Rocky Mountain Ride (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 7)

by Lee Savino

  He’d failed the last woman he’d made these promises to. He would have to make sure that didn’t happen again.

  He was just rising to go to bed, when he heard a noise in the hall. He stepped out of the dining room in time to block Francesca, hurrying from her room swathed in a dark cloak.

  “Francesca,” he caught her and she sprang back with a hiss, as if his touch burned her, “where are you going?”

  “None of your business, Englishman.”

  He said nothing, just waited, still blocking the hall.

  “Out. I cannot sleep.”

  He glanced down. She was barefoot. “The hell you are. It’s not safe for you to be going about at night.”

  “What do you know of it?” He sensed her glare even in the dark.

  “Know about scoundrels who lurk in the night, waiting for pretty women? Everything. I am one.”

  She huffed. “Another joke. Do you ever say anything serious? Your words are made of straw.” She pushed past him into the great room, and he followed catching her arm and forcing her to turn. His joking manner was gone.

  “Francesca, I mean it, you’re not leaving. Roaming about at night isn’t safe.”

  Caught in his grip, she struggled, her hood falling back. “Why do you care? You are not my husband. You are not even a friend. You are…I do not know! A complication.”

  “You’re angry because you feel things for me you think you should not. That’s why you want me to leave.”

  “You are leaving… what I want matters not.”

  “It might. I’ve thought about it, and I think I should stay.”

  She stilled in shock, and he took advantage of the moment and stroked an affectionate finger against her cheek.

  “I think you need me more than you realize.”

  He waited for her thoughts to work themselves out behind her stone face. The passionate Francesca was back, and he almost anticipated whatever outburst that would follow.

  She didn’t disappoint. Her arms shoved at him. “I don’t need a boy. I need a man.” Twisting, she escaped, and he grabbed for her a second time.

  “Let go of me, you fool.” She swore in Spanish.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Sebastian saw a torch flame in the garden. He dropped her arm and she scuttled back, still cursing him.

  He wasn’t paying attention. “What’s that?” he said. “I heard something.”

  “Probably the goat.”

  He pointed through the windows at the lights in the garden, torches coming their way. “That is not a goat.” Something told him he was going to want his gun. “Francesca, get away from the window.”

  “No, it is a patient. I am needed,” she said, hurrying forward.

  A second before the first shot fired, Sebastian knew something was wrong.

  He leaped forward just as the first bullets broke the glass. His body hit Francesca’s, driving her to the ground. She cried out.

  Above their heads, the shots continued to fire, breaking the glass, sending down a rain of shards. Bullets hit the opposite wall. Paint and plaster chips hailed down on their heads.

  Sebastian tightened his hold, tucking Francesca closer to him and shielding her as best he could. The glass shattered and she cried out, burying her face against him. They held each other through the seconds of hell.

  It was over before they realized it. The shooting stopped and the torches receded, but it was another minute before they rose off the floor, a loud ringing filling their ears.

  “Are you all right?” Sebastian’s hands skated over her body, checking for wounds.

  “Yes, yes.” She gripped his shirt, as if reassuring herself he was real.

  In other parts of the house, he heard others rousing. Shouts outside told him that Juan and Cage had heard the shots and were rallying.

  Torches outside were gone, as quickly as they’d come.

  “A gun, a gun, my kingdom for a gun,” Sebastian muttered. Whoever was outside was amply armed. They’d come prepared. He glanced out the broken windows, wishing he could run out after them. The shooters outnumbered him, but with the rage coiled inside him it could be ten to one odds and he’d win.

  But nothing would take him from Francesca’s side.

  She stood in the center of the room, staring at the destruction. With the torches gone, the room was dark, but he felt her tension and watched as violent shivers overtook her body.

  “Francesca?”

  “Sebastian,” she choked. He’d never heard her sound so terrified.

  “Darling.” He pulled her close. “It’s going to be all right. I’m here.”

  *

  Morning brought no answers, only a better view of the wreckage. There were boot prints all over the garden; the attackers had been careless about where they stepped.

  Ana had found her goat hiding in the apothecary. The animal had made quite a mess in Francesca’s retreat—the flagstones needed a good scrubbing—but even the señora was cheered to see the white beast’s return. It did Sebastian good to see a tired smile on his little widow’s face.

  After cleaning up, Ana had convinced Francesca to lie down for a little while. The señora seemed to have shrunken overnight. Sebastian forgot how small and slender she was compared to the force of her personality. He’d do anything to wipe the broken expression from her face. This attack had shaken her to the core. They hadn’t damaged her fields or cattle, but come with torches and fired shots into the house. They’d breached her sanctuary.

  That evening, Sebastian stood on the flagstones just outside the garden, smoking endlessly. Cage came to stand beside him, waving a hand when Sebastian offered the tobacco pouch. The man offered a flask instead, and after they’d pulled on it in silence, Cage turned the container over and over in his weathered hands.

  “Tell me,” Sebastian finally said.

  “Seven men. Five to shoot, two to stay with the horses,” Cage reported.

  “They came under the cover of night. Cowards.”

  “This wasn’t an attack meant to kill. Maim and destroy, maybe,” Cage said. “Scare tactics.”

  “The Royal Mountain Gang. It has to be. Francesca said her father owed them money. They came to scare her into paying off the debt.”

  “The Royal Mountain Gang.” Cage nodded. “From what I hear the gang was tied to a big boss named Doyle. But he died last summer of a bullet in the gut. Since then, his empire’s been crumbling, but there are always scavengers to pick up the pieces. If Francesca’s father and husband borrowed money, it would’ve been from Doyle. Now that Doyle’s dead, the gang is run by two brothers named Bigs and Johnson. They’re not as smart as their old boss.”

  “So, mean and stupid. Not a good combination.” Sebastian grimaced.

  “Not at all. But if they knew of the debt, they probably see a way to rake some money in. Doyle’s victims are fair game now. Without Doyle to reign them in, they could harass Francesca until she caves, or burn her whole place to the ground.”

  “They’ve destroyed crops, waterways, made trouble. And then they shoot into her home. The outbuildings: the apothecary, Juan’s house, the barracks, Ana’s suite, all left untouched.”

  “Feels personal,” Cage said. “Whatever this girl’s husband did, it pissed them off, and bad.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe they’re just stupid and desperate and looking for low hanging fruit. A widow struggling to keep her ranch might look like easy pickings, and they wanted to speed things along.”

  Cage sighed. “Don’t know, boss. I’ll keep mulling it over.” He kicked a chunk of fallen plaster.

  Sebastian tossed his cigarette to the ground and stepped on it. Little slivers of glass crunched beneath his heel.

  “You didn’t sign on for this,” he said to Cage “I am paying you a livelihood, but I would not presume to ask you to risk your life. I understand if you want to go.”

  Cage met his boss’ eyes with his own weathered blues. “I take it you’re staying.”

  “I am.”
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  The silver head nodded, and Cage seemed to come to a decision. “I’ll hang on. I don’t mind a little gunshot now and then. I’ll see this to the end.”

  “Thank you,” Sebastian said. He would have to wire to his father for more money, but he intended to do so, and put everything he had into protecting his Francesca.

  “What now, boss?”

  “Now we set a guard. And we stay smart.” Sebastian took a purse out of his pocket. “Go into the town and hire some help. Big, strapping farm boy types who can stand watch. I want this place guarded morning, noon, and night. I’ll also take a shift.”

  “That won’t stop the gang.”

  “But it might stall them while we figure out what’s going on.” His fingers itched for another cigarette, and he gripped it into a fist.

  Cage grunted. “I guess. Might keep someone from dying, if that’s their next aim.”

  “What if she had protection?”

  “Like the guards?”

  “Like a wealthy husband.”

  Cage rocked back on his heels. “You fixing to marry this dame for an act of chivalry?”

  “This wouldn’t be a temporary prospect. We suit.”

  “Well, damn.” A smile crossed Cage’s craggy face like dawn breaking over the mountains. “Come to San Luis valley and find love. If that ain’t one for your poets, I don’t know what is.”

  Sebastian couldn’t stop himself from grinning at his boots.

  “It’s a nice thought, boss, and we need some cheer right about now. But you best be careful. Because she won’t be too happy if you ever decided the excitement’s gone and you leave. Last person who crossed her got a bouquet of bullets in his chest.”

  *

  Sebastian strode to his room. He’d kept his tongue in check at Cage’s jab, but internally he seethed. Did everyone think so little of him? Of course, he’d never given them cause to think otherwise. Most of the time he was a spoiled, selfish fool, and he’d be the first to admit it.

  It was time to see what he was truly capable of. Cage’s words bothered him because he doubted himself. Could he be man enough for her?

  “Time to shape up, Chivington.” When the time came, would he do his duty.

  “I thought you were leaving.”

  He started when he heard Francesca’s soft voice at his elbow. She stood wrapped in a blanket, barefoot, her hair mussed in sleep.

  “Señora…you should be resting.”

  Instead of going back to her bedroom, she padded up to him, her dark eyes wide and honest as a child’s.

  “Cage and I decided we’ll stick around to help. We want to see this thing through.”

  She shook her head. “I cannot ask you to do that.”

  “You’re not asking. I’m telling. I don’t know what’s going on, but this I do know: I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Sebastian, no, it is not safe…” She looked so little and lost, half asleep, her slender form wrapped in a blanket. This wasn’t the time for silly bluster or marriage proposals.

  He gripped her chin. “I’m staying.”

  She nodded, and let him take her hand and guide her back to bed. She lay down and he tucked her in, stroking her hair back before kissing her forehead.

  “Sleep now, my darling.” She wouldn’t know that things had changed between them, but once she was awake and ready, she would.

  “Forgive me,” she said. He paused halfway to the door.

  “For what?”

  “I said horrible things.”

  He shrugged.

  “When we first met, I didn’t think you were a man of substance. Now I know that isn’t true. You are more than all the men I’ve met put together.”

  His head sagged with the weight of her words but all he could say was, “Good night, Francesca,” and shut the door.

  Outside he leaned against the wall, marveling at the knowledge that there was at least one person in the world who believed in him. Now he just had to make sure he wouldn’t let her down.

  *

  Late that night, he heard a small knock on his door, and opened it to find Francesca standing there.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She looked so small and tired. “Please,” she said without looking at him. “I don’t know why I need it but I do.”

  He stepped back for her to enter, and she went past him with her head bowed. He didn’t like seeing all the fight knocked out of her. Once inside, she paused on the rug, waiting for his command. Sebastian’s cock jumped at the sight of a beautiful, vulnerable woman standing ready to climb into his bed.

  Instead, Sebastian settled himself on the chaise and held out a hand.

  “Come here.”

  She climbed into his lap, and pressed against him, a trembling, sweet smelling bundle. He pressed his lips against her hair, enjoying the feel of her body against his. She was both slender and lush, just the right balance of long delicate limbs and sweet curves.

  For a few minutes he murmured soothing things in her ear. Someone—Ana or one of the new guards—walked down the hall on late night patrol. Sebastian thought he heard them pause outside the door, but neither he or Francesca broke away from each other, and the person outside moved on.

  Sebastian knew he should feel guilty for taking advantage of his lady in her fragile state, but all he wanted to do was comfort her then carry her to the bed for a proper fucking.

  His cock agreed.

  His mind changed when she relaxed. This woman trusted him, he realized. She needed him—and she knew it.

  That changed everything.

  “It’s been a long few days,” he said, rubbing her shoulders and neck as she huddled against him. “You’re frightened.” He pushed back the thick fall of her hair to see her face. There were deep bruises under her eyes, evidence of long days and even longer nights. “Have you been able to get some rest?”

  She shook her head. “I lie in bed but sleep never comes.”

  He thought about his next words carefully. She came to him for guidance, placing herself almost literally in his hands. He couldn’t fail her.

  “I think, my darling,” he said slowly, “you need someone to take control.”

  She made a little sound of assent? Dissent?

  “Not forever, and not beyond this room. But for a little while, I’ll take over, so you can let go. All right?” His palm cupped her cheek and he waited until she nodded against it. Then he leaned back. “Lie over my lap now. There’s a good girl.”

  She went obediently, eagerly, and he marveled that he’d found someone like her. So perfect and passionate, and unable to give any less than her all.

  “This will teach you who is your master.” He drew up her night rail and admired her glossy brown cheeks, smooth and lovely in the low light. “After this spanking, you’ll do whatever your master commands.”

  Her breath came faster, her chest heaving enough that her torso moved against his legs. He laid a hand on her back to steady her and waited until she calmed.

  “It’s all right. Francesca. Let go. Be mine.” He started slapping, watching the globes bob and bounce against his palm. This was a warm up. With each smack, she tensed.

  “You need it, don’t you? You need to feel owned. To have someone leash your will to theirs.”

  She was panting now, her breath hitching. He listened for a second before laying several smacks on her primed skin. “Answer me.”

  “Yes.”

  His palm caught the bottom of one butt cheek, and she jerked forward. “No, try again.” He added a second swat to the other side. “How do you address me?”

  “Master,” she answered in a small, small voice.

  “Good girl.” He squeezed her bottom lightly, taking away the sting. “Now I will give you what you need. And I promise, Francesca,” he said in a more serious tone. “I will handle you with care.”

  He lost himself in spanking her. The blows rained down, hard and soft, fast and slow. The swats started light and then built in force un
til he wasn’t holding back. From time to time, he palmed her hot bottom, massaging out the ache and letting her shiver and whimper under his hand.

  Her bottom glowed in the lamplight before he was done. His fingers soothed her as she cried out all the tension and stress from the past few days. When sobs turned to sniffles, he helped her sit up. Leaning back on the couch, he held her tucked to him on her side, his hands absently tracking up and down her back, dipping now and again to rub her bottom.

  “Feel better?”

  Her head bobbed against his chest. Her nightgown was still bunched around her waist and he could see the sore red patch of her bottom contrasted with the caramel skin. Despite himself, his fingers explored further, stroking down the side of her leg and back up to her center, where they swirled dangerously close to the apex of her legs.

  She sighed against him, a very different sound to the broken crying a few minutes ago.

  “Part your legs, darling,” he said, and when she did, rewarded her by slipping his hand between her slender thighs. His fingers sought her feminine folds, plump and juicy as if they’d been waiting for him. He teased her until her pelvis started to rock against his hand.

  “That’s it, my lovely. You took your punishment like a good girl. Now I’ll make you feel better.”

  Her mouth went slack, her whole body moving, seeking pleasure.

  “Sit up, darling. Straddle me. Hands on my shoulders, that’s it. Ride my fingers, Francesca. Rub yourself off. Take your reward.”

  Her gorgeous body undulated over his, hips working. Her head fell forward and her forehead pressed against his. Her fingers bit down into his shoulders, her sweet breath caressed his face. A flush started to spread over her chest and Sebastian knew she was close.

  “Look at me, Francesca. In a few seconds, you’re going to come.” He kept his voice firm, giving her a command.

  A moan escaped her. Her head dropped back and he marveled at the sight of her: her dusky nipples pointing through the nightgown, her hips dancing, her spanked rear bobbing as she rode his fingers to climax.

  She was so wild and so beautiful.

  His cock screamed at him to take her, and he ignored it. “Come now,” he ordered, and watched his dark lady shudder out her release. The little cries she made went straight to his dick, but he gritted his teeth and ignored it like a man.