Taming Talia

by Marie-Nicole Ryan

  He cut her off with his mouth and tongue, guided his cock to her entrance, thrusting inside with all the urgency of a man starved. Her silken pussy was hot and wet and enveloped him like a glove. Unable to hold back, he pounded into her, every nerve in his body on fire. An equal partner, she met and matched his intensity with every single stroke, her breath hot on his neck, as she shuddered against him, crying out as she came.

  One more thrust and his world shattered. Gasping, crying, and laughing, they held on to each other until the world started turning again.

  “Did we just do what I think we did?” she asked, smiling up, her eyes still glazed with passion.

  “Definitely, we did.”

  Talia’s cheeks were reddened from contact with his beard. Or was she blushing?

  She bent over and pulled up her undergarments and straightened the folds of her skirt. “There. I’m presentable.” She reached for his fly and started fumbling with the buttons.

  “Let me do it. You’ll just make matters worse,” he said with a grin, then covered her slender fingers with his own and moved them to the side before unbuttoning his fly. “I’m embarrassed by my behavior, but I had to have you. Couldn’t wait any longer.” He caressed the silken skin of her cheek.

  “Neither could I.” She gazed at him, her eyes dark pools of sensual longing. “You didn’t hurt your leg, I hope?”

  “Leg’s fine,” he said with a casual shrug.

  Her back straight, her attitude prim and proper, she walked back into the kitchen. Except for a slight flush, no one could know just a moment before he’d been buried inside her pussy, fucking against the wall, as if their lives depended on it, her body demanding all he could give, his cock wetly sliding in and out of her cleft. He shuddered at the memory and grasped the edge of the table to steady himself. God. He wanted her again.

  “Perhaps I should clean up this mess before Sarita insists on viewing the damage for herself.”

  “What?” Still dazed from their heated encounter, he’d missed what she’d said.

  Talia twirled around, her arms spread. “The kitchen—it’s a disaster.”

  “Sorry about that. We tried…honestly.”

  “You said you needed to go into town, so why don’t you do just that. I’ll take care of this. Pedro won’t want to leave Sarita’s side now that she’s awake. Oh, and while you’re in town, find out what happened to the rest of my men and my two thousand head of cattle.”

  Giving a deep, theatrical bow, Jared grinned. “Would milady have any other tasks for this unworthy servant?”

  “If you were truly my servant—unworthy or otherwise—you would’ve already cleaned up this kitchen.” Reaching for an apron, she laughed and then tied it around her waist.

  Unable to resist, he took a step toward her and spanned her waist with his hands. “As soon as I send a telegram off to my boss, I’ll check on your ranch hands and the herd. And I’ll see what the general store has to offer.” In addition, he planned to stop by the sheriff’s office and see if he had any news on Montrose’s killer, Juan Ojeda.

  Her arms snaked around his neck as she offered him her lips. He dipped his head and molded his body to hers. After a long, lingering kiss that threatened to keep him ranch-bound for the foreseeable future, she broke away gasping. “Now go, or I’ll never restore Sarita’s domain to its former glory.”

  “Woman, you’re relentless, but I wouldn’t have you any other way.” He pulled her to him once more and kissed her forehead. “I’m off.” He walked over to the coatrack beside the backdoor and pulled on his gear.

  Chapter Twenty

  The ride back to town was slow and torturous. Hampered by drifts and the unfamiliar terrain, Jared rode with care, his leg aching from the intense cold. At the signs of snow-covered roofs and smoke coming from more than one chimney, he let out a sigh of relief. He’d finally reached his destination. From all appearances, La Mesa had been hit hard by the blizzard, evidenced by the remains of the trenches which had been dug, leading from one business to another. Snow drifts were piled head-high in the walkways between the buildings that made up the small town.

  Guiding his horse through the beaten, slick path in the middle of what passed for a street, he spied the sheriff’s office on his right, across the street from the Silver Queen saloon. At the far end of town lay the railroad station, but it was too far to gauge any activity. Surely the sheriff would know about Talia’s ranch hands and the status of her herd.

  He aimed the horse’s head to the trench that led to the local lawman’s office and jail. Dismounting, he was careful to land on both feet. He tied the reins to the hitching post, stepped onto the wood walkway and knocked briefly before entering.

  “Sheriff.” Jared nodded.

  Sheriff Moulton sat at his scarred desk on the right, reading the town’s weekly newspaper. Moulton was a tall, gangly man with a beak of a nose and a sparse, grizzled beard. Directly across from the sheriff stood two jail cells. Only one was occupied. Jared’s nose wrinkled. From the smell, the inhabitant was sleeping off a drunk.

  Setting his paper aside, Moulton nodded back. “Wondered what mighta happened to ya, what with the blizzard and all.”

  “I managed all right.” Jared shrugged and took a step forward.

  “Notice you’re a-limping.”

  “Yeah. Milk cow took exception to my technique and stepped on my leg.”

  The sheriff raised a quizzical brow. “Prob’ly a story behind that.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Whatcha need?”

  “Couple things, Sheriff.” Jared shifted his weight to his good leg. “Any news on Juan Ojeda?”

  “Yeah. My deputy was out checking on folks and stumbled across him in a deserted cabin. Frozen stiff as a board.”

  “Have any large amounts of cash on him?” Even though he didn’t for a single moment believe Talia was capable of hiring someone to kill her husband, he had to ask.

  “Not one red cent. Reckon nobody paid him to kill Montrose, after all. Guess that takes care of your enquiry for his family.”

  “Reckon so.” The weight on Jared’s shoulders lifted. Now he could keep his word to Talia.

  “And the other thing?”

  “Mrs. Montrose says when the storm hit, her ranch hands were ready to load up a herd of cattle. She’s concerned about their welfare.”

  “Mrs. Montrose, huh?” Moulton tipped back in his chair, balancing precariously. “That where you ‘managed all right’ through the storm?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Musta been rough—holed up in a blizzard with a purty widow like her.” The sheriff’s mouth twitched.

  Jared held his tongue. No point in adding juice to the rumor mill.

  “I hate to give the widow bad news, but the train never made it. We heard they’d been delayed by ice and snow over the tracks. And that was right before the telegraph lines went down.”

  “Lines still down? I need to notify my employer of the results of my investigation.”

  The sheriff shrugged. “Don’t rightly know about the lines. As for her cattle, at least half of ’em froze to death or died of starvation. Her men hunkered down wherever they could. I’d check at the railway station. Some of ’em might be round there.”

  “Thanks, Sheriff. I’ll do that.”

  Moulton nodded and went back to reading his newspaper.

  At the telegraph office, Jared had quickly discovered the lines remained down. Thwarted in his desire to send his father a begging telegram, instead he left a message to be sent to Pinkertons as soon as the lines were operational. He turned, ready to leave, when the telegrapher stopped him. “Not so fast, mister. Got a telegram for ya. This ’un came right before the lines went down.”

  Jared took the missive and read it quickly, his heart dropping with the news. It was from his brother, brief and to the point. His father was dead of pneumonia and had been for a week. It also included a terse directive to come home and rejoin the family.

  Now, s
till stunned by the news, Jared rode the two miles back to Talia’s ranch. So much to consider. Obviously, his older brother wanted him to come home, take his rightful place, and stop living like a vagabond. As for his brother’s suggestion that Jared stop acting like a ne’er-do-well—it wasn’t an act. The label fit him as if he were born with it tattooed across his forehead.

  After seeing the sheriff, Jared thought he’d have only the good news that Talia was cleared of her husband’s death. While that was good news indeed and absolved him from any further responsibility to his employer, it was the only thing positive he had to relate. Over half of Talia’s herd was dead, along with at least three of her cowhands, including her foreman, who hadn’t been able to find sufficient shelter from the storm. Devastating losses all.

  Down at the railway station, he’d seen an uncountable number of cattle frozen in place, now starting to thaw. If the weather continued to improve, the stench would be unimaginable. The sight of those dead cattle brought home the danger and rigors of life in northeastern New Mexico.

  He and Talia could have died as easily as those cowhands. Why risk everything on a piece of land when its continued success depended on a roll of the dice and the vagaries of nature? Now that his implacable father was dead and likely already buried, all he had to do was go home to New York and rejoin the family as if he’d never left. Except for Talia. He couldn’t leave her, not with her ranch in the midst of financial ruin. She needed him. But it was more than that. She was a part of him now, blood and bone.

  But if she would leave the ranch and go with him to New York City, they could have good lives there, even if it wasn’t what either of them expected. Until he talked with her, though, the future hung in a state of limbo. No need rushing to make a decision.

  There was no getting around the fact that Talia’s obstinate nature would be a major snag. But she had to understand her financial future was in jeopardy. If he could humble himself enough to return home and ask for another chance, then she wouldn’t have to worry about the weather or an epidemic destroying her herd. True, she prized her independence and the land, but if she loved him as much as he loved her, she’d do it. She could sell what was left of her herd. The sale of the land alone would bring a sizable fortune which, under current laws, she would keep as her own after they married. All he had to do was swallow his pride and convince his brother of his maturity and willingness to work in the family business. Then he’d have the wherewithal to provide for a wife and family without touching her personal fortune.

  There was no doubt about it, Talia wouldn’t give in easily; he’d have to be extra convincing. But having Talia at his side was worth the effort. The question still nagged him: did she love him enough to give up everything she held dear?

  A gust of wind blasted through his coat, chilling him to the bone and almost ripping the Stetson from his head. Pulling up his collar, he hunched his shoulders and encouraged his horse to pick up some speed. Dark clouds in the northwest scudded across the sky, covering the dazzling sunlight. Maybe the storm had been a mere sampling of how bad the coming winter would be.

  All the more reason to continue with his plan for taking her to New York.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The hours crept by slowly. Once more, Natalia walked to the window, anxious for a glimpse of a certain horse and rider. The sun passed behind a bank of clouds, turning the vast field of snow a dull gray. A chill slid up Natalia’s spine as she continued watching for Jared’s return. Her hands clenched at her sides. What was taking him so long? What if his horse had lost its footing and Jared was lying injured somewhere along the road? Unbidden, her hand went to her mouth; she began to chew on one of her fingernails. Surely, he would return soon.

  What if he never intended on coming back? What if his sweet words were all sugar and no substance. No. He was a better man than that. He would never treat her in such a dismissive manner.

  The tromp of booted feet sounded behind her. She turned. Sarita’s husband shifted from one foot to the other, his face pulled into a frown. “Pedro, is everything all right with Sarita?”

  “Sí.” Pedro nodded vigorously. “Mi esposa está más fuerte.” He continued, telling Natalia how much Sarita wanted to get up.

  Natalia frowned, then chewed her bottom lip while she considered. “She’ll be very weak. Perhaps with your support, she could set her feet on the floor and take a step or two.”

  “Sí, señora.” With a wide smile, he nodded, then turned and rushed from the room.

  She returned to her vigil at the window, wiping away the rime of frost which had appeared during her brief conversation with Sarita’s husband. For a second, she thought there was no change in the landscape, but no, there was a small black dot on the horizon. It hadn’t been there before. It had to be Jared. Clasping her hands to her mouth, she willed the dot to grow bigger until…

  “Sí!” She could make out a horse and rider. It was Jared. A deep sigh of relief escaped her, leaving her still excited and nervous. Her lover had kept his word and returned. Resisting the urge to run and meet him, she hurried to a mirror. Who was the haggard creature staring back? Even though she’d cleaned the kitchen and then taken some care with her hurried ablutions, she was still a shadow of her former self. The days and nights of caring first for Jared and then for Sarita had taken a toll on her appearance.

  Indeed, it was a wonder that he returned at all.

  Pulling the pins from her hair, she raced to her bedroom. She grabbed a brush from the dressing table and raked it through the tangles. Once it was smooth, she took two ivory combs and slid them in at the temples. At least they would keep the stragglers off her face. She pulled the rest of it back and twisted it into a long curl, which she let drape over her shoulder. Dios. Her face was so pale. If she didn’t know better, she’d think a corpse was peering back. With a huff, she corrected her pallor by pinching her cheeks and biting her lips.

  She straightened the collar of the flannel shirt she’d grown accustomed to wearing during the blizzard conditions. It would have to do until she had more time and energy to care about such nonessential fripperies as her appearance. When had she become so vain? Her late, unlamented husband had always demanded perfection in her appearance. As little as he cared about her, he made her very aware she was his possession and as such she represented him to the small world of La Mesa.

  While Jared had never criticized her appearance, he was still a man. She wanted him to find her beautiful. And for once she was primping for a man because she wanted to, not because he made her.

  Dreading to give Talia this heavy dose of bad news, Jared settled, fed and watered his horse in the stable before entering the house. His injured leg stabbed with pain every step he took, but again it was dread that slowed his pace more than pain. Underlying the dread, though, lay a degree of excitement and anticipation of what their future could possibly hold.

  “Jared!”

  Recognizing Talia’s sweet voice, he glanced up. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her standing at the kitchen door. God, she was beautiful. Even clad as she was against the cold in an ill-fitting man’s shirt, her elegant beauty was undeniable and never failed to speed up his heart. He closed the distance between them and swept her into his arms. Burying his face in her hair, he breathed in her unique scent. She eased her arms around his waist as she pulled him inside the house.

  “What a welcome,” he said with a laugh. “You must’ve missed me.”

  “Indeed I did, Pinkerton. I’d begun to despair of ever seeing you again.” She finished this statement with a lovely, low laugh that resonated through every cell in his body. But the bad tidings he had yet to reveal dampened his ardor.

  She reacted immediately. “What’s wrong? You’ve stiffened up on me.”

  “That’s supposed to be a good thing,” he said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

  “You know very well what I mean. You’re tense.” Still in his arms, she pulled back, her unerring gaze see
king the truth in his. Dark as ebony, her eyes bore through to his soul. “Tell me. Tell me now—this bad news you seek to hide.”

  He clenched his jaw, then said, “Let’s go into the drawing room where we can sit. My leg’s aching from the cold. Feels like it’s been caught in a bear trap.”

  His words diverted her from his bad news, and her expression grew concerned. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Of course you need to sit.”

  Together they walked into the drawing room, her arm around his waist. She took her spot on the settee and patted the cushion beside her. “Now sit. You can’t put me off any longer.”

  Reluctantly, he sat and stretched out his bad leg, hoping to relieve the muscle spasms. “Three of your men didn’t make it, including your foreman.”

  Talia’s chin dropped, trembled, and her bottom lip quivered. “Madre de Dios.”

  “The railway stationer said most of the others found shelter, but those three didn’t make it. They tried to care for the herd.”

  “What about the herd? Surely the train…?”

  “The train didn’t make it. Over half your herd’s gone.”

  She paled. He watched the muscles in her throat work as she tried to swallow. Her trembling hand went to her mouth. “Gone?” she gasped.

  “The rails were blocked by snow drifts. The telegraph lines went down, but they’re already working on getting those back up.”

  “La Mesa is shut off from everything?”

  “For now. If the weather continues to improve, we may still get the rest of your herd to market.”

  “It’s a disaster to be sure, financially, but those three men…” Her gaze grew inward as she chewed on her knuckle.