Drat.
The office door opens and I’m not surprised to see Logan waltz in as if he is perfectly at home in my space.
“She is not of this world, unless her imagination is that fantastical,” he announces.
“I know.”
Logan sinks down into the chair across from me. “The weather has turned,” he simply states.
I don’t respond, because it is obvious that the weather has turned. He does not need my confirmation on this. He watches me for another moment, then clears his throat again.
“She has done that, with the weather. You know this?”
“So Florence claims.”
“She has. I watched the sadness roll over her at the news of the lions being unable to protect your family.”
Lifting my head, rage fills me immediately. “You told her about my family?” I growl.
“You haven’t?”
Pressing my lips together, I don’t dignify him with a response. He arches a brow, watching me for a long moment, then finally speaks again. He had best tread lightly, as I am on the edge of throwing him out and sending him on his way to fulfill his actual duties.
“You did lie with her, did you not?”
“None of the women down at the Blue Bird Theatre know about Adelaide and yet I’ve lain with most of them, Whitecotton,” I grind out.
He doesn’t move right away, then slowly he stands to his feet and walks over to my bookshelf. I watch as he stares at the titles, but I highly doubt he is reading any of them. He is thinking and buying himself a few moments.
“You think of your Birdie as a soiled dove, then?” he asks. Again, I choose not to answer. Logan naturally continues. “If that is how you view her, then perhaps the prophecy is completely false, or perhaps you are not the partner meant to fulfill it with her.”
Rising to my feet, I ball my hands into fists and place them against my desk as I lean forward. “Do you dare to repeat that to me, Whitecotton?” I ask, making sure to enunciate my words, slowly.
“Are you suggesting that there is a fiercer warrior around here? Yourself perhaps?” I grind out.
Logan shrugs a shoulder. “I’ve been known to hold my own, James.”
I think about challenging that, but then he turns to me, arching a brow and I see that his eyes are smiling and he’s trying to keep from laughing. I let out a chuckle of my own and shake my head.
“You had me,” I admit.
He smirks. “The prophecy is real, Colton. Do not put our world in danger because of your past or your pride. A woman like that, if she were destined to be mine, I can think of a few things I’d like to do with her, and none would include making her cry or walking away after I’ve taken her.”
He doesn’t say anything else and thankfully walks out of my office before I punch him in the face. Pushing off of my desk, I straighten and turn to the window. Staring out at the desert in front of me, I reach out to Lonesable.
We’ll ride tomorrow. I have a guest.
He doesn’t say anything immediately in response, then it’s as if he’s laughing at me.
I have heard of her presence. I was wondering when I would meet her.
Pressing my lips together, I wonder if I should even introduce them, but there could be a time when she needs him to save her. I don’t know what this world is going to look like if these men get their way and start an upheaval. I may need him to help her for me.
Tomorrow, I confirm.
I look forward to it. From what I’ve heard, she is different and alluring.
She is.
Ending the conversation, I decide to seek out the different and alluring beauty. Apparently, I made her cry last night. I must rectify that as I’m not a man to usually make a habit out of bringing tears to ladies’ faces.
Chapter Twelve
BIRDIE
Florence works with me for an hour outside in the hot sunshine. Aside from dripping with sweat in this fucking wool dress and corset, I don’t accomplish much. She leaves me alone, thankfully, and I sink down on the wooden rocking chair beneath the covered wraparound porch and just stare out at the majestic desert.
The dirt, the trees, all of it is so different from home and yet, it is still very much a desert. I stare out and wonder where my sisters are. Where could they be? If they landed in the middle of the desert the way that I did, they are probably dead right about now. There is no way you could live out there for days and weeks, not with as hot as it is.
“You must be hot out here,” a deep voice murmurs behind me.
I don’t bother turning around, I know exactly who it is. He doesn’t say anything else, but I feel his presence as he makes his way toward the empty rocking chair next to mine and sinks down. We don’t speak to one another for a long moment, both choosing to sit in silence and stare straight ahead.
Then, he finally decides to talk and it’s almost as if he should have just kept his fucking mouth shut and pretended I don’t exist.
The asshole.
“You didn’t eat much breakfast.”
My head turns to the side and I glare at his profile. “I didn’t have much dinner either,” I snap.
He slowly turns his head and his eyes widen as his gaze clashes with mine. Narrowing my eyes at him, I nod my head a couple of times. Instead of apologizing or at the least, looking sorry, he does neither. He simply shrugs a shoulder and turns his head to look back at the landscape.
Asshole.
“You need to eat more. This country is not for the weak,” he says, his voice soft.
“I’d love to, but I can’t with this contraption around my waist.”
He snorts. “So, don’t wear it.”
Leaning forward, I smile at him. “I was told this is proper undergarment attire. Am I wrong? I was told you’re a very powerful man, and I need to look respectable and this is how I do that. Am I wrong?” I ask, sugary sweet.
Colt doesn’t turn to me again, instead he continues to stare out at the landscape, pretending as if I’m not looking at him, watching him, and waiting for an answer. He rocks in his chair a couple of times, then slowly turns his head to face me.
“I know many soiled doves who choose not to wear them,” he says slowly, then gives me a smart-ass smile.
Standing slowly, I decide I’m not going to take his shit another minute longer. I may be stuck here with him, but that doesn’t mean that I have to actually be around him.
“You’re a dick, Colt. A hot dick, but still a dick. Go to your whores then if that’s what you want.”
I have to walk past him to get to the front door. Squaring my shoulders, I bravely tilt my head back, my nose in the air and I start to march right past him.
I don’t get far.
Before I realize what’s happening, his hands are around my waist and he’s pulling me down into his lap. My feet go off balance and I cry out as I fall backward, my ass landing on his thigh.
He forces my body to turn slightly, one of his hands wrapping tightly around my waist, the other sliding up my side and my neck, he curls his fingers around the side of my throat while his eyes look up into mine.
“I’ve hurt your feelings,” he rasps.
“No,” I snap. “You haven’t.”
He chuckles. “You’re lyin’, darlin’.”
My body shivers and I hate that it does. His lips twitch into a small smile, no doubt knowing exactly what he does to me. He leans forward, his lips almost touching mine, just a hairsbreadth away. I can almost taste the whiskey that fills my senses and the tobacco. I don’t know why, but it’s extremely sensual and I want more of that scent—of that taste.
“This is a tough world, Birdie. You’ve got to be tougher.”
“Why?” I breathe.
He hums, brushing his lips across mine. “Because you’re in my bed, darlin’. I’m the man in charge of the entire country, people will hate you just because you’re mine.”
“Am I?” I ask. “Yours?”
He doesn’t say anything
right away and I have no doubt that he’s thinking of Adelaide and his daughter. Of the life that he had, the girls that were truly his and the fact that I will never be her.
Not ever.
I’m second fiddle, always will be.
Though, I typically am, so I should be used to it by now. I’d just always thought that the man I ended up with, the man that I was destined to be with for the rest of my life, that he would love me, wholly.
It shouldn’t bother me that Colt will never truly want me. That I will always be what he can have, but not what he truly desires. He doesn’t know my true heart and maybe one day I can win him over, but for now, it seems we’re stuck together for this prophecy, whatever that means.
“You are,” he rasps.
“Okay,” I say firmly.
“Okay?”
Shrugging a shoulder, I’m not sure what else to say. I could tell him everything that I’m thinking, but this isn’t a man who enjoys heart-to-heart emotional conversations. I can tell that just in the short time I’ve known him, this man is not a huge communicator. I’m not going to be one of those women that screams and begs for his attention and for his assurances.
“I don’t want a soiled dove, Birdie.”
I jerk back slightly, a bit surprised by his announcement. Blinking, I look into his eyes. “You don’t?” I ask.
He shakes his head, his thumb making small circles against my neck. “I don’t,” he murmurs.
“What do you want?” I breathe.
He grins, leaning forward, his lips touch mine and I let out a small sigh as my body begins to warm. I can feel my blood getting hotter by the second and judging by what happened last night, I know that soon it will feel as though it’s boiling and then I’ll have no choice but to be with him again.
I can’t even pretend that I’m disappointed, as hurtful as it was the way he left things, it was also the best lovemaking session of my entire life.
“You,” he grunts before his lips crash against mine and his tongue fills my mouth in one swift move.
COLT
I don’t know why I said it, but it’s true. I want her. Birdie is mine. I know that what I feel is only the prophecy and it isn’t real, but that doesn’t change the need that I have inside of me, a need that only she can fulfill.
If there is something to break this spell, I haven’t figured it out yet and right now I’m not sure that I want to.
Being with her feels amazing.
The guilt consumes me, just as it did last night. After our moment together, it hit me. I didn’t think of Adelaide. In fact, I couldn’t even recall her name immediately, there was only Birdie.
That is the reason I walked away. Not because of anything that she did, but because my guilt was threatening to choke me, it was consuming me and I had to walk away from her. I couldn’t look at her for another second. It was me, all me.
Birdie moans against my lips. Sliding my hand to the back of her hair, I grip her strands tightly, holding her against me, refusing to let her escape.
Sliding my hand up her waist I cup the side of her breast as discretely as possible, though it doesn’t matter much out here as there isn’t anyone around who would tattle on me.
Slowly I break the kiss, nibbling on her bottom lip before I look up into her eyes.
“Colt?”
I shake my head once. “Until we know what this prophecy is and how it is going to affect the country, you’re mine, Birdie.”
“And once we find out?” she asks.
Shrugging a shoulder, I lick my bottom lip and continue to look into her eyes. I search them, looking for something, but I’m not quite sure what I’m trying to find. Whatever it is, it’s not there. She confuses me, her presence alone confuses me.
“I don’t know, then we go from there,” I murmur.
She shakes her head, turning to look to the side. I don’t force her face back to mine, I don’t make her look at me. I should. But I don’t, not right here—not right now. Eventually, her gaze finds mine.
“And while we wait, you’re going to come to my bed?” she asks.
My lips turn up into a smile. “Are you trying to tell me that you didn’t like what we did in that bed?”
Her eyes widen and her nostrils flare, but she doesn’t speak right away. I wait for her to deny me, but she doesn’t.
“I did, it was the after I didn’t care for overly much,” she mutters, wrinkling her nose in that way that I’ve come to find adorable.
Chuckling, I can’t hold back my laughter. “It was more me than you, Birdie. I can’t say that I’ll never do it again…”
Lying isn’t something that I do, even if it would save her feelings, I can’t. I’m not a true politician, even if my title deems me as such. I’ve never been one to mince words. Even if it angers people, I have always told the truth. With a lover, I am no different.
“You’re an asshole,” she snaps.
“I can guess at the meaning of that, but I’m not sure as to why you’re calling me that.”
She blinks, then her lips curve up into a pretty smile. She leans forward, her lips close, but not touching my own, disappointingly.
“Your guess is probably correct and it’s because that’s what you are. You seriously just told me you would totally bounce on me again in the future with zero explanation as to why. And you’ve also pretty much said when the prophecy is all figured out, then you would decide how to move forward. Dude, nothing makes a girl want to go back the fuck home more than that shit right there,” she snaps, her nostrils flaring in anger.
At the suggestion of her leaving, my fingers twist in the back of her hair, holding her too tight. She gasps, lifting her hand to my wrist behind her head. Her fingers grip me there, but my grasp is too tight and I don’t allow her to pull my hand away.
Something inside of me clenches in pain, it radiates throughout my entire body, just at the thought of her leaving. I haven’t ever felt this way before. When Adelaide was murdered, I felt sorrow and mourning, I ached, but not like this.
This is different, this is all-consuming pain.
This is a pain that if I were standing, I would be brought to my knees.
“You will go nowhere,” I grind out.
She narrows her eyes at me, her nostrils still flaring as she watches me. “I will do whatever I need to, Colt. You do not own me. You are not in control of me, and if you’re a fucking dickhead to me, I’ll bounce. Simple as that.”
“You won’t,” I growl. “You will not. There is nothing for you here, Birdie, if you are not mine.”
“So you’re saying women don’t work out here, we are forced to rely on men? I find that really hard to believe.”
“You can be a housemaid, if you’re lucky to find a family wealthy enough to take you in, which I can name maybe two within the area or…” My words trail off.
“Or?” she asks.
I smirk, lifting a brow. “Or you can be a soiled dove over at the Blue Bird Theatre, but just to say, I’ll be coming and going from your bed there too, darlin’.”
She presses her lips together and narrows her gaze at me. “You really are an asshole,” she hisses.
I’m sure that I am just as she’s described, though I still don’t quite understand it. She will have to learn to live with it though, because there is no way I’m allowing anyone else to touch her body, but me. I’m also not allowing her to be someone’s housemaid. She’s mine and this is where she will reside, at my side. In my home and nestled between the sheets of my bed.
Chapter Thirteen
COLT
The sun beats down on the dry barren land and I watch as the world around me seems to stand completely still. The rain has come, there have been clouds and there has been what I can only guess as magical light, at least that’s how Logan describes it. I’ve yet to see it for myself.
“You’ve talked to her, then?” Logan asks, coming up behind me before he stands to my side.
“Why do you ask that?”
“She’s not crying, the weather seems eerily calm, plus she and Florence are chatting with the dressmaker as he measures her.”
“You’ve been watching my woman be measured?” I ask, my anger quickly boiling beneath the surface.
He chuckles, lifting his hand before he grips my shoulder and jerks me a few times. “I would not and you know it. I could hear their voices rattling around the house. I decided to come in search for you.”
“And?” I ask.
He doesn’t say anything immediately. “It’s time for me to go about my mission. I’ve stayed long enough.”
“When do the troops arrive here?” I ask.
There is a moment of silence and he continues to stare forward, expressionless. “Soon, within the week. They’ll be able to set up camp anywhere out here, yes?”
Nodding my head, I look down at my feet, spitting on the ground and watching it sizzle in the sun before I speak. “I will direct them. I’ll also get some extra food brought out as well. Birdie and I will go to town in the morning and I’ll get that handled.”
“You and Birdie will go to town?” he asks.
I can hear the smile in his voice and I can feel his eyes on me, watching me, no doubt in amusement.
Shrugging a shoulder, I look over to him. “Yes, Birdie and I will go to town. I’m not letting her out of my sight, and I’ve no doubt she will want to gather her own supplies since she came here with nothing.”
“Do these supplies include a ring?” he asks.
A snort escapes. A ring? Drat. “Marriage is not on the table, not ever,” I remind him.
He clears his throat. “The prophecy may have other plans, have you thought of that?”
Shaking my head, I lift my hand and readjust my hat, spitting again and again, watching it sizzle in the red dirt.
“It doesn’t matter what the prophecy says. She is the woman in my bed, nothing more. I will never marry again.”
Logan opens his mouth, but wisely closes it and doesn’t speak any further on the subject. Instead, his hand falls from my shoulder and he clears his throat. I watch as he takes a step forward before he stops and looks back at me.
Bride of the Frontier (The Prophecy of Sisters Book 3) Page 9
