by Selena Kitt
She tugged a brush through the silky strands. Each stroke ended in front of her chest, the luscious locks landing provocatively against her breasts. The tempting view of the lush swells had him stepping forward until he captured her hand in midair. “Tomorrow we’re heading into town.”
“No, Bo, we’ve talked about this. I’m not marrying you until we know for certain my killing Nevada won’t cause you any problems.” She caught the ties for her red, silk robe and tightened the knot.
Tossing the brush on the dresser, he circled an arm around her waist, pulling her to his chest. Her round ass bumped provocatively against the hard line of his erection. “I’m not giving another man a chance to touch you. You agreed to be mine. That won’t change even if every newspaperman in the county shows up seeking an interview.”
“But what if Jack gets pressured into firing you? You already said he’s assigned someone else to your duties.” She spun in his embrace and glided her hands up around his neck as if craving a more intimate connection between them.
He squeezed her butt cheeks and rocked his hips, pressing his groin against her inviting form. She melted against him, her body clinging fervently to his. He smiled, marveling at how she consistently responded to his touch. “There’s plenty of work to do around here. I don’t have to be a deputy.”
“But you love your job. And what if Nevada’s son wants me in jail? He’s about twenty and a whole lot like his daddy, very cocky and likes to throw his weight around.” She snuggled closer and rested her head on his shoulder.
A shiver ran through her. Not for the first time, he wondered if her deceased husband’s requests to share herself with other men had bothered her. She claimed it hadn’t. Still, whenever they talked about Nevada or anything in relation to him, she easily became upset. Was it merely the guilt from having killed him?
Hell, the man deserved it.
To ease her ruffled nerves, Bo skimmed his hands over her back. The caress of her robe gliding over his palms ignited a hunger to touch her silky skin. “Doesn’t matter what happens. I want you as my wife.”
“Bo, please,” she whined and buried her face into his neck.
Having her so close set him on fire, he fought the ache in his cock. He tried to concentrate on convincing her they were meant to be together. “I won’t change my mind.”
“I love you, but I can’t let you jeopardize your chance at happiness because of me.”
He blinked, surprise by her admission. “Whoa, wait a minute, back up there. What did you say?”
“I can’t jeopardize your happiness,” she mumbled.
Easing back to look into her face, Bo tried to capture her gaze. With her eyes downcast, she avoided answering him until he caught her chin in the palm of his hand. “Say it again.”
Misery clouded the depths of her eyes and she shifted her head to break free from his grip. Not relinquishing his hold he held her steady until she gave up the fight.
“I shouldn’t have said I love you. It’ll only make our situation harder,” she murmured in a harsh whisper.
The pleasure the word generated inside him washed away the doubts he’d been struggling with for the last couple of days. “No, it makes things much easier.”
She shook her head and fought to break free of his grip. “No. You’re a Texas deputy, you can’t be married to a murderer.”
Not willing to fight her alone on this, he raised his voice. “Chase, come in here.”
“He won’t help. He knows as well as I do we can’t get married.” She dropped her hands to his chest, trying her best to create space between them.
Chase stepped through the doorway. “Not true.”
Bo grinned, wondering if his brother had been standing outside their door. Though, it didn’t really matter. His room wasn’t more than ten steps down the hall.
Sarah shifted her hips and glanced over her shoulder. “What are you talking about? Of course, it is. Bo doesn’t need my tarnished reputation working against him.”
“That’s not the way I see it.” Chase stepped up behind Sarah. Dropping his hands to her waist, he swiveled her around, effectively locking her in place between them. “Bo’s position as a deputy is rock solid. Yours, however, isn’t. You need to marry Bo to show you’ve moved on from your wild ways with your deceased husband. Marrying Bo will prove you’ve settled down, and that you are content to being a rancher’s wife.”
“And who thinks I’m wild?” she argued and pointed a finger at his brother’s chest.
Chase caught her wrist. “Anyone who has read about your antics in the paper or has attended one of your dead husband’s parties. Nevada Burns certainly did. He thought you were trying to be coy by refusing his proposition to become his mistress.”
“You’re right, Chase. We can’t afford to wait. With Sarah married, no one will care what she’s doing now as my wife. You’ll only be another woman working on her husband’s ranch. It’s a win, win for all of us.” Bo dropped a kiss on her temple and nuzzled her ear. “We’ll head into town tomorrow.”
“And what happens if the public doesn’t see it that way?” Sarah tugged her hands free of Chase’s grip and toyed with the top button of his shirt.
“Then we point it out to them.” Bo offered and winked at his brother. Silently, asking him to join them.
Most nights, Chase preferred to go to bed later, giving Bo and Sarah the evenings to enjoy being together in their room.
Appreciating this, Bo rose early and woke his brother to take his place beside Sarah in bed. The two of them then had the morning to enjoy each other. Occasionally, they had changed up the schedule. Usually, though, if they wanted to share Sarah, they found time in the middle of the day.
Chase untied Sarah’s robe. “Right, so now we have that settled. What should we do with the rest of the evening?”
Sarah giggled.
“Let’s celebrate our upcoming nuptials,” Bo suggested and slipped the silky fabric from her shoulders.
* * *
Sarah stood in a small room in the back of the church, looking out the open window. A cool breeze brushed over her clammy skin and air swept under the skirt of her light-yellow dress. Nervous about her approaching wedding, she’d decided to wait back here while Bo and Chase worked out the details with the minister.
A knock sounded on the door.
“Come in,” she called and turned from the bright sunshine streaming into the small room.
“Sarah.” A younger version of Nevada stepped into the crowded space. He had the same stocky build, square face, and strong jaw as his father. He drew off his hat.
Instantly, she noted the one feature he didn’t share with his dad, shocking red hair covered his head. His appearing without warning put her on edge. She glanced around the room looking for a way to protect herself. “Wilbur Burns, what are you doing here?”
His gaze raked over her, stripping her bare. A wicked smirk formed on his face, and he lifted a questioning brow. “We both know what I want.”
Confused by his lusty glare, she blinked. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I have no idea what you want from me.”
He shook his head and stepped closer, invading her space and threatening her with his huge bulk. “Really? I guess some would claim I’m just like my daddy and after your body.”
His focus fell to her breasts. He dropped his hand to the lush swell and squeezed. “Though, they would be wrong.”
Anger sizzled through her, igniting an impulse to strike out. Instead, she exerted every ounce of self-control she possessed and shifted out of his hold. Chase and Bo would tan the man’s hide if they suspected he’d even suggested such a thing. And if they caught him with his hand on her, they’d lay him out flat. “Good, because if you haven’t heard, I’m here to get married.”
He laughed and peered out the window. “Yes, well, we both know if I wanted to fuck you, you’d spread your legs for me in a heartbeat.”
As if not caring one way or the other, he shrugged. “Personal
ly, I’m not much into bedding whores. I prefer ladies.”
She fought back her revulsion of the slimy man and worked to keep her composure. “Then what is it you want?”
“The horse.”
“Pretty Boy?”
“God, what an absurd name. My father claimed he won him in a bet. And even though I have no proof, I want the horse’s papers.”
Surprised by his request, she wrestled with what he hoped to gain by having her horse’s documents. “Why? They’re only good if you’re trying to sell him or looking to breed him.”
She narrowed her focus. What was the man planning? Her stallion came from a proud line of thoroughbreds. In fact, Sam Houston had brought Cooper Bottom, Pretty Boy’s father, to Texas from Pennsylvania. Sam’s horse had the prominent lineage of Sir Archy, which in many breeders’ eyes classified him as one of the true Steel Dust horses.
“Look, your horse is responsible for your husband’s death, but for a handful of reasons no one can understand you’re attached to him.” He brushed his hand through the air as if her feelings were irrelevant. “Personally, it doesn’t matter. You can keep him, because I can easily find a different stallion that resembles him.”
“Are you telling me you want to swindle people out of a breeding fee by having another horse pose as my stallion?” Sarah glared at the man, amazed he’d assume she’d go along with such a hideous plan.
He glanced around at the faded walls, a few meager chairs, and turned up his nose. “No, what I’m saying is I can provide you enough money so you don’t have to tie yourself to a low-down, two-bit deputy. You can escape the boring life of a rancher’s wife and leave this no-name town to find a place anywhere you want.”
Baffled by his proposition, she tried to follow his line of thought. A tingle of unease shivered over her skin. “I still don’t understand. You inherited a fortune from your father. Why do you need my horse too?”
With a wicked smirk, he eased toward the door. “Maybe because I know I have more to offer than your future husband.”
“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” She studied the smug expression spreading across his face. He acted as if he knew something she didn’t.
“Why may I ask would a respectable man, a Texas deputy no less, marry a woman like you, if he wasn’t getting a little extra out of the deal? Or do you think I’m an idiot, the same way my father did?”
Sarah frowned, concentrating on his second question. She assumed for the moment she had her own personal answer to the first one. “No, I socialized with a number of your father’s associates, and remember my deceased husband had dealings with him too. Most felt the only reason for his continual success, was you. He rubbed people the wrong way, to the point where they no longer wanted to do business with him. You, however, were considered a smart, honest businessman, who understood how to negotiate a good deal.”
“Pretty words, missy, but I’m not falling for your charm. I am only here to buy your horse’s papers, simply name your price.” Young Mr. Burns ran his hand along the rim of his hat. His gaze showing he expected her to agree.
The door squeaked on its hinges.
Bo stood in the doorway, blocking the exit with his large frame. His gaze narrowed, and he growled, “Who the hell are you?”
“Ah, the groom, have you come to make sure your bride doesn’t back out of marrying you?” Wilbur mocked.
“Who is this man?” Bo turned to her with a frown.
“Oh, just admit it. The only reason you’re marrying Sarah, here, is because her horse will garner a handsome breeding fee.” Wilbur pressed.
Bo’s face blushed red, and he knotted his fists. “Look Mister, I don’t care who you are. I want you out of here. Now!”
Sarah studied Bo’s reaction to Wilbur’s accusation. A replay of Pretty Boy mounting the young filly in the field flashed through her mind. Then she recalled him reading the papers at the bottom of her trunk... Pretty Boy’s pedigree credentials were in the stack.
The weight of his deceit fell over her shoulders. The heavy burden triggered her legs to give out, and she sank into the nearest chair. Why couldn’t a man love her for who she was and not for what she possessed?
Stupidly, she’d allowed herself to believe Bo cared. Now, she knew the truth.
Great. And how the hell did that help her? Should she leave him and take Wilbur up on his offer or stay?
Heavy footsteps sounded in the atrium.
Chase’s voice drew her from the dark despair of her musing. “Sarah, what’s wrong?”
Lifting her head, she stared at his handsome face. Was he in on it too?
She swallowed the misery bubbling up inside her and tried to consider the possibility of Bo’s deceiving her. “I’m, uh, feeling a little peckish. Could you get me a glass of water?”
He dropped to his knees and laid a hand over her cheek. “Did that stranger upset you?”
Unwilling to lie to him, she nodded. “Some, but I still plan to marry Bo.”
Silently, she realized it didn’t matter if Wilbur gave her enough money to live on or not. The next man she met would only want her for her money too. She loved Bo and Chase. If breeding Pretty Boy to other ranchers raised them money then perhaps, they’d all come out ahead in the long run.
“Good, because I know he’s eager to have you as his wife.” Chase kissed her cheek and left the room to fetch her water.
She sat staring at the walls, wondering what she’d gotten herself into this time.
* * *
Bo glanced around Sarah and caught his brother’s eye.
Chase frowned.
The wedding had gone off without a hitch after he threw Wilbur Burns out of the church. Sarah had walked down the aisle on Chase’s arm with a small smile on her lips. He’d mistakenly believed she hadn’t paid any attention to Wilbur’s accusation. Bo might still have supported the assumption if she hadn’t remained so quiet on the trip home. She hadn’t spoken a word since they left town.
The wagon hit a bump, and she swayed into him. The rich bounty of her breasts caressed his arm briefly before she straightened on the bench.
He tugged on the reins and directed the horse along the lane that led to their house. “Chase, can you take care of the horses and rigging by yourself? I’d like to carry Sarah straight up to our bedroom.”
She stiffened.
Chase shook his head as if questioning Bo’s judgment. “Why don’t you stop out front, and I’ll take it from there?”
“Great, then I’ll have Sarah naked and hot by the time you come inside to join us.” Bo smiled, pushing to see if he could make her mad enough to tell him the problem.
He drew the wagon to a halt and handed the reins to Chase, before he jumped to the ground. Turning, he grinned up at her. “Come on, sugar. Let’s head upstairs and enjoy some wedded bliss.”
She scooted across the bench and leaned forward to put her hands on his shoulders. A small smile lay on her lips, but it didn’t reach her beautiful, green eyes. He noted the misery in their depths as a heart-breaking alternative to her lust.
Refusing to let the fact alter his decision to carry her upstairs, he cupped her waist and lifted her down from the wagon. He drew her close. The sleek line of her body ran seductively along his, before her feet hit the ground. He whispered in her ear. “No matter how mad you are at me I’m not letting you out of our bedroom for at least a week.”
She glared at him. “Who says I’m mad?”
“Oh, sugar, a man would have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to see you’re sporting for a fight. Though, it’s not a problem for us. It might even add a little extra fire to the fun.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she opened her mouth to respond.
He grinned and swept her up in his arms before she had a chance to utter a word. Once across the front porch, he set her on her feet to unlock and open the door. Then, he carried her to their bedroom in record time.
The ache in his groin screaming for relief, he shelved t
he possibility of getting her naked for the moment. Releasing her legs, he made sure she had her footing, before he eased back. “All right, go ahead, say your peace.”
He walked to the door, closed it, turned, and leaned against the hard surface.
13
Bo studied Sarah. With her head down and her eyes shut, she appeared to be gathering her strength. The tears trickling down her cheeks tore him apart. He had to use every ounce of self-control he possessed to keep from stepping forward and taking her back into his arms.
“It’s not your fault...” The words sputtered out. She shook her head and lifted her emerald, green eyes, nailing him in place with their despair. “You don’t love me.”