by Lee Savino
This was her night.
He caught her as she slumped and carried her to the bed. Arranging her lovely limp weight in front of him, he wrapped his arms, pressing the long line of his body as close to hers as he could.
Her mews turned into satisfied sighs as she settled in front of him.
“Get some rest,” he whispered into her hair. His cock throbbed, pushing into the soft flesh of her buttocks. He sensed, rather than saw her notice it.
“What about you?” she quavered.
Wrapping an arm around her, he tucked himself more firmly around her.
“Sleep now, Francesca. Your master commands it.”
*
The next morning, Sebastian woke first. He and his Spanish rose had moved in the night. He was on his back with her lying by his side, one arm and leg flung over him, and her face resting on his chest. She looked sweet, her mouth parted slightly, the sharp lines of her face softened with sleep.
His dick was so hard and angry, Sebastian was surprised it hadn’t fallen off. He almost didn’t care if it did, as long as he got to lie for another second with this beauty in his arms.
It hit him then: he was in love with Ana Maria Francesca De La Vega. He’d do anything to stay by her side, and not just to see her through some trouble. For a lifetime.
As he lay there in shock, his lady’s eyes opened.
“Good morning,” she said, uncertainly.
“Hello.” He stroked her dark hair back from her face. “How did you sleep?”
“Like a babe in the arms of the Madonna.”
He wanted to make a joking comparison between him and the Mother Mary, but didn’t want to break the spell. He sacrificed his wit and bit his tongue; that’s how much he loved her.
“What now?” she asked, a little furrow appearing between her brows.
He knew what she was asking. Would they break apart and pretend like nothing happened? Would he mount his horse and ride down her attackers, claim a reward and then never be seen again?
“Marry me,” he said.
Her eyes widened.
He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, watching her thoughts race across her face. Then it fell.
“You joke,” she muttered.
“This is not a joke. I want to help you, and this is the way to do it. I can offer you protection.”
She stiffened. “I do not need—”
“Francesca, listen to what I am offering. All my resources, all my money, everything I have can be yours. You said you don’t want a boy. Well, I am man. I have much to give, but the way to do it properly is for you to become my wife.”
Her eyes slid away. “I do not want your help,” she said. “I cannot accept. My answer is no.”
“Darling, look at me.”
She didn’t, and he realized what was wrong. He’d made his intentions clear, but not his feelings.
It was time to rectify that.
He shifted over her, laying his full length on her. He kept the brunt of his weight supported on his forearms, but his lower half draped over hers. She was trapped.
Realizing he was cocooning her, she started to push at him and he took her wrists and pinned them up by her face until at last she lay prone and vulnerable to him. Even so, she stared up at him with a gaze sharp as a knife, haughty and annoyed.
“I want you.” He shifted his hips to make his point. Her eyes widened again, and her breathing came faster. “And not just once. For a lifetime.”
“But—”
“You must know that I care for you.”
“I do as well, for you,” she whispered.
“Francesca, did you think I would take your body, and not offer everything I have in return?”
“I don’t know. What we do,” her voice was hushed, “it is not right. But I need it. Madonna, help me.”
“It is right.”
“You beat me and call me names.”
“I give you what you need. You are very strong. Your passion is very high, but you feel guilty when it takes over. The games we play give you release.”
“But the pain—”
“Makes the pleasure twice as sweet. Trust me, I know.”
She blinked. “You have tasted it?”
“I have. One day I will teach you. For now, though, I’d like an answer. Will you marry me, Ana Maria Francesca De La Vega? Will you do me the honor of being my wife, so I can use every available resource to help you keep your ranch, and every available minute acting out my lewd fantasies on your delectable body?”
Her brows knitted together, and he continued in his half ridiculous, half poetic vein.
“Will you wake up every morning and look at me with the same passion? Even when I’m old and have little hair, and pass gas in the bed?”
She laughed, and the sound sent delicious ripples through her body under his.
“Marry me.” He grinned and nuzzled at her ear.
“You are ridiculous.”
“You love it.”
“Stop trying to make me laugh.”
“Trying?” he gasped, feigning hurt. “I never try. I only succeed.” He released her wrists, his hands diving under her nightgown to tickle her. Screeching, she pushed at him and they wrestled. He ended up on top again, the lower half of his body pinning hers while his hand cupped her throat. He took his prize and kissed her, tasting her fire and sweetness, passion and spice.
The kiss deepened, and her hands started to play around the placket of his trousers.
He broke away and stopped her.
“No, no,” he said.
“Sebastian,” she purred.
“We’ve come this far. I want to wait until things are official before I bed you properly. That way no one can cast aspersions on my honor.”
“You do not care about your honor. You are afraid Ana will cut off your balls and feed them to her goat.”
“That too.”
She made an aggrieved noise and pushed the flat of her hand slowly down his rock hard length. Even through his clothes, it felt lovely. Sebastian gritted his teeth and took her wrist, holding her hand away.
“One of us must be an adult.”
“Ha. And you think it is you?” She rolled her eyes.
“Careful, my sweet. When I am your husband, I’ll spank you for disrespect.”
Her eyes lit up. “Promise?”
*
Ana, Cage and Juan were in the kitchen when Sebastian and Francesca walked in holding hands.
“Sebastian has asked me to marry him and I accepted.” Francesca announced.
“What?” Juan gasped, and Ana let out a joyful, ear-piercing screech.
Cage winced at the sound. “Congratulations, boss,” he said.
Sebastian had to let his intended go so she could be smothered by the shrieking Ana. The two women went off into a rapid burst of happy Spanish, while Cage came around to slap Sebastian on the back.
Juan approached the two men more slowly. His finger played around his holster as if itching to draw his gun.
“Marriage?”
“That’s right,” Sebastian said, in all seriousness. “I know we’ve just met, but I’m done dancing around the subject. It’s time I took a wife, and Francesca is the one for me.”
“So what happens in this dance, when the music ends? This better not be another amusement for you, Englishman. You cannot take my Francesca and throw her away when you are bored.”
“First of all, with Francesca as my wife, I will never be bored. More importantly, Francesca is not yours. She’s her own strong woman, but if anyone is going to lay claim to her, it’s going to be me. And you can bring any man here and I’ll say it to his face, and fight him for the privilege.”
The two men stared each other down. Francesca and Ana were still laughing and chatting away in their own little world, oblivious to the tense conversation in the corner. Sebastian leaned closer to Juan.
“If I join myself to her, I’m free to put all my time, attention and resour
ces towards helping her, and all of you. We’ll save the ranch together, no matter if it takes months or years or a lifetime. Any ally of my wife is an ally of mine.”
In the next tense seconds, Cage looked from one glowering man to the other, his body angled to insert himself between the two in case of a fight.
Then the corners of Juan’s mouth relaxed into a slight smile. “It’s good to know that you can say something without a joke, Englishman.” He slapped Sebastian’s arm, a little too hard, but it was a friendly gesture.
“I have a feeling you’re going to need jokes in this marriage, boss.”
“Yes, Francesca needs laughter, but also a strong man. And a firm hand.” Juan’s eyes twinkled.
“I intend to provide it.”
*
A few days later, they were married in the garden, with an officiant and Ana, Cage and Juan’s family as witnesses. The men Sebastian had hired patrolled outside the garden gates as he and Francesca said their vows.
“Señora, your wedding,” Ana had asked. “You don’t want it at a church?”
“The church does not want me,” Francesca answered, and no one brought it up again.
The wedding lifted everyone’s spirits, and the only guest who caused trouble was Ana’s white goat, who bleated at inopportune times until Juan’s son led it away.
The boy returned to report a cow loose in a wheat field, and the ceremony ended with Sebastian giving his new wife a quick kiss and then hustling off with Cage and Juan to catch the animal.
“This keeps happening,” Juan grumbled as he led the cow away.
“Second time since we’ve been here,” Cage said, and pointed out the broken fence. Stripping off their shirts, the men split rails and repaired the breach.
“I agree, Cage. Can’t be coincidence. Juan, what do you think?”
“I must say,” Juan spoke what everyone was thinking, “I’m not looking forward to the Rocky Mountain Gang finding out you have married the señora. I think they will increase their efforts with a rich English lord as their target.”
“They’ve already come in the night to shoot at us,” Sebastian said. “Hopefully the guard will deter them from such a pointed attack.”
“Do you think this is their work?” Cage asked.
Sebastian frowned at the broken fence and the single cow. “It seems petty compared to what they’ve already done.”
“But many tiny gnats can drive a bull mad,” Juan said.
“Or into a rage,” Sebastian muttered. He left the two to ride the perimeter and check all the fences. He wasn’t looking forward to the town finding out about his new marriage, or Diego for that matter, but a few sweet stolen moments with his bride would make it worthwhile.
When he returned to the hacienda, Francesca was nowhere to be found.
He found Ana struggling to pull the white goat away from her raspberry canes.
“Where is my bride?”
“She left, señor. One of her mothers is having pains and is worried.”
“I see.” He glanced at the bodyguards. “Did she take an escort?”
“I am afraid not.”
Sebastian made a frustrated sound.
Ana smiled. “Go find her. Do you want help?”
“No, I’ll get her. Do you know the house where she went?”
“It is the butcher’s wife. Go to his stall in the market square and ask him the way.”
As he passed the guards, he noticed them talking and laughing with each other. The hired men were little more than country bumpkins, recruited from the layabouts in the town. If the Royal Mountain gang showed up and offered them a tin of tobacco or pull of whiskey, these fools would probably turn on the ranch in a heartbeat.
“If you can’t keep track of a little slip of a woman, I don’t know what I’m paying you for,” he started. Ana came running up. “Señor, I’ll handle this. Go get your wife.”
He grinned at the sound of Ana scolding the men in Spanish as he strode out of the gate and headed into town. Once in the market, he ignored the stares. People were growing more used to the tall Englishman, but he was still an unfamiliar sight. He stopped and greeted a few of the stall owners, asking if they’d seen Señora De La Vega. Most of them only shrugged. He thanked them anyway. He feared this wouldn’t be the last time he had to track down his wife.
The butcher looked a little suspicious, but told him the way to the house. “I hear congratulations are in order,” he said. “Such a quick engagement.”
“Yes, well, true love and all that,” Sebastian said, eager to be on his way.
“The señora is very beautiful.” The butcher shrugged as if his comment explained the marital haste. “But a handful. My Camila, now she is a good wife. A hard worker.”
“Well then I congratulate you, too,” Sebastian said. “For your happy marriage and your coming child. I hope the babe is a hard worker, too. Now if you’ll forgive me, I must be on my way—” He started to turn, and brushed against one of the butcher’s customers.
“Excuse me,” a deep voice said, and Sebastian looked up to see Diego Montoya.
“Apologies.” Sebastian stepped aside. “In a bit of a hurry.”
Diego gave a slight bow, an almost smile playing around his face, tempting Sebastian’s annoyance. He didn’t have time to spar with the man.
Besides, he’d married Francesca. In the joust for the fair lady’s hand, he’d won.
The butcher said, “Have you heard the news, Señor Montoya? The widow De La Vega married this Englishman.”
Two red spots appeared on Diego’s cheeks. “I did not know.”
Sebastian enjoyed the man’s tight, furious expression so much he couldn’t resist adding, “Hasty decision, sorry you didn’t get an invite, old sport. Excuse me, got to dash.”
He found his wife at the butcher’s house. A small boy played in the yard in front of the open door. Sebastian nodded to the lad as he stepped up to the threshold.
Francesca sat across from a young woman sporting a large pregnant belly. As Sebastian paused in the door, a kettle started to boil.
“I don’t know, Señora, this one is so different from my Pepito. The pain comes and goes.”
“Is it pain or stronger cramps deep inside?”
“Cramps. The pain is in my back sometimes.”
“That is normal. The womb makes ready, becoming strong enough to push the babe out.” On her way to the kettle, Francesca gave her husband a brief glance, but kept to her task. She pulled out a packet filled with dried, crumpled leaves and made tea. “I only brought enough of this for one pot. You should drink it every day. I will gather more leaves and bring them to you.”
“Thank you, Señora.” The woman passed a hand over her face. “I cannot sleep at night. So I lie awake and worry. What if something is wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” Francesca said with pure confidence. “The child will come at just the right time. There are many things I can do to coax a baby out. But you must rest, Camila. Stay calm and when it is time, your body will open like a beautiful flower.”
Francesca wrapped the woman’s hands around the glazed bowl. “Drink this, and relax.” Still ignoring Sebastian, his wife moved around the expecting mother and started to rub her shoulders.
After a moment, Sebastian stepped outside and lit his pipe to wait. He didn’t feel like it was his place to go inside.
By the time his wife came out of the house, he’d cooled down. She shut the door carefully behind her.
“Everything all right?” Sebastian put out his cigarette.
Francesca nodded. “She is sleeping.”
He offered his arm and escorted her, feeling ten feet tall. Here was an amazing, competent woman, and she had chosen him.
She stopped to speak to the woman’s son. “Pepito, your mother is very tired, but she will sleep and feel much better. You are her guardian, now. Will you make sure no one wakes her?”
“Si, señora.”
“Very good.” Fr
ancesca reached into her satchel, and drew out a small, homemade candy wrapped in paper. “Here is your reward for being a brave boy, and looking after your mother.”
She straightened and started into town. After a few steps, Sebastian caught up wrapped a proud arm around her shoulders.
“Well done, darling.”
She arched a brow and gave him haughty look as if to say “I know”, but her mouth held a little smile.
“Come.” She pulled him off the beaten road and took him away from the houses, on a long, meandering path between field and forest.
They walked mostly in silence. Sebastian enjoyed the sights, the blue asters on the edge of the hayfields, the birds flitting across their paths. He’d never felt so at peace.
All of a sudden, he had a flash of the future: him in a straw hat and humbler clothes, his wife in her striped skirt, a little grey in her hair. They’d walk like this, holding hands, headed to their home or to one of Francesca’s patients.
He’d never imagined a picture like that could make him so content.
“What are you thinking of, Englishman?”
“You.”
“Are you regretting our marriage?”
“Quite the opposite in fact.” He put his hand over hers on his arm, noting with disappointment that the hacienda was in view. “I am very happy.”
“It will be a simple life compared to your fancy travels. I wonder if you will become bored.”
“With you, I could never be bored. I was surprised to return to the house and find you gone.”
“I go when my mothers need me.”
“So I gathered. But you did not take a bodyguard.”
She shrugged. “I was perfectly safe.”
“This time.” At the house, Ana was chasing the white goat around the yard, waving a dishrag. They weren’t close enough to hear her. “I had to go to the butchers to get directions. I ran into your former brother in law.”
“Diego?”
“Yes, and I put my foot in it. He knows we married.”
She cursed.
“I know. I had hoped we would have tonight, at least, to enjoy ourselves.” Even though they were almost at the house, in plain view of everyone, he couldn’t resist slowing and stroking away some flyaway hairs at her temple. “Do you think he’ll come by?”