by Reece Butler
She stood and turned away, back erect and breasts jutting. He held back a smile. He liked her attitude. He’d never tell Marshall, but his cousin was right. A wild, brazen woman could make life more interesting. Cole watched her ass cheeks move as she strode toward the bathtub. The next time, he’d take her from behind. Right into that hot pussy. He’d reach around to her clit and nipples and play with her until she came. Then he’d take her hips in his hands and slam home. His mouth went dry in anticipation.
First he would wash her. Then he’d put his scent all over her. She was his, and by damn, he was hers just as much.
Two hours later Cole ran his fingers up and down Casey’s back, from her neck to just above the cleft of her arse, and back up. Lazy, contented ovals. He’d well pleasured his wife and she’d fallen asleep with her head on his chest, her warm body splayed over his. He’d have to thank Sophie for giving Casey that sheer nightgown. She hadn’t worn it for very long after their bath. It would have been even less time if she hadn’t insisted he remove it carefully.
Women! He absently kissed the top of her head. For some reason wearing that little bit of nothing made Casey feel special. And when she felt special…
A fierce need filled him, to protect her and provide everything she needed. She was his, forever. No matter that Byron gave her a first kiss, or that Marshall provided her first orgasm. He was the one who’d watched her eyes widen, her mouth gasp, as he entered her for the first time. It was his name that she called out when she exploded under him, and it was his seed that filled her first.
There would be other firsts, many of them. But this one he could savor, knowing she’d come to his bed willingly, eagerly, and been satisfied.
He flipped the covers over them, kissed her forehead, and relaxed.
Chapter 19
The sound of knocking woke Casey from a deep sleep. She reached out, but Cole was gone. She vaguely remembered him saying something about breakfast. Her stomach gurgled and suddenly she was starving.
“Casey? I’ve got your breakfast.”
“Cole?”
“Open the door. My hands are full.”
Still half asleep, she pushed back the sheets and stood up. The morning’s chill made her nipples rise. She looked around but didn’t see her nightgown. Not that it would cover anything. Her nipples hardened even more. Three steps later she was at the door. She stood behind it, hiding herself in case someone peeked in. She opened it, watched pants and boots walk in, and closed it. It took her a minute to jiggle the lock so it would work. She turned around.
“Byron? Where’s Cole?”
She automatically tried to cover herself. Byron stared at her, though he met her eyes rather than other parts. The only sound was the rain pelting against the windows. He looked different, but she was too confused to see why. Cole must have met Byron when he went to get her breakfast.
“Cole’s gone home. It’s my turn now.”
“Your turn?”
He nodded. A slow smile warmed his face. “It’s been raining all night. Might keep up all day. Can’t do much at home so it’s the perfect day to spend in bed. Our bed.”
That’s when his eyes dropped, caressing her. A slow burn started in her belly. Part arousal, but part fury as well.
“Your turn with me?” He nodded absently in answer. His stare had reached her knees. “What, is Marshall coming here after dinner?”
“Nope,” replied Byron without raising his eyes. “You already had a turn with Marsh. And anyway, he’s laid up in bed. No fever yet, so you did a good job on stitching him.”
She’d forgotten about Marshall’s injury. No fever was good. Byron had reached the floor and started up again. His hands were fisted at his side as if forcing himself to keep them there.
“So, I’m supposed to just let you do whatever you want to me?” she asked tartly. His eyes finally met hers. A satisfied smile crept over his lips.
“That’s right. Though I wouldn’t mind you taking over and running the show when I get tired.”
Casey crossed her arms, lifting her breasts in the process. Jessie had done that at the wedding party and made all three husbands take notice. It worked on Byron as well. His eyes went to her breasts. He dropped his jaw. She wasn’t going to lose her advantage by covering herself. Let him look all he liked. She had more important things to do.
She brushed past him to the table where he’d set her breakfast tray. Ham and gravy, coffee, and biscuits. Someone had cut the ham into bite-size pieces. She started eating. No horndog male, husband or not, was going to tell her what to do. Not when she stayed in a hotel and had breakfast brought to her room.
Was this what servants had done for Mama before she married? If she waited long enough, would someone come to make the bed? She glanced over. Heat rose from her chest at the small pink mark. She should have soaked the sheet in cold water before it stained.
She realized her plate was empty. She picked up her coffee and sipped. How had Cole known that she liked it sweet? He and the others took it black. She looked out of the corner of her eye. Byron looked back.
“Maybe Sophie should hang that sheet off the hotel balcony,” he said.
“What?” She set her mug down with a thud.
“It’d prove Cole won’t be getting an annulment.” He shrugged at her outrage. “Might help make you safe, since you’re worth less to them now.”
“I’m worth less?”
Byron removed his hat, scratched at his hair, and set it back on. His cheeks had a tinge of pink. He cleared his throat.
“Not to us. To the men who sell virgins.” He tilted his head toward the bed. “That means you belong to the Sweetwater Ranch.”
She set her jaw and glared.
“Just like we belong to you,” he quickly added. “All four of us are partners.” His eyes dropped to her belly. “Though maybe number five’s already on the way.”
A baby? She covered her belly button with her palm. The movement put Byron’s feet in gear. He ambled over, stood behind her and placed his big, warm hand over hers. Over the spot that may already hold the potential of her first child.
“Or maybe we start number five,” he murmured, nuzzling her hair. His warm breath flowed over her shoulder and down her front. “You are the prettiest thing. I can’t wait to kiss you from your nose to your toes and everywhere in between.” His fingers crab-walked lower. Her muscles twitched. “Especially in between.”
Casey turned, raising her arms. His eyes gleamed eagerly. He dropped his head—
“Y’all ready in there?”
She jumped at the loud voice outside the door. It was followed by hard knocking.
“Dang Pinkerton agent,” muttered Byron. He lifted his head and faced the door. “Hold yer horses. The lady just finished breakfast. She has to dress.”
A low chuckle seeped through the door. “Don’t make her go to all that trouble on my account.”
“Gibson! Get away from that door!”
Casey had never heard Sophie use that demanding tone of voice.
“Now, Sophie, don’t be interfering in my business.”
“This is my business establishment and if you don’t like it, you can go stay with Rufina Emslow. If she’ll have you!”
“I’m just asking Mrs. Taylor to answer a few—ow!”
“You can wait downstairs in the dining room. Now, git!”
Casey pressed her lips together to stop a laugh from escaping as heavy footsteps and deep mutters faded.
“Byron Ashcroft, you open this door.” Sophie rattled the knob. “I’ll help Casey dress while you keep that Pinkerton agent busy.”
He cupped Casey’s breast and squeezed, just once, before stepping away.
“I can wait. We’ve got all day before we have to be home.” Byron sighed. “And if I keep telling myself that, maybe I won’t get arrested for assaulting a Pinkerton agent. A man should know not to step between a bride and her husbands.”
* * * *
“I though
t you already had breakfast.”
Byron watched in amazement as Gibson devoured a substantial plateful of ham, gravy, and biscuits along with a couple cups of coffee. He sat tall, openly watching people across the room and through the window. Something had changed since the last time he was in town. Maybe it was almost getting shot and saved by a kid with a rifle. Only that kid was now Byron’s wife.
“Man like me never knows when he’ll get decent food again.”
“On the road a lot?”
Gibson gave a quick nod between bites. “When this job’s over, I’m looking to settle down. Find myself a wife and set down roots.” He glanced at the door to the dining room. “Now that lady would be worth handing in my badge for.”
Byron glanced over. A pretty woman walked toward them in a dress and bonnet he’d last seen in Tanner’s Mercantile. It was the color of pale cream with those little pearls and lace dripping everywhere. He and Marshall had laughed that no one would ever buy it. There was nothing practical about a gown like that. Yet the woman wearing it looked so damn good in it that…His thoughts scattered at the familiar face under the bonnet.
“Casey?”
He jumped to his feet, joining Gibson. He jabbed his elbow into the man. “That’s my wife you’re talking about,” he growled.
“No, it’s not,” replied Gibson quietly.
That was when Byron noticed there were two women. Casey and Sophie. The faces of both were pink. When he could get his eyes off Casey he noticed Sophie looked different. Younger, and less buttoned up. She kept flicking her eyes to Gibson. Casey smiled at Byron and the rest of the room disappeared.
“You look absolutely beautiful,” he said to his wife. He took her gloved hand, bent over, and kissed her cheek.
“Thank you for the dress,” she whispered. “Sophie says it’s a bride present from the three of you.” She ran her hands down the front of the dress, lightly brushing the lace that descended in a vee to cup her breasts. “How did you know I always wanted a dress like this?”
The look she gave him was worth whatever Cole had spent. She had stars in her eyes, like a princess who’d woken from a hundred years of nothing to find a whole new world there for the taking.
He’d do damn near anything for her to look at him like that. He smirked. And Cole had missed it. Too bad for him.
“Won’t you ladies sit?”
“I’ve got work to do,” said Sophie sharply. She picked up Gibson’s empty plate and harrumphed. “The way you eat, it’s a good thing the judge and Miss Lily are paying for you.”
Gibson watched her stomp across the floor, a faint hint of smile on his face. Sophie looked back at the last minute. Seeing them watching, she flushed even more and stomped into the kitchen.
“She likes me,” said Gibson with satisfaction. He waited a moment, but she didn’t come out again. He shook out his shoulders and turned to them. Suddenly, his face was sharp and focused.
“Mrs. Taylor, I have some news for you. If you would like to sit?”
Instead of falling into the chair, Casey gently placed her bottom on the edge. She took a moment to settle the folds of her skirt before looking up.
“Please, call me Casey. If that’s all right with Byron.”
“That’s your name. You might as well keep using it,” he replied.
“After you shot that Rivers fella, I figured I owed you,” said Gibson. “When I found myself in North Carolina, I did some checking. I’ve got news about your pappy.”
Casey’s pink face turned white. She swayed. “Is he here?” she whispered.
Byron put his arm around her in support, both physical and personal.
“No, ma’am. He’s dead,” said Gibson. “He owed a sum of money to a curly wolf named Bart. Don’t think the feller had a last name. There was a bit of, ah, difficulty between them, and they ended up dead.”
“Thank God,” whispered Casey.
She pressed her eyes shut for a moment. Her gloved hand squeezed Byron’s arm, then released. He felt both relieved and mad that he hadn’t had the privilege of killing both of them. Casey opened her eyes, inhaled, and smiled.
“Thank you for the news, Mr. Gibson.” She pinked up again. “Do you know why he owed Bart money?”
Gibson’s hooded eyes gave nothing away. “Yes, ma’am, I do. But that’s nobody’s business but your own. May I congratulate you on your marriage to Cole Taylor and his upstanding partners?”
“Thank you,” she replied. Her breathing was ragged, but her color had returned.
“Sophie’s holding a crate to give you,” Gibson continued. “A gift from your grandmother.”
Casey stared at Gibson. She didn’t move. Byron finally tapped her shoulders. “Breathe, Casey.”
She choked, then inhaled. Her fancy dress was snug, needing a corset, so she couldn’t get much air, but at least now she was trying.
“My grandmother?” she whispered.
“You were named after Cassandra Fenton, who married George Barkley. Both families are well known.”
Byron sharpened his gaze on Gibson. “Those Fentons and Barkleys?”
Gibson nodded blandly. “Mr. Barkley, the one who made Casey’s mother marry that no good son of a gun, has passed. When I told Mrs. Barkley what happened, and that you and Willy were doing well in the West, she insisted on sending a few things.”
“Things?” Casey’s face was blotched white and red. She clenched Byron’s arm as if she was drowning.
“Yes, ma’am. I don’t know what all’s inside the box, but she said something about teacups and suchlike. She also sent bank drafts for you and for Willy.” He winked. “Your granny was left a very wealthy widow. Since your older brothers were killed in that feud, she divided your mother’s portion between you and Willy. She asked that you write and let her know how you are. Her address is on the box. She wanted you to know she tried to stop her husband marrying off your mother like that.”
“This is good news for Casey,” said Byron under his breath. “But I thought you had information about what’s going on here.”
“I do,” replied the agent coolly. “But it can wait. I suggest you take Mrs. Taylor upstairs and help her settle herself.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a paper. He smoothed it flat. “This is a bank draft made out to Cassandra Wright. Since you’re married, it belongs to your husband now.”
Byron accepted the paper from Gibson. He glanced at the amount, then choked. He swallowed and held it out to Casey.
“Just because Casey married Cole before she found out she had money, doesn’t mean she should lose it.” He wrapped her stiff fingers around the paper. “It’s all yours. You can use it for whatever you want.”
“Except an annulment,” said Gibson.
He raised an eyebrow to make the point. Byron felt his ears burn. Gibson returned his glare with a bland smile. Byron cursed under his breath. Cole and the rest of them thought Casey would be safer if she was married, no longer an innocent virgin. But not if she was worth more than the Sweetwater Ranch could make in five years. That meant they had to worry about her being held for ransom as well as sold!
He couldn’t let her know about that. Not until she had a chance to take all this in. And what would Cole think about his mountain-bred wife being the daughter of such high-falutin’ folks? He bet their grandmothers went to the same school for wealthy ladies. That explained why Casey talked like an unschooled nobody yet could move and act like a lady. Her mother must have passed on whatever she could to her only daughter.
“I don’t want an annulment or a divorce,” said Casey quietly. She folded the paper without looking at it and rose to her feet. Both men scrambled to follow. “Byron, would you escort me to our room please. I feel faint and wish to lie down.”
She held herself regally, shoulders back and head high. She was a long way from the scared waif who’d spied on him. He held out his arm to escort her. They strolled through the room, which had filled up as they spoke with Gibson. Silent st
ares, quickly followed by hoarse whispers, followed when the beautiful woman was identified as that scraggly boy, Casey Wright.
Byron’s back was ramrod straight as he brought his woman upstairs. Casey kept her jaw high, eyes straight forward, until he closed the door behind the rest of the world. Then she collapsed into his arms.
Chapter 20
“What can I buy for the ranch?” asked Casey twenty minutes later.
She lay peacefully in Byron’s arms wearing only her shift and stockings. He was fully dressed except his coat and boots, but Casey didn’t want her beautiful new dress to get creased. Byron had helped her remove it without trying to touch her more than needed. Both had gotten aroused anyway but she wasn’t relaxed enough to want to do anything about it. Not yet.
For now she was content, warm, and wanted. Someone had made the bed while they were talking to Gibson, so they lay on the quilt. Byron spooned her from behind, his front keeping her back warm, his upper hand curved around her breast.
“That money is yours, Casey. Enough to buy your own business if you hadn’t married.”
Her stomach tightened. Would people expect her to act different now? Mama had been wealthy, a fine lady until she was disgraced. She brought money into her marriage, but Pappy gambled it all away. With nothing left he took her into the mountains, and she became the hardscrabble wife of a lazy drunk.
Cole and his partners didn’t drink or gamble. They worked hard and had pride in their work. Even better, they respected her. She’d never end up like Mama, in any way. She’d have babies that would grow up healthy and give her grandbabies. No feud, no desperation to find enough food to fill crying children’s bellies. No being the only woman in miles, without a friendly face or help when birthing a child.
Casey let out a deep breath at that thought. There were seven other wives in the valley, as well as other women in town. Surely she could find a friend or two. She had three good men who would help her care for their children. Men who would cherish her, even if they could be a bit overprotective.
