Rocky Mountain Ride (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 7)

by Lee Savino

  His cock raged, craving release, but somehow Sebastian felt more content than he had in his entire life.

  A few hours later, he felt the effects of a sleepless night, when Juan came to alert the household of the latest crisis. Under the cover of night, cattle thieves had come, spooking the herd and causing a stampede.

  Cage and Sebastian worked with the vaqueros to rustle the cows, calming and counting them.

  “Ten missing, señora,” the hired men told Francesca as she rode by.

  “Chivington and I will ride the perimeter, see if we can find them,” Cage volunteered, and she thanked them. Sebastian waited, but she made no mention of the night before, nor did she look at him.

  They found five more cows.

  “What do these men get paid for if not watching over the cattle?” Sebastian grumbled.

  “It’s the size of the herd,” Cage explained. “They need more vaqueros, but can’t afford them. But the price of beef is too low for them to slaughter or sell.”

  “Damned if they do and damned if they don’t.”

  “That’s the farmer’s life. Everything hangs in the balance.”

  “Bloody shame. This farm would turn a profit, if they had the money to run it properly.”

  “Take care, my lord,” Cage said quietly. “It’s one thing to help out a pretty widow. Investing funds is another matter.”

  “I know, I know, but, dash it all, I want to help.”

  They drove the five found cows to rejoin the others, and the sight of Francesca’s relieved face when she saw the returned cows had Sebastian almost pledging money on the spot.

  “Found them just a few fields over,” Cage said. “Whoever did the stealing did a sloppy job. Or they just wanted to cause trouble.”

  “I’ll take an incompetent thief any day,” Sebastian said light heartedly and watched Francesca’s mouth quirk with a shadow of a smile.

  “I thank you,” she said. “We have almost all of the returned now.”

  “Señora,” Juan called, riding up to them. “Your brother in law, Diego Montoya, is here offering to help.”

  She shook her head. “We don’t need it.”

  A few minutes later, a tall, dark haired man, dark and dashing with stylish clothes came riding up with a small contingent of men.

  “Diego,” Francesca said. She sounded so tired.

  “Sister,” the man greeted her. “I fear I may have unwittingly caused this. Across the way, I had my men move the cattle, and they must have spooked and stampeded your herd. If you wish, we will look for them.”

  “Thank you for your generous offer, Diego, but we have it under control,” Francesca said.

  Keeping his head down, Sebastian moved closer to listen to the conversation.

  “We should work together. It makes no sense to divide our forces in this way.” Diego said. “I am the only family you have left.”

  When Diego had ridden away, Sebastian pushed his horse closer.

  “Is this common? Moving cattle in the middle of the night, causing a stampede?” he asked.

  Francesca shook her head.

  “Seems rather foolish business.” Sebastian watched the men pull the cows out of the water.

  “Diego is not stupid,” Francesca spoke softly. “He wants my land. If he cuts off the water supply, my crops will die. He thinks it’ll be easier to convince me to turn the farm and ranch over to him.”

  “Turn everything over to him? Would you do that?”

  “If I cannot keep the ranch afloat, I might have to.” She ran a hand over her face.

  “My lady, my men and I are at your disposal. Let me know what I can do to help.”

  “I am going to sweep the borders,” she said. “Ride with me?”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” he muttered to himself, then rebuked himself sternly. She was inviting him on a reconnaissance mission, not a tryst.

  She held herself with such formal poise, the passionate woman locked up tight. His hands itched to peel the layers from her. He knew just what to do to tease her out.

  But he kept the conversation clean, acting the perfect noble guest as they circled around her lands.

  He did crack jokes until he got a smile. Francesca seemed to loosen up after that.

  “Tell me about your family. The one you left in England.”

  “Not much to tell. Third son of a lord, fought like the dickens with my brothers, broke my mother’s heart. Father bought me a commission, I dallied about in a boat for some years before returning to the ton. My mother’s last wish, you see.”

  “Did she die?”

  “Yes, a few years ago.”

  “I am sorry to hear it. My mother passed when I was young. Perhaps they are together, watching down on us.”

  “I should hope not.”

  “She wouldn’t be proud of who you’ve become?”

  “Not terribly proud. I made quite a mess of things back in England. Father thought it best for me to come here. Make a man out of me.”

  They rode in silence for a time, stopping on the edge of Francesca’s land.

  “This is it.”

  “Beautiful. Quite a lot of responsibility.” He noticed her stiffen. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No,” she said. A few more minutes of riding and she confessed. “My father wanted a son.”

  “He told you this?”

  “Never. But I felt it all the same.”

  Sebastian spent the last minutes of their ride home contemplating how hard it was to please a father. Just outside the hacienda gate, Francesca dismounted and he followed suit, walking beside her to the stables.

  “Hot today,” he remarked.

  “We need a good rain,” Francesca said. “If this dry spell stretches on, I fear it will be a drought.”

  “I must say, those acequias are a good show.”

  “My husband helped design them. He was a smart man.”

  “You respected him.”

  “Oh yes. He was old enough to be my father.”

  “That man who approached…Montoya…”

  “Yes, Diego. He was Cyro’s brother. Younger by a few years.”

  “You don’t trust him.”

  Francesca blinked. “There is much history between us. Even as a boy, Diego was always a troublemaker. Never in sight of the adults, but he would pull the girls’ hair and make them cry. Then he grew up and made girls cry in other ways. His father had to give money to the family of one girl, and they sent her away.” She blew out a breath. “Diego is spoiled and selfish. Cyro was older than him by a few years, and acted as father, but it wasn’t enough. My husband told me he fixed too many problems for his young brother, out of guilt for leaving to serve in the military.”

  “He had his lot handed to him,” Sebastian observed. “And it turned him into a man who expects much and gives nothing.”

  Francesca nodded.

  “A lot of lords are like that,” Sebastian said. “Some would say I am.”

  “You do not seem that way to me.”

  It was Sebastian’s turn to blink in surprise.

  “You act foolish, but you mean well.” Francesca frowned. “I do not understand it all, but I believe that underneath you are a good man.”

  “Thank you, señora. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  She gave him a sharp look, as if she wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic.

  “Francesca,” Ana called from the kitchen door, waving.

  “I must go. I promised I would help her.”

  Sebastian took her horse’s reins. “I will feed and water her for you.”

  “Thank you, señor. For everything.”

  “A pleasure, my lady.” He tipped his hat in a foppish gesture.

  She rolled her eyes, then caught his hand before he could replace his hat.

  “You have been too long in the sun,” Francesca clucked. “You have a burn.”

  Sebastian startled when she reached up and laid a cool hand on h
is hot skin. Come to think of it, his face did feel tight.

  “Is it very bad?”

  “Just red.” She grinned, and he could almost guess her thoughts. Red as a birched bottom. “Come to the hacienda when you are done in the barn. I will have some salve for you.”

  *

  By the time he came in, she had already bathed, and met him in the kitchen. Dressed in a simple house dress and slippers on her feet, she was lovely to behold. Her wet hair was braided back, accentuating her dark eyes and polished cheeks.

  “Your bath is ready,” she said.

  “Where is Ana?” He’d grown used to the matronly woman serving as a chaperone.

  “Gone to mass. I will see to your needs tonight.”

  His eyebrows nearly shot up into his skull. Francesca gave him a wicked grin and turned. “Come. You stink.” After a few paces, she realized he wasn’t following, and shot him a challenging look.

  He took a deep breath and followed her, mesmerized by the soft sway of her hips. She led him to the alcove off the kitchen and the waiting tub, and waved him beyond the curtain. “Get in.”

  He started stripping, then paused with his fingers on his shirt buttons when Francesca returned, carrying a salve.

  “Hurry up. The water’s hot.” she motioned.

  His cock perked up but the rest of him hesitated. “Señora…it may not be wise for you to be here.”

  She stared at him with fathomless dark eyes. “I’m the mistress of this house. I take care of my guests.”

  Realizing he was on dangerous ground, he cast his fates to the wind and resumed unbuttoning his shirt. He took his time, but she waited, watching him, until he’d taken off everything but his trousers. She left with a look of triumph, and he sighed in relief, as if she’d thrown the gauntlet and then left before he had to pick it up.

  After lowering himself into the tub, he was halfway through the fastest bath of his life, when the curtain shook and Francesca returned, bearing several large cloths.

  “What are you doing?” He was surprised his voice didn’t squeak like a boy’s.

  “Lay this towel over the tub and I will scrub your back.”

  “My lady, that is not necessary.”

  “Do you have a valet?”

  “None of the men even know what that word means.”

  “Then I will be your valet for the evening.” She gestured, and he realized she wouldn’t take no for an answer. The thought of having her slender body bending over his body to wash him filled him with horror, if only because his cock loved the idea so much.

  “Señora De La Vega, please. We shouldn’t be alone.”

  “That did not stop you from baring my body in the forest.”

  So here was her revenge. She hadn’t forgotten her humiliation at his hands, she’d been watching and waiting for judgment day.

  “That was for a purpose…” he protested.

  “Whipping me? Tying me to a tree? You enjoyed it,” she said. “Admit it.”

  He was weighed in the balance and found wanting.

  She advanced, and he made one last protest. “My lady, I must protect your honor.”

  “My honor is mine to give or take as I please. My father tried to protect me, and my husband, and look where it got me.” There was a mad gleam in her eye as she came forward and draped a cloth over the bath for some sense of modesty. She couldn’t see anything but his torso, and she’d seen that before.

  She wet a cloth and started to wash him, and Sebastian settled in for the exquisite torture.

  He’d spent the last week teasing her, and he’d taken it too far. It was her turn to joust and she was proving able with the lance. His lance. He almost groaned at his awful joke.

  He wasn’t sure he’d survive.

  The washcloth moved over his shoulders a few times before he felt her lean closer.

  “Besides,” she whispered. “I would torture you as you punished me.”

  “This is punishment?” He fought to keep his voice cool, even as his cock screamed for release.

  “There are many forms of torture,” she purred. She finished with scrubbing his back and fetched the salve. Her fingers smeared it liberally over his reddened skin, stroking and caressing and giving relief.

  Sweet relief.

  “Does that feel good?”

  Sebastian couldn’t answer. He was in another world, one filled with steam and a dark eyed siren who waited for him to say the word.

  He blinked as Francesca paused, pushing back her hair sticking to her face and neck.

  “It is so hot in here,” she said, and pulled the thick mass of her hair over one shoulder. It brushed against him, setting his nerves aflame like a thousand pleasant needles.

  He was impossibly hard, his thoughts turned to mud. She moved away for a moment and he fought for sanity.

  What was she on about? For a young widow, she was remarkably world weary.

  “Señora…”

  Francesca returned to his side, and he faltered.

  “You are under a lot of strain, but you’ve managed admirably. Especially for one so young.”

  Her hand started to reach for the washcloth that had fallen into the water and he banged his knuckles on the side of the tub grabbing it for her.

  “Don’t throw away your honor for a lark.”

  “You think I am too young to know what I want?” She took the cloth and set it against his chest, slowly rubbing his muscles. “I was married for five years. I know what it is to please a man.”

  “You’re playing with fire.” His voice was hoarse, his whole body seared by the heat in her eyes.

  With a devious smile, she pushed her hand a little lower.

  He grabbed her wrist. His arousal pounded into his brain.

  “Stop. You don’t want what happens next.”

  “What will happen?”

  By Jove, she was trying to seduce him.

  She moved the sponge in small circles over his chest. “You intrigue me, Englishman.” She bit her lip and his arousal ratcheted up another notch. “I have tried and tried, and I cannot sate myself. I cannot stay away.”

  Sebastian sucked in a breath. He knew he was getting under her skin, but this was beyond anything he expected. “Francesca. You are grieving. This is not what you want. I will not take advantage of you in this state.” His dick screamed in protest even as he said the words.

  She tipped her body forward and the neckline of the chemise fell lower still, showing a wondrous cavern between her ample breasts.

  This was madness. He had to stop it.

  “No,” he said, rising in a cascade of water and grabbing the cloth to wrap around himself. The flying water forced her backwards, as she had to step back or get soaked.

  “You don’t know what you’re doing, señora.” He forced himself to sound cold. “I will not allow you to besmirch your honor any more than you already have.”

  Two bright spots appeared on her cheeks. He stepped out of the bath, putting as much distance between her and him.

  “You bastard,” she hissed, and followed with a torrent of angry Spanish. Cursing his cock and heritage, no doubt. He sighed as she stomped out, but not before he caught a shimmer of a tear in her eye.

  As the curtain closed, the force of her exit leaving the rod slightly askew, Sebastian wondered if he’d made a mistake.

  *

  Next morning, Ana greeted him as he entered the kitchen.

  “Señor Chivington, I have breakfast laid out for you and the men.”

  “Thank you, Ana.”

  Francesca came in from the garden with an apron full of cherries, which she dumped out into a bowl.

  “And perhaps if you ask the señora nicely, she will make some of her delicious cherry tarts for dinner. Her family’s recipe, though my Francesca makes them even better than her madre ever did, Dios rest her soul.”

  Before Sebastian opened his mouth, Francesca cut in.

  “You are too kind, Ana, but today I need to go to marke
t. I do not have time to make delicacies for our Lord Chivington’s fine palate. He will have to do with the usual foods, though they must seem like pig slop to him.”

  “Francesca!” Ana gaped at her young mistress as the dusky beauty shot daggers at Sebastian before flouncing out of the room. “Lord Chivington, I apologize—”

  “No need.” He waved a hand. “I was expecting it. We had a bit of a disagreement, and Señora De La Vega is just making her position clear.”

  Ana’s expression shifted from horrified shock to a knowing smile. “Of course, you are very wise to say that. I hope you will forgive our resident wild cat. She loves to flex her claws.”

  Sebastian couldn’t stop from grinning back. Francesca reminded him of just that—a half feral cat, affectionate one moment and spitting mad the next. He wondered what it would take to make her purr.

  Of course, he also wanted to ruffle her fur.

  After breakfast, he sauntered into the garden to find Señora De La Vega on her hands and knees, ripping weeds out of the beds.

  “I’ve said it before, but must say it again: you have a lovely garden here.” He strolled and examined the trees. “I love cherries. And tarts.” His eyes twinkled as he waited to see if she caught the naughty meaning of both words.

  “Your vulgar wit knows no bounds, milord.”

  “Francesca, when are you heading to market? I have a few things for you to pick up,” Ana called and came into the garden, wiping her hands on her apron. “Oh, Lord Chivington, there you are. I was just going to ask if you’d escort the señora. I do not want to impose, but with all the recent trouble I do not think it is safe for her to be alone.”

  “Of course, Ana. I also think that is wise, and I’d be happy to,” Sebastian said before Francesca could protest. The young woman glared at them both, then took the list Ana had made.

  “We leave now,” she said, picking up a basket and starting to walk towards the gate. After catching Ana’s wink, Sebastian hastened to follow.

  Sebastian’s long legs caught up to the angry señora.

  “You’re angry with me,” he said, biting back a laugh. She was even more lovely in anger, with a heaving bosom and flushed cheeks.

  “You are very observant. I hope stating the obvious isn’t too taxing.”

  “Now that’s not very nice, after I spent all week laboring for you, without expecting reward.”