Claiming Their Mail-Order Bride: A Cowboy Ménage Romance (Montana Ménage Book 2)

by Lily Reynard

  Afterward, he gathered her in his arms, kissing her hair and nuzzling her cheek. "Damn, but you are the finest piece of calico in the Montana Territory."

  Relaxed in the afterglow, she ventured, "Was there someone else you wanted to marry? I mean, it's hard to believe someone like you would be alone if you didn't want…"

  Sarah stopped speaking as he tensed against her.

  "I don't want to talk about it," he said curtly, all softness and teasing gone.

  He lifted her off him, rolled off the sofa, and stalked out of the living room.

  Sarah lay on her side. She drew her knees up and curled into a ball.

  I thought that he was softening towards me, but now I've offended him, she thought miserably. He's going to insist on sending me away, even after everything we just did together. Or maybe because of what we did together. Was this a test of my virtue?

  If so, she knew she had failed, miserably.

  To her surprise, Larkin returned moments later, holding one of the striped flannel washcloths she remembered seeing in the laundry room.

  He knelt beside the sofa and gently drew the rag over her bare breasts and stomach. He'd dipped the cloth in hot water, and it was still warm as he wiped away the sticky evidence of his completion.

  His expression still closed and remote, he said quietly, "That was rude, Sarah. I'm sorry. Please don't take it personally. I'm sure you'll make Walt a fine wife. It's just…well, I do apologize."

  She felt a burst of hope at his words. Does he mean that I can stay here at the ranch, after all?

  "I didn't mean to pry," she replied. "And I never meant to cause trouble between you and your friend."

  "This ain't about you, Angel. Walt's been real lonely for a while now. I liked things just fine the way they were before, but I reckon if he doesn’t marry you, then he'll just start looking for someone else. He's set his mind to getting hitched, and I guess I need to get used to it." Larkin's face softened, and he leaned down to brush a warm, lingering kiss over her lips. "I like having you around just fine. And if you can make Walt happy, then I guess I can learn to get along with you and him." He paused and gave her a crooked grin. "Just keep inviting me for dinner, okay? And a slice or two of your pie would go a long way towards keepin' me happy."

  He wants me to stay!

  "If my presence here will cause trouble, I could always look for a job in town," she offered, not daring to believe that Larkin's opposition had softened to such a degree. Was it because I allowed him to take liberties with my person just now?

  She continued, "Maybe Emma knows of something—"

  He pressed a callused finger against her lips, silencing her. "Look, Sarah, I read your letters to Walt, plus there's what you told me about your Da trying to trade you to that cross-roader. I know you need a home, and since you've come all the way out here to Twin Forks, why don't we just see how things work out?" Larkin leaned over and gave her a quick kiss. "You're a fine woman, Sarah, and I reckon you deserve a chance at happiness. Bide here a while."

  And with that, Larkin rose and padded over to where his clothes lay.

  Sarah was trying to find the right words to thank him, when he deliberately changed the subject. "I worked up a real appetite, how about you? That soup smells real good."

  "It won't take long to make some biscuits, if you'd like some with our supper."

  Larkin chuckled. "You'll never have to ask twice when it comes to biscuits. I'll go add some wood to the stove and get the oven heated up."

  The damp rag wadded up in his fist, he departed the living room once more.

  As his footsteps receded down the hall, Sarah sat up. She bent and retrieved her chemise, corset, and bloomers from where they lay scattered around the sofa. As she began the cumbersome process of putting everything back on again, she thought about what had just happened. It had been an earthshaking experience, in more than one way.

  Until now, she had always been a pawn to men's plans and failings, first those of her father, then of Mr. Burgess.

  Larkin's words had struck her deeply. Despite his reluctance to wed her, he still appreciated her as a woman and a fellow human being, not just as an object to be used in negotiations and the settling of debts. He was strong, and wicked, and he had known exactly how to awaken her innermost sensual self. And despite his vulgar turn of phrase and his quick temper, he was also unexpectedly kind in a gruff, unsentimental way.

  It was also clear that he cared deeply about his friend's happiness.

  I'm falling for him, she realized with a start. I only wish I knew how to make him feel the same way about me.

  She thought that she could be happy here as Walt's wife, especially since she now knew what they might do with the fire kindled by their shared kisses.

  But oh, how she wished that Liza's plan to wed both men had borne fruit! It might be perverse and scandalous to share hearth and home with two husbands, but she wanted it, if it was with Walt and Larkin.

  But it seemed an impossible hope. Larkin seemed perfectly happy to kiss her—and do other, delightfully wicked things with her—but he seemed staunchly opposed to the institution of marriage.

  I wish Walt were here now, she thought, as she pulled together the halves of her corset and began fastening the long row of hooks and eyes. He might know how to resolve this conundrum.

  * * *

  All throughout supper, Larkin was consumed with thoughts of all the things he wanted to do to Sarah tonight, when they were upstairs in that big, soft bed.

  He'd thought that their interlude just now would take the edge off his desire for her. Instead, it had only made things worse.

  Now that he knew what she tasted like, felt like, sounded like when she was being pleasured, he wanted more. He wanted all of her, not just her mouth or her hand.

  He wanted to take her, wanted those soft arms and legs around him, holding him close, as he buried himself inside her slick, tight depths.

  And he knew that she'd eagerly give him anything he wanted, but there was a price: getting hitched.

  From the beginning, she'd made that part more than clear. And for all of his faults as a man, he wasn't a liar and a swindler. He wouldn't make her a promise that he had no intention of keeping.

  He spooned up a second serving of thick, velvety bean soup, damned tasty like everything else that she cooked, and watched her covertly.

  She sat in her usual spot at the table, looking happier than he'd ever seen her. Hell, she was practically glowing. He hadn't really noticed it before, thinking she was just naturally inclined to being quiet and a bit shy, but now he realized that she'd been weighed down by some burden.

  Whatever he'd done or said to her this afternoon had lifted it.

  That thought sent worry shooting through him like an arrow.

  He'd sworn years ago that he'd never marry, but over the past few days, he'd started wondering what it might be like to wake up next to her every morning. And to sit at this table three times a day and receive delicious food prepared for him with a sweet smile and a loving heart.

  I'm just like Da, with his hellacious temper, he reminded himself. There's no way I'd ever make a good husband or a good father, and I would never tie a woman, especially a good, sweet woman like Sarah, to someone like me.

  Sarah smiled at him, her expression dreamy and those cat-like eyes of hers heavy-lidded.

  "I'm looking forward to bedtime," she said, her gaze dropping shyly to her bowl.

  He couldn't wait to spend another night in her arms, especially if he got to explore every soft, sweet inch of her…

  I've got to get out of here, he thought, his chest tightening with panic even as his cock began to stir. I need some breathing room. Or I'll do something completely lunk-headed, like go all the way with her, and put us both in a world of trouble.

  Then inspiration struck. Walt. He was the one who wanted to get hitched to Sarah. It was only fair that he get the chance to spend some time in her company.

  Larkin c
leared his throat. "I just remembered that there's something important I need to tell Walt. I'll be riding out as soon as I finish supper."

  Her expression fell as she lowered her spoon to stare at him. "You're leaving? Now? Isn't it late?"

  He shrugged. "We still got several hours of daylight left."

  It was true. As the summer solstice drew closer, the days were steadily lengthening. Yesterday, twilight had lingered until well after bedtime.

  Having an escape plan helped ease his breathing, but dammit, he couldn't stand to see her looking so disappointed.

  He heard himself say, "But before I go, I'd sure appreciate a helping of that dessert I smelled baking this afternoon."

  The strawberry-rhubarb cobbler was superb, sweet and tart, served with a dollop of whipped cream. She'd added a bit of sugar and rosewater to flavor the whipped cream, and it complemented the cobbler perfectly.

  He couldn't really enjoy it, though, not with Sarah eyeing his every move and expression as warily as he'd once studied Da's moods.

  I can't do this. I can't risk becoming a monster like my Da.

  Guilt curdling the meal and dessert in his stomach, he slunk out of the house like a yellow-bellied sapsucker while an extremely subdued Sarah was dealing with the dishes.

  He saddled up Cincinnati and rode up into the forested hills through the long evening shadows and slanting rays of the sun.

  Larkin berated himself the whole way to the mining camp. You should have talked to her. Told her the truth. You're a damned coward, you know that? Running and hiding because hiding is the only thing you know how to do.

  The sun was beginning to touch the tops of the western peaks when Larkin arrived at the cluster of tents set up in a grassy clearing near the entrance to the mine.

  As he rode up, he spotted Walt and their crew of miners sitting on logs and stumps placed around a fire. They were drinking coffee and eating beef and potato hash off tin plates.

  He caught a whiff of the food as he dismounted. It smelled good, but Larkin was willing to bet good money that Walt's supper wasn't nearly as tasty as his had been.

  Well, I'm about to remedy that.

  As the men seated around the fire looked up, startled at his unexpected appearance, Larkin forced himself to smile and wave. He didn't want anyone to panic and think that someone was hurt or dead. "Hey, Walt! I need to talk to you."

  With a puzzled look, Walt set aside his plate and mug, and rose.

  "What is it?" he asked, as he approached Larkin.

  Larkin lowered his voice. "You need to go home, to Sarah."

  Walt's fair brows shot up in surprise. "Why? Is there something wrong? Is she all right?" His expression darkened with concern as he asked that last question.

  "Nah, nothing's wrong, exactly," Larkin hastened to assure his friend. "But I just can’t be staying alone with her anymore."

  Walt frowned. "Did something happen? Did you have an argument? Or was she…unpleasant to you in some way?"

  Shit. I didn't think Walt might blame Sarah because I'm a damn fool.

  "No, nothing like that," Larkin assured him. "She's all right for a piece of calico. A hard worker. And a damn fine cook. It's just…well, I was thinking that she's your bride, but you skedaddled out here so quick that you hardly spent any time with her."

  "Lark." Walt blew out an exasperated breath. "Something's put a burr under your saddle. What is it?"

  Larkin crossed his arms and scowled. Sometimes he just hated how well Walt knew him. "I said it was nothing."

  "Right." Walt shook his head. "I don't believe you, but I also know better than to try to get you to spill when you've decided to clam up." He sighed. "When you're ready, I hope you'll tell me whatever's bothering you. But you're sure everything is all right back at the house?"

  "Right as rain," Larkin assured him. "I, uh, just felt bad that I was the one sharing a delicious dinner with a pretty girl, while you were out here at the mine."

  Walt pursed his lips, looking distinctly skeptical. Then he shrugged. "Okay, if you insist…I'll be happy to sleep in a real bed tonight." He glanced up at the sky. "I need to leave now, if I'm going to make it back before it gets too dark for Toledo to see where he's going. But before I go, there's a few things you should know…"

  Larkin listened as Walt told him that they'd discovered a fresh vein of copper this afternoon but that they were going to have to use dynamite to get to it.

  Walt was worried because their other partner, Jim Soo Fong, usually made sure that new sections of the mine were stabilized before work. Walt and his crew had taken a stab at reinforcing the walls, but Larkin could tell he was nervous about Jim's absence. And there was no telling when Jim would return. From all accounts, his uncle had been taken real bad, and the doctor wasn't sure he'd recover.

  Larkin clapped his friend on the shoulder. He knew how seriously Walt took the safety of his men and his mine.

  "Don't worry. I’ll deal with it. And I'll make sure to ask Jim to look at the beams and trusses in that new shaft when he gets back."

  "Oh, and there's one more thing," Walt said, lowering his voice to an unhappy murmur, "Evan Llewellyn hit a vein of gold ore this afternoon. I've promised the crew all a generous bonus if they promise to button their lips, but I'm worried."

  "Dammit." This was not the news that Larkin wanted to hear, especially with gold fever still running hot in town.

  When the first gold nuggets had turned up on the ranch, Walt and Larkin had both worried about what might happen if a mob of squatters moved in to stake claims on their property. Never mind that squatting was illegal—possession was nine-tenths of the law out here on the frontier, and everyone knew it.

  Walt nodded, then went to go grab his bedroll and saddle up his big dappled gray gelding.

  As Walt and Toledo disappeared into the trees, following the narrow track that would take them back to the ranch house, Larkin wondered if he’d just made a big mistake.

  Was I just being a chickenshit? Maybe I should have stayed with Sarah and just let things play out.

  Then he shook his head. He knew better. The red demon of uncontrollable rage that lurked inside his head had been quiet lately, but he knew better than to hope that it had just up and left.

  Chapter Fourteen

  What did I do to drive him away? Sarah asked herself, as she stood at the kitchen window, watching Larkin lead his big bay horse out of the barn. She saw a bedroll and bulging saddlebags attached to Cincinnati's saddle and remembered that Walt's horse had been similarly equipped before he left a few days ago.

  In the aftermath of the intimacies that she and Larkin had exchanged this afternoon, she had felt her spirits floating on a golden cloud. It had been such a long time since she had felt happy like this.

  Larkin had seemed happier, as well, if lost in thought, but he had enjoyed her cooking, as always.

  And then, he had just departed. Like Walt had.

  Was it something I said? Her worry from earlier returned. What if the events this afternoon were a test of my virtue? If so, I failed by yielding to Larkin's blandishments. Perhaps he's gone to inform Walt that I'm a woman of loose morals.

  Sarah began to wash the supper dishes.

  As she worked, she tried to convince herself that Larkin didn't seem the type to impose Puritanical tests, but she couldn't shake the conviction that she had somehow driven him away.

  The house seemed very quiet and very lonely without his presence. Larkin wasn't very talkative, but just knowing that he was seated at the living room desk with his ledgers or repairing a bit of horse harness with a sturdy needle and thick, waxed thread had filled this place with a companionable air that she had enjoyed.

  Her eyes stung and her vision blurred. Hot tears began to roll down her cheeks as she scrubbed grimly away at the soup pot.

  At first, she tried to wipe them away and just concentrate on her evening tasks. Then, as the sun began to sink behind the mountains and Larkin didn't return, she asked herself, W
hat's the use of pretending? There's no one around for miles to see me.

  That was enough to unleash the floodgates of all the pain, uncertainty, and rejection that had accumulated since she'd run away from home a fortnight ago. Sobbing, Sarah buried her face in her apron and sank down onto one of the kitchen chairs.

  Up until this moment, she had been so preoccupied with simply surviving that she hadn't allowed the reality of her situation to sink in.

  Betrayed by the one person who should have loved her above all others, she had left behind her old life and even her identity, and for what?