The Merry Widow of Tanner's Ford (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Reece Butler

  “I can protect you better if you do what you’re told.”

  “Protect me from what? Are there going to be poisonous snakes or bears where we’ll be dancing?”

  He frowned at her broad sarcasm. “It’s easy to know snakes and bears in the wild because they don’t hide who they are, and warn you of their presence. But humans are worse, hiding their reality behind smiles and money. I’ve learned to sense them. Have you?”

  Ted had hidden his slimy ways behind smiles and money, and she’d been caught. Back then she’d been in her own area. She didn’t know the people here, their traditions, or how what they thought was acceptable would make her cringe.

  She dropped her eyes, shaking her head. He sighed and rested his chin on the top of her head.

  “Will you trust me tonight, and do what I say?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes.” It sounded so reasonable, and was only for tonight.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  He chuckled, which made her look up. With his strong chin and chiseled nose he would never be taken for a weak man.

  “What’s funny about it?”

  “I’ve never had a woman to show off.”

  “Me?” She gaped at him. “I’m wearing someone else’s old clothes and boots, I have a scar across my face. I like to dance but I don’t even know one country singer’s music, much less how to dance to it!”

  “I like how fill your clothes. I don’t give a damn about your scar, or that you’re wearing what you have. And,” he added with a wink, “I’m a good dancer, so you’ll learn real quick. And if you don’t, I’ll just hold you tighter.”

  “I’ll step on your feet. That might hurt.”

  He chuckled and tossed her in the air. She squawked, but he easily caught her again. “You barely weigh a buck ten. I’m double that. A few toe stompings won’t hurt me. Especially when the prettiest woman in the room is on my arm.”

  She scowled. “How can you say that when you don’t even know who’s going to be there?”

  He shrugged, eyes and white teeth shining from his dark face.

  “You’re my woman. That says it all.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Lance drove with one palm resting on the wheel. The last time he felt this good he’d just helped a very expensive thoroughbred deliver a rare set of foals. The owner had been worried he’d lose all three animals but had trusted Lance’s word. Both colts had grown well, and were winning their fair share of races.

  He wanted to help the sweet woman steaming beside him deliver their children. Her scent had already fused itself into his brain. He could track her with his eyes closed by following that sweetly enticing scent. A quick glance confirmed her arms were still crossed, her lips jammed together, and she looked out the side window rather than chance looking at him. He sensed that she was more uncertain of herself than angry at him. Either way, she was aroused.

  So was he, and it hurt like hell. Forty years old and one look at Marci and he was ready to explode like a fourteen-year-old feeling up a girl for the first time. He’d had women, carefully chosen ones who knew the score and wanted to share comfort and enjoyment without permanence. None had affected him as much as the feisty little fox beside him.

  “Done much dancing?” he asked.

  He’d talked more tonight than he had all winter. He wasn’t a man for words, but he’d make the effort for Marci. Tonight would determine if she would bond with them, choosing to give herself to them, or not. He had to make it clear what he expected, and he had to learn what she wanted. As long as her needs didn’t contradict his, there would be no issue. She was complicated enough, and strong enough, that he expected a few issues to emerge.

  “Not in public. My dead husband did not care to be touched. Nor did he want other men touching me.”

  He got the implication that she didn’t want him to touch her, either. But he knew from the simmering heat blossoming from between her legs and her breasts that she was lying to herself. It was a case of protesting too much. She’d put enough frost in her voice to kill half the wildflowers blooming in the ditch.

  His understanding was that the man Marci married had tried to destroy her. If he wasn’t already dead, Lance would have been tempted to take care of it.

  “Did you kill him?”

  He couldn’t have said why he asked the question. Things came to him. Usually he could hold the thought back but this time it escaped. Her head whipped around. She gasped, her eyes wide.

  “Simon told you that?”

  He felt waves of terror flow across the seat. If he was reading her right, she believed she had done it.

  “Nope. I felt it coming from you.”

  He crooked up the right corner of his mouth to reassure her. He’d been told he smiled like a hungry buzzard but he kept trying when it was important. Marci was important.

  “You felt it? How?”

  “My ancestors taught me to accept it without questioning the why or how. Some call it intuition.”

  She blinked at him for a moment, then faced forward. He felt her terror ease. Was it his smile, or his explanation? Not that it was much of one, since few outsiders believed in such things. Most people refused to sense what could be there, preferring to see what was easy to accept.

  “I contributed to it,” she finally said, mumbling into her chest. “If I hadn’t defended myself, my ashes would be filling a hole in the ground, rather than Ted’s.”

  “That would have been a great pity. You are an intelligent woman with much to give. Climax will benefit from having you here, whether you marry or not.”

  “At least you didn’t say I was pretty, as if that was all that matters.”

  “You’re not pretty.” He waited for her to turn to him in surprise. “Pretty is like a flower that blooms for a day, and then fades. You have an inner beauty, one that improves with age.” He turned to her. “You’ll get wrinkles and age spots if you’re blessed to live that long. But they’re like colorful lichen growing on mountain rocks. They add to the beauty rather than mar the surface.”

  She looked at him for a moment before answering. “You have an interesting way of looking at things. I don’t know if it’s a good thing that I understand, and agree with you.”

  “Life, if embraced fully and with a clear heart, brings wisdom and depth of character. You’ve lived through sorrow. It’s given you a perspective that those who’ve only known joy, cannot appreciate. You can now choose to accept joy.”

  “You figure a pair of MacDougals will bring me this joy?”

  A laugh, rough and rare, broke past his usual barriers. She gave him a brisk nod, forcing him to acknowledge she’d won a point. He liked that she pushed back, questioning with humor and intelligence. She suited him well. A meek woman would never challenge him, making him work to keep his position.

  He would choose to grow old with this woman. He would do whatever necessary for Marci to find him, and Simon, worthy of sharing her life.

  He waited, letting things come to him while giving her time to relax and accept him. There was just the two of them, surrounded by the cool dark of a moonless spring night. He felt her tension ease. He didn’t need more than his eyes to know that, as her body language relaxed. She slouched in the seat and set her right boot on the glove box.

  “I hear you desperately need a son,” she said, her tone challenging him. “Aren’t you afraid that a woman accused of murdering her husband might do the same to you, or your children?”

  “I’m not afraid of anything, Marci.”

  He liked the way her name flowed over his tongue. He was sure he’d like the way she tasted even more, but that was for later. Much later, unfortunately.

  “You being so big and strong is an advantage. People like me know a lot about fear.”

  She flung the words at him like bullets. He didn’t mind. She would not be attacking him this way if she feared him, or if she was uninterested.

  “Size doesn’t matter as much as smarts, and fear is
useless,” he replied. “I either do, or do not. Worrying about it serves no purpose.”

  “Lucky you,” she shot back. “A million dollars and some very good lawyers might keep you out of prison. Your size and strength would protect you if you ended up there. I don’t have any of those advantages. All I have is a sister.”

  She slumped sideways, once more looking into the night.

  “Not anymore,” he replied softly. “No matter what happens, you have me and Simon. Donny, Keith, and Aggie are singing your praises as well. The rest of the valley will follow, given time.”

  “Not unless I give in to you like a submissive slave. And I won’t do that again!”

  She’d tightened up again. He needed to work this out with her before they got to town. He slowed the truck to a crawl and turned up a side road to the Double Diamond’s hot spring.

  “Where are we going?”

  Lance stopped the truck before the front wheels touched the cattle grid. Tension climbed when he turned off the ignition and undid his seatbelt. He rolled the window down and let in the night sounds and smells. He felt Marci’s concern and confusion, but it wasn’t at a high level. She was more curious than fearful. He turned his ugly face to her. Only when he was with his father’s people did he feel as if he fit in, or with animals. They didn’t care about his Indian features. He wasn’t sure where this would lead, but it had to be said.

  “Do you trust me?”

  “To do what?”

  He’d expected a “why should I?” type of question. But Marci wasn’t like any woman he’d met. Considering the past, that was a good thing. He looked her in the eyes. She looked back without fear or revulsion. The dome light faded, leaving them in the dark.

  “To keep you safe, even from yourself,” he said quietly into the night. “To give you what I know you need, even when you demand something else.”

  The slight hitch in her breathing suggested she realized he wasn’t talking about what type of stereo to buy. He looked out the window, giving her time and space to think. Far in the distance came the welcoming howl of a wolf pack. His life as a rancher did not mesh well with his desire to see them run free. But everything in life had a price. One common price of freedom was an earlier death. But the life could be far richer than mere survival. He hoped Marci would choose freedom and passion over mediocrity.

  “Those are pretty words.” She spoke out of the dark, quiet and demanding. “But what do they really mean?”

  “I want a harmonious relationship between me, Simon, and our woman. I want that woman to be you, Marci. We will solve our problems and issues together, but I will be in control.”

  Lance turned his whole body toward Marci. He slid across the seat and took her warm hand. Her breath caught, then sped up. She did not pull away.

  “My woman will choose to obey me,” he said. “She will agree to be controlled by me because she finds it comforting, and safe.” He lifted her palm to his mouth. His kiss was soft, purposely delicate. “She finds giving herself to me empowering because, deep inside, she knows it is what she wants.”

  He repeated the kiss on her wrist where her pulse beat rapidly. Though he could see her fairly well, he doubted her vision was as clear in the night. He lightly nipped her thumb before sucking it into his mouth. While she concentrated on that, he brushed the back of his hand over her breast. Her nipple was erect and hard, so he caught it between two of his fingers and squeezed. A soft moan filled the truck.

  “And,” he added softly, “she finds it arousing that she never knows how, or when, or where I will demand her sexually. What do you say to that, Marci? Is it a life you could accept?”

  The sound of her rough breathing filled the truck as he gently massaged her breast.

  “Of course,” he whispered into her ear, “it’s essential that we be sexually compatible. Let’s test that before you answer.”

  He moved slowly, giving her time to refuse if she wished. But she waited, mouth slightly open, as he came closer. Her hand reached up, so he stopped. But instead of pushing him away, she grasped his shirt and tugged.

  Taking that as a strong “yes,” he slid his hand behind her neck, under all that glorious hair, and held her still. It was a gentle warning that he was in charge. When his lips touched hers she melted, opening fully for him. He teased her with his tongue as he massaged her neck. He dropped his other hand between her thighs. A bit of pressure, and she opened her legs for him. He stroked her clit through her jeans, his finger moving in time with his tongue. Her scent drifted to his nose. He finally pulled back, resting his hand on her thigh, his forehead on hers, as they gasped to breathe.

  After a moment he chuckled. “We seem to be compatible.”

  He followed the comment with a kiss to her forehead before returning to his side of the truck. He felt the pain of a hard cock needing release from snug jeans. He needed to plunge deep into Marci’s heat, and again and again, until she screamed. Only then would he bellow his triumph. But not now. Not until she freely gave herself to him, knowing it was her last true decision.

  He winced as he got behind the wheel and started the truck. He backed out, returning to the main road. After that kiss he didn’t quite trust himself not to let her rip off his clothes and impale herself on his cock. He couldn’t let that happen. She was quiet until they neared town.

  “You expect me to dance in public after that?”

  “Your lips and pussy may be swollen but if I can hurt this bad and lead, you can be that wet and follow.”

  “Oh, my God! A tall, handsome man who not only knows how to dance, he can even lead? I don’t know when I’ve seen that before.”

  He heard her sarcasm and responded to deepen her arousal.

  “You won’t be seeing it, Marci. You’ll be feeling it. All over.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Marci’s lips burned as she stared at the buildings passing to her right. She fought to breathe as she held back a deep groan. One that threatened to rise from the tip of her sharp cowboy boots, up her shaking legs, past the hot, wet pit where they joined, and all the way to her head.

  Simon could kiss. Oh, God, could he kiss! But he’d only been the second man she’d kissed, and the first was just a dutiful peck on the check from Ted at her wedding.

  Lance put his whole being into his kiss. At least, it felt like it. Maybe it was what he’d said before the kiss that had her near fainting. If she never knew when Lance wanted sex, she’d be in a continual state of arousal. Was that why Simon wanted her to wear a skirt without panties, to give them easy access?

  She shifted on the seat, hornier than she could remember. Dressing like that would be at least as much in her favor than his! She’d been so close to coming when he’d rubbed his fingers over her clit through her jeans. Then he’d stopped.

  She touched her lips with her fingers. Tonight was going to be miserable. Not only did she look like she and Lance had been doing heavy petting, she’d be learning to dance in front of strangers that were his friends. And all along she’d have hard nipples and a soft pussy. She’d have to wait until she was alone in bed to take care of her need for release. Hours and hours from now!

  Lance parked the truck at the edge of the lot even though there were spots closer to the entry door and lights. He gave her a look which she correctly interpreted to mean “don’t even think of getting out of this truck.” She did unbuckle the seatbelt, though.

  He lifted her out, letting her slide against his body until her feet touched the gravel. At least he wasn’t going to carry her again. He pulled her to his left side and wrapped an arm around her. She didn’t mind that, but mentally rolled her eyes at him hooking a finger through her belt loop. Did he think she was going to run away?

  The Roadhouse was different at night. Instead of going left, into the diner, they went right. Someone recognized Lance and a roar of welcome erupted. At least she hoped it was welcome. The men coming up to him and slamming their fist into his shoulder did not give her confidence
. At least she recognized the last one. Keith Adams. Behind him was Aggie, gesturing for her to come near.

  She was dressed in her usual jeans, boots, and plaid shirt. Her welcoming smile took ten tons of worry off Marci’s shoulders. She’d heard and seen enough to know Aggie might have a few answers for her questions. There was certainly no one else she could ask.

  “I want to talk to Aggie about how Sophie and the other children are doing,” she said, pulling away from Lance.

  Though he gave her a warning look, which she figured meant she’d best come back to him pronto, he let her go. She followed Aggie to the washroom. The door had barely closed before Aggie started.

  “I have to warn you, Marci. Lance is a lot like Keith. I don’t know if he’s said anything, but you need to know a few things.”

  “About being spanked for annoying the lord and master?” asked Marci sarcastically.

  Aggie’s eyes widened, though there was a sparkle in them. “Just using that tone could bring it on.”

  “You allow Keith to treat you that way?”

  Aggie shook her head. “No, I choose to have him treat me that way.” She turned to the mirror and fluffed her short hair. “Not everyone wants the same life. My mother and sisters wear power suits, makeup, and spend their lives in high-rise buildings in the city. They married successful businessmen who treat them like they’re spun sugar, and will melt if anyone says ‘no’ to them.”

  “I’ve met women like that,” replied Marci.

  “I’m glad they’re happy but I want a man I can stand toe-to-toe with and have a rip-roaring fight. I want him to be stronger than me, able to pick me up and carry me to safety.” Aggie’s face changed from sincere to wicked. “Or pick me up, throw me over his shoulder, and haul me away to do all sorts of nasty things to me.”

  Marci’s mouth went dry. “What kinds of things?” she asked hoarsely.

  “You want honesty?”

  Marci nodded. “I need to know what my life might be like, if I stay with Simon and Lance.”