by Delta James
“What’s the exception? Are ye sure she doesn’t qualify?”
“Some women in her place would plead their belly, asserting they were with child, and thereby postponing their sentence for at least six months. But, once the child is born, it would be taken away and placed either with a family who wanted it, or in an orphanage, and the woman would be hanged, anyway.”
“Has she done that?” asked Gavan.
“No. In fact, when her lawyer suggested it, she punched him in the nose and assured him, and anyone else with earshot, that no man had ever laid a hand on her.” The judge shook his head. “She was a feisty thing.”
Of course, his Lizzie wouldn’t plead her belly and would be offended when someone questioned her virtue. She may have been living a life of crime, but she was not a woman without honor.
“With all due respect, Yer Honor, she isn’t dead yet,” he said with a bit more bite than he intended.
“No, she’s not,” Judge Abernathy said, checking his pocket watch. “But, come this time tomorrow, she will have left behind her mortal coil. Perhaps, if she repents, the Lord will accept her into His Eternal Kingdom, and she’ll know a peace there which eluded her here on Earth.”
There it was, the look of sadness on the judge’s face. Gavan was about to bet that the judge would welcome a way to avoid hanging a woman. This was just the opening he needed for his proposal.
“What if…” Gavan started, trying to figure out the best way to frame the question. “What if I could guarantee she’d never trouble you again?” Gavan saw the judge’s eyes soften and pressed on. “If I took her away from here to Bridgewater with me and made sure she never returned?”
“I don’t know what you have in mind, son, but I’d sooner see her dead than dishonored. I owe her father more than that; we were friends back in the day. Why don’t you join me in my office? I think you could use a drink, and I know I need one,” he said, hanging his head as his shoulders sagged under what seemed to be the weight of the world.
Gavan tapped down his temper. How dare the judge suggest he would not behave honorably where Lizzie was concerned?
Gavan followed the judge into his private chambers and watched as the old man removed his robe and, with it, his regal bearing. By the time he turned back to Gavan, the latter had poured them each a healthy dose of whiskey. There was more to the judge’s reaction than might necessarily meet the eye.
“Ye didna want her to die, either,” said Gavan, knowing it was a fact.
The judge nodded. “I knew the family. Terrible tragedy. Indian raid killed all but Elizabeth. Her parents were on the same wagon train as my bride, Beth. Fact is, Elizabeth is named for my Beth. By the time anyone knew about the raid, the Indians had taken Elizabeth. She lived with them for almost ten years.”
The judge sighed and shook his head as if trying to rid it of an old, painful memory before he continued, “By the time we got her back, she was damn close to feral. No one could handle her. My Beth had passed on, and I wasn’t equipped to take her in. She ended up in a state-run orphanage, until she aged out at eighteen. She had nothing, literally. Given her history, her only real choice was to become a prostitute.”
The man called Lizzie’s father a friend and suggested Lizzie should have become a whore? No wonder she’d become a rustler.
“Teaching? Religious house?” Gavan suggested.
“Nope. Neither wanted her, and Elizabeth wanted no part of being yoked to a way of life she didn’t choose for herself.”
“And she didn’t want to sell herself, so she began to steal from others.”
“That pretty much sums it up. I prayed she’d catch a stray bullet so I never had to sentence her to die.”
“What if I took her to Bridgewater with me?” Gavan asked, holding his breath. Now was the moment of truth.
“If I were a younger man, I’d punch you right in the nose. I’d sooner see her dead than made into a whore.”
Really? You’d have seen her sell herself instead of becoming a thief and, now that she’s facing the noose, you get up on your high horse about seeing her swing before becoming a prostitute.
Instead of saying what he was thinking, Gavan held up his hands, “You misunderstand. I’m nay proposing to dishonor the lass. I’m offering to marry her. Ye could perform the ceremony, yerself, so ye’d know it’s legal.”
“You’d marry her? Why?” the judge asked sharply, his bushy brows going up, looking Gavan in the eye, trying to read his intentions.
“Simple, I need a wife. Elizabeth has proven she can survive without a lot of frills and would be able to help on the ranch, if needed. Ye have to agree, she’s a pretty thing.”
The judge seemed to be considering Gavan’s proposal.
Gavan let it sink in before continuing, “Then, ye wouldn’t have to kill her.” He’d set the hook; he’d reeled him in and, now, for the sinker of guilt. “Do ye not think, if she’d had a chance at a normal upbringing, she’d have ended up married to a rancher? I’m offering her, and you, and the memory of her father, that happy ending.”
The judge inclined his head ever so slightly.
Gavan’s heart soared; he was almost home free.
“What if she won’t agree? How do I know you’ll treat her right?” he asked.
“You know the reputation of the men at Bridgewater. I served with Ian Monroe. As for her agreeing, I’ll see to that.”
“And you’d be willing to do that tonight? Marry her and be long gone before morning?”
“Yes, sir,” he said, hoping not to sound too eager. “And, as soon as ye have performed the legal ceremony, I will take the new Mrs. MacLean and be gone, never to return.”
“Well, son, if you can get Elizabeth to say ‘I do’ when I ask her the question, I will be in your debt and will sleep better than I have since this whole mess started.”
“Then, we have an agreement?” Gavan asked, holding his breath.
“We do. What do you say to performing the ceremony this evening after the town has settled down? The sheriff and his wife can be the witnesses.”
CAELAN
* * *
Caelan left his partner to try and make sense out of the American judiciary. If Caelan was the talker, it was Gavan who knew what to say to bend people to his will. Gavan would see Lizzie free, Caelan was sure of it. His first stop was the livery stable, where he paid the owner for the care of their horses. He considered purchasing a horse for Lizzie, but decided against it. She’d ride in one of their laps. She might as well get used to having a hard cock nestled in the crack of her arse. The very thought of his cock in her arse had the ability to make him hard as a rock. Caelan then went to the general store and picked up supplies, including extra bedding, extra rifles, and ammunition. If Gavan wasn’t successful, they’d have to get Lizzie out of town a different way. It wasn’t ideal, but they’d break that woman out of jail to make her their bride if they had to.
He smiled. Fuck. A convict for a bride. Who would have ever thought? Gavan had been right. The fiery redhead was not only lovely to look at and amusing to listen to, but she had practically scalped the hide right off the sheriff and the judge. She wouldn’t be a boring wife. No, she’d be wild, definitely, but they’d see her gentled. Sated. Happy. It might take a time or two over one or both of their knees, and maybe a cuddle or three, but Caelan had a feeling, when she’d been shown love and kindness, she’d come round and settle down quickly. Faster than a wild mustang, for sure.
Physically, she was far closer to Caelan’s preference. He’d always been a sucker for a beautiful redhead. They blushed so prettily, and their skin grew flush when aroused, or when chastised. But, temperamentally, she was all Gavan’s. His friend liked them with a fiery, defiant streak that he could mold with the liberal use of corporal punishment, which Lizzie would need. Liberally.
Caelan’s cock pressed against the placard of his pants, straining to be free at the thought of watching Gavan with Lizzie. He smiled. On his way to meet Gav
an, he’d damned the man for talking him into a moratorium on fucking until they found and wedded their bride. But, now that having Lizzie in their bed, well, in this case, their bedroll, was imminent, Caelan was glad of it. His staff was throbbing in anticipation. She was going to be worth the wait. They’d ensure it was good for her. They were gentlemen, after all but, now that there would be nothing between the three of them, she’d show every bit of her passion. She might be a thief, but she wouldn’t steal that from any of them. Her theft of their hearts would be her last act of larceny.
He could easily imagine Lizzie naked. The trousers she’d worn had done little to hide her long, shapely legs, luxurious buttocks, or tiny waist, and her shirt had looked to be bursting at the seams from her large bust. He wondered if her areola would have the kind of peaches and cream complexion most common to redheads, or would they be more of the dark and dusky tones? It didn’t matter, he looked forward to sucking her nipples, and her clit.
While he looked forward to fucking his bride’s cunny, he wanted to start her arse training as soon as they could. The sooner he and Gavan could fuck her together, the better. They had agreed that Gavan would have her pussy first, but Caelan would be the one to have her mouth and arse first. The idea of holding Lizzie against his naked body, his cock nestled against her arse while Gavan took her maidenhead, was downright intoxicating. Their Lizzie would be well satisfied come morning. If she had one foul thing to say when she arose, that would mean they hadn’t done their job as husbands well enough.
2
GAVAN
* * *
Gavan knew he and Caelan would be perfect for Lizzie. She needed someone to guide her, fuck her, and punish her for her naughty ways. The latter would be primarily his job. Caelan’s would be to pamper and spoil her, something at which he excelled. There was no doubt in his mind that Lizzie would thrive in their care. Their spirited wildcat would be soothed and tamed by Gavan’s steady hand, and the little girl who had lost her childhood would be catered to by Caelan’s indulgent nature. As often as her pussy would be stroked, their spitting hellcat would be purring in no time at all.
Gavan entered the sheriff’s office, who handed him the key to her cell and headed for the door. “The judge said you wanted time with her. Be careful. She’s dangerous.”
“Thank you, sheriff. My partner and I will see to all of Lizzie’s needs.”
Gavan watched the sheriff leave, an odious man if ever there was one.
He entered the cell block, empty, except for Lizzie. She was sitting on her cot, her legs drawn up to her chest, and her arms wrapped around them. She stared off into space as though she had already departed this life. He’d seen men like that after a battle. They went deep inside themselves. Some never returned.
“Lizzie?” he called softly, not wanting to startle her.
No response, not even a slant of her eyes. She needed to learn he was not to be ignored. He was to be obeyed. That started now.
“Lizzie, I’m Gavan MacLean. Judge Abernathy has decided to commute yer sentence.”
Still nothing. Well, fuck. That should have gotten a reaction. It seemed his bride to be was going to become Mrs. MacLean and lose her virginity with a bright red backside.
“Lizzie, when I speak to ye, I expect ye to pay attention and answer me,” he said sharply.
Slowly, she released her folded-up legs, stretched them out, and turned to face him, sitting with her feet on the floor and her hands gripping the edge of the cot.
His eyes were riveted to her. She was a terrible bit of beauty. And she would soon be his, his and Caelan’s.
The eyes she turned to him were haunted and, for a moment, she looked broken. Then, she straightened her spine, stuck her chest out, and gathered herself.
“First, asshole, my name isn’t Lizzie. Second, I don’t much care what that old windbag did and, third, I don’t give a shit who you are, or what you expect. So, as I’m scheduled to swing in less than twenty-four hours, how about you just fuck off and die?”
“That’s enough, lass.”
Gavan hadn’t anticipated open hostility. After all, he’d just told her she wasn’t to die. He stifled the urge to smile and rub his hands together. Yes, taming Lizzie was going to be challenging, inordinately satisfying, and pleasurable. He imagined she’d be spending a fair amount of time over his knee, in the corner, or in their bed. Or, better yet, on her knees sucking one of their cocks while the other one plowed her from behind before they swapped ends. Aye, she needed to understand she would mind them, or pay the price for her disobedience.
“Ye’d better start caring, very much, what I expect from you,” Gavan barked at her.
He wasn’t a fool. He’d been sure that spanking Lizzie would be integral to her taking her wedding vows. It was a shame she’d lose her virginity with a red and swollen arse, but there was no help for it. She’d been on her own too long, unfettered by convention, or even a steadying influence. He and Caelan were going to have their hands full in more ways than one. Lizzie had a set of tits that would do nicely in that regard; her arse, too, for that matter.
She was built for pleasure. Their Lizzie was tall with an hourglass figure, long, shapely legs that could wrap around a man when he was giving her a good fucking, and an arse made for fucking, spanking, or both. He’d been having fantasies about the future Mrs. MacLean since the first moment he laid eyes on her. He wanted to kiss those lips, drawing the lower one into his mouth to nibble and suck. He also very much wanted to see them surrounding his cock, or Caelan’s, as one of them fucked her mouth. Caelan would be the one to teach her to suck cock. Gavan was looking forward to that; Caelan was an excellent instructor.
The two men had shared more than one woman over the years. With the exception of Bethany, all had flourished under their care. Bethany had been the young bride of their nearly decrepit commanding officer. They were caught red-handed with their pants down, quite literally. Even though she had arranged for them to be caught and had enjoyed the attentions of many others, she’d cried foul. They’d just been the two who were caught.
Bethany had been a selfish little social climber. She had thought she would use Gavan to become the wife of a laird. She had extricated herself from the scandal when she realized Gavan was the second son and wouldn’t inherit. It had taken all of Gavan’s titled father’s considerable influence to keep the Army from charging them both with buggery before summarily dismissing them.
Instead, Bethany had stood by, allowing them to be dishonorably discharged. Gavan’s father never spoke to him again. When Gavan had tried to return to the family estate to attend his father’s funeral, his older brother, then Laird of the Clan MacLean, had barred him from attending.
“What are you going to do, asshole?” she said. “Have me arrested, tried, convicted, and sentenced to die a second time?”
It had been hard to keep his distance during her trial. Time and again, when the lost little girl behind the flinty façade of the outlaw queen had peeked out, it had been hard not to lose another piece of his heart to her, hard not to want to save her, and hard just being constantly hard. His cock wanted what it wanted, and what it wanted was to sink into her wet heat and watch Caelan’s do the same. If he closed his eyes, he could practically hear her moaning with desire.
“Nay, lass, yer not going to swing.” He let his words hang in the air.
She said nothing but looked at him. Her emotions played across her face, from hope to fear to anger to resignation and back again.
“Why not? Who the hell are you?” she asked, getting off the bed in an aggressive manner.
He chuckled. “I suppose some might call me yer fiancé.”
“My what?”
“Ye heard me. The judge has agreed that, in exchange for my marrying ye and taking ye away from here, he will spare yer life.”
“I don’t give a damn what you and that fat bastard have planned. I’m not marrying you, or anybody else.”
Gavan unlocked and entered
her cell. Like any other caged and cornered animal, she backed away as he stepped forward, softly saying, “What I have planned, Lizzie, is take yer maidenhead and ride ye long and hard, and then watch my partner do the same. Didna worry, ye’ll come hard. We’ll always see to yer pleasure too. Ye’ll love it, me and Cae will make sure of that.”
He had her trapped, pressed into the back wall as he brought his hand up to cup her bottom for the first time. God, she felt even better than she looked. He couldn’t wait to have her naked and writhing in his arms. Her nostrils flared, and he watched as the real woman peeked out from behind the mask; shocked, to be sure, but intrigued and aroused, as well.
“In time, I plan to have my cock planted deep in yer cunny while Caelan, that’s my partner, takes yer arse.”
Her eyes widened, and her breathing became shallow and unsteady as he brushed his hand across her nipples, flicking and then pinching them through the fabric of her shirt. She moaned and swayed against him. No doubt about it, their Lizzie was a woman of fire and passion.
They would give Lizzie a positive outlet for all that fire and passion. Gavan’s palm was literally itching to feel her naked bottom underneath it; his cock was becoming unbearably hard at the thought of mounting her and feeling her sheath convulse in orgasmic splendor as he breached her for the first time and shattered her maidenhead.
“Have ye ever watched someone hang?” he whispered. “Unless the hangman is very good at his job, yer neck won’t snap, ye’ll be left to strangle, twisting slowly in the wind. Ye’ll lose control of your bodily functions and will pee and shit yerself. It’s not a pleasant way to die.”
“What your suggesting is perverse and would pretty much amount to the same thing,” she said, recovering her composure.
“Nay, lass. I can see yer intrigued. Ye should be. Caelan and I will see to all yer needs. We’ll keep you warm and happy. Ye ken be happy, if ye allow yerself to be. Besides, ye have no choice. I want yer word that ye’ll take yer vows when the judge comes to perform the ceremony.”