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

by Reece Butler

  “Thank you for caring for me, Lance. Please, take me home.”

  She thought she heard a low growl resonate in his chest but laughing and chattering people burst into the room.

  “What’s the matter with Marci?” asked Brenda, rushing forward with a frown.

  “My feet are sore and Lance is such a gentleman that he wanted to carry me to the truck,” said Marci before Lance could say something about her boots. She didn’t want to draw attention to them in case someone recognized them. Because her jeans covered the shafts, no one had noticed.

  Brenda’s look of concern evaporated, replaced by a sly wink.

  “Right,” she said, nodding while grinning. “Sore feet. Of course.”

  People moved out of the way as Lance strode past. Knowing looks made Marci blush. She counted on the dim light, along with her dusky skin, to hide it. She waved goodbye, telling herself it was for Lance since his hands were tied up with holding her. She’d never been in a group of people so intent on having fun. Part of that seemed to mean playing practical jokes on friends, or saying things to embarrass them. Nothing she’d heard was cruel or mean. These people seemed to care about each other, even though they laughed at their foibles.

  She relaxed against Lance as he crunched his way across the gravel to the truck. When he set her down to open the door she couldn’t stop the gasp. The next thing she knew the door was open, she was on the passenger seat facing him, and he was gently tugging at her left boot heel.

  A sharp pain erupted. She gasped, clutching his shirt with her fist to hold on to something.

  “That bad?” he asked.

  “It’s okay,” she said, fighting tears. “Pull it off.”

  “If I pull this boot off and hurt you because you’ve lied to me, you will get a spanking.”

  “What?” she glared at him. “What’s the logic in that?”

  The dome light was on so she could see him clearly. She didn’t understand his expression. Was he angry, sad, or something else?

  “Marci, I don’t want to hurt you, ever. If you lie to me, and I end up hurting you, I will not be happy.” He leaned closer, until they were almost eye to eye. “You do not want that to happen. Tell me the truth, always.”

  “It hurts,” she replied. “Like a burn. I was trying to be tough. You know, to cowboy up.”

  “If our child was about to step out onto the street when a car was coming by, I would expect you to run after him in these boots no matter how much it hurt. That would be cowboying up. These boots are garbage. Nothing will be harmed by you admitting your pain.”

  He reached down, lifting his right foot up at the same time. She couldn’t see what he did. A very long, very sharp knife appeared in his hand. He pushed up her jeans, motioning for her to hold them. Then he split the seams on her boot. Her foot came out. The chill air was a relief, and she groaned. He looked at her foot, cursed under his breath using a language she didn’t understand, and repeated it with her other boot. She lifted her feet. Blisters had formed and broken on her heels and a few of her toes.

  “It hurt, but I didn’t know it was that bad,” she said.

  “I should have noticed earlier,” he murmured. “My fault.”

  “Why is it your fault?”

  He took one of her feet in each big hand, wrapping his fingers underneath her insteps. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and hummed. A tingling sensation spread out from his hands. She watched silently. Whatever it was he did, the pain dropped drastically. When he was finished he still looked furious.

  “Are you angry at me for this?” she asked quietly.

  He dropped his head. His shoulder-length glossy black hair rippled as he shook it.

  “I’m angry at me. It is inexcusable that I allowed my woman to come to harm.”

  “Maybe you should be horsewhipped.”

  He jerked his head up. She shrugged, giving a wry smile. “You’re too big for me to put over my shoulder and spank, like Keith did Aggie.”

  He stared at her for a second then exploded into a laugh. He continued chuckling as he helped her turn around and do up her seatbelt. When he shut his own door he exhaled, looking out the front window. He seemed far more relaxed than he had at any time since she first saw him.

  “I need a woman like you to keep me on my toes.” He turned to her and held out his hand. “No matter what, I would like you as a friend.”

  She took his hand. “Friends,” she agreed.

  She saw a glint of devilment before he scooted closer and raised her hand to his lips. She didn’t know how he could make her tremble all over from just one kiss on the fingers.

  “Friends, yes,” he murmured. “But even better, would be friends as well as lovers.”

  Her body felt so aroused from his presence, his dark edge, and too many hours of arousal denied, that if they’d been anywhere near a bed she might have thrown herself on it and begged him to take her. Hard. Repeatedly. The laughter she saw reflected in his eyes suggested he knew it, too. But he just released her fingers with a last, chaste, kiss.

  “When we get home you’ll soak your feet while Simon feeds you. I’ve got something that will heal them quickly.”

  “While Simon feeds me?”

  He snapped his seatbelt into place, started the truck, and put it into gear before turning back to answer.

  “If I get within three feet of your naked body I will find it very difficult not to keep you in constant orgasms for days.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Marci thought about Lance’s words all the way home. She was primed and ready. So was Lance. Why not enjoy each other? She knew enough about Simon to be sure he would be just as eager.

  She was quiet as Lance carried her into the kitchen. When Simon saw her bare, bloody feet, he cursed. She wasn’t sure at whom. He rushed off to get a bucket while Lance set her down on a chair. She cleared her throat, wanting to get this over while they were still alone.

  “What you said about touching me? I don’t see a problem with that.” He reared back, stuffing his hands in his back pockets. “I’m in favor of constant orgasms.”

  She tried to make it sound light, rather than desperate. Lance didn’t take it lightly. He stared at her so hard she had to drop her head. What had she said that was so bad?

  “The problem, dear lady,” he said, using quiet precision that suggested just how upset he was, “is once I touch you, I will never let you go. Unless you are very sure you want Simon, and me, forever, and will abide by what I’ve told you, I will not touch you again. Neither will Simon.”

  “You won’t?”

  “If you want us, it’s forever. Once you make your decision, there is no going back.”

  His face, lit by the harsh light directly over his head, resembled his ravens more than she’d thought possible.

  She’d already made a forever decision and had spent twelve years regretting it. And now Lance was forcing her to do the same. Why couldn’t they have a trial run, like she and Simon had. Spend a few weeks getting to know each other, in bed and out, and making sure that this was not a bad decision.

  Lance was putting it all on her shoulders. She could have what she wanted, but she’d have to live with it. Live with him telling her what to do. With him punishing her like a child, if she disobeyed.

  No, it wasn’t like a child at all. Aggie loved it when Keith proved how much he cared for her by doing what she secretly craved. The question was, did Marci want the same thing?

  How could she find out unless she tried it first? The man watching her insisted she make her decision, one that could not be revoked, before she knew what she was getting into.

  She wanted to fight him, to attack with fists and feet and everything else, just as Aggie had. He was so big that he could easily overpower her. Then he’d hold her down and laugh, knowing he could do anything he wanted, because he was a man.

  And if she said no to part of it, he’d throw her out. She’d lose Simon as well. And, because she couldn’t live he
re and see them, she’d have to move. She’d lose her sister, and all the friends she’d made.

  Just because a man thought he was more important than a woman!

  Deep inside arousal at the thought of Simon and Lance’s touch fought with something she’d locked down for far too long.

  She stood, too upset to sit quietly. She paced, arms wrapped around herself. Her emotions had been in turmoil since the night of the fire. Her worry at meeting Lance, and everything he and Aggie had said, added to the things from her past she had yet to deal with.

  She stared at the floor with half-closed eyes, seeing nothing, feeling nothing but anger. Fury. Rage! Anger at the man who’d created her and treated her mother so badly. Anger at how hard her mother had to work because she’d believed two men who promised to love and care for her. Anger that she’d fallen into the same, though more comfortable, trap when she married. Anger at having to act like Ted’s puppet, being only what he said she could be. A nothing, useful for a time but simple to destroy when she became an inconvenience.

  The thought of releasing her anger frightened her, but she could not keep it back. Too many memories of black shame and red humiliation boiled in her cauldron of rage. She’d forced these memories deep for too many years. Pretending to be serene when her stomach curled with the insults, the rejection, the shame.

  Now that they were released, she had to expel them. But how? She began to tremble, then shake. Hands slid around her from behind. Cool ones. Lance’s scent flowed into her nostrils, was absorbed by her skin.

  “You said you wouldn’t touch me again,” she blurted.

  “I can’t ignore your pain, my love. Let them go. You don’t need those memories anymore.” His soothing voice called to the anger swirling in the deepest part of her soul. He loved her but was he was strong enough to protect her from her memories? Red boiled with black, carving into a dual-colored column that existed only in her mind.

  All those times she wanted to fight back but kept quiet to be accepted, yet was excluded. How she’d gone along with others, put her own needs and desires last, yet had been invisible. She’d done it for so long she no longer knew what she wanted, other than a home where she was loved and accepted for who she was.

  The red-and-black column inside her gained height as it churned faster and faster. Her panic grew, adding fuel to create a tornado. Red fire leaped from oily black clouds, higher and higher. Would she explode like an ill-fired pot, her flesh shattering?

  “Use my strength and power as a shield, my love. You can’t harm me. Fight me if you need to. I will protect you, even from yourself.”

  She focused on the calm, confident voice.

  “Embrace your anger and rage, Marci. Don’t hold back or fear it. Anger is healthy, a natural part of you. But it’s time to let the rest go. Let your anger erupt and drive out the shame and humiliation. That is not who you are, my love. You are a woman, all beauty and life and laughter. Let the rest go. You are safe. I will always be here for you. I will hold you. Let it go.”

  She squirmed, unable to stay still as the illusion of a tornado made of fire stormed in her body. Her pores erupted in oily sweat. She coughed as the oil burst into smoke once free of her body. It had the stench of brimstone from dreams shattered and hopes exterminated.

  Ted’s face appeared in the flames, laughing and cackling. Flames! She was surrounded by fire! The tornado of emotion, a creation of a life near destroyed through denial of her rightful self, exploded. She screamed, flailing and kicking, knowing nothing but the need to expel it from her body or perish!

  She screamed at the hot stink oozing through her pores, scorching her skin.

  “That’s it,” crooned a deep voice. Lance. She saw him as a green strand, vivid against the red and black. She mentally reached out and clung to him like a lifeline to sanity.

  “You’re a strong warrior, Marci. There’s no place in your life for these doubts and fears. Let them go. Let them all go.”

  His words swept over her burning skin like chilled aloe.

  “I feel it rising it you, Marci. Don’t fight its release. You are in control, and I have you safe. Expel all those ugly memories from your body. They’ll fade once they’re gone.”

  “It hurts!” she cried, shaking her head and shuddering.

  “Yes, love, it hurts. But not as much as holding it in. Look deep inside, Marci. See that clean, white light at the bottom of the firestorm?”

  She looked within herself. Down through the eye of the swirling hateful mass. A bright light sparkled like crystal in a brightly lit jewelry store.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I see it.”

  “Call on it to help you,” said the soothing voice. “Help the bright light push it from your body forever.”

  “What is the light?”

  “It’s your soul, Marci. Your pure, untarnished soul. Whatever you’ve done in this life has not been wrong. No matter what has happened, your soul remains pure. You are part of that light. Bring it forth and it will banish whatever holds you from being true to yourself.”

  She looked down again. The center of the tornado was wider now, the black-and-red walls thinner. She did as he asked and called to the light. It shone brighter, as if delighting in her knowledge of it. Her skin still burned, but it was pure, cleansing the fire and smoke. The pain was like birth, necessary but instantly forgotten with the joy of life.

  As the fire within began to ease, tears coursed down her cheeks.

  “It’s working,” she whispered. She concentrated to force the ugliness out of her mind, through her body, and away. The light helped, growing, now swirling. The dark fought to escape her, chased by sparkles of the light. As the storm faded, bright white light took its place. It joyfully swirled within her, filling her whole body with diamond-bright sparkles.

  It felt like peace and love and acceptance.

  The last particles of dark winked out, banished forever. A cool breeze flowed through her mind, like a spring wind filled with flowers and sunshine. It blew away the last few ashes. A sense of peace followed the breeze. It settled, filling all the holes that had held nightmares, fears, and shame.

  She inhaled, shuddering as fresh air filled her lungs. When she exhaled, all her tension was released. Her head lolled back on Lance’s shoulder, exhausted yet exhilarated. She concentrated on the heartbeat in the strong chest behind her back. It was slow and steady, calm and controlled.

  “You did well, my love,” he murmured. He held her in his warm embrace, safe and protected. “I will help the light keep you safe, little one.”

  She relished the waves of energy flowing from him. Waves of protection and pride and love. She didn’t know how long she rested, only that she felt refreshed and alive when she finally looked up at his dark face and ice-blue eyes.

  The ice melted to resemble Simon’s familiar warmth. A new storm swirled within her, one with a different type of heat. Her heart sped up and her nipples peaked. Lance’s eyes widened as he smiled in appreciation. She felt it in her whole body.

  “Feel better?” She nodded and reached out her hand to touch his shoulder. He bent his head. Rough lips caressed her cheek. “That’s it, little one,” he murmured. “Accept that I will never cause you harm.”

  She nodded, scraping her hair against his chest. A sense of contentment enveloped her. She was safe within the arms of a man who could, and would, protect her. If he could bring her through that, saving her soul, she could trust him with her life.

  “You belong to me and to Simon,” he continued quietly. “Just as we belong to you. But first, you belong to yourself.”

  He held her, unmoving, as she thought on his words.

  She’d never thought of that before, of belonging to herself. It gave her a sense of purpose and power, one that eclipsed his demands. She didn’t mind so much that Lance said she belonged to them, when he also said the reverse was true.

  It was the same with Nikki. They were each individuals, but as sisters they were part of each
other. Nothing could change the fact they were family.

  “Each of us belongs to ourselves,” she said. “But we also belong to each other.”

  His smile touched her. The heat of it curled her toes. She opened her mouth to get enough air, having to pant as her heart beat ever faster.

  “If you choose to marry us, you will agree that I am in control. His lips caressed a line of fire down her neck. He nuzzled her hair as the hand on her shoulder moved around to her left breast. It enveloped her, the energy sinking from his hands, through her breast, and into her heart and soul.

  “As our woman,” he continued in the same soft, commanding manner, “you will be cherished and respected for what you share with us.” He exhaled. Hot, moist air flowed between her heated breasts. “We want you to join your life force with ours. To mesh your thread with ours in an unbreakable bond. I am the power, which Simon sustains. But you, Marci, are the spark that sets us afire. And without that spark, there is no life.”

  He placed his hands, fingers spread wide, on her belly. It was as if he was cherishing what she’d only just realized could be growing there. She found her hands sliding over his. Simon moved behind Lance and placed his hands on hers. For a moment she felt a flicker of connection, as if an unknown type of energy had enfolded them.

  Then Simon stepped away, and Lance released her. Suddenly she was cold. Cold and alone. But it only lasted a second before the touch of energy spread throughout her body, warming her in a cocoon of compassion and wonder as insubstantial as a spider web, and as indestructible as time.

  “What you are feeling is love, Marci,” said Lance. “Our love. We want you, Marci. But it’s your choice. Can you accept it?”

  Another chaste kiss brushed her cheek.

  “Sleep, Marci, and dream. Let me hold you.”

  A sense of lethargy flowed through her veins. Suddenly she couldn’t keep her eyes open. She relaxed, letting Lance keep her safe.