Rancher's Wild Secret & Hold Me, Cowboy (Gold Valley Vineyards Book 1)

by Maisey Yates

  Hunger lit his gaze and affirmed what she already knew to be true in her heart. He wanted her.

  He hated it.

  There was something so deliciously wicked about the contrast.

  About this control she had over him even now.

  A spark flamed inside her stomach.

  He doesn’t approve of this, or of you. But he can’t help himself.

  She arched her hips upward unconsciously, seeking some kind of satisfaction.

  It was so much more arousing than it had any right to be. This moment of triumph.

  Because it was private. Because it was secret.

  Emerson lived for appearances.

  She had been prepared to marry a man for those appearances.

  And yet, this moment with Holden was about nothing more than the desire between two people. That he resented their connection? That only made it all feel stronger, hotter.

  He removed his clothes completely as he approached the bed.

  She looked down at her own body, realizing she was still wearing her bra and panties, her high heels.

  “You like me like this,” she whispered.

  “I like you any way I can get you,” he said, his voice low and filled with gravel.

  “You like this, don’t you? You had so much commentary on me wanting to slum it with a ranch hand. I think you like something about having a rich girl. Though, now I don’t know why.”

  “Is there any man on earth who doesn’t fantasize about corrupting the daughter of his enemy?”

  “Did you corrupt me? I must’ve missed the memo.”

  “If I haven’t yet, honey, then it’s going to be a long night.” He scooted her up the mattress, and lifted her arms, looping them back over her head, around one of the posts on the bed frame. Her hands parted, the leather from the belt stretching tight over the furniture, holding her fast. “At my mercy,” he said.

  He took his time with her then.

  Took her high heels off her feet slowly, kissing her ankle, her calf, the inside of her thigh. Then he teased the edges of her underwear before pulling them down slowly, kissing her more intimately. He traveled upward, to her breasts, teasing her through the lace before removing the bra and casting it to the floor. And then he stood back, as if admiring his hard work.

  “As fun as this is,” he said, “I want your hands on me.”

  She could take her own hands out of the belt, but she refused. Refused to break the fiction that had built between the two of them.

  So she waited. Waited as he slowly, painstakingly undid the belt and made a show of releasing her wrists. Her entire body pulsed with need for him. And thankfully, it was Vegas, so there were condoms on the bedside table.

  He took care of the necessities, quickly, and then joined her on the bed, pinning her down on the mattress.

  She smiled up at him, lifting her hand and tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertip. “Let’s go for a ride,” she whispered.

  He growled, gripped her hips and held her steady as he entered her in one smooth stroke.

  She gasped at the welcome invasion, arching against his body as he tortured them both mercilessly, drove them both higher than she thought she could stand.

  And when she looked into his eyes, she saw the man she had been with that first night, not a rich stranger.

  Holden.

  His last name didn’t matter. It didn’t matter where he was from. What was real was this.

  And she knew it, because their desire hadn’t changed, even if their circumstances had. If anything, their desire had sharpened, grown in intensity.

  And she believed with her whole soul that what they’d shared in his bed had never been about manipulating her.

  Because the intensity was beyond them. Beyond sex in a normal sense, so much deeper. So much more terrifying.

  She took advantage of her freedom. In every sense of the word.

  The freedom of her hands to explore every ridge of muscle on his back, down his spine, to his sculpted ass.

  And the freedom of being in this moment. A moment that had nothing to do with anything except need.

  This...this benefited no one. In fact, it was a short road off a cliff, but that hadn’t stopped either of them.

  They couldn’t stop.

  He lowered his head, growling again as he thrust into her one last time, his entire body shaking with his release.

  And she followed him over the edge.

  She let out a hoarse cry, digging her fingernails into his skin as she crested that wave of desire over and over again.

  She didn’t think it would end.

  She thought she might die.

  She thought she might not mind, if this was heaven, between the sheets with him.

  And when her orgasm passed, she knew she was going to have to deal with the fact that he was her husband.

  With the reality of what her father would think.

  With Holden, her father’s enemy, owning a share in the winery.

  But those realizations made her head pound and her heart ache.

  And she would rather focus on the places where her body burned with pleasure.

  Tomorrow would come soon enough, and there would be documents to fax and sign, and they would have to fly back to Oregon.

  But that was all for later.

  And Emerson had no desire to check her phone. No desire to have any contact with the outside world.

  No desire to take a picture to document anything.

  Because none of this could be contained in a pithy post. None of it could even be summed up in something half so coherent as words.

  The only communication they needed was between their bodies.

  Tomorrow would require words. Explanations. Probably recriminations.

  But tonight, they had this.

  And so Emerson shut the world out, and turned to him.

  Eleven

  By the time he and his new wife were on a plane back to Oregon, Emerson was looking sullen.

  “It’s possible he’ll know what happened by the time we get there,” she said.

  “But you’re confident there’s nothing he can do to stop it?”

  She looked at him, prickles of irritation radiating off her. A sharp contrast to the willing woman who had been in his bed last night.

  “Why do you care? It works out for you either way.”

  “True. But it doesn’t work out particularly well for you.”

  “And you care about that?”

  “I married you.”

  “Yeah, I still don’t really get that. What exactly do you think is going to happen now?”

  “We’ll have a marriage. Why not?”

  “You told me you didn’t believe in marriage.”

  “I also told you I was a ranch hand.”

  “Have you been married before?” She frowned.

  “No. Would it matter if I had?”

  “In a practical sense, obviously nothing is a deal breaker, since I’m already married to you, for the winery. So no. But yes. Actually, it does.”

  “Never been married. No kids.”

  “Dammit,” she said. “It didn’t even occur to me that you might have children.”

  “Well, I don’t.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Do you want to have some?”

  The idea should horrify him. But for some reason, the image of Emerson getting round with his baby didn’t horrify him at all. In fact, the side effect of bringing her into his plans pleased him in ways he couldn’t quite articulate.

  The idea of simply ruining James Maxfield had been risky. Because there was every chance that no matter how hard Holden tried there would be no serious blowback for the man who had harmed Holden’s sister the way that he had.

 
Wealthy men tended to be tougher targets than young women. Particularly young women who traded on the image of their beauty.

  Not that Holden wasn’t up to the task of trying to ruin the man.

  Holden was powerful in his own right, and he was ruthless with it.

  But there was something deeply satisfying about owning a piece of his enemy’s legacy. And not only that, he got James’s precious daughter in the bargain.

  This felt right.

  “I can’t believe that you’re suggesting we...”

  “You wanted children, right?”

  “I... Yes.”

  “So, it’s not such an outrageous thought.”

  “You think we’re going to stay married?”

  “You didn’t sign a prenuptial agreement, Emerson. You leave me, I still get half of your shares of the vineyard.”

  “You didn’t sign one either. I have the impression half of what’s yours comes out to an awful lot of money.”

  “Money is just money. I’ll make more. I don’t have anything I care about half as much as you care about the vineyard. About the whole label.”

  “Well, why don’t we wait to discuss children until I decide how much I hate you.”

  “You hate me so much you climbed on me at least five times last night.”

  “Yes, and in the cold light of day that seems less exciting than it did last night. The chemistry between us doesn’t have anything to do with...our marriage.”

  “It has everything to do with it,” he said, his tone far darker and more intense than he’d intended it to be.

  “What? You manufactured this chemistry so we could...”

  “No. The marriage made sense because of our chemistry. I was hardly going to let you walk away from me and marry another man, Emerson. Let him get his hands on your body when he has had all this time? He’s had the last two years and he did nothing? He doesn’t deserve you. And your father doesn’t get to use you as a pawn.”

  “My father...”

  “He’s not a good man. Whether you believe me or not, it’s true. But I imagine that when we impart the happy news to him today... You can make that decision for yourself.”

  “Thanks. But I don’t need your permission to make my own decisions about my father or anything else.”

  But the look on her face was something close to haunted, and if he were a man prone to guilt, he might feel it now. They landed not long after, and his truck was there, still where he’d left it.

  When they paused in front of it, she gave it a withering stare. “This thing is quite the performance.”

  It was a pretty beat-up truck. But it was genuinely his.

  “It’s mine,” he said.

  “From when?”

  “Well, I got it when I was about...eighteen. So going on fifteen years ago.”

  “I don’t even know how old you are. I mean, I do now, because I can do math. But really, I don’t know anything about you, Holden.”

  “Well, I’ll be happy to give you the rundown after we meet with your father.”

  “Well, looking forward to all that.”

  She was still wearing her dress from last night. He had found a replacement shirt in the hotel shop before they’d left, and it was too tight on his shoulders and not snug enough in the waist. When they arrived at the winery and entered the family’s estate together, he could only imagine the picture they made.

  Him in part of a tux, and her in last night’s gown.

  “Is my father in his study yet?” she questioned one of the first members of the household staff who walked by.

  “Yes,” the woman said, looking between Emerson and him. “Shall I see if he’s receiving visitors?”

  “He doesn’t really have a choice,” Holden said. “He’ll make time to see us.”

  He took Emerson’s hand and led her through the house, their footsteps loud on the marble floors. And he realized as they approached the office, what a pretentious show this whole place was.

  James Maxfield wasn’t that different from Holden. A man from humble beginnings hell-bent on forging a different path. But the difference between James and Holden was that Holden hadn’t forgotten where he’d come from. He hadn’t forgotten what it was to be powerless, and he would never make anyone else feel that kind of desperation.

  James seemed to enjoy his position and all the power that came with it.

  You don’t enjoy it? Is that why you’re standing here getting ready to walk through that door with his daughter and make him squirm? Is that why you forced Emerson to marry you?

  He pushed those thoughts aside. And walked into the office without knocking, still holding tightly to Emerson.

  Her father looked up, looked at him and then at Emerson. “What the hell is this?” he asked.

  “I...”

  “A hostile takeover,” Holden said. “You ruined my sister’s life. And now I’m here to make yours very, very difficult. And only by your daughter’s good grace am I leaving you with anything other than a smoldering pile of wreckage. Believe me when I say it’s not for your sake. But for the innocent people in your family who don’t deserve to lose everything just because of your sins.”

  “Which sins are those?”

  “My sister. Soraya Jane.”

  The silence in the room was palpable. Finally, James spoke.

  “What is it you intend to do?”

  “You need to guard your office better. I know you think this house isn’t a corporation so you don’t need high security, but you’re such a damned narcissist you didn’t realize you’d hired someone who was after the secrets you keep in your home. And now I have them. And thanks to Emerson, I now have a stake in this winery too. You can contest the marriage and my ownership, but it won’t end well for you. It might not be my first choice now, but I’m still willing to detonate everything if it suits me.”

  James Maxfield’s expression remained neutral, and his focus turned to his daughter.

  “Emerson,” her father said, “you agreed to this? You are allowing him to blackmail us?”

  “What choice did I have?” she asked, a thread of desperation in her voice. “I trust you, Dad. I do. But he planned to destroy us. Whether his accusations are true or not, that was his intent. He gave me no time, and he didn’t give me a lot of options. This marriage was the only way I could salvage what we’ve built, because he was ready to wage a campaign against you, against our family, at any cost. He was going to come at us personally and professionally. I couldn’t take any chances. I couldn’t. I did what I had to do. I did what you would have done, I’m sure. I did what needed doing.”

  “You were supposed to marry Donovan,” James said, his tone icy.

  “I know,” Emerson said. “But what was I supposed to do when the situation changed? This man...”

  “Have you slept with him?”

  Emerson drew back, clearly shocked that her father had asked her that question. “I don’t understand what that has to do with anything.”

  “It certainly compromises the purity of your claims,” James returned. “You say you’ve been blackmailed into this arrangement, but if you’re in a relationship with him...”

  “Did you sleep with his sister?” she asked. “All those... All those other women in the files. Did you... Did you cheat on Mom?”

  “Emerson, there are things you don’t need to know about, and things you don’t understand. My relationship with your mother works, even if it’s not traditional.”

  “You did.” She lowered her voice to a near whisper. “His sister. She’s younger than me.”

  “Emerson...”

  Holden took a step toward James’s desk. “Men like you always think it won’t come back on you. You think you can take advantage of women who are young, who are desperate, and no one will come for you. But I am here for you. Thi
s empire of yours? It serves me now. Your daughter? She’s mine too. And if you push me, I swear I will see it all ruined and everyone will know what you are. How many people do you think will come here for a wedding, or parties, then? What of the brand worldwide? Who wants to think about sexual harassment, coercion and the destruction of a woman young enough to be your daughter when they have a sip of your merlot?”

  Silence fell, tense and hard between them.

  “The brand is everything,” James said finally. “I’ve done everything I can to foster that family brand, as has your mother. What we do in private is between us.”

  “And the gag order you had my sister sign, and all those other women? Soraya has been institutionalized because of all of this. Because of the fallout. And she might have signed papers, but I did not. And now I don’t need to tell the world about your transgressions to have control over what you’ve built. And believe me, in the years to come, I will make your life hell.” Holden leaned forward, placing his palms on the desk. “Emerson was your pawn. You were going to use her as a wife to the man you wanted as part of this empire. But Emerson is with me now. She’s no longer yours.”

  “Emerson is right here,” Emerson said, her voice vibrating with emotion. “And frankly, I’m disgusted by the both of you. I don’t belong to either of you. Dad, I did what I had to do to save the vineyard. I did it because I trusted you. I trusted that Holden’s accusations were false. But you did all of this, didn’t you?”

  “It was an affair,” James said. “It looks to me like you are having one of your own, so it’s a bit rich for you to stand in judgment of me.”

  “I hadn’t made vows to Donovan. And I never claimed to love him. He also knows...”

  “Your mother knows,” James said. “The terms of a marriage are not things you discuss with your children. You clearly have the same view of relationships that I do, and here you are lecturing me.”

  “It’s not the same,” she said. “And as for you,” she said, turning to Holden. “I married you because it was the lesser of two evils. But that doesn’t make me yours. You lied to me. You made me believe you were someone you weren’t. You’re no different from him.”