by Becca Van
Gold Lust
Lacy Tanner buries her father and a month later leaves the only home she’s ever known to search the Ballarat Goldfields for her brother, Craig.
Chet Harland, Will Lesley, Kenton Grady and Walker Doyle arrive on the scene of a stagecoach hold up and rescue Lacy from the clutches of a band of notorious bushrangers.
Lacy can’t believe she is attracted to the four men and although they want her to stay in their home, she knows it’s inappropriate and wants to find work. The men put their foot down and advise her of the dangers a woman alone would face from the wild men mining the goldfields.
Lacy has always dreamed of having love from the man she marries and is unsure the four men she is in a relationship with will ever feel that way about her. Will Lacy make the right choice?
Genre: Historical, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Western/Cowboys
Length: 46,394 words
GOLD LUST
Becca Van
MENAGE EVERLASTING
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
GOLD LUST
Copyright © 2015 by Becca Van
E-book ISBN: 978-1-63259-292-7
First E-book Publication: April 2015
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2015 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
About the Author
GOLD LUST
BECCA VAN
Copyright © 2015
Prologue
Lacy Tanner gasped when she heard the stagecoach driver shout at the horses and then she heard the flick of the reins and the coach lurched forward. She reached up and grabbed hold of the strap handle, clinging to it as the conveyance picked up speed. The whole thing rocked from side to side and bounced over ruts in the road, making her bottom bounce on the unforgiving, worn seat. It hurt like the dickens and she was sure she would end up with bruised buttocks by journey’s end.
“What is that insufferable man trying to prove?” Lacy muttered and shifted closer to the curtained window. She was about to move the curtain aside, stick her head out of the opening, and give the driver a piece of her mind, but just as she pushed the covering apart, a loud report, which sounded like a gunshot, echoed in the air.
The driver yelled out something but she couldn’t hear what he said over the loud beat of the pounding horse’s hooves. The coach lurched to the side and it felt like her shoulder was wrenched from its socket as her body went sliding across the seat. When she managed to get her feet underneath her, she used the hold she still had on the handle to haul herself back to the window and just as she stuck her head out of the opening, she saw the driver fall from his seat to the ground. Lacy screamed, but she wasn’t sure if she was screaming for the driver or the fact that she was in a whole lot of danger. Her racing mind suspected both. At least the driver hadn’t fallen under the coach wheels, but she gasped in horror when she suspected the man had been shot and that was the reason he’d fallen.
The horses galloped along, pulling the stage with them, but now that there was no driver they could run in any direction they wished. Lacy prayed that there were no gullies in the direct path the horses were taking the stagecoach, and her.
She was debating on whether she should try and climb out onto the roof of the coach and make her way to the driver’s seat so she could stop the horse’s wild gallop, when she heard more pounding horse’s hooves from behind. Lacy turned her head and her fast-beating heart hitched before drumming hard in her chest again. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled when she saw a band of three men chasing after the wayward coach.
At first she was relieved, but as the men got closer and she saw how dirty and unkempt they were, she got scared all over again. Their hats were pulled low over onto their foreheads and they had pieces of cloth tied around the lower halves of their faces. When she saw that all three of the men had pistols in their hands, Lacy realised the driverless coach was the least of her worries. It looked like she was about to be robbed by bushrangers and there wasn’t a darn thing she could do to stop them.
With an agility she never knew she had, Lacy ducked back inside, rose to her feet, keeping her knees bent as she tried to keep her balance, and reached up to the rack and pulled her reticule down. She literally fell back into her seat and she jerked the reticule onto her lap. She opened the bag, dug around inside for the small embroidered purse which held all of her money, and then stuffed it down into her corset, between her breasts. When she looked down she saw that the purse made her chest bulge between her breasts. Luckily for her she’d put on the only
corset she had that did up in the front that morning and after undoing the fastenings on the front of her shirt, she loosened the strings on her corset, adjusting the purse so it fit in between her breasts, tightened the strings, and then did her shirt up again.
When she realised the horses’ hooves sounded closer and she didn’t have time to put her reticule back up in the rack, she closed the bag and after taking careful aim, she threw it up. It landed in the rack just as one of the bushrangers drew level with the window.
She pushed herself away from that side of the seat to the other, but when she turned to peer out of that window there was another man riding alongside. Lacy wanted to move to the middle of the seat, but when the man turned and met her gaze she froze with fear. The look in his eyes sent chills racing up and down her spine. She’d never seen a more cold, calculated stare in her life, and even though she wanted to break away from the visual connection, she couldn’t seem to drag her eyes away from those piercing green orbs.
She heard a thud on the roof and looked up even though she couldn’t see through the wood, and was able to draw in a ragged breath now that she wasn’t looking into those piercing green eyes anymore. Footsteps sounded and she realised the third man in the band of bushrangers was walking over the roof of the coach to get to the driver’s seat.
It seemed to take him forever, but also scant seconds later she heard the low pitch of a loud masculine voice calling “whoa” to the horses, and then the coach started to slow. It wasn’t a very hot day but Lacy was sweating up a storm and if she hadn’t been sitting down she wasn’t sure her legs would be able to hold her weight since she was trembling so harshly.
Finally the coach came to a stop and it was only then that she remembered the Colt 51 Navy revolver, which had been her father’s. She’d stuffed into the pocket of her skirt. She wasn’t sure if she were brave enough to point and shoot that pistol at the bushrangers, but if she did she would have to make sure she could get away after using it, because she would probably end up with a bullet in her from one of the other bushrangers if she fired first.
Lacy placed her hand over the pocket of her skirt and sighed with relief at the familiar shape of the pistol against her leg and beneath her hand. She was going to have to try and keep her wits about her but knew that was going to be hard since she was scared out of her mind.
The door to the conveyance was pulled open and her heart flipped in her chest when she met those emotionless, cold green eyes once more. Sweat trickled down her back and between her breasts and she exhaled raggedly.
“Come on out, little lady,” Green-Eyes ordered.
Although she didn’t want to venture from the relative safety of the vehicle she knew she had no choice. Plus, the safety of the coach was an illusion since the man lifted his own pistol and pointed it at her. He could pull the trigger anytime he wanted and her life would be snuffed out in the blink of an eye.
Lacy pushed up on shaky legs and only just held back her sneer of disdain when the bushranger offered his hand to her to help her out of the coach. She ignored his overture, stuck her chin in the air, and sniffed with contempt.
Green-Eyes seemed to find her condescension amusing because he guffawed, but when she looked back up into his eyes after she stood outside the conveyance, they were still as cold as ever. When he lifted his hand as if to touch her she shuffled sideways and out of his reach.
“Check her bags,” Green-Eyes ordered.
Lacy stood stiffly and tried not to show the men how frightened she was. Her papa’s quiet, gentle voice seemed to echo through her mind. Never show your fear, Lacy girl. If people know you’re afraid they can and probably will use that against you. Some take great joy in harrowing others just for the he-heck of it.
She watched as one of the rangers climbed onto the coach roof, and after untying her trunk from the moorings, lifted it easily and then threw it to the ground. She wanted to rail at the miscreant to be careful of her worldly possessions but bit her tongue instead and pushed her chin up another notch. The trunk lid had flown open, and sitting right on the very top of her clothing were several pairs of pantaloons and two more corsets. Her chemises were underneath those and then the few dresses, skirts, and shirts she owned. She felt her face flame with embarrassment, but she tried not to react when the man on the roof jumped down and began pawing through her things.
The other man had climbed into the conveyance and came back out with her reticule. If she could have sighed with relief about her hidden money, she would have, but that would give her away, so she swallowed the sound back down.
“Nothin’.” The man rifling through her clothes almost spat the word out.
“What about you?” Green-Eyes asked the ranger pulling things from her reticule.
“Nothing worth any value.”
“Damn it to fucking hell,” Green-Eyes cursed before stomping away in a temper.
Lacy was horrified over the foul language but hoped that since they couldn’t find any money that they would get on their horses and ride away, but she should have known these types of men didn’t work that way. Green-Eyes spun around and glared at her and then he was stalking toward her with what looked like malicious intent.
“Where is the gold?”
“I–I don’t kn–know.”
“When was the last stop?” Green-Eyes reached out and grasped her upper arms in a punishing grip.
Lacy winced, certain she would have his hard fingers imprinted into her skin from his bruising hold.
“Bacchus Marsh,” Lacy gasped out as Green-Eyes squeezed her brutally and then her back slammed into the side of the coach when he shoved her away.
“Those arseholes have changed the deposit station. They were supposed to have taken it to Ballarat,” the man who’d thrown her trunk from the roof of the coach, and with the red bandana around the lower half of his face, said in a low harsh voice.
“It’s like they knew we was comin’.” The ranger who’d emptied her reticule wearing a dirty grey shirt spat onto the ground.
“We’s can take ‘er. She be a pretty little thing. We’s can sell her to one of them mining camps.” Red-Bandana eyed her up and down.
Lacy looked away from his lecherous gaze and tried to contain her shiver of revulsion. Her stomach lurched and she drew in a deep breath, trying to combat the biliousness roiling in her belly.
Although she was a virgin, she wasn’t naïve and knew exactly what he’d meant. She shoved her hand into her pocket and wrapped it around the comforting shape of her papa’s pistol. There wasn’t any doubt in her mind she wouldn’t come out of this situation unscathed, but if she was about to die she would go down fighting.
“A whorehouse would be better.” Green-Eyes licked his lips as her perused her up and down. “Virgins are worth a lot of money.”
Lacy shifted on her feet so that she was standing side on to Green-Eyes. If she had to shoot, he would be the one she aimed at first. She lifted the gun until the barrel was pointing in his direction and placed her thumb on the hammer in preparation of cocking it.
Just as Green-Eyes took a step toward her, he stopped and tilted his head as if listening. Lacy tried to hear what he was listening for but her heart was thundering in her ears and she couldn’t hear anything but the beat of her own heart.
“Shit. Get to the horses,” Green-Eyes yelled.
He and his men turned and ran toward their mounts. Lacy wondered what was going on but was glad the bushrangers were moving away from her. She cocked her pistol and kept it at the ready, uncertain for her safety, and watched as the slovenly men mounted up. They nudged their horses and her knees almost buckled with relief when they moved further away from her and she leaned against the side of the coach so she wouldn’t fall to the ground. She uncocked the gun so she wouldn’t accidentally shoot herself and drew in deep, ragged breaths.
And then she saw the reason for the bushrangers’ retreat. Four big men were galloping toward them on huge horses and they, from what she coul
d see, had guns in their hands.
Lacy’s trembling on the inside became harsher and she actually began to shake on the outside. Just as she thought she was going to get out of this alive, Green-Eyes turned his horse around and raced toward her. She barely had time to draw a breath before his hard, muscular arm wrapped around her waist and snatched her from the ground. How he’d managed that feat, she wasn’t sure, since her back had been against the side of the wooden coach. She screamed as loudly as she could, hoping the men thundering toward her and the bushrangers were honourable, and that they had seen her, but she wasn’t sure since they had looked so intently as the dishevelled band. Her scream was cut off when her buttocks landed on the front of the hard saddle and her abductor’s thighs. If she’d had the breath left in her lungs to groan, she would have because her leg had scraped against the pommel with bruising force.
She shifted until she wasn’t in danger of falling off the mount and carefully inched her hand into the right pocket of her skirt. It looked like she was going to have to shoot after all. Grey-Shirt and Red-Bandana turned in their saddles, lifted their arms, and took aim. They both seemed to fire their pistols simultaneously, yet the reports echoed one after the other. Since she and Green-Eyes were still behind them, Lacy braced herself, expecting to be hit with a bullet but opened them again when she didn’t feel any pain.
There was no return gunfire and for that she was grateful, because if the men chasing them did fire back she might just end up getting shot. And as that thought coalesced, Lacy knew it was up to her.
Taking a deep breath and steeling herself for what she was about to do, she re-cocked and then pointed the gun in her pocket toward Green-Eyes’s stomach, closed her eyes, and squeezed the trigger.
