Pinch of Naughty

by Sivad, Gem

  “You scoundrel,” she murmured.

  “There’s hidden costs dealing with females, old friend,” Sage reminded him, laughing as he walked away.

  Indeed. Eleanor itemized those costs as she slipped into bed, waiting for Cyrus to join her.

  * * * * *

  A few days later, Cyrus stood inspecting the changes in his house. The cobwebs were gone from the corners and he was exhausted, testimony to Eleanor’s recent whirlwind activity both downstairs and up. At night, she fucked him until his brains rattled in his head. During the day—frowning, he crossed to look out the clean window—more evidence of her labor. He should have been pleased. Instead he felt uneasy, as though he’d missed something.

  Sage stuck his head in the front door, interrupting Cyrus with ranch business. “Your mare’s restless. She may foal before morning.”

  “I’ll check on her during the night.”

  “You don’t need me. Admit it. You brought me here to appreciate your find.” Sage pointedly glanced at the kitchen where they could hear Ellie moving around.

  “Maybe,” Cyrus said gruffly. “Anyway, I have to scope out the situation before I begin my negotiations. No sense in offering more than necessary to get it done.” He shut up his negotiating talk when Eleanor entered the hall carrying a tray loaded with pastries.

  “I thought you might share these with the ranch crew. After they sample them for me, they might be able to suggest what will sell the best.”

  As Sage reached for the tray, Eleanor smiled brightly at him. Cyrus felt a prickle of jealously run up his spine. He said stiffly, “Don’t be spoiling my ranch hands.”

  “We’ll let you know what we think.” Sage winked, whisking the tray from Ellie and balancing it in one hand as he ate an éclair on his way to the bunkhouse.

  “You’re serious about this pastry business, aren’t you?” Cyrus admired anyone with grit and Eleanor had her share, but her plans were getting in the way of his.

  “Yes. Mable says my building needs a new roof.”

  He opened his mouth to let her know she didn’t need the building or the roof. She had his—permanently. But she wanted to talk pastry shop and wore a distant expression not conducive to proposals. Probably been working too hard. I owe her extra for cobweb removal.

  “Mable says the owner refuses to make improvements.”

  “Give me a list of what you want done, and I’ll pass it on. A month should be plenty of time to get it ready.”

  “I’ll need a sign for my business. And don’t forget the shelves that should be no more than shoulder high, and of course, the counter top—”

  “I’ll tell the owner.” Cyrus interrupted her. Dammit she had her list of needs ready at hand.

  “Why thank you, Mr. Burke. I appreciate your help. Mable suggested the owner is sometimes difficult in business matters.” She hesitated on her way upstairs. “My pastries are ready for tomorrow…”

  “Your desserts will continue to get transported—as we arranged.” So Mable says I’m disagreeable. I’ll need to have a word with the old lady. Does she think I’m the kind of bastard who’d cheat Ellie?

  Cyrus didn’t want to be classified with the sorry bunch who’d taken advantage of Eleanor. Then he squirmed remembering the night he’d plied her with liquor. A decent woman like that left to the mercy of a man like me. Half of him was appalled at Eleanor’s unfair fall from grace. The other half was damned glad he’d been around to catch her.

  After she went to bed, he visited the kitchen and inspected the confections packed loosely, each new row separated by tissue paper layered in boxes.

  “Pretty fancy fare for a town like ours.” Selling baked goods seemed like a silly plan for Eleanor to make a living. “Good thing I don’t intend to cut her loose.”

  Eleanor found her employer’s pragmatic plan to lure her into unpaid servitude outrageous. Rather than become either his slave or a castoff memento gracing his closet floor, she’d decided to demonstrate her value, making a dent in both his wallet and his hard head on the way out the door. Sighing, she stepped into the tub, organizing her strategies as she relaxed. She woke when Cyrus lifted her from the water.

  “Jesus Christ, girl, it’s a wonder you didn’t drown in here.”

  Before she could protest or thoroughly come awake, he tucked her into bed and slid in behind her, wrapping her in his heat. ”Don’t pay attention to me. Just go back to sleep.”

  She kept her eyes closed when he nibbled her ear, sending heat coursing through her veins. He lifted her thigh, entering her with gentle thrusts from behind, and her muscles clenched, tightening her cunny around his shaft. He grunted his appreciation, burying himself deeper, splaying her butt cheeks wider.

  “Feels good, doesn’t it, Ellie? How about you?” Cyrus cupped her breast, tweaking the nipple while below he stroked his hard length in and out of her.

  ”Yes,” she groaned, turning her head to whisper her agreement against his lips. His hand burned hot—a brand of fire across her stomach. Suddenly, he lifted her, positioning her on her knees, her head pillowed on her arms, her rump in the air.

  “Feel,” he ordered her. And she did, squeezing his shaft and relaxing then tightening again, rotating her hips to tease both of them with pleasure, spreading her thighs to take him even deeper.

  His hand slid from stomach to mound, his fingers gathering her wet heat before playing with the button of nerves that pulsed at her apex.

  “My cock, deep inside you, fucking you until you come, then fucking you more. I can’t get enough of you.”

  Shifting positions in continual harmony, they pleasured each other into oblivion, afterward lying entwined in a sweaty heap.

  “Good night, Ellie.” Cyrus brushed his lips over the nape of her neck. His snores lulled Eleanor to sleep.

  When she woke the next morning she was alone in the bed. It was still early, the eerie feel of half dawn hung over the ranch. She had no idea where Cyrus was or what had jarred her awake. She had the coffee on and perking when he came through the back door, a smug expression on his face.

  “I’ve been busy while you lollygagged in the bed.” Cyrus crossed to the sink where he scrubbed and bragged.

  Eleanor set a mug and a plate of toast on the counter and looked admiringly at him, waiting for him to elaborate.

  “Had to help Bonfire. She dropped her foal in the middle of the night.” He grinned proudly as if he’d fathered the newborn horse.

  “Was it a difficult birth?” Eleanor had often wondered about the birth process. Like so many other areas of female information, it remained a mystery to her. Since Cyrus had no reluctance in discussing anything, she asked.

  “Nope, mare and filly are doing fine.” He slid his arm around her shoulders, giving her a quick squeeze. “Come to the barn and see my progeny.”

  “I have breakfast to fix.”

  Ignoring her halfhearted protest, Cyrus ushered her to the door. His arm remained snugly around her, matching his steps to hers so they walked in tandem. He smiled down at her, guiding her into the barn where he presented mother and daughter as if they were royalty.

  Eleanor leaned over the stall gate and watched the filly suckle, feeling stirrings of hunger in her womb.

  “Pretty picture, isn’t it?” Cyrus’ thigh was molded to her hip and he hugged her close. “Come back to bed,” he whispered the words in her ear.

  “Breakfast…”

  “God, I like the feel of you in my hand.” Without the constricting corset it was easy for him to thumb her nipple through the material, teasing her to give in.

  “Please me,” he coaxed, nibbling on her neck, sliding his hand up to cup her breast.

  “Mr. Burke, it’s daylight.” Her protest was halfhearted at best.

  “Not quite yet.” He hustled her back inside the house and up the stairs before she could resist further. “Hurry and we’ll catch the last of dark.”

  Eleanor slid out of her dress, ready to feel his weight and heat again.
He always made her want. Cyrus stripped quickly and joined her on the mattress, parting her legs and entering her with a growl of pleasure.

  Play with me… Eleanor twisted under him, glorying in the sensations. His chest brushed her nipples sending a flash of desire pulsing to her core. The walls of her channel gripped him, flexing and squeezing around his shaft.

  She loved his intense expression as he thrust in and out of her, taking his time. Eleanor claimed his lips, touching her tongue to his when he opened for her.

  She felt a giggle escape when he rolled them over, seating her astride. His shoulder muscles bunched under her hands and his shaft thickened when the tips of her nipples caressed his chest.

  Give this up? Her heart clenched at the idea.

  He took her nipple between his lips, biting the end enough to get her attention. “Harder?” Teeth and lips tugged on one peak while he pulled and twisted the other with teasing fingers.

  Her cunny flexed and her hips rocked, carrying him deeper. She cradled his head as he suckled first one breast and then the other. Settling her thighs wider, she ground her soft flesh against his groin and he growled his approval.

  He rolled with her to the side of the mattress, stood, and positioned her legs over his shoulders before entering her again. His hips jerked a staccato rhythm that drove his groin against her pearl until she shattered, her release triggering his. The hot pulse of his spill flowed into her body and she arched upward, her womb greedily capturing his seed before he lowered her legs and collapsed on top of her.

  Hugging him in her arms, she whimpered moans of satisfaction against his chest.

  When he levered himself high enough for her to see him, he looked as groggy as she felt. He stared at her as though seeing her for the first time. Self-consciously, she brushed her damp hair from her forehead.

  “Goddamn, Ellie, that was good. I didn’t slap on a condom before we… We need to talk—”

  “No we don’t. Your lapse is of no concern, Mr. Burke. I’ve been found barren by the best physicians in Hartford.” Eleanor cut off his words, more shaken than she cared to admit when she escaped to the bathing room.

  As she checked her appearance in the beveled mirror, her bottom lip quivered. She had to remind herself he was a scoundrel who was negotiating for cheap domestic help, not a man in love. For a moment she’d let herself slide into decadent forgetfulness.

  Cyrus lay on the bed breathing hard, trying to figure out what had just happened. She’d turned to ice when he’d confessed his slip. Slip, hell—nothing had ever felt so right as when he nudged into her bare and naked the first time during the night. The second time had been premeditated bliss. Ellie brushed his attempted promise aside as if it mattered not at all.

  He heard her go downstairs but lingered above, taking extra care shaving and getting ready for town. He missed her caustic remarks. Now that I think about it, she’s been quiet for a couple of days. Not mad, just not her usual mouthy self.

  In the kitchen, he poured himself a cup of coffee and continued the conversation she’d brushed aside in the bedroom. “I doubt the doctors in the East are any more competent then the bankers and other nabobs. I’d take their findings with a load of salt, Ellie.”

  “Then you better wear a condom when we have relations,” she said flatly, ignoring him when he got in her way.

  “Might be too late for that,” he drawled, surprised at how much he wouldn’t mind if it were so. “It only takes once, you know. You don’t want a baby?” The thought made him frown inside.

  “A child would be nice,” she said, elbowing him out of the way so she could ice down one of the boxes he’d just put in the wagon. It wasn’t exactly the response he’d been expecting.

  “Well, I just want you to know if my seed takes root, I’ll let you throw your rope around my neck.” As soon as he said it, he recognized it as the lame-brained proposal it was. So did she.

  “Very eloquently tendered, Mr. Burke, but your concern is unnecessary. Now would you bring that last box out here?” She glanced up, giving him her best you’re a jackass look.

  She dodged the conversation and kept him loading her pastries until the last carton was in the wagon. Then she stood waiting for him to leave. He wasn’t ready yet. She looked at him, he looked at her and finally he asked, “You upset about something?”

  “Not at all,” she said, folding her hands in front of her.

  He caught a blonde strand of hair escaping her sedate bun. Rolling it between his fingers, he bent close, inhaling the scent of lilacs and blanketing his senses with Eleanor before he left for town.

  He nipped her neck, then kissed it. “Our two-week trial period is over today.” It seemed as if she’d always been a part of his life. Suddenly anxious to secure her stay, he asked, “You good with extending the contract?”

  Cyrus hadn’t doubted what her answer would be—until she hesitated.

  “If you’re offering me continued employment for four more weeks—yes. Then our business arrangement will end.” Noticeably disinterested in the topic, she pushed the conversation back to her damn pastries. “It’s going to be very hot soon. Could you…”

  Irritated at the way she kept dodging his subject of choice, Cyrus climbed on the wagon. Hell, he wanted her forever but was begging for four more weeks.

  “Don’t forget to have Mable fill this order or I might have to serve beans for a week.” Eleanor stepped closer, tucking two slips of paper into his shirt pocket.

  “I’ll be back in time for supper. What do you want me to bring you?” he asked gruffly.

  “Just deliver my note to Mable. Everything you need is on it. And don’t forget the spools of thread, the buttons and the new broom I listed.”

  “What happened to the broom you had? Maybe I can fix it,” Cyrus offered.

  “You can’t. Pinch pennies on luxuries not necessities,” she said piously.

  “Guess I better get a new broom then.” He was pretty sure he could fix it and not waste money but her disgust was apparent so he humored her, trying to get her to smile.

  “What’s the thread for?” he asked.

  “Your shirts have so many buttons missing I’ve used all my sewing supplies. Whoever kept house for you before did a deplorable job. You need to pay more attention to your female employees’ domestic skills in the future, Mr. Burke.” Her smile was so bright her eyes seemed to glitter.

  He drawled, “I’ll do that, Eleanor.”

  He didn’t pick up the reins to leave the ranch yard until he saw her go in the house. Then he started for town, replaying their negotiations in his head. Our business arrangement…

  It jerked him to a skidding halt. Armor, that’s what’s different—before she was open and having fun. Damned if she doesn’t have her corset strings pulled tight again.

  Cyrus was still mulling over Eleanor’s aloof expression when he neared the town’s only store. He had some questions for Mable and he expected answers.

  He unloaded Eleanor’s desserts and carried them to the back, setting them near the coffee brewing on the small cookstove. The clerk gawked at him as usual and as always he winked, sending her scurrying as though the devil offered her temptation.

  Mable was busy with customers and Cyrus helped himself to the dry goods and essentials on the list Eleanor had sent, boxing them and tallying each item for the final bill. Finished with his have-to-haves, he poured himself a cup of day-old brew and carried the mug with him as he studied the women’s items for sale.

  “Put this on my bill with the rest of the order,” he told Mable when she joined him. He handed her his total, Eleanor’s note and a heavy wooden rolling pin. Lowering his voice, he got down to real business. “Why’d you bring her to the ranch?”

  “Because I know she can handle anything you throw at her and she needed a place to stay. Henry may work for you, but he takes orders from the family in Hartford and they sent for her. Right now, he thinks she’s on her way home.” Mable met his hard glance with her toot
hy grin, read Eleanor’s note and said, “You want everything on this list?”

  “Did I not say so?” Cyrus brushed aside her question, thinking instead about what he’d been throwing at Eleanor. She’d handled it all right, but he didn’t figure Mable would appreciate how well.

  “Give this to her. It’s her cut from her last sales.” Mable handed him a wad of greenbacks.

  “You chargin’ her full price for her ingredients?” Cyrus tucked the money in his pocket as he asked.

  “You managing her business interests now?” They faced each other in a standoff until Mable conceded. “Wouldn’t do her or me any good to build a business she can’t make money at—of course I’m discounting for her.”

  “She wants that shack next door fixed up. Don’t suppose it was your idea was it?” Cyrus knew damned well who put Ellie on to the building.

  “Didn’t see you doin’ it for an old lady like me, but I thought maybe those purple eyes of hers might melt a layer from your gold-encased heart.”

  “Put the lumber on my bill and get some locals workin’ on it. She wants to open for business in a month.” He’d already decided Eleanor was staying on the ranch. He’d promised her the shack would be ready for business. He just hadn’t promised she’d be running it. All in all, he’d decided another round of negotiations was imminent.

  “Preacher still needs a new roof on the church. While you’re feeling so generous, you might want to donate to the cause.” Mable followed him to the wagon, nagging him about another one of her pet projects. She’d been after him to help the church get a new roof for over a year. They could drown when it rained for all he cared. The churchers had slammed the doors on his mother when she’d birthed him—a bastard.

  “Tell the preacher to come sling hash in my kitchen and scrub the floors for six weeks. If he works as hard as my current housekeeper, then we’ll see. I’ve got no more time or money to waste on roofing the church now than I did the last conversation we had.”

  “Let Eleanor know I’ll need the order doubled again come next Wednesday. I swear I can’t keep her bake goods long enough to take a bite out of one myself.” Mable knew when to cut her losses and changed the topic back to Eleanor.