Kept by the Bull Rider

by Sasha Gold

  Sturdy boots, he tells me. Buy some sturdy boots, but I won’t let you actually do anything in them. She spoke in a deep voice to mock him and amuse herself. Lacing the boots, she snickered. She felt a little better. It helped to let off a little tension.

  She liked wearing trousers. The nuns at St. Mathews used to let the girls wear trousers when they worked in the gardens. Even some of the younger nuns wore divided skirts outdoors.

  She looked at herself in the mirror one last time and decided she was ready. With a bounce in her step, light-hearted and even a little happy, she left the house. She crossed the farmyard and entered the shed. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. Mary appeared from behind a stack of hay and gaped.

  “Mrs. Travis!”

  “I’m here to help you, since Silas hurt his back.”

  She tried her best to sound authoritative. Mary let her gaze wander down Charlotte’s shirt to her trousers and finally to her boots.

  “I see.”

  Charlotte rubbed her hands together. “Put me to work.”

  Mary grinned and pointed to a stack of crates that needed to be loaded. The next few hours passed quickly and pleasantly as Mary told her about the first cattle drive she ever went on. She spoke about Will’s father and how he’d always bring a guitar for the evening campfire. Her stories made the whole venture sound more and more appealing.

  “I asked if I could go, but Will said no.”

  Mary shook her head. “He’s very protective of you. Maybe when you’ve lived on the ranch a little longer.”

  “He’ll never permit me to go on a cattle drive.”

  Mary pursed her lips but said nothing.

  The last things to load were the large cooking pots. They worked together to lift the heavy iron kettles into the buckboard and position them against the side. After they tied them down, they covered the wagon with a tarp.

  “I thank you, Mrs. Travis. I’m grateful to have this done so I can do the cooking for my David’s baptism. Silas is making the meat, but I’ve got to make the sides. Enough for fifty, so I’m starting tomorrow.”

  “Do you want help?”

  “Heavens no, Mrs. Travis. You shouldn’t help in the kitchen. It’s not fitting!”

  Charlotte smiled. “No one wants me to cook. I wonder if they’ve heard about my lack of cooking skills.”

  Mary slapped her side and laughed.

  “I really am a terrible cook,” Charlotte admitted. “It’s too bad because they say the shortest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I might be able to charm my husband if only I were a better cook.”

  Mary waved a dismissive hand. “Pfft. Mr. Travis is over the moon about you, Charlotte.”

  Charlotte felt the familiar sting of tears. “I was sitting on the porch the other day and a couple of cowboys walked past. I could hear them. They talked about visiting saloon girls in Fort Worth…”

  A slow realization came over Mary’s face. “Oh, honey.”

  Charlotte turned away. “He told me from the start that this was an arrangement. I’m a fool for setting my hopes on something more.”

  Mary crossed the shed. “Will’s not like that. He doesn’t dally with those girls.”

  Charlotte nodded. She felt a twinge of guilt for burdening Mary with her fears. Mary couldn’t know what Will did or didn’t do when he went to Fort Worth, but she appreciated her attempt to ease her worries.

  “Thank you. It’s getting late. Almost dark. I should go home and serve my husband dinner.”

  Mary smiled at her. “Good night, Mrs. Travis.”

  Charlotte left the shed, stopping in the entrance. “I’ll have that gown done by lunch tomorrow.”

  She returned to the house. The aroma of Caroline’s cooking greeted her and made her stomach grumble. Working with Mary had given her an appetite. Not bothering to change into a dress, she washed. Her hands were grimy. Even her face was coated with dust. She splashed water on her face and checked her appearance in the mirror.

  In the reflection, she saw Will standing behind her. She shrieked and stumbled backwards. He leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed, eyeing her with an expression she couldn’t place.

  She let out a gasp and set her hand over her racing heart. “You frightened me.”

  He stepped inside the washroom, shutting the door behind him. The last remnants of dusk filtered through the laced curtains. With his face cast in shadow, she couldn’t say why on earth he had shut the door, effectively trapping her in the small room with him.

  He moved closer. The desire to retreat came over her but she forced herself to remain still.

  “What are you wearing?”

  She swallowed and glanced down. His actions bewildered her and, for a moment, she forgot what she was wearing. Water droplets fell from her face. She wiped her hands on her trousers and in a very unladylike gesture rubbed her shirt sleeve across her face.

  “Trousers.”

  In the shadowed light she thought she could make out the clench of his jaw.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Same as you.”

  Moving slowly, he reached down to grasp her wrist. She drew a sharp breath of surprise. Awareness flared across her skin, her breasts tightened and ached. He sat down on the edge of the enormous cast-iron tub and pulled her close. His scent washed over her. He smelled of sweat and horses and hard work. Normally the smell of a man’s sweat repulsed her, but she wanted to draw close and take in more of the scent.

  Her sex grew slick. Tendrils of pleasure wrapped around her.

  With his free hand he reached around her waist and positioned her next to his legs. He slid his hand up the small of her back to between her shoulders, then gently pushed her forward, to lay her over his knees. Her arousal twisted and fought with outrage. In a single blinding instant, she understood what he was going to do. Inside her mind, she fought and screamed, but, in reality, she lay helpless.

  “Hands on the floor, Charlotte.”

  She whimpered but obeyed immediately. The cold tile floor contrasted with the warmth of her clammy hands. With one hand he held her down, lightly but firmly. The other he set on her bottom. The heat from his palm sank through the fabric of her pants. He squeezed her gently.

  The first swat didn’t hurt nearly as much as she’d imagined. A slight sting raced down the length of her thighs. She pressed her knees together. The next smack drew a soft cry from her lips. Each blow after that made arousal spark and burn, and pain and pleasure swirled together. Getting spanked by Will humiliated her, but not because of the punishment, but because of her body’s response.

  He gave her ten and rubbed her with soft lazy strokes. The gesture would have been soothing if it hadn’t made her want to part her thighs and invite his touch lower. She gritted her teeth to steel her lascivious impulses.

  “No trousers, Charlotte.”

  “Yes, Will.”

  He chuckled and lifted her to his lap.

  “That was too easy, Charlotte. I was hoping you’d disagree and wear them again one day.”

  She squirmed. Sitting on her freshly spanked bottom hurt, yet sitting on his lap felt like heaven. She hated the pleasure that overwhelmed her senses.

  “I won’t wear them if you don’t want me to.” Before she added a sassy comment, she got to her feet and retreated a few steps. “Trousers might be dangerous. Am I right?”

  “On you they are. I should have spanked you thirty times for making me wait thirty days.”

  “You don’t even like me, Will.”

  He scoffed. “I like your ass.”

  She shook her head and backed to the door. When she grasped the handle, she lifted her chin for her parting shot. “I guess that’s a start.”

  Chapter Four

  Will

  Will sat in the pew next to Charlotte as the priest poured the baptismal water over the baby’s head. He grimaced as the baby, who had been crying for the entire service, began yelling with renewed vigor. The child,
red-faced and squirming, didn’t appreciate the solemnity of the occasion and his cries echoed in the church.

  Charlotte looked on with an expression of sympathy. Will tried not to steal glances at her, but could hardly help himself. She wore a rose-colored gown, one that showed off her creamy skin and blue, blue eyes. When she caught him looking, she lifted her brows and leaned closer.

  “Poor little thing. I can’t help but feel sorry for him.”

  “He’ll take a good nap after this.”

  Her lips curved into a smile and his heart felt light inside his chest. After he’d cornered her in the bathroom, he wasn’t sure if she’d forgive him. And he still wasn’t sure, but at least she was talking to him now. He was leaving for Fort Worth in the morning and didn’t want to part from her without some semblance of harmony between them.

  After he’d turned her over on his lap, she’d made her displeasure clear. She’d barely spoken to him since then and often, when she addressed him, it was with an icy Mr. Travis. It was as if she wanted to suggest that the relationship was moving backwards instead of forwards. He growled softly with frustration.

  Once the Mass had ended, the party returned to the ranch to enjoy a dinner served as the sun set. The group gathered to eat, flocking to tables on a stone terrace. She sat beside him, quiet as he talked to his brother, Seth. When it was time to serve the cake, she left with a quiet comment about helping Mary. Seth watched her leave and then regarded him with a wry grin.

  “I didn’t think mail-order brides could be so pretty.”

  Will nodded. “She is that. I didn’t expect that either. She’s a lot of things I never expected. Smart. Willful. Sweet, sometimes. I thought I’d get an older woman who could learn the ranch and help out.”

  Seth nodded. “They call that a foreman.”

  “Right. I guess I expected a woman who would be a little tougher around the edges. Like our mother. She could play Mozart on the piano and then go out to the yard and wring a chicken’s neck.”

  “Maybe you should have put that in the announcement you listed in the paper. Wanted: wife who can play the piano and butcher a chicken. That’s just what every man wants.”

  Charlotte came back the table with a tray and offered them each a slice of cake.

  “Did you make this cake?” Seth asked.

  Charlotte smiled at Will’s brother as she set a plate down in front of him. “No. Lucky for you Caroline made it. If I’d baked the cake it would have been lop-sided and inedible.”

  Seth grinned. “I don’t believe that.”

  “It’s true. Sadly. I never learned. Fortunately, your brother didn’t ask about my cooking skills, so I didn’t have to prevaricate.”

  She set Will’s plate down in front of him and gave him a sassy look before leaving with her tray.

  Seth dug his fork into his cake. “I don’t even know what that means, but I think she’s cute as hell.”

  “You better watch it.”

  “What I mean is that I’d like one just like that. I might need to send off for a sweet, little wife. Lord knows there aren’t any women in Colter Canyon.”

  “Charlotte’s an orphan. She said that a lot of the girls at the orphanage can’t find good marriages because they have some sort of a black mark against their name.”

  Seth stared at him and stopped chewing. After a moment, he shook his head and resumed eating.

  Will found himself looking for Charlotte, seeking her out in the crowd. Torches ringed the terrace. Off to the side of the party, a few of his cowboys gathered and warmed up their fiddles. Music floated on the evening breeze and Silas, the oldest man there, drew Charlotte out to show her how to dance. He took Mary in his arms and instructed, talking to Charlotte over his shoulder. She shook her head and laughed.

  “Shouldn’t you be the one showing your wife how to dance?” Seth muttered.

  “No one would dare invite her to dance.”

  “Still. It should be you.”

  Will nodded. “She might turn me down. We had a bit of an argument the other day.”

  He didn’t wait for Seth’s response. Without giving it any more thought he got to his feet and crossed the terrace. Charlotte’s eyes widened as he approached, and she smiled when he took her hand in his.

  “Come, Mrs. Travis. Let me show you how it’s done. Silas doesn’t know the first thing about how to two-step.”

  “Hey!” Silas protested. “Don’t let Mary hear.”

  Those nearby laughed. Will drew Charlotte into his arms and led her into the dance. She followed his lead and almost immediately they moved together as if they’d danced for a lifetime. Her body felt supple and fluid in his arms. Almost immediately he imagined what it would feel like to take her to bed. Would she follow his lead? Would she submit?

  “I didn’t imagine you would ask me to dance, Will.”

  He dipped his head on the pretense of whispering in her ear, but he wanted to inhale the feminine scent clinging to her. It was delicate and sweet. As always, being near her made him want her with a feral hunger. He wanted to carry her off like some sort of ravening animal.

  “Last night I re-read some of your letters, Charlotte.”

  She stumbled, and he tightened his hold. When she lifted her eyes, his heart squeezed. She looked vulnerable, almost fearful, as if she expected he might say something disparaging.

  He went on. “I do that sometimes. Read them and think about you writing those words to a man you didn’t know.”

  She looked away and kept her gaze averted. Tension crept into her shoulders. She stepped on his foot and drew a sharp breath. “I’m sorry, Will.”

  “I don’t mind,” he drawled. “I might even deserve that. I’d forgotten that you want to learn to ride a horse. You told me that in your second letter.”

  When she lifted her gaze, the look in her eyes was filled with longing. In that moment, he wished he was doing anything other than leaving in the morning with a bunch of foul-mouthed cowboys. Her eyes shone, and he felt himself falling. He didn’t want to tell her that he’d found a couple of unopened letters, envelopes he’d somehow overlooked. That oversight would wound her. He wanted to shield her from his rough and uncaring ways.

  Clearing his throat, he went on. “Nick trains horses. He has a gift, really. He can take any old, incorrigible nag and turn it around, and he can take a young, untried horse and render it into the finest, most dependable horse a cowboy could ever want. He has a sweet, little mare. A dapple gray. I’ve asked him to keep her for you. When I get back, we can start with a few lessons.”

  She kept her gaze fixed on him. “I’d like that, Will. I really would. Thank you.”

  He drew her closer, pressing her against his chest, and closed his eyes. She seemed so small when he held her in his arms. So perfect. The falling sensation passed. He let the music carry them both. She was light, and so easy to lead in the dance that he was certain he could have danced half the night with this tiny angel in his arms.

  Later, when the party dwindled, he sought her out. She sat with Mary and some of the other wives. When she saw him, she smiled. The warmth of her smile made him wish he’d had a horse waiting for her when she came to Colter Canyon. Why hadn’t he? Clearly it made her happy and she’d spelled it out in her letter. At least he would have that to offer her when he got home.

  She took his arm and they started the walk back to the house. Stars filled the moonless sky. He noticed she lifted her gaze to take in the show.

  “We don’t have skies like this where I come from,” she murmured.

  “No?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve never seen so many stars. It takes my breath away.”

  Her small hands grasping his arm stirred a primitive need inside him. A desperate hope had burned all night. Would she invite him to her room before he left? Or would she agree to come to his room tonight?

  “I’ll be gone for a few days,” he said.

  “Mm, to Fort Worth.”

  “Will you miss
me?”

  She squeezed his arm. “I will miss you terribly.”

  They walked in silence.

  “I’ll miss you too,” he said as they neared the house.

  She laughed softly. “If you’re going to miss me, you should take me along.”

  He stopped. She stopped too.

  “I will not take you along, Charlotte. You can get that out of your head.”

  “And why is that? Your father took your mother on a trip to Fort Worth a month after they were married. So why won’t you take me?”

  His blood boiled. This again. He wanted to throw something. Punch something. Charlotte was tiny and yet she sassed and argued and defied him at every turn. He had cowboys who were twice her size that shook in their boots when he got angry. Not Charlotte. When he got angry, she got angry too. Impossible woman. Stubborn. Contrary. Ornery.

  He tried to think of all the words he’d use to describe her, but it was impossible.

  “My mother was a head taller than you. She’d grown up on a ranch and might have been tougher than my father.”

  Charlotte shrugged. “Fine. Just don’t try to tell me you’ll miss me when you avoid me every chance you get. Also, don’t bother with diamonds or pearls. They don’t mean anything from a man who won’t share himself.”

  She spun on her heel and marched back to the house. “Goodbye, Will. I hope you have a marvelous trip to Fort Worth. Don’t wake me in the morning.”

  “I won’t,” he growled. “I’m leaving at five in the morning, you impossible woman. Why would I wake you?”

  She didn’t answer, but disappeared into the house, her skirts flouncing behind her. He snarled in anger. The evening had gone so well. He’d seen such sweet yearning in her eyes and hoped that she might give him what he wanted. He’d been married well over a week now and still hadn’t kissed that mouth. And he wanted to, but he’d probably need to bring a whip and chair. The thought made him laugh inside.

  An owl hooted in the night. He stood there in the darkness. Tomorrow he’d be sleeping out under the stars, in a cold and uncomfortable bedroll. He’d always loved cattle drives. The grand scale of ranching. Moving an enormous herd across rugged terrain. He didn’t care much for Fort Worth, but he could always count on a good steak dinner. He’d eat alone. And go back to his room alone. Nothing in Fort Worth appealed to him very much, but he liked the trip there and back.