Seven Nights of Sin: Seven Sensuous Stories by Bestselling Historical Romance Authors

by Victoria Vane

  Sarah lifted a small bouquet of dry flowers and sniffed it. After placing it into the basket, she straightened. "It took her a long time to become comfortable enough to spend time with me. She once told me it was because I didn't delve and ask too many questions. One day, she was especially melancholy and told me she missed her parents. Told me they'd both died while she was young and she had to move to eastern Montana with her aunt and uncle. From what I gathered, the couple who raised her resented it."

  "Do you think she went back?"

  Sarah shrugged. "I doubt it. Camille left her aunt and uncle very young. I think about nineteen."

  "So seven years give or take," Lucas replied.

  The bell jingled when the front door opened and Olivia Blakely, the mercantile owner’s wife, strolled in. Her shrewd gaze took in the near empty space. "So it's true."

  "What's true?" Sarah said to the woman whose brows rose at her sharp tone.

  "Just that I heard she left. Thought it was strange this morning when I went out back to check the chicken coop. The wagon was all packed up and some man stood next to it. Gangly looking fella."

  "A man?" Sarah exclaimed before Lucas could say anything.

  He touched her arm and turned to Olivia Blakely. "Have you seen the man before?"

  "Didn't look familiar at all. He looked as if not all there. Kinda talkin' to himself and such. I waved and called out good morning. He grinned and waved back. Seemed nice enough."

  Lucas shivered when his blood turned ice cold. It would be too much of a coincidence. The man Olivia described sounded just like the man they'd run into back at the cave. But that man had been on foot, he'd not seen nor heard a horse or cart.

  "Did you see Camille leave with him?"

  Mrs. Blakely shook her head. "No. As a matter of fact, my husband said he saw the skinny fellow driving the wagon away about half an hour later. He was alone. I thought perhaps he was just resting here and then left. Later this morning, I came to ask Camille if she sold the wagon. That’s when I saw the note on the door."

  Lucas stormed out of the shop, his soppy clothes and lack of sleep forgotten. He rushed to the jailhouse where Brogan and the other men where already dismounted and heading in separate directions.

  "I believe Camille was kidnapped," he told Brogan, his voice breathless from running. "I have to go back out."

  It was uncanny how spending years with someone meant no long explanations were necessary. Brogan took his arm. "Go to the house. Change into dry clothes. I'll go change as well." He looked to the other men who'd stopped and watched them. "Marcus, can you got to the stables and get us two fresh horses?"

  "You got it, Sheriff."

  A short time later, they were heading out of town in the direction of where Lucas had seen the simple-minded man. In his mind, he pictured the worst. Why had the man been alone when they'd come upon him?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CAMILLE HAD LOST TRACK OF TIME. All feeling in her arms was gone and her right leg throbbed from laying on it and bumping along for so long. She moaned when the wagon hit a deep indent and tried to swallow past the gag.

  They stopped and the sound of footfalls leaving made her pray it meant she'd be released from the bindings. It didn't even matter to her at the moment that she'd be face-to-face again with the man she'd run from. The pain was intolerable and, surely, once the ties were removed, her arms would ache as she regained feeling in them. But it couldn't get any worse.

  The damp blanket was removed and she blinked at the sudden sunlight. Several faces looked down at her. She was dragged to the edged and lifted. When they attempted to place her on her feet, she crumpled to the ground.

  Snickers sounded above her, but she could only remain on the dirty ground, unable to move. "Cut her loose, idiot," a gruff voice said.

  Someone picked her up and held her upright while another person untied the rope at her ankles and her arms. She was only aware of her arms being freed because they flopped to her sides.

  The tingling sensation that came next was almost as painful as the bumping had been and she began to cry. Her right leg could not bear weight so she held it up and stood on the other.

  "She's in bad shape," the same gruff voice stated as her mouth gag was removed. "You give her anything to eat or drink, Billy Charles?"

  "I forgot," came the reply.

  "Bill will be glad to see you." A bearded man leaned forward. His bushy beard covered most of his face, yet she recognized him as Bill Burns' brother, Randall. She looked away, unable to believe they'd caught her. After being free, returning to where her nightmare came from was unbearable. She let out a shaky cry, unable to keep the terror from seizing her so tight her lungs burned.

  "What's wrong with her?" Billy Charles peered at her. "Is she crazy?"

  "Probably," Randall replied, lifting her. "Let's get inside."

  A few hours later, after eating a few bites of bread and drinking water, Camille began to feel human. She'd not spoken to the men knowing any requests to be freed would go unheard. They were too tightly aligned to Bill Burns. The man had a way of binding people to him. For whatever reason, people followed him blindly, not seeming to acknowledge how cruel he was.

  Her own aunt and uncle were part of the group of people that lived in the secluded small town of Blairsville. A town ruled and controlled by Bill Burns. A few had left and never been heard from again but, for the most part, the townspeople remained by choice.

  The door was unlocked and Billy Charles entered the small room they'd locked her in. "Pa's comin'. He'll be glad to see you." His wide grin made her skin crawl. Although the man was simple, it had not stopped him from groping her after tying her up.

  "Go away, Billy Charles. Leave me alone." She narrowed her eyes at him.

  "You left Tim. You left us. Pa's gonna kill you." His grin became wider with eagerness. "I bet it won't be pretty."

  "Shut up and go away." Camille ensured her voice was flat, not wanting to let him see how his words affected her.

  Finally, with a look of disappointment, Billy Charles backed out of the door.

  Bill Burns wouldn't kill her. At least she didn't think so. No matter how mad he'd be at her, Tim, her husband, wouldn't allow it.

  Tim Burns, the second born son, had been obsessed with her since she'd come to live there with her aunt and uncle. She'd be kept alive, if only for him to punish.

  She'd been forced to marry him at fifteen. Tim Burns was his father's son. Unlike the oldest, Billy Charles, Tim had a quick mind and knack for manipulating people. He was also cruel and enjoyed punishing people. Enjoyed punishing her for any infraction, whether real or made up. He was quick to backhand her at any given moment.

  After four years of living in misery, she'd ran away when her husband and gang had gone off to do whatever outlaws did. And she'd managed to stay hidden for five years.

  Now her time was up.

  The sound of boots, loud voices and banging was followed by the voice that made her shiver. Bill Burns had arrived.

  Camille jumped when the door flew open and banged against the wall with a loud thump.

  Frozen with fear, she kept her gaze on the floor, unwilling to look him in the face. Surely Tim stood beside him. Of course, both would have a look of satisfaction.

  "The bitch has returned." Bill's voice was deep just like she remembered. The passing of years had not changed that. When she looked up at him, however, the years showed vividly. His hair was streaked with gray, but his eyes remained clear and sharp.

  "Didn't think you'd be found, did ya?"

  Whether she replied or not, it didn't matter. He'd find a way to use either the words or the silence against her. She looked past him to the doorway. Where was Tim?

  "Tim's not here," Bill told her, his eyes flickered with some sort of emotion. "You probably don't know."

  Camille swallowed, unable to comprehend what was happening. "Where is he?"

  "Dead. Killed by a lawman. A man who will die very soon. Lucas McKa
de."

  Bill neared and yanked her up to stand. "You know him? You must. Lives in the town you been hiding in."

  Unable to think straight, Camille shook her head. Despite everything, a pang of sadness at learning her husband was dead filled her chest. "Tim is dead? I didn't know."

  The slap sent her to the floor. She lay sprawled on her stomach until he grabbed her hair and pulled her back up. "Lying bitch."

  His lips twisted into a snarl. "He wasn't the same after you left. Probably what got him shot. It's your fault."

  "Just get it over with. Kill me." Camille's voice trembled. If anything, dying would be far better than living there again. "I don't care anymore."

  Her father-in-law's laughter was without humor. "That would be too easy. No, I have a better idea. You need a man to keep you straight. You're gonna be kept here. The boys need distraction sometimes. So how about they can come visit you here? Like a reward of sorts."

  Her entire body shook so hard her teeth rattled. He planned to let his men use her at will. Of all the things she imagined upon returning, she never thought this would be the outcome.

  "As a matter of fact, maybe I'll reward myself first. Then once I get tired of you, I'll let the boys have their fun. It'll be good entertainment for me to watch."

  "No!" She hit him on the face as hard as she could.

  "Time to teach you the first lesson. Never try that again.” When he punched her in the stomach, Camille almost blacked out. Breath was gone from her as she doubled over. She would have fallen to the floor, but he held her up by the arm and hit her again.

  The tearing of her dress sent her into a panic and she swung wildly at him, scratching and screaming.

  Bill Burns laughed, enjoying her distress. "You'll be fun to keep around."

  He shoved her away with so much forced she tripped backward and fell. "Get washed up. You look like shit."

  The door slammed and she lay on the floor crying. Every part of her throbbed with pain.

  No doubt, the reprieve would be short. Bill Burns would return and she'd be made to pay for every single day of freedom.

  "Lucas, please come and find me. I need you," she whispered over and over, rocking on the floor with her arms wrapped around her midsection. "Please."

  The sunlight remained bright as the men gathered at the location Bill Burns had instructed. There were four men not counting him and Billy Charles. Most with prices on their heads, willing to come only because of the amount of money he offered them in return for their guns.

  Bill Burns looked past the men to where his son was buried and anger burned through his veins.

  He'd have his revenge. If not for the sounds of bugles, he would have ensured the two US Marshals had been killed that day. Thought they were dead since all four lay on the ground motionless. Damn Billy Charles claimed it to be so.

  "Gentlemen," he called out to the men who'd remained silent since arriving. Most of them cautious to keep their identities hidden and didn't feel a need to hold a conversation. "The men I want are in Silver City, Idaho. Once the job is done, come back here and you'll be paid."

  "What exactly do you expect?" A burly man stroked his beard.

  Bill Burns recognized the man as Raymond Childs, a man wanted for murder. "Not much, kill the Scotsman and bring me back the blue-eyed lawman. Billy Charles and I will be there to make sure the job is done."

  There were soft chuckles from several of those gathered, but Raymond Childs only nodded and turned his horse to leave. "Seems unnecessary to have this many to do the simple job. It'll be done.” He spurred his horse away, a second man alongside him.

  The other two men shook their heads and left without speaking, obviously not interested in the job.

  Billy Charles watched as the men left, seeming to ensure not to remain too close to each other. "Why ain't you sayin' nothin' about the bank?"

  "Because it ain't necessary for them to know everything. While they're distracting the lawmen, you and me are taking the money."

  The skinny man chuckled. "Gotta have money to pay 'em."

  "Yep,” Bill said looking to his eldest son. The boy was slow, but he was loyal. Not like his second born at all, who was quick minded and only cared about himself. A quality he admired. He'd pinned his hopes on Timothy to take his place one day and run things. Now he had no successor, thanks to the lawmen McKade and the bitch back at his house.

  He'd not go to her again until after it was all done, then each day he'd make her pay for leaving his son. No one left a Burns, especially not a woman. For now, he had to keep his head clear. Consider what had to be done. How exactly he'd avenge his son once he had McKade.

  The wind became brisk as he spurred his horse forward. They'd be near Silver City in a day. All he had to do was wait for his men to attack so he and Billy would have easy access to the bank.

  ***

  "The trail shouldn't be too hard to follow," Brogan said hours later when he and Lucas arrived at the area he'd seen the lanky man. "Seems he'd hidden the wagon over here."

  They guided their horses to a nearby stream so the animals could drink and rest. As urgent as things were, there was no need to mistreat their mounts. It would be dark soon, so they only had a couple hours of riding left that day.

  "You didn't have to come," Lucas told the Scot who returned from relieving himself. "I appreciate it though."

  "You'd do the same for me," Brogan replied. "I didn't know about you and Camille."

  The statement made Lucas study his friend. True, until lately they'd shared everything. Lucas had been aware of everything that happened when Brogan and Sarah got to know each other. "I'm sorry. It sort of just happened. I was going to share with you. Especially when it became a bit more apparent she returned my affections."

  Brogan's lips curved. "Once we get her back to Silver City, I want all the details."

  The words surprised Lucas enough to chuckle. "Since when are you so interested in someone's love life?"

  "Only in yours. You are my friend."

  Lucas walked around in a circle stretching his legs. "I don't understand why that man took her. Other than she may have caught him attempting to steal her wagon and confronted him. Maybe it was a spur of the moment reaction."

  "I agree. Makes no sense."

  They lapsed into silence as they mounted and, once again, followed the wagon trail toward Montana. Lucas looked off into the distance. "Seems like there's more to this. She was planning to leave. She left notes. Almost as if she was running from something."

  "Or someone," Brogan interjected. "Could be she'd spotted the man and hoped to get away before he saw her."

  "Yeah. Could be. Sarah told me Camille rarely speaks of her past. If she does, the subject is changed immediately."

  "Whatever is going on, we’ll know soon enough. Look, the wagon trail turns here. From what I remember, there's a small town, Blairsville, about half a day's ride from here. Could be that's where they're headed."

  Lucas nodded. "Isn't that where we caught the bank robber, Miles Baxter?"

  "Blairsville has always been a harbor for outlaws and their types. Not a place to be caught off guard."

  "Why would he take Camille there?"

  "Could be he's from there. Was stealing the wagon and brought her as a boon."

  Lucas didn't like the sound of it. It made very little sense. "We should keep riding. We can scout around and see if anything's going on."

  On they continued in silence, each man in his own thoughts. Lucas looked up to the late day sun and prayed Camille was still alive.

  * * *

  The silence was almost as horrible as hearing the men on the other side of her door. Her mind raced, pictures tumbling of what her future would entail. There could not be a more horrible way to live. If it was what awaited her, Camille decided she'd rather die. No matter how many times she'd be beaten or worse, she'd never stop trying to escape and she'd fight whomever it was to keep from being taken like a whore.

  Trappe
d in the small room, all she could do was pace. They'd left an empty chamber pot, some dry beef and a pitcher of water. Other than a lantern next to the narrow bed, there was precious little light in the room. The window was boarded up, allowing but a smidge of sunlight through between the boards. Camille went to it and pushed at the wood.

  She was weak from lack of food in the last three days, plus her right arm hurt when she used it. She wondered if it was a sprain of some sort or just bruising from falling on it.

  Footsteps sounded, slow paced and then fast, as if someone scurried about the house. Camille raced to the door and placed her ear against it. Metal jingled as the person came closer. Could it be someone meaning to take advantage of the other men's absences?

  Frantic, she looked around the room for something she could use as a weapon. She raced to the washstand and poured the water out of the pitcher then moved to stand where the door would hide her when the person walked in.

  "Camille?" a woman called out, her voice shaky. "Are you in there?"

  Her aunt.

  Camille blinked in confusion. What was her aunt doing there? "Yes. I'm here."

  Metal clicked and the door opened to reveal her aunt. The years had not treated her well. Half of her face drooped and her hair, more gray than brown, was pulled back into a messy disarray. "Hurry, come on." Her aunt motioned with both hands. "Let’s get you out of here."

  "You're helping me?"

  The woman studied her face. "You deserve better than this. I was so glad when you got away. Life here in this godforsaken town is hell on earth. No place for a brave, beautiful girl like you. "

  "I don't understand." Camille followed her aunt through the house to a back door. Her aunt stepped out and looked around. "Here, take this." She picked up a large satchel from the ground and shoved it into Camille's hands. “There are a few dollars, food and a change of clothes. Men's britches, a shirt and a coat."

  Camille hugged the satchel to her chest. "I thought you hated me."