1933563060-Devils-Pact-Cruise

by Devil's Pact (lit)

  “After you drop off the girls at school, we’ll talk.”

  “Talk?” He jerked upright, glaring at her back as she made her way to Reed’s room.

  For a moment, he really thought they’d made headway. Tomorrow sounded promising. Now, he wasn’t so sure tomorrow wouldn’t end up like any other morning—leaving him stonewalled and blue-balled.

  * * * *

  Megan chuckled quietly, aware Caleb would be deeply offended if she laughed outright. She loved him too much to ever cause him any amount of distress. However, there was no room in her life to give him what he wanted. At least, not now. Her smile fainted once again as she stepped inside Reed’s bedroom.

  Doctor Keeling moved toward her. With one last look over his shoulder at the sleeping invalid a breath shy from death, he turned to her and softly murmured, “Still no change, I’m afraid. Continue to keep his last days comfortable as best you can.”

  Caleb came up right behind her. He remained silent as he stared at the frail man’s body. She took comfort knowing he was there.

  “You’ve been doing a mighty fine job. He’s clean, no bed sores, and you’re keeping plenty liquids in him. Reed’s a lucky man to have you for…” Doc paused, cast Caleb a fleeting glance, then smiled at her. “…a nurse.”

  “Thank you, Doc.” She feigned a smile in return. The entire town probably thought Caleb Walker was her bedmate. For the second time tonight, she may as well spread her legs, and this time, let Caleb take her. Get it over with. At least then, he would finish what he started long ago. Perhaps the rumors, or more like half-truths, would end.

  “The girls and I work hard to ensure his comfort. I would ask you to stay while I make a fresh pot of coffee, but they were having so much fun, we stayed later than usual. It’s left us all tired, though. I hope you understand.” She felt a wee bit guilty for blaming the girls for her wanton misdeed, but they couldn’t tell from her sincere apologetic expression.

  “Perfectly. You get plenty of rest.” He followed her past the kitchen into the great room.

  “Come, Caleb, let the young lady sleep tonight.” He gave Caleb a wink and patted him affectionately on the back.

  Caleb took one look at her and grinned ear to ear. She felt her cheeks heat from embarrassment. The man must want everyone to suspect they were more than friends. In a way, they were.

  “Goodnight, gentlemen,” she bid cheerfully after they exchanged a few pleasantries and mounted their horses. She remained on the porch for a moment to watch them ride away. Their shadows, one tall and refined and the other short and rotund, disappeared around the bend before she returned inside.

  Shaking her head at the outrageousness, Caleb didn’t even try to hide the fact he would return in the morning to take the girls to school or clear up the doctor’s esoteric hint as to why she was not getting enough rest.

  It wasn’t as if her reputation was untarnished. Everyone knew she used to work at Jazelle’s, though not as an upstairs girl. But that didn’t stop men from making crude remarks on those few occasions she ventured into town alone, or the way women turned their noses as she passed. Probably the reason Dr. Keeling assumed she allowed Caleb liberties. The thought made her blood boil.

  Older and wiser now, the thought of escaping into another marriage out of necessity was not appealing. The last thing she needed was to be indebted to another man, even one she cared for.

  Never again.

  Besides, it seemed that whole sex thing between a man and a woman was more painful than it was worth. There had to be something wrong with those rare women at Jazelle’s who seemed to find pleasure in an act so animalistic. On many occasions, she witnessed the horses and other farm animals copulating. Though the act itself was rather interesting, nature’s way of bringing new life into the world, the animals didn’t appear to enjoy it. Climb on, climb off. It was all over in seconds.

  Perhaps Mrs. Walker was right all along: carnal knowledge was work of the devil.

  That didn’t explain kissing. Kissing was different, very different. It made her weak and breathy, ache in some places and wet in others. Yet it always left her unsatisfied somehow, made her yearn for something more, something just out of reach that she could never seem to grasp. Exactly what that was, she hadn’t figured it out just yet. Like when she inserted her fingers in her vagina, it made her skin tingle and her pulse race, nothing more.

  But when Devin touched her…

  Dear Lord, she had to forget him, put him out of her mind completely.

  Think only of her and Shelby and Emma. What would happen to them after Reed passed? Marriage wasn’t exactly an option she was partial to. No, instead, she planned to take the girls and make a new life elsewhere. Start fresh and independently. Somewhere no one ever heard of Megan Adams or Mrs. Reed Spawn.

  Maybe even change their names. At least, that was the plan after her debt was paid off. An ordeal she was not looking forward to.

  As usual, the house turned quiet after the girls were tucked in. Collecting Caleb’s cup and saucer from the long rectangular dining table in the center of the great room, she left them in the copper tub she used as a sink. As she retrieved the doctor’s coffee cup from the small table next to Reed’s bed, she watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest. The movement was so imperceptible. Sadly, she wondered how many days were left for the once-robust man.

  Though she never loved him as a husband, she loved him dearly in a fatherly sense.

  Reed was always there for her. Never asked for anything in return. He opened his home despite everything that happened. He trusted her with the care of his two daughters.

  The third and final stroke a couple of months ago left him unable to move or speak and only able to open his eyes and stare in silence at the world passing by.

  She missed their conversations over coffee while they sat on the porch and watched the girls play in the yard. Missed his generous spirit and sense of humor. The unconditional acceptance.

  The comfortable arrangement was ideal. She truly looked forward to standing by his side and helping as the girls matured into prosperous young ladies. With the understanding it meant relinquishing any chance of ever falling in love, getting married, and having a family of her own.

  Reed, Shelby, and Emma—they were her family now.

  She was happy and content with her choice, for as long as it lasted.

  Ready to pass out from exhaustion, she stepped into the kitchen with Doc’s half-empty coffee cup in hand. Her featherbed called out to her. As she rounded the edge of the kitchen counter, her gaze caught sight of the imposing dark silhouette filling the opened front entryway. Devin entered the house so quietly it caught her off guard. Her heart skipped a beat, and the cup slipped out of her hand, breaking in three as it hit the floor. Cold coffee splattered the front of her calico.

  He actually needed to dip his head to clear the doorframe. His powerful demeanor, part animal, part diabolical, and one hundred percent male, undersized the house instantly.

  Her eyes roamed the towering length of him as he bolted the door. Cloaked in a dark and dangerous mystique, she couldn’t pull her gaze from him.

  As he turned, the dim lit kerosene lantern hanging over the table did little to reveal the features hidden behind a full beard and mustache of cinnamon brown that blended gloriously into a thatch of wavy, shoulder length hair that spilled out of his hat that concealed his penetrating silver eyes she remembered so well.

  She continued to stare. Luckily for her—or was it unlucky?—his perfectly-lined, ruby lips were in plain sight and invoked the recent memory of their riverside amour. Her knees went weak, yet she could not stop her gaze from drifting over every manly muscle from his broad shoulders, flat abdomen to his massive thighs, and long legs, straight down to his large, moccasin-clad feet. She finally rested her gaze on the most riveting part of him that inundated her sensibilities, shattered her control, tempted her beyond reason, and made her conscious of her own compromised femininity.

&n
bsp; * * * *

  Devin’s entire body tightened with a familiar ache at the intense way she stared at him. He felt like a hungry wolverine who hadn’t eaten in ages…or been properly fucked. He clenched his teeth and fought to stifle the tension building deep inside his loins. No, he did not come here to fuck his stepmother. No matter how much it appeared she wanted or needed it, and he sure as hell wanted to give it to her. There was only one reason he was here. Then, he would high-tail it out of Dodge.

  He needed to hear his father tell him in his own words. Why? Why did he give Devin away? Why had he never wanted him?

  “Where is he?” His tone impatient and rough, too rough to sit well with a man who prided himself on always being in control, absent of emotion, and bound by no familial ties.

  She motioned toward the open bedroom door behind her.

  Without a word or so much as a glance, he strode past her. Silently, like a pillar of cold, hard stone, he soaked in the sight of the motionless, dying body lying on the bed.

  His father.

  The man who brought him into this wretched world.

  The very same man who gave him away the day he was born.

  He felt…what did he feel? Nothing. No, he felt cheated. This man, practically on the other side of death’s door, could tell him nothing.

  He’d ridden two weeks straight, crossed the desolate desert plains, scoured mountains, went without sleep and food to reach the territory of Tejas in time to stare at a corpse.

  “May I get you anything?” Megan asked softly from near the doorway.

  “Leave us,” he ordered quietly. He heard the rustle of skirts, and as she turned to leave, he added, “Close the door.”

  Chapter 4

  Megan awoke with a start. With a jagged swipe of her fingers, she wiped the sleep from her eyes. She glanced out the lace-covered window. A pale resemblance of dawn streaked the fading blue. . That meant only one thing. She overslept. Hastily, she jumped out of the small, twin-sized bed. When was the last time, if ever, she’d overslept?

  She rushed to the dresser to find something to wear. On the cold floor, she stood in her bare feet, rummaging through the dresser drawers. She caught sight of her reflection in the looking glass, and paused.

  Seldom did she ever take a moment to consider her appearance.

  Barely touching the dark circles under her eyes with her fingertips, she frowned. The crinkling furrow did little to help the bleakness tainting her once creamy complexion and youthful good looks. She should be so vain to believe Caleb whenever he remarked her beauty was unrivaled.

  Of course, he’d told her the very opposite last night. And judging from her appearance this morning, he was right.

  With her palms screening her cavernous cheeks, she felt much older than her twenty-three years. Her gaze dropped to the small swell in front of her sleeping gown. As slender as a willow, her figure was that of a girl much younger. She lacked the voluptuous curves she always wished her body would develop. The red robin had taken its sweet time to call, waiting until she was fourteen. She cupped what was left of her small breasts. They’d lost some of their roundness during the past months. She wondered if the reason she never quite fully developed was her woman-time only flowed every other month.

  Taking a cautionary glance at the girls’ reflection in the mirror, her pulse quickened. She lifted the hem of her gown above her hips once she was satisfied they were still sound asleep. Her head tilted slowly from side to side. She examined the sparsely covered mound between her narrow hips. There was more pale flesh than golden curls. She couldn’t help but ponder what he thought when he looked at her.

  As if her body remembered the pleasure of last night, his fingers stroking her intimate flesh, she felt her pussy throb with arousal. An unmistakable heat rushed through her veins. She felt her nipples harden and brush against the front of her gown. They ached for his touch.

  Biting her lower lip, she raised her gaze to the sleeping bundles in the mirror once more and tentatively lowered one of her hands. She parted the pouting lips with her fingers, revealing the inner flesh, slightly red and still sore from last night’s unpleasant incident, the brazen assault on her shattered senses and an illicit assault on her willing body.

  “…even a preacher man would’ve turned a deaf ear to the holy gospel to partake in the sin ‘tween those legs.”

  His heated words echoed in her mind. A thrill of the forbidden washed over her at the mere thought of his huge cock, hard and long, yearning to be inside her. He’d been unable to resist the carnal temptation he said she presented, or how he struggled to restrain the depth of his overwhelming passion as he strained to pierce her flesh with the bulky, flared tip of his cock. The memory of those few minutes lying in the grass made her juices pour forth.

  “Dear God,” she breathed on a gasp, releasing the gown abruptly and shutting her eyes. Why did she feel this way?. How could her body respond so easily by just by thinking of the man? How could she warm at the thought of his touch, and tingle and moisten at the sight of him?

  She braced her hands on the dresser, breathing in ragged pants, and she stared at her flushed reflection. There was no way she desired him, would not allow herself to desire him. He was Reed’s son, for Christ’s sake.

  Evil. The epitome of pure evil.

  There was a slim chance she could very well be carrying his baby. No innocent herself, she knew where babies came from and was well aware the tragedies of bearing a fatherless child.

  At Jazelle’s, she learned a thing or two from the women about preventing pregnancy. Later, when she was alone, she would mix her herbs and wash herself of his seed. She’d have done it as soon as she returned home, but conceiving was highly unlikely. She hadn’t had a flow in several months due to her recent bout of stress-induced weight loss from the lack of eating properly or perhaps her failure get much sleep. What little food they had, she made sure the girls ate first. Often, that meant she did without meat, even if she was lucky enough to shoot a bird or trap a rabbit that day.

  She picked up the brush to try and tame the unruly ringlets that had become a frizzy, tangled mass during the night. With another glance in the mirror, she put the brush down, deciding she didn’t have time to mess with her hair when the cow needed to be milked, water hauled, eggs collected, and breakfast made before the girls were off to school. Hastily, she gathered her hair in a loose knot atop her head and searched through the open drawer for something suitable to wear.

  All her clothes were threadbare from too many washings and no longer fit properly. She didn’t even have time to make new clothes for her and the girls. Even if she did, there was no money to buy material.

  Sadly, she sighed. Had her life truly come to this?

  She was once a happy, precocious little girl with parents rich only in love for her, and a younger brother whom she adored. She’d been taken in by Reed, who provided security and hope for a future. Soon, she would be left vulnerable. Without the protection provided by a marriage license. Prey to any man. One thing was clear. If she didn’t move away, with her reputation, she would definitely be in need of a bigger gun.

  Unshed tears welled in her eyes at the memory of her long lost family and her current situation. She held her chin high. “No use thinking about them. Ain’t going to bring them back. Nor change things,” she whispered to her reflection with a bold gleam rising in her eyes.

  To persevere, she had to be strong, refuse to submit to helplessness or hopelessness.

  If she survived the savagery of an Indian raid, living with an overbearing, fanatical religious simpleton, four years in a bordello, five years married to a man, she didn’t love, raising two kids on her own and caring for an invalid husband, then by God Almighty, she could survive anything.

  Her choice for the day was an oversized, faded green blouse and brown skirt. On her way out to the privy, she shot a glance at the closed door to Reed’s bedroom. By the time she reached the barn doors, her pulse raced. In less than an hou
r and a half, Caleb would arrive like clockwork to ride the girls to school.

  She squatted on the low stool beside the milking cow, both hands reaching out and latched onto swollen udders. The bucket started to fill with milk while she speculated why Devin hadn’t already left. Perhaps he intended to leave after breakfast. She crinkled her forehead as she tried to hold on to that last shred of hope.

  The cow snorted and swatted its tail as Megan’s fingers twisted and squeezed its udders distractedly.

  Their small town was just like others. Gossip and tales of Devin Spawn’s exploits ran rampant. Whenever a bank was robbed or man shot down, the news hit the wires, and the saloon filled with the wildest and most gruesome stories ever told. Besides herself, no one knew the notorious outlaw was Reed’s son. No one probably would believe it if Reed himself stood on the church steps on Sunday morning, rang the bell, and announced to anyone who would listen the cold-blooded murderer was his flesh and blood.

  A genteel, honest, law-abiding citizen who helped his fellow neighbor whether he was asked or not, if he saw a need, someone struggling or going without, Reed Spawn was there.

  It wasn’t that Reed was ashamed of Devin—more like he was ashamed of himself. Guilt-ridden, he held himself accountable for the misfortune befallen his first born.

  During weekly visits to the Silver Nugget, Reed confided his inner most thoughts. He spoke of Devin and the love he still held for his boy’s mother, Grace, the true love of his life. Sometimes, he would also speak fondly of his second wife, Ella.

  Devin’s unflinching eyes, brute strength, quick draw, and cold heartedness crowded every claim. Not one person, including Reed, ever mentioned how breathtakingly handsome he was or the overwhelming power of his sexuality, the sensuousness of his mouth or softness of his hands. Then again, if he stole your horse or bank safe full of money, or filled a neighbor with lead, a person may tend to slight those trifling qualities.