“Half wolf,” he yelled against the wind. “Bonnie is a hybrid. We got more company, Sparks.”
Dash rode pell-mell toward them, his buckskin mare in a full out sprint.
Tensing like a wild filly about to be caught, Kylie buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder. In the grip of her fear, she clung so tight that Dillon nearly whirled Diamond around, sending the mare in the opposite direction.
He stopped himself, knowing his brothers would care for her and come to love her as he already did. Good Lord, she already held half of his big ole’ beating heart in the palm of her small hand.
Glimpsing the expression on Dash’s face, Dillon eased the reins back, slowing Diamond. “What is it?” he hollered.
Dash reined his mare in a wide circle, then moved beside them. “Corporal Buck Nelson said to tell you there’s an emergency committee meeting. Code words: Night Blue.”
“Dang it, hang it,” Dillon growled, before he thought of Kylie.
Signaling Diamond to a walk, he tossed the reins to Dash. With both hands free, he splayed them on Kylie’s back and held her close against him. His brother attached his gaze to their wife as if she were a magnet. A moon-eating grin formed on his face.
“Want me to take care of Diamond while you take her inside?” Dash gave a nod toward Kylie.
Dillon cursed under his breath, pondering the situation. Good timing had been on his side when he’d lassoed her. Now bad timing demanded its due. “Dono up at the house?”
“He’s taking care of the dogs. Should be finished shortly.”
“Yup, I’ll take her inside, then make contact with Buck, and change clothes. You two will have to take care of our Kylie. She’s exhausted. She needs food, a bath, and rest. In that order.”
“We got everything ready.”
“I know you do. Hell, Dash, I hate to leave her. She’s had a tough time, and she’s scared of us.”
“I am scared.” Kylie’s muffled, yet loud voice emanated from his chest. She hadn’t moved her head worth a snail’s inch.
A troubled look crossed Dash’s face. His brows hit the brim of his Stetson in a how do I handle her question.
Dono, Dillon mouthed to him, having seen his brother charm the last dime out a woman in the time before the worst of the plagues hit—along with her clothes.
Course, Dono had come out the big winner at the poker table that evening also. He’d bought the woman a new dress and taken her out on the town. The next day, he’d purchased that new bull they’d been eyein’ to improve the quality of their herd.
Dash nodded, then touched a boot heel to Princess. His mare stretched into a lazy lope with Diamond keeping pace, Dash leading her.
“Kylie.” Dillon let his voice hold a stern note. “Listen to me. It’s going to be fine. Everything is going to be alright.”
“No, it’s not. You promised. ” Her soft body caved against him.
“I did promise, little thang. Dash and Dono are going to take care of you.”
“No they won’t,” she challenged. “They’ll just want sex…you know, marital rights stuff.”
Dash threw a look Dillon could have caught, but said nothing. Not yet, anyway. Dillon figured his brother knew something intimate had gone on between him and Kylie.
“Darlin’, they aren’t gonna do anything to hurt you.” Dillon gentled his hat from her placing it on his own head. He smoothed his hand over her wind-tangled hair. “I wouldn’t be goin’ nowhere except it’s a matter of keeping Texas safe. A man has certain responsibilities.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” She straightened a tiny bit. “What does it matter? It’s probably better than being thrown in jail.”
Dillon swept his hands up to her shoulders, palming them tightly. “Kylie, I’m coming back. I’m going to take care of you. All three of us are darn sure going to take care of you.”
She remained silent, her gaze meeting his, her eyes mysterious pools telling him nothing. Dillon couldn’t read her deepest emotions, and it sorely worried him. It meant she’d put up big ole walls against him. “Sparks,” he murmured, “I’ll make it right later.”
Her gaze flickered for a split second before she turned her face away. At that instant, Bonnie charged toward him. With a flying leap, the wolf-dog landed square between him and Kylie.
Balancing her furry body, she snaked her neck around and gave Dillon a quick slurp on the cheek, then smiled. To her everlastin’ credit, his wife merely jerked back, startled, yet not panicked.
“Meet Bonnie.” Dillon wrapped his arms around Kylie’s back, making certain she remained steady in the saddle. “She’s the queen dog ’round here.”
“Guess Bonnie missed you. Like she always does.” Dash shot his gaze at Kylie. Relief formed on his features since their wife hadn’t been frightened. Reining Princess to a walk, he headed them toward the lazy wind of trail that took them directly to the house.
“Hi, Bonnie.” Slowly, Kylie offered her hand to be sniffed. “You’re a beautiful girl.”
“Bonnie’ll watch out for you while I’m gone. She protects anything that’s mine.”
Kylie’s gaze snapped up to him. Both resentment and a woman’s hope shone in her eyes. “Yep,” he rasped just for her hearing, “you are mine.”
Her temper flared, and she glared daggers at him, even as her passion simmered, owning the depths of her eyes. Bonnie nosed Kylie’s hand, her way of making friends.
“You like being petted?” his Kylie asked sweetly.
“She can’t get enough of it, sometimes,” Dillon answered.
A burst of sheer durn happiness claimed Dillon’s middle as he watched Kylie run her hand over Bonnie’s back. Here he was with his wife and his best girl. He planned on keeping this feeling lassoed tight, forever inside him.
Chapter Sixteen
Donovan Zamora Vega
Dono paused in his rassling play with Midge, his arm around the wolf-dog’s neck. Puffing in his face, she pricked her ears, hearing what he’d just heard, the sound of Dillon’s and Dash’s horses.
“She’s here!” Dono sprang straight up and whooped so hard his lungs protested. After leaping for joy and pumping his fist in the air, he raced toward the ranch house, his heart beating faster than Buddy Rich’s latest drum solo, beating for her, their wife, Kylie.
Midge ran behind him, playing her game of nipping his boot heels because of his excitement. In time to see Dillon dismount in front of the house, he watched him reach up for Kylie. She flowed downward into his arms, her trust obvious, though Dono could tell even from this distance, she was scared as a rabbit spotted by a coyote in the middle of winter.
Dono observed something else. Dillon cradled their wife as he carried her inside. Big brother’s manner let Dono know he’d already possessed her. For an instant, fury slithered up his belly. Reason came to his rescue. Dillon would never have taken her except that she’d needed it and he’d needed it.
Truth to the fire, he’d never denied a woman lovemakin’ or lustmakin’, not one he cared about, unless he’d just had to, though that was rarer than a mermaid in a mountain stream.
Mentally, Dono laughed at his own fancy. Kylie reminded him of a mermaid painting he’d seen in an upscale gambling hall, especially the glimpse of her eyes he’d had on the vid Craig had sent.
Slowing his pace, he waved a hand at Dash, still astride his buckskin mare, as he led Diamond toward the barn. They’d both known via intuition that Dillon was closing in on the ranch when Corporal Buck had contacted with his emergency message. Dash had saddled Princess and taken off, since she’d been the freshest and fastest of their horses.
Figuring he better talk with Dash first, Dono forced himself in that direction while everything inside him balked like a rear-sittin’ mule. Halting outside the barn’s entrance, Dash waited on him. He swung a leg over his saddle horn, then his boots hit the pine needles they used for ground cover.
“You should see her up close.” Dash’s eyes blazed with a pure light.
“God as my witness, she’s beautiful. All creamy and with that flaming red hair. She’s got the most kissable lips I think I ever seen. You gotta go take care of her, though. She’s mighty scared with Dillon havin’ to leave.”
Dono gave a quick nod. Feeling like his insides hummed with every love song he’d ever heard, he whirled on his heel, trotting toward the house. Midge stayed on his heels and he absently patted the wolf-dog’s head, then snatched open the door. He entered heaven, so it felt to him.
He found Dillon seated before their side-room computer station, a small one they used most for quick secret communications. Kylie sat perched on his knee, her arms looped around his neck. Apprehension had turned the lines of her back rigid.
“Dono,” Dillon partly boomed the summons.
Straightening, Dillon looked at him, his steel-colored eyes dark with concern, asking for his help. “Kylie, sweet thang, this is Dono.”
Swiveling in the chair, he brought their wife around so she could view him. “He’s going to be a perfect gentleman with you. Isn’t he?”
Dillon raised his brows, a master of intimidation when he wanted. His gaze penetrated like an old west gunslinger. Dono knew, since he kept a tintype collection in his private rooms.
Smiling at his wife, he felt the corners of his mouth tip up as if he’d just won a huge poker pot. Before he knew it, he’d performed a gentleman’s bow like he’d seen Dash practicing in front of the only large mirror in the main house.
Approaching, he offered his arm. “Kylie, your purtier and more enchanting than that mermaid painting I used to admire.”
Reluctance owned her gaze. Still, she slid off Dillon’s knee, tentatively reached out, and took hold of his arm. Dono soared inside like an eagle flying for his favorite ledge. He observed them whenever he got the chance.
Gently, Dono covered her arm with his hand.
“I promise. Later.” Dillon spoke from behind her.
The amount of ache in his brother’s voice surprised Dono. He and Kylie must have attached darn quick.
“She’s hungry,” Dillon added.
“I’ll bet you could use a full belly.”
“I am hungry.”
She sounded so anxious that Dono almost cuddled her against him. Instead, he gradually encouraged her toward the door and kept his hand on her arm, small, yet strong, beneath the strange shirt-garments she wore.
“Well, now, my land mermaid, what are you hungriest for? There’s some beef stew bubbling. Dash made it ’specially for you. We got fresh biscuits and butter. Jam or honey, if you want.”
“Sounds good,” she murmured.
Dono led her into the kitchen, the feel of her hip against his thigh a sweet pleasure he basked in, silently of course. “Woowee, you are tired, aren’t you?”
“Tired, hungry, and grimy,” she answered, not much life left in her voice.
“Here.” He brought her over to the stew pot and lifted the lid. “Take a whiff.”
She bent and inhaled. “Yeah, I’d like some. Do you have any milk? I crave it whenever I’m worn out.”
“A new bottle of goat’s milk.”
Rising, she nodded slightly. “I’ll try some. I’ve never had it before.”
She sounded so weak to his ear, Dono felt the urge to carry her over to the table. But he figured she’d startle like a deer.
Handling her as if everything was normal, he brought her to their heavy-duty breakfast table. Dash had shined it to a mirror surface. “Have a seat,” he crooned, adding a flourish to his tone.
Settling herself on the bench seat, she folded her hands on her lap. “Nice house you have.”
Dono forced his gaze from her, pivoting toward the stove. No wonder Dillon couldn’t help himself from enjoying her intimate charms. She damn well knocked his boots off, and his cock was threatening to misbehave in front of her.
“We aim to keep making improvements. Whenever we can get to it. Once you get used to things around here, you can tell us what you want done.” Dono placed two of their fancier bowls on plates, and filled the bowls to the brim. He added spoons and paper napkins, then carried the stew toward her. “Would you like some biscuits?”
The tears leaking from her eyes stopped him dead in his tracks. Quickly, she averted her face, and Dono decided to play it her way. He walked to the table and set the plate in front of her. “I’ll go get the milk, little sweetheart.”
She nodded, not looking at him. Taking long strides to their cooler, Dono decided his new wife looked like a filly that had been snatched out of her herd and now found herself in a corral with three studs—all of them eyeing her for breeding purposes.
Grabbing the bottle of goat’s milk, nearly full since they used it in their coffee and for baking, Dono headed for the glassware. He found their tallest glass and poured in the foamy thick milk. “How about some water?” he called out to her.
“Yes, thanks.” Her teary voice barely reached him.
Quickly pressing the spout on what they called their water-pulling machine, since it drew moisture out of the air, Dono filled another glass. He carried both glasses over to her, and tantalized with his tone. “Cleanest water around.”
Before he spun around to get his own glass, she’d picked up the water, drinking thirstily.
“Ever hear of Stockholm syndrome?” she called after him.
Dono kept his movements calm as he filled his water glass, then returned to her. “Yep, sweetheart, I have.” Sitting across from her, he asked, “Is that what you think happened between you and Dillon?”
Her gaze met his fully, her spinning thoughts plain as day. Her eyes glowed with such brilliance he was struck down to his soul. Praise the Lord, no matter how upset she was, Dono wanted to feel her deep inside his man’s soul.
“Yes…and no. I’m trying to sort it out.”
Her sheer honesty impressed the black hell out of him. Dono casually dipped his spoon into the stew and prepared to take a bite. “It’s a primitive response.” As if they ate together every day, he wrapped his mouth around the spoonful of steamy stew and chewed.
She let her spoon drop into her bowl, then slowly swirled it in the stew. “Do you mean like in the so-called caveman days, or when tribes left their unwanted women, barely women, that is, in the middle of some jungle to be abducted or eaten?”
Dono blinked, then studied her face. “That’s part of it. I think it’s also a natural response between a man and a woman when they’re in a primal situation together, a way of surviving.”
Her gaze assessed him for a split second. “You don’t look forty-something.” Lifting a tiny taste of the stew to her mouth, she slid the spoon in.
Mesmerized, Dono watched. Dash was right. Her lips were so sultry and kissable that he gulped, his cock lengthening. Damn, was he glad his jeans were old, the denim worn to a thin softness. He swallowed again, then took another bite of stew. “You mean my age, don’t you?”
“Yes. Good stew.” She took a healthier bite, then a small swig of milk.
“Okay?” Dono spooned more stew into his mouth, figuring that would encourage her to eat and help put her at ease.
“Not bad. Is it raw goat’s milk?”
Dono gave a nod. “We’ve considered gettin’ some dairy cows or some goats. None of us has the time, though.”
“I guess, according to your brother, I’m responsible for the garden.”
“Jumpin’ Jehosaphat, do we need a vegetable garden? Dash and me only have a few strugglin’ tomato plants and some peppers going.”
Dono didn’t miss the small smile she cracked. It vanished way too soon for his liking.
After a long draw on her milk, she took a couple more bites. “I need my books. I haven’t done that kind of gardening much.”
“Your books…oh, what’s in your auto, I bet. I made arrangements to have it brought around to the other side of the mountains. We’ll get it up here for you. Meantime, we’ll use cyber-info. Dash and I know the sites.” Dono grinned at himself.
“We just ain’t motivated.”
Unable to stop himself, he watched her delicately eat more of the stew. “You know what. I forgot the biscuits. Gotta have ’em, myself.”
Careful to ease himself off the bench seat for the sake of his needy shaft, Dono whipped around before she got a glance at his bulge. He plucked the brown-tinted biscuits off the warm pan, and pilled them into a basket. Grabbing up the circular holder they used for jams, syrups, and the butter jar, he headed for the table.
“More milk?”
She’d polished it off. Dono placed the biscuits close to her, hoping their tasty odor would be irresistible.
“No, thanks.” She peeked at the biscuits.
“Try one. Dash has developed his baking skills. Said he was tired of doing without good stuff to eat.”
After a tiny shrug of her shoulder, she selected a biscuit, then nibbled on it. “These are good.”
Picking up one himself, Dono slathered on the butter using the miniature knife that went with the jar. “How about some butter, sweetheart?”
“My stomach is jumpy,” she admitted. “These are good plain.” Finishing it up, she reached for another biscuit. “Where is Dash?”
She eyed him, a filly deciding what to do next, then bit into the flaky biscuit. She devoured it as if she was suddenly starved.
“Dash has some chores out in the barn. He’ll be in later.”
“You all look alike, but you don’t. You have similar features. You’re coloring is all different.” She paused, her gaze skimming his features. “You’re dark-haired, and your skin color is the lightest. With that shade of green eyes, kinda like peridot, you remind me of an Irish family I know…used to know.”
Dono smiled broadly her, feeling what he called his sparkles. Yep, she definitely exploded him into big ole flaming sparkles. “Lot of Irish in our family. Obviously, I’m the best-lookin’ brother.” He used his bantering tone, hoping to relieve the sadness in her eyes.
“Talk about a trap. That wouldn’t be politic of me to say. Unless, I told you all that you were the handsomest.”
“Any praise from those rose-petal lips of yours would be welcome to our hungry ears.”
Branded by the Texans [Three Star Republic] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 15