Tempting Bethany

by Stacy Reid

  “Oh, what a beauty. Is he your horse?”

  “He’s yours.”

  “A stallion?”

  “Yes. His spirit reminds me of yours, wild and beautiful.”

  “I’ve never owned a horse before, and I’ve never ridden a stallion before,” she said shyly, pushing back her fiery locks from her face. She was so goddamn beautiful. “Oh Joshua, he is so incredibly beautiful.”

  “I’ll teach you to ride and how to care for him in the coming days.”

  Her lips curved into a smile. “And what’s the other?”

  He reached behind him, took a wickedly curved knife from his waist, and held it up to her. She stared for long silent minutes. “Most men give flowers and trinkets.”

  “I’m not most men.”

  Her eyes smiled first, and then her lips bloomed into a wide, carefree grin. “I’m pleased you’re not.”

  He took her lips, and her taste was paradise. And as simple as that he wanted to be inside her again. Joshua stumbled with her inside, and gently lowered her onto the blankets. Instead of relinquishing control to him, his woman pushed him back and kissed a path down his chest, and lower until her hot breath fanned over his throbbing cock.

  He swallowed tightly, wondering if she would, and beating back the lust urging him to fist her hair in his hands and take her mouth. Unable to help the desire coursing through him, he tried to gather her hair, and she slapped his hands away. Despite her delicate, fragile appearance, his woman had an underlying strength, and at that moment he knew she could handle him and all his complexities. Her sensuality was new, hesitant, but she wouldn't allow him to control it and her. He held up his hands in surrender, and she smiled, then lowered her mouth over the flared head of his cock. His abdomen clenched at that first, tentative heated lick. By the third glide of her tongue of his length, he was shaking. Then the wicked temptresses sucked the crown of his cock into her mouth, enveloping it into paradise. He fucking moaned. She laughed and did it again.

  She sucked him deeper, tightening her lips and her mouth around the broad head and working it with her tongue. She pulled back from him, crawling backward to spread her body onto the large bearskin rug on the floor by the fire. Her mouth was puffed and tender-looking from loving, yet her eyes glowed with innocence and the bloom of uncertainty.

  “Open for me, let me see your pretty folds.”

  Sensuality washed over her expression, flushing her face. She widened her legs, and the pink, swollen glistening folds of flesh drew his gaze. Joshua pushed to his feet, lifted her into his arms, and walked her over to the large table near the kitchen, and lowered her to it.

  “It’s cold,” she gasped.

  “You’ll be burning soon,” he promised.

  He dropped to his knees and tasted. Her flavor exploded on his tongue—honey, spice, and the woman herself. Her pussy against his tongue was the sweetest, softest silk. He palmed her ass and held her under the lash of his tongue. She screamed, her hands clenching in his hair, pulling him closer. Had any other woman been this wet for him, been this greedy for his touch? Hell, he wouldn’t even know for he recalled none before her.

  “Oh God, Joshua,” she cried, shuddering when he sucked her clitoris.

  He dropped her legs, pulled her off the table, turned her around and bent her over the smooth surface. He arched her rounded ass into the air, groaning at the provocative picture she presented. He blanketed her smaller frame with his, pushed his cock against her wet opening and slammed deep.

  She screamed and bit into the muscles of his forearm braced on the table top.

  “Can you take it?” he whispered, kissing the back of her neck.

  “Yes,” she moaned breathlessly. “Now move, Joshua Kincaid.”

  He gripped her hips, pressed a kiss on her sweat-slick shoulders, and rode her. He wasn't gentle, Joshua didn't think he could be, even if she begged him to. The need burning through his soul was raw and insatiable. But she didn’t pull away, passionate cries echoed in the cabin and wrapped around his soul. She arched beneath him, tightening on the hard, heavy length of his cock, as she began to tremble.

  “Joshua!” Her release swept through her, and she convulsed, the clench of her inner muscles pulling his release from him before he was ready. With a harsh groan, he tumbled with her, emptying deep inside her still shivering body. He withdrew from her, lifted her into his arms, and somehow managed to lower them onto the thick rug and splay her on his chest.

  He wrapped her in a blanket, and she snuggled into it, a smile curving her lips. He kissed her head, loving the feel of her delicate weight against his chest.

  “If you touch me again, I’m going to shoot you,” she muttered into the curve of his neck.

  He held her, stroking a hand from her bottom to her shoulders until sleep stole over her.

  Beth stirred lazily on the mountains of blanket Joshua had made into their bedding, scanning the large log cabin for him. A fire crackled nearby, and a tantalizing aroma of bacon and biscuits wafted through the air. There was a potbellied stove at the end of the room, and she could smell the coffee brewing.

  She shifted, and a soft groan escaped her. Everywhere felt sore. Though the blankets made for good padding, they were not the soft feathers of a mattress. And Joshua had taken her four times throughout the night, the last time only an hour ago while they had bathed in the spring behind the cabin. She had tried to escape inside from the cold, but he had been hell-bent on seduction, and after a while, Beth hadn’t been cold anymore. She grinned as she remembered her screams echoing through the trees and startling the birds. A yawn slipped from her, and she burrowed further down into the blankets. Perhaps she would get a few more hours sleep.

  She was jerked fully awake at the volley of echoing gunfire. Fear tore through her heart. “Grayson!”

  “He’s with my father. That man won’t allow anyone to harm our son.”

  She lurched to her feet and looked around. Her lover had vanished. The man tugging on his pants, and gun belts was methodical, calculating, and ruthless. The shiver of dread that went through her was unwelcome. “What do you think is happening? An Indian attack?”

  “No.” But there was an icy knowledge in his eyes.

  Another volley of gunfire echoed across the valley, and her mouth went dry. “Abraham Hardin,” she whispered.

  “I won’t know for sure until I head down to the ranch. Get dressed. Arm yourself. Stay here, I will be back soon with our son.” The look he gave her brooked no argument, and the protest on her lips died.

  “Joshua?” she hesitated, not wanting to be that weak woman who begged him not to go, not when the rest of her heart was at that ranch. In fact, she had come to care a lot about his family and the idea of them in danger because of her made her throat burn. “Be safe.”

  He nodded, grabbed his Winchester and headed for the door. There he paused, and she stepped toward him, uncaring that she was naked. They met each other in the center of the room, and he grabbed her, and kissed her, fiercely, passionately, and then with exquisite gentleness. “I’ll bring our son to you. Do not leave.”

  His voice was quiet, assured and confident, and some of the fear left her. She nodded, he released her and disappeared through the door. Beth hurriedly dressed. She plaited her hair and went over to the guns lying on the table. There was a six-shooter, a Colt dragoon, and a knife. She checked that the guns were loaded, took several deep breaths, sat on the lone chair by the window, and waited.

  Please God, let everyone be safe.

  Chapter 13

  Joshua ran with careful speed down the trail to the ranch, his heart growing colder with each crack of a gun. Carrying his rifle, he went downstream, covering the ground in long, smooth strides. It sounded like a war was being waged on the Triple K. There were horses close to the trail leading to his cabin. Joshua stooped, assessing the ground and the fall of the leaves. He counted fifteen distinct horses’ tracks. They had split into two parties, and eleven had ridden for the main
house, the others toward the bunkhouse. That didn't mean more hadn't come from the eastern side of the range. He backtracked, heading into the woods, assessing the leaves and the brambles to ensure none had headed toward Bethany. When he was satisfied all tracks pointed toward the ranch, he lowered himself to the ground, and crept forward, flat on his stomach.

  His father and the few ranchmen not on the cattle drive had known Abraham might show up. They had not expected it to be so soon though. The man had evidently started hunting as soon as Joshua had left Blue Lagoon with Beth.

  He lifted the rifle and took careful stock of the situation. He tracked the movement of three men stooped behind the bunkhouse, firing at the stables. The panicked screaming of the horses echoed in the air. One of the men behind the bunkhouse was gesturing to someone, and he followed the movement, icy rage burning through his gut when he saw one of the men tussling with his sister. They had caught her unawares for she wore no gun. She kneed the man in his crotch and ran off, but another tackled her to the ground and slapped her.

  Joshua centered his rifle on the back of his head.

  I’ll shoot them in the knees.

  He lowered his aim to the man’s shoulder and fired, and drawing back the hammer, released three more shots in quick succession. The men behind the bunkhouse fell. They would live, and they had his woman to be thankful for his act of mercy. He’d shattered elbows and knees, instead of aiming for their hearts.

  His bullet struck a man running from behind the stables right above the holster, knocking him sideways. He worked the lever of his Winchester in rapid succession, wounding three more men.

  He stood, his Winchester held ready as he moved out in the open. A man powered from behind the house on a horse and Joshua lifted his Winchester and fired. It knocked the man from his saddle and dropped him on the ground. The slimy bastard raised his hand and shot several times, hitting his horse. Joshua rolled out of the way, coming up on his knees, and fired.

  The man slammed back into the ground, twitched once and then stilled.

  Sorry, brown eyes.

  Raw snorts of pain came from the horse who had buckled to the ground. Sorrow twisted through Joshua. He knelt beside the suffering animal, unsheathed a knife from the top of his boot, and stabbed deep across its jugular. He remained on his knees, watching his surroundings, stroking the horse’s sweat-flecked coat until it took its last breath.

  There were several bullet holes in the main door, but it remained closed. That would mean his father, mother, Kathy, and son were safe inside.

  “Joshua,” Jenny called softly from where she lay on her belly. “Four of them rode towards the valley and Pa followed them.”

  “What are you doing out here?”

  “I was walking with Kathy and Grayson when they rode onto the range and surprised us. We were a bit from the main house. I told Kathy to run and hide, and I raced here to tell Ma, but they cut me off.”

  The fear that tore through Joshua had him weakly lowering his Winchester. “Grayson and Kathy are not in the main house?”

  Fear and pain darkened his sister’s eyes. “No. She was west of the stables, I looked just now, but I don’t see her.”

  “Go inside,” he clipped, handing her one of his six-shooters. “Kill any man that tries to stop you. Go, I’ll wait until you’re inside.”

  He scanned the open range and the hills, not liking the tension winding through him. There had been fifteen horses. He had just taken down Nine men, and his father had ridden after four. Several were unaccounted for, and his instincts told him those were the men that had made for Kathy.

  Jenny reached the door and called to his mother, who opened it with a rifle in hand and pulled in her daughter. As the door closed, he turned around, running low to the ground past the bunkhouse and around the stables.

  He watched the ground, noticing the tracks of animals, the grass that was bent down, and observing for any sudden change of direction in the tracks he saw. Moving swiftly but carefully, he followed the pattern. No shots rang out, and no one came toward him. The stillness of the ranch when it had always been full of such bustle was eerie. The valley and plains that held the cattle were more than thirty minutes ride from the main house. The ranch hands there would hear the gunfight, some would stay to herd the cattle from stampeding, and others would hurry toward the ranch.

  He paused, measuring the grass, seeing where Jenny veered toward the main house. He looked at the other patterns, glancing towards the woodlands. Kathy had headed towards the tall trees. Smart girl. He studied every clump and brush…and waited and listened. The air was still. Joshua ran into the trees, tracking her, carefully looking for the broken twigs which would indicate someone had passed by. He traced her until he came to a fork, and relief slipped from him when he saw she'd taken the trail that would lead her to his cabin.

  His soul froze when he saw the four distinct tracks converging on hers. Joshua started running up the slight incline, a hollowness forming in his gut as the enraged scream of Bethany echoed down the hills. The terror in the scream burned through his soul, telling him that he was too late. Then the cry of his son broke the silence sharp and piercing. The sharp retort of two shots, then four more in quick succession.

  Then silence. Joshua ran, and he prayed.

  I should have taken her east. Damn my selfish hide and hunger for her, if I had taken her home, whatever horrors she faced alone now would be avoided, the fears she's suffering would have been averted. He prayed. Oh God, he prayed, in those minutes it took him to race back up the trail and to the woman he loved more than anything else, that he would reach her in time.

  An agony of pain swelled in Beth’s chest, constricting her throat. A man held a gun on her baby and in that man’s eyes she spied no mercy. Kathy had come running up the trail leading to the cabin with Grayson clutched tightly in her arms. Beth had grabbed the gun and the knife and bolted through the door to meet them. The filth had taken Grayson from Kathy and laid him on the blanket he had been wrapped in on the grass. Now her little man was sitting up, looking around with his face scrunched. Thank God, he was padded enough to protect from the morning chill.

  Her heart was beating a terrified tempo. “Release her,” Beth demanded hoarsely, her aim steady on the man.

  Another man emerged from the woods, and the one holding the gun to her son shoved Kathy toward that man.

  “C’mere, you gave us a fine chase didn’t you,” the man said, grabbing Kathy and pushing her to the ground.

  He ripped the front of her dress, and the girl screamed, her eyes swung to Beth wild with fear. Her son's eyes widened, and he twisted, going on his knees in a creep to stare at Kathy. His face crumpled, and his cry rose in the air.

  Sweat slicked Beth’s skin despite the cold mountain air, and dread tightened her stomach. She glanced at her crying son on the ground, desperate to rush to him. Where are you, Joshua? The shots echoing across the valley testified to the fight going on. Fear and guilt burned in her veins. She had been responsible for this travesty visiting the Triple K, and Joshua…please God, let him be safe.

  “Let her go,” Beth cried, fighting against the urge to vomit. Her eyes stung with tears, despite her resolve not to appear weak and afraid.

  The man started to pull at his belt buckle, ignoring Beth for they perceived her as no threat. The one holding the gun on her son lowered his weapon and dropped it to the ground. Confusion rushed through her. Did he not realize she had a gun aimed at him? Her hand trembled, for she was afraid to fire with her son so close by.

  He spat the tobacco he was chewing, and it landed brown and muddy onto the grass, and the disgusting slime grabbed his crotch. “We up here all alone, and you know what I want. Lie on the grass and split your legs wide. I told you I’d be coming back for you, didn’t I?”

  It was then she realized this was the man who’d call her a whore. “When Joshua Kincaid gets his hands on you, you’ll wish you were dead when he’s through,” she said, hoping to inspire fea
r into his vile heart. “You’ll lose more than your ear the next time.” She lifted her chin to the bulge at the front of his pants. “Maybe you’ll lose that.”

  “I’m sure he’s dead by now,” he taunted, a watchful air about him as he looked at the gun in her hand.

  Beth realized he was waiting for a chance to charge at her, and he was probably wondering if she knew how to use the weapon. They didn’t want her dead, or he would have shot her already. The knowledge didn’t reassure her, only filled her with a darker fear. They would all rape her, and whatever life Abraham Hardin planned for her back in Liberty would not be pleasant.

  The man tussling with Kathy flipped her to her stomach, pushed her dress up, ripped her undergarments exposing her buttocks to the elements. He slapped her buttock; his palm print stark against her pale skin. A sob tore from Kathy's throat. Beth swung the six-shooter toward him and fired. The bullet slammed into his side, and he spun around drawing his gun in a fluid motion. She fired again, and red stained his left shoulder. Kathy jumped to her feet and ran toward the woods, and Beth prayed she would come back with help. The girl did not make it far, because another man and Abraham Hardin emerged from the forest, and slugged her in the jaw. She crumpled, groaning.

  The man by Grayson charged at her. She fired, once, twice, and she missed. In desperation, she fired once more, and she still missed. His large body slammed into her as her finger released the trigger once more, and his grunt of pain said she had hit him. He dragged her to her feet and backhanded her with such strength she stumbled to the grass. Then he was on her, his merciless grip on her throat, forcing her to stand.

  Beyond his shoulder, Abraham took up Grayson. She saw the moment he realized her baby was not a Hardin. Time slowed as he withdrew the gun from his hip holster, a cruel slant curving his lips.

  At that moment, she knew he was going to kill her son. That bastard looked at her, letting her see the promise in his smile, the pitiless intent in his eyes. And she understood then Abraham would not kill her, the murder of her baby was to be her punishment, for he blamed her for the death of his brother. The scream of rage and fear that tore from her throat, a cry that should have been impossible with the clasp at her throat, caused the man holding her to flinch. The savagery that ripped through her heart, she prayed she never had to feel again, and as she gripped the hilt of the knife in the pocket of her dress, a chill enveloped her soul. The man must have sensed the change in her, for he released her throat, bringing up his fist. But he was too late. She swung the knife up swift and sure into his neck then yanked it out. The warm spray of his blood washed across her face, obscuring her vision momentarily. Beth didn’t wait to see if he fell, she darted around him, and sent the knife flying from her grip, swift and sure into Abraham. It lodged in his thigh, and those cruel eyes turned to her, his hands lifting with his gun. Unable to move, she stood, the mix of emotions— pain, fear, and dark satisfaction flowering through her for Joshua had emerged running from the trees.