arousal, was unlike anything she’d ever known. He wanted her to pull his hair? For some reason the idea appealed to her. As she rubbed his shoulders and neck, she grabbed a fistful of his wet hair and tugged.

  “‘Atta girl,” he said.

  She heard the smile in his voice.

  “Think I’m all done with bounty hunting,” he said. “I don’t care to chase criminals any more, not when I have a sweet, docile wife waiting for me.”

  Another tug of his hair earned her a deep groan.

  “I just want you to go back where you came from,” she muttered, glancing over her shoulder to check on the boys.

  He turned. Water dripped across the short stubble of his beard. His eyes held hers. For a moment neither of them spoke.

  “Do you?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “You need to rinse your head, Mr. Hudson.”

  “Everything here belongs to me, Isabelle. You. The boys. The cabin. The land.”

  She shook her head, straightened and drew away. Wading back to the bank, she tried not to think of how vulnerable she was. She couldn’t blame him for tormenting her. After all, she’d lied. Now there was no way to extricate herself from the lie, and he could make her life hell if he wanted to. When she got back to the bank she picked up her stockings and her boots.

  “Come boys. Let’s leave Mr. Hudson to finish his bathing.”

  Behind her, she heard him splashing, rinsing off, and imagined his smug expression. And for what had to be the hundredth time, she imagined Violet and Savannah. Imagined what they would think if they knew the havoc they’d created with their brilliant plan.

  Ch
apter Ten

  Matt lay in bed, his body burning with an excruciating awareness of Isabelle. He was alone, lying in a swath of moonlight, but it was as if she lay there beside him. Her scent clung to the fabric of the sheets and the pillow, sweet, inviting, like some delectable morsel just out of reach.

  It was his second day of wedded bliss, at least, the second day he knew he was married.

  After bathing in the river, they’d returned to the cabin and eaten dinner. Isabelle had made chicken and dumplings and served it with green beans, creamed spinach and cooked carrots. He couldn’t remember having so fine a meal, and to top it off she’d served spice cake for dessert.

  When dinner was cleared she’d swept the boys upstairs and bid him good night. She slept upstairs with the boys even though he’d made what he thought was a gallant invitation. He told her that he wouldn’t lay a finger on her and would stay on his side of the bed if she stayed on hers. Blushing prettily, she said she wasn’t that brave or that trusting.

  Isabelle could be sassy one moment and shy the next. He wanted to spank her. He wanted to shelter her. He wanted to do both, and he’d be within his rights to go upstairs and bring her back down to his bed. The idea made his cock harden almost painfully. He’d lay her down and soothe her with soft words and slowly seduce her, kiss her, undress her and do everything he’d wanted to do since he’d first laid eyes on her.

  But he wouldn’t. He needed to keep his wits about him while he figured out how to keep her and the two little ones safe. Not only that, but he needed to sleep. The days spent chasing Hughes and then hauling him back to Colter Canyon left him bone tired. In the last week he’d had less than a dozen hours of sleep. Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore his straining cock. Maybe if he slept a little, he’d have more sweet dreams of Isabelle.

  Sometime later he awoke to her soft whisper. “You and I need to have a little talk.”

  He opened his eyes and found her sitting beside him. Moonlight lit her pretty features, and her hair was unbound, framing her face and tumbling past her shoulders. He tried to reach for her but found his wrists bound to the headboard.