She sucked in a breath and moved back several inches. That let him know she was just as affected as he was. Information he could use to get himself free. Nate was on his own to escape. No doubt the rest of the Devils wouldn’t even know he was missing for hours.
“Are you ready?”
Images of Elisa beneath him and on top of him assaulted him. Lord, help him, he was obsessed. For a moment, Nate couldn’t remember what she was asking him, or why. His mind had been caught up in the possibilities of being intimate with Elisa again.
“Ah, yeah, I’m ready.”
“You can push yourself backwards when I push at your shoulders. One, two, three!”
The combined forces of both of them moved Nate only six inches. His chest compressed on the top of the saddle.
“Go, go, more,” he gasped out.
She ran around to the other side of the saddle, took hold of his waist and pulled. This time he found himself back to belly on top of her. Not exactly the position he wanted to be in, but at least he was off the damn horse. He took in a deep breath.
“If you’re through, roll to the left or the right,” she snapped.
Nate waited another couple beats before he moved, just to remind her that although she had him tied, he was still bigger, stronger and dangerous. The battle raged on.
* * * * *
Elisa didn’t know what to do with him so she brought him in the house and stuck him in her bedroom. Then, in a twist of perverse satisfaction, tied him to her bed. He almost didn’t comply, but when she stuck a gun in his face, he must’ve remembered what she was capable of.
After she finally got Nate settled, she was able to check on Da. She took one of the waterskins from the table where she’d left them. Da sat in his usual rocking chair on the porch, staring off into something only he could see.
“Da?”
He continued to stare. When Elisa handed him the water, the makeshift bandage on his arm was a painful reminder of what she’d done earlier.
“Drink something, please.”
“Already had me some whiskey. I don’t need anything else.” He sighed. “Your ma would’ve been proud of you.”
Elisa’s heart clenched so fast and hard, it hurt all the way down to her toes. He didn’t talk much about her mother, and when he did it was usually to tell Elisa to hush up. She’d always wondered how her mother had felt about her, if she’d considered Elisa a worthy daughter. Elisa had spent so much of her time on the back of a horse, in trousers, getting dirty, shouting and working so hard she nearly passed out each day. Not very feminine at all.
Her mother had never told her she was proud of her. To hear her father say it so matter-of-factly took Elisa by surprise.
“Do you think so?” She was glad her voice didn’t shake or betray the power his words had.
“I do. She wasn’t as strong as you, Elisa girl. You have the strength of Irish queens running through ya. Pride, temper and red hair. You’re Irish through and through. Your ma, bless her soul, was half-English. She just didn’t have it in her to be so strong.” A lone tear skidded down his wrinkled cheek. “I never said it before, but you did good while I was gone. Taking care of things. I’m only half a man now, but you and Daniel…you make your da proud, too.”
The lump in Elisa’s throat grew to enormous proportions until she finally swallowed it. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“What are you going to do with that fella in your room?”
“You saw that?”
“It was hard not to. I was sitting at the table when ya stumbled in pointing a gun at him. Did ya not see me?” A wisp of humor colored his words.
“No, I didn’t.” Dammit, she’d been so focused on Nate, the entire group of his friends could’ve been there and she’d have missed them too.
“No matter. I was keeping watch for ya.” He finally turned to look at her and Elisa was pleased to see the spark of life in his eyes. A spark that hadn’t been there in over a year. “You be careful. I see things and that man is dangerous.”
“I can handle him, Da. He’s tied up.”
Her father shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. You guard your heart from him.”
Elisa almost told her father it was too late. Her heart had already been captured by the ex-Confederate soldier with the soulful dark eyes and the fancy words.
“I’ll be careful. I promise.”
After her conversation with her father, she sat at the kitchen table, head in hands, trying to conjure a plan of action. How exactly was she going to convince this angry man, a man she’d been intimate with, to tell O’Shea to go to hell?
Elisa had no choice but to reveal everything to Nate and hope he believed her.
Nate stewed in angry silence. No matter how hard he wiggled, pulled or yanked, the ropes binding him to the hellion’s bed weren’t budging. It had only been a short time since she’d left him, but it felt like days. He couldn’t even swat the fly that had landed on his nose.
He might be helpless, but the situation wasn’t hopeless. He had a plan for the next time she untied him, which would be soon, or he’d soil her linens.
With nothing but time, he examined the room. It contained a bed, a stool, a small table with basin and pitcher and hooks on the wall. There weren’t even any dresses hanging on the hooks, just trousers and shirts that could belong to a man. It was neat and tidy with very little to indicate that a woman lived there. The only feminine touch was a silver-backed hairbrush on the windowsill.
It appeared out of place in such a Spartan room. Elisa did have incredibly lush hair. He expected she’d need to brush it frequently or risk it turning into a snarled rat’s nest. A few auburn strands hung down from the side of the brush, taunting him. It was definitely her brush. A reminder that beneath the rough exterior lay the heart and body of a woman.
A woman who was driving him insane.
The door opened and she walked in, a small book and papers clutched in her hand. He sensed nothing from her but determination—she didn’t even look concerned that she held a man hostage on her bed. Nate had to admire her gumption, at least a smidge anyway.
“Are you here to untie me?”
“No.”
Not one to mince words, was she?
“Why not?”
Elisa took the stool, brought it next to the bed then sat. “I need to tell you a story.”
“Although I’m in your bed,” he growled, “I don’t want to hear a bedtime story. I just want to leave. Now.”
“You’re not leaving until you hear me out, so you might as well quit your whining and listen.” The stubborn jut to her chin punctuated her words.
Of course, he should have expected that condition. “Start talking quickly then or I’m going to soil your bed.”
“Should I get you a pot?”
Oh the indignity of even contemplating that. Nate couldn’t, wouldn’t ever piss in a pot in front of a woman. The very idea made his balls crawl up an inch or two.
“No thank you. I don’t believe I will use a chamber pot with you holding my, ah, instrument.” Heat seeped into his cheeks and he was thankful for his natural tan skin tone.
“Instrument?” She laughed, a husky chuckle that echoed across his skin.
“I was raised a gentleman, Miss Taggert. I treat ladies, women, with respect.” He sounded haughty even to his own ears.
“Hm, all right, I guess I dropped down a notch from lady to woman.” She waved the papers. “It doesn’t matter. Just let me know if you’re going to bust.”
“Most assuredly.” Nate was already planning an escape. He would wait for the right moment to do so, then Elisa was in for a surprise of her own.
She opened the book and tucked the papers beneath it. “This is my mother’s journal. Take a look at her penmanship.” Leaning over, she held the book up for his inspectio
n.
Nate noted flowery, neat script that was most definitely a woman’s. He couldn’t quite read the words, and she pulled the book away when he tried to.
Elisa tucked it beneath the stool and stared at the papers for a moment. Nate couldn’t help but notice it was not her usual behavior, and that intrigued him, more than he’d admit.
“This here is the bill of sale for the property signed by my mother and”—she cleared her throat—“the note that says she took her own life. In it, she said for O’Shea to look after us instead of my da. It just didn’t make any sense.”
Nate’s anger dissipated. He’d had no idea that her mother had killed herself. His attention was riveted on the evident grief shadowing Elisa’s beautiful face.
“She, ah, had a hard time when Da went away to war. He waited two years to volunteer, and when he left, she fell to pieces. Sat in her rocking chair by the window, staring into nothingness.” She glanced up at him. “Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Da sits in that same chair now, like a ghost for her ghost.”
Nate couldn’t stop the questions from rolling around in his brain and one popped out before he could snatch it back. “Who ran the ranch while he was gone then?”
“I did.” Her blue eyes burned with remembered pain.
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen, but I’ll be nineteen in three weeks.” She shrugged. “We do what we have to, otherwise life ain’t worth two bits.”
Her words rang with truth. He’d spent many hours agonizing over choices that he had to make in order to live. Although Elisa hadn’t been in the war, she’d been a soldier anyway. Nate did some quick math in his head.
“So you were fifteen when you took over this ranch?” Impossible.
“Sounds about right. We had a foreman and a half dozen ranch hands on the Circle G. Within a couple of months after Da left, O’Shea drove or scared the cowboys away, and bought the foreman, Rodrigo, off.” She looked down at the papers still clutched in her hand. “Daniel was eleven. I had to be strong for him so I fought back. Most folks might have rolled over and played dead, but I had pride, dammit.”
Nate snorted. “I’d say you have that in abundance, as well as intelligence, quick wit and stubbornness.”
She frowned at him. “I’m not sure if you just insulted me or not.”
“Take it as you will.” He tried to see what was written on the papers. “So your mother sold the ranch while your father was off to war. Why would she do that?”
“No, she didn’t!” The vehemence in Elisa’s voice echoed in the small room. “This isn’t her handwriting and she damn sure didn’t kill herself. Mama was a devout Catholic and never in a million years would she commit a cardinal sin like that.”
She shoved the papers in his face. “Look at that handwriting. Just look. Is that the same handwriting in the journal? No, it’s not. It’s a man’s writing. It’s that bastard O’Shea’s writing. What kind of idiot sells two hundred head of cattle and a ranch for twenty dollars?”
“Twenty dollars?”
“Yes, ridiculous, isn’t it? Enough to feed us for about three months, if we eat bread and crackers.” She shook with fury. “Then that son of a bitch strung her up from the rafters and left her for me to find.”
Nate’s heart ached for what young Elisa had seen. He was assaulted by a flash of the agony he’d felt upon discovering his father’s grim corpse. This situation was much more than he’d anticipated. Now that he’d gotten close to Elisa, and knew her story, he no longer believed that money would solve the Devils’ problems. He’d suspected this woman had power over him, now he knew for certain.
“Can you even understand what that feels like?” Elisa closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Yes, I can.”
Her eyes popped open and she scrutinized his face. “I think you mean that.”
“The handwriting on the note? Is it hers?”
“No.” It came out in a rush that sounded like a sigh. “It was left on the kitchen table underneath the sugar bowl. The bill of sale didn’t show up until five days later. They’re both written in the same handwriting.”
She held them up so he could see them. Nate took his time examining both documents and concluded that Elisa was telling the truth, if indeed this was the bill of sale and a suicide note.
“May I see the journal again?”
She hesitated. “As long as you don’t read too much of it. Mama was…well, different than me. A dreamer. A lot of what she wrote was stories.”
Elisa retrieved the book from beneath the stool and held it up. Nate was surprised to notice that her hands trembled. He would never have thought she would outwardly show any kind of weakness. After reading a few lines of something about a starry sky, he glanced back at the letters.
There was no doubt in his mind they were written by different people. If that were true, then O’Shea committed murder and fraud. Nate’s innate sense of justice reared its head and poked at his heart.
“Elisa, I…”
She threw the papers on the floor and stood, staring down at him. Her hands reached for the buttons on her shirt. He couldn’t help but gape, caught like a deer in a hunter’s sights.
“What?”
“I, uh, think you’re right. These were written by different people.” He swallowed as the second button popped free and a slice of peach skin appeared.
“So what are you going to do about it? Will you tell O’Shea you can’t do the job?”
When the fourth button released, Nate’s body pulsed with need. His cock grew to painful proportions at the sight of the shadows cupping Elisa’s unbound breasts.
“I, uh, have to verify the documentation.” Nate gulped. “I should be able to do that in the county seat.”
She stopped unbuttoning and his entire body screamed in protest. “What do you mean verify?”
“I mean that you are a very smart adversary, Elisa. I have to verify that what you’ve shown me is the true bill of sale.” It would also be wise to compare it to the one O’Shea showed him if he could. “It should be on file in the county seat. If they indeed match, then I can better present your case to my friends and we will decide together what to do.” He needed to wipe the sweat off his forehead, but he was still tied to the damn bed.
“Do you do everything together?” She finished unbuttoning her shirt and without taking it off, untied the rope around her waist and slid her trousers off.
Nate was pleased to notice she only wore cotton drawers, ones that had seen better days, the holes making them that much more enticing. His mouth watered at the glimpse of inner thigh and the outline of her pussy.
“Yes, w-we, uh, became very close during the war. Each one of us complements the others, making us a whole.” His fingers opened and closed, eager to touch and caress her skin.
“If you verify what I’ve told you is true, will you and your friends help me?” She climbed onto the bed, the shirt gaping open to reveal her beautiful breasts, the nipples begging to be pleasured.
“Yes, we’ll help you. I promise.” He yanked at the ropes. “Now untie me so I can touch you.”
Elisa’s mouth kicked up into a small grin. “Untie you? Now why would I do that? I think I like you at my mercy.”
“Then have some mercy and let me taste you.” Nate couldn’t believe he begged, but when a man was desperate, he’d do what he needed to.
“Say please.”
It was a battle of wills. Unfortunately his will was listening to his dick and it wanted Elisa.
“Please.” He whispered it against her lips as her mouth descended on his.
Her agile fingers unbuttoned his shirt and trousers while her tongue danced and dueled with his. Raw heat ripped through him when her bare nipples touched his chest.
“You’re killing me.”
She chuckled with a hin
t of evil. “No, but I love torturing you.”
Nate believed it. One hundred percent. For a woman who’d just lost her virginity, she was certainly skilled at seducing a man. Or perhaps it was just that easy to seduce him. He’d like to think it was the former.
Elisa pulled his trousers down to his ankles, effectively trapping him with his clothing and the ropes she’d secured him with. It bothered the hell out of him, but he was so far into the deep lake that was Elisa it was either sink or swim. He chose to swim.
“Are you going to do more than torture me?” Nate gasped.
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
Nate groaned from somewhere near his toes. “You’re a witch.”
Elisa raised one eyebrow. “You sure do know how to flatter a girl.”
“I’m cocked and ready to fire, Elisa. If you don’t want to be my target, then take your nearly naked body off me.” There was only so much Nate could take, gentleman or no.
She must have seen something in his eyes because she removed her shirt and climbed off the bed to shed her drawers. Elisa stood there deliciously naked, with enough to keep him wanting for days, weeks or even years.
“What do I do?” she asked uncertainly.
Again, she reminded him that she was unskilled at things between a man and woman. Nate was struck with a moment of pride that he was the one she chose to gift with her virginity. The gravity of that fact had not escaped him.
“You ride a horse like you were born on one. Climb on and ride me, sweet Elisa.”
Her gaze wandered to the hardened staff between his legs that jerked and begged for her attention.
“Please.”
Elisa climbed on top of him and pressed her hot body to his. Her breasts pillowed against his chest with diamond-hard nipples scraping against him. Nate’s skin sighed in pleasure. It felt like heaven had just landed on him.
“You feel hard.” She wiggled a bit.
Nate groaned. “You feel hot.”
Devils on Horseback: Nate Page 9