Butler, Reece - Compromised Cowgirl [Bride Train 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)
Page 25
“I said, no.”
She shoved her chair back, the scraping noise loud in the suddenly quiet room. She stood, chin jutting out, and glared at him. “It’s my money. I can buy what I want!”
“You will have what I allow and nothing more.” He spoke calmly, as if disciplining a child. Her nostrils flared, and she narrowed her eyes at him. She tried to inhale but, because of the corset, could only pant. Only he knew that under her shawl her breasts threatened to escape from her dress.
“Let her have the knives,” shouted a deep voice from across the room. “Maybe she can teach you to throw them half as well.”
Jessie sent a wide smile in the man’s direction.
“She can have the knives if she wants, but it will cost her,” Ace called out.
Jessie met his eyes and swept off her shawl. She faced him, her back to most of the room, but whistles of appreciation still rose from around the room. She leaned slightly forward, emphasizing the dark space between her breasts. The space where she knew he wanted to insert his hard cock.
“I want those knives,” she repeated.
He stepped close and leaned over so she had to straighten up.
“Then you’ll spend four days without clothes, my choice of when and where,” he growled. He nodded and waved in reaction to the whistles and cheers from their audience. She gasped. A flush rose from between her breasts to cover her face.
“I’ll show you how to throw my knives,” she countered.
He pretended to ponder the decision, and then shook his head. “No dice. I can figure that out for myself. The bet is, four days naked. You going to meet me, or do I raise the stakes?”
She flicked her tongue over her bottom lip. That usually went with her nipples hardening. He’d have to thank Trace for some of his suggestions for “punishment.”
“I’ll”—her eyes flicked down as she thought—“I’ll cook dinner for a week.” She pressed her shoulders back and inhaled as deeply as she could. He almost bit his tongue as her breasts swelled. She liked to play dirty tricks, did she? He crossed his arms and slowly shook his head.
“You just raised the stakes, so I’ll match the bet. Dinner for four days, naked another three. And I raise you no drawers in town for a month.”
Hoots, catcalls, and the pounding of fists on wooden tables drowned out her reply, but he was sure it wasn’t polite.
“I didn’t hear your answer, wife. Care to repeat it?”
She pushed out her lower lip in a pout. It was real, not the practiced ones the London society misses used.
“I made my bet,” he said. He leaned over and whispered loud enough for most of the room to hear. “And those drawers will come off before you leave this room.”
“You rogue!” She stabbed her finger against his chest. He left it there, enjoying her rage. “Fine! I’ll cook your dinner for four days and…whatever for another three. But I will not take my drawers off in this dining room!”
A chorus of booing came from around them.
“I’ll accept the deal except for one change.”
“What!”
“I take your drawers off as soon as we get on Double Diamond land.” He remembered the darkening clouds. “If not today, then the next time we travel home in the buggy.”
A deeper flush waved up her body. She inhaled, and confined by the corset, her breasts came dangerously close to escaping. He picked up her shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders. He leaned close for a kiss. Holding the shawl closed with one hand, he slipped the other in the cleft between her breasts. She moaned into his mouth before returning his kiss eagerly. He didn’t notice anything but his wife’s body molded to his.
“Sealed with a kiss,” he murmured a few moments later, breathing just as hard as she. He raised his voice. “Shall we look for something bright and shiny for you to play with, wife?”
“Yes, husband,” she replied. She dropped her hand and, knowing she was hidden from the room, ran her fingers along his hard cock. She smiled sweetly in revenge.
“That calls for a spanking,” he murmured, too low for their audience to hear.
“That depends on how many knives I get.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Get back in there, you rascal!” Jessie gently shoved the marmalade kitten back onto the soft flannel that lined the bottom of the basket. “If I wasn’t a woman of my word, I’d leave you by the side of the road.”
She swung the basket forward and back, hoping the motion would convince the four kittens that it was time to sleep, not explore the outside world. The others settled, but the orange one was determined to make his own way in the world. He was her favorite, of course.
She avoided a patch of dung and kept plodding. She couldn’t remember ever walking this far. Maybe when she was too small to ride a horse by herself, before her parents died. Never in a long skirt, though. She couldn’t even stretch her legs enough to get a good stride.
“Jessie!”
She turned at the high voice. A buggy rapidly approached. “Thank God!”
Beth smiled broadly, unable to wave as both her hands were busy with the reins. Amelia’s arms were full of her baby niece, Hope. Jessie shuddered. She’d take a basket full of kittens over a baby any day. When Beth stopped, Jessie handed her the basket. She adjusted her holster so the pistol pointed down her back, hauled up her skirts, and climbed up beside Amelia.
“Jessie, you take Hope and let Amelia hold your basket,” said Beth. “She’s not in any condition to hold a fussy baby.”
Jessie gritted her teeth. She set the basket at her feet and held out her arms. The fiery-haired little girl eagerly came to her. Hope was warm and smelled like sage. The baby smiled and patted her cheek.
“What’s got you in a dress?” said Beth, and they started off. “The gun belt doesn’t quite match your outfit, but this is the West.”
“Ace and I were almost ready to go to town with the kittens I promised to Molly and Sarah, and John Tanner. Then half the valley came roaring into the yard yelling something about Fin bringing a judge to town.”
“Why didn’t you go with them?” asked Amelia “I thought Ace still had that buggy he rented for your wedding.”
Jessie moved Hope’s fingers from her lips so she could talk. “They wanted to gallop off with your husbands. Ace doesn’t want me off the ranch without him, so he took the reins with him. He knew I couldn’t ride in this dress and I can’t get it off without help. So I started walking. I’m surprised you two faced dire punishment by taking off alone.”
“We had to,” said Amelia. “After Trace left, Beth found the wedding certificate.” She looked at Beth and both broke out laughing. “She put it in the book we want to lend you.” She pointed at a white pillowcase under Beth’s seat. “We have to show the paper to the judge, but you’ll bring the pillow book home.”
“Why do you call it a pillow book? Because you put it in a pillow case?”
“No, because you put it under your pillow,” said Beth, snickering. “Amelia found it in her father’s library. It has very detailed drawings of what men and women can to do pleasure each other.”
Jessie’s body flooded with arousal. Her friends laughed outright.
“If any of your men saw the expression on your face, they’d tumble you right on the side of the road,” said Beth. “Make sure you get a good look at every picture before showing it to Ace. Once they get their hands on it, they’ll want to try everything.”
Jessie laughed. “I’ll keep it until I want to do something that will make Ace think he needs to “punish” me.”
“Strategic thinking,” said Amelia, understanding at once.
Beth slowed the buggy to a walk as they entered Tanner’s Ford. Men filled the porch of the hotel, jostling to see.
Jessie climbed down at Miss Lily’s. The white lace curtains fluttered, so she knew Rosa saw her. She took the basket and hurried to the kitchen. She knocked, set the basket down, hiked up her skirts and ran to the hotel.
“Get out of the way, we’ve got important evidence,” yelled Amelia.
No one heard over the noise or, if they did, didn’t care. Though Amelia hid her worry on the drive, Jessie saw she was beginning to get agitated as there was so much at stake.
Realizing she was far too short and small to do much on her own, Jessie pulled out her pistol. She stomped over to the stunned men, gun aimed at their back and began poking her way through.
“Get out of my way or I’ll make a hole in your gizzard!”
* * * *
Hearing a ruckus, Judge Ambrose Thatcher tucked his long, black coat behind the pearl-handled pistol that rested, butt forward, on his left hip. He watched the crowd swirl as someone pushed their way through.
Silence fell as three well-dressed women appeared in the open space before him. Two were short with dark hair. One carried a baby whose fiery hair matched that of the MacDougals. The other held a steady pistol pointed right at him. The third woman was tall and blonde. She carried something flat and square in a white pillowcase. The two without a gun had rounded bellies.
The one holding the gun on him as if she meant business stared defiantly at someone to his left. From her expression, he doubted she remembered what she held in her hand.
“Madam, set that gun on the floor and put your hands up,” he ordered. The woman’s face flamed, but neither her hand nor her gaze moved.
“That bloody woman will not follow my orders!” The clipped English voice came from the direction of the woman’s gaze. “Jessie, I told you to stay home. I even took the buggy reins to keep you there. What are you doing here?”
Ambrose turned to the well-dressed man. By the way he glared at the tiny gunslinger, he must be Kenrick Langford. The man narrowed his eyes at his wife, held his left palm out, and slapped it with his right. She gulped at the obvious warning, bent over, innocently flashing what lay behind her cleavage, and placed the gun carefully on the floor. She stood up and raised her hands, still looking at her husband. She did not look cowed in any way.
“I promised Molly I’d bring the kittens today,” she said. Her voice rose over the crowd. “Even though I married you, I’m still an Elliott, and Elliotts always keep their promises.”
Ambrose broke into the glaring contest. “I presume you are Ace Langford, and this is your wife?”
He nodded, sighing deeply. “We married a few days ago. My lady doesn’t believe the word ‘obey’ applies to her. I’ll be reminding her of that as soon as we are home.” He raised his voice, adding an edge. “Jessamine Bonham Elliott Langford, curtsey to the nice judge and thank him for not shooting you.”
“I apologize, your honor.”
She sank into a deep curtsey that would be expected in the finest drawing rooms in the East. He looked at the woman beside her.
“Gillis MacDougal, is that your child?”
Gillis, who hadn’t moved his glare from his older brother, Finan, since they arrived, turned to face the door.
“Amelia? What are ye doin’ here, lovie? And ye brought the wee lassie as weel?”
He stomped forward, kilt swinging. The scowl he’d worn since arriving faded when the baby crowed, “Da!” and held out her arms, kicking in excitement. He held her easily in one arm and tickled her. They both laughed. She was obviously well loved but, being female, would not affect Finan’s claim.
“And is that your wife beside you?” Though Ambrose knew the answer, he preferred to keep those in his courtroom unaware of his breadth of understanding. He learned long ago that a good lawyer never asks a question for which he does not already have an answer.
“Amelia’s my wife, Mrs. Ross MacDougal.”
One of the dark-skinned men stepped away from his brother. The two were almost identical, and Ambrose had not yet set in his mind which was which. Ross escorted the small, pregnant woman to a chair. She sank into it with a sigh. He kissed her cheek and crouched beside her. After making sure she was comfortable he scanned the room, making it obvious he wouldn’t tolerate anyone harming his woman. Ross was the one known as the MacDougal Devil. It suited him.
The tall blonde lifted the gun from the floor, holding it, barrel down, as if she knew how to use it. She strolled past him and set it on the table in front of his scribe, Jeffries. She kept the package in the pillowcase tight under her arm. She turned her back to Jeffries to face him.
“My name is Elizabeth Elliott, your Honor. My husband is Trace.”
She was so tall she could almost look him in the eye. He’d heard the valley women lived openly with three husbands. After seeing these women, he could see why the men didn’t object. The men had their own bonds, and the opportunity to share a magnificent wife was far better than being alone.
“I told you not to take the buggy without permission, wife.”
The commanding croak belonged to her husband, the one who seemed to be the leader of the group fighting Finan MacDougal’s claim. A flush ran up the blonde’s face, but she jutted out her jaw.
“After you left me behind I was so angry that I threw something.” A few chuckles went around the room. “I hit one of your mother’s photographs, breaking the glass. When I went to clean it up, I discovered Sunbird’s marriage certificate behind the picture. I had to bring it, for Amelia’s sake.”
Finan MacDougal, the man who had dragged him from Helena to investigate his ownership claim, jumped to his feet.
“You said not to travel alone,” continued Beth, ignoring Finan’s sputters, “so I brought Amelia and Hope. We found Jessie walking on the road with her basket of kittens.” She lifted her pillowcase, smiling brilliantly. “This proves—”
“It proves nothing,” growled Finan. He stared around the room. The closed faces made him erupt. “’Tis false! Father nae married Sunbird. He’d nae disgrace Mother!”
The room erupted in yells, mostly against Finan.
Ambrose rested his thumbs on his belt, careful not to touch his pistol in challenge. He looked around the room, memorizing each face. Jeffries, a lawyer learning the business, stood up as well. The smarter ones in the group soon hushed the others until only a few rumbles continued in the back corners.
“If you cannot be quiet, I will clear this court.” He scanned the group. “I am Judge Ambrose Thatcher. I have come to this town at great discomfort to hear evidence for and against the future ownership of the MD Connected Ranch. Finan MacDougal, you will sit to the right of the table. Those in disagreement, sit to the left.”
He watched as they settled and then nodded cordially. He turned his back to the crowd and faced the witnesses.
“One by one, stand and state your full name and where you reside,” he said. He confirmed names and faces as they spoke. Trace, Beth, Ranger, and Patrick Elliott of the Rocking E and Bitterroot ranches. Gillis, Ross, Amelia, and Nevin MacDougal of the MD Connected. Kenrick and Jessamine Langford, Charles Statham, and Henry Bennett of the Double Diamond.
“Thank you. However, unless you are directly involved, as in have MacDougal as a surname or evidence to present, take a seat with the general public. And take that baby with you!”
Trace tickled the baby and carried her to the side with the others. That left five of them on the left and Finan MacDougal to the right. The man had recently married, but said his wife was upstairs resting. Ambrose had seen, and heard, the imposing woman during dinner. She’d made it clear she was not pleased with her new husband’s drinking, and that it would stop. It was just as well she wasn’t in the room as he doubted anyone could keep her quiet. He waited until Jeffries finished his notes and bobbed his head to say he was ready.
“Do you agree, gentlemen, that the last will and testament of Finan MacDougal, Senior, dated 1870, states that, upon his death, unless a legitimate male grandchild is alive on the MD Connected Ranch
, all MacDougal property passes to his eldest son, Finan Junior.”
“Aye,” said Gillis, though he gritted his teeth while doing so.
“Aye,” replied Finan smugly.
From the crowd’s rumbles, it seemed that information was not common knowledge.
“Mr. Finan MacDougal states that, as his father never legally married his second wife, the Indian woman known as “Sunbird”, Ross and Nevin MacDougal are illegitimate and, therefore, cannot inherit. As such, any issue from their unions would not be counted as heirs. Unless Gillis remarries and has a son, all property, including the disputed ranch, will therefore pass to Finan MacDougal, Junior, upon their father’s death.”
Though Gillis growled, he didn’t jump up and bellow, as Sheriff Chambers had warned him was likely. Perhaps it was Amelia’s hand resting on his arm which held him back. Thatcher understood the power a well-loved wife could have over a man, as well as the vindictiveness of one scorned.
“Gillis, Ross, and Nevin MacDougal state that Finan Senior did marry Sunbird in a legal ceremony. Is there evidence to prove this fact?”
“Yes, sir. I have the marriage certificate in here,” said Beth Elliott.
She fumbled in the pillowcase and brought out a large, thin, book. He saw “Sinful Pleasures” stamped on the dark cover in gold before she flipped it over. Her face turned a shade of deep pink.
He pulled his coat around him like a formal robe to hide his swelling member. There was a time he and his lady spent many an hour reading, and practicing, such poses.
Trace Elliott’s unmistakable grumbles were hushed by someone. The man’s wife brought a pillow book, in a pillowcase, to his court? Ambrose was beginning to understand why these women needed three men to keep them in line.
“You had to choose that book to carry it in?” whispered Ross MacDougal loudly to Beth. His wife smacked him on the belly with the back of her hand and told him to hush. He laughed quietly, picked up Amelia’s hand, and gently kissed it. He relaxed in the chair, keeping her small hand in both of his dark ones. Nevin also loosened up. Obviously, they also knew what was in the book. He strolled closer, curious.