Romance: My Stepbrother's Plaything

by Valentine, Annie

“We’ll be along directly,” said Sam. “I have to stay behind and kiss my beautiful bride.”

  Shauna watched the preacher ride towards her home. She happily leaned into her husband and kissed him with all the love in her heart.

  11. Stephanie’s Unexpected Baby

  By: Tanya Rutherford

  Stephanie’s Unexpected Baby

  ©Tanya Rutherford, 2016 – All rights reserved

  Published by Steamy Reads4U

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return it to the seller and purchase a copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Warning

  This book contains graphic content intended for readers 18+ years old.

  If you are under 18 years old, or are not comfortable with adult content, please close this book now.

  Chapter One

  Stephanie sashayed down the wide aisle that separated the two rows of tables. From his usual table at the back, near the door, Carter watched her performance. The diner was Stephanie’s stage and the particular performance was for his eyes. Her left hand carried dirty dishes, but from the way she held them high in the air, one would have been forgiven for thinking they contained a feast for a king.

  When she reached the counter, Stephanie leaned on it, angling her body so that the rear part of it stuck out. Carter grinned and returned to the newspaper he had found on the table. Coming to the Paxton’s diner always cheered him up. Under hooded eyes, he saw Stephanie’s eyes on him. He winked at her and she walked down the aisle again, this time heading to his table.

  He looked up with an amused smile.

  “Aren’t you just the tiniest bit jealous?” she said in her throaty voice which always turned him on.

  Carter noticed the other patrons then, the men ogling Stephanie and the women with barely concealed envy mixed with revulsion. He turned his gaze to Stephanie, her hand now on the table.

  “I can’t say that I am,” Carter replied honestly.

  He had never been a jealous man, except with Catherine. The memory of his wife brought a physical pain to his chest. Stephanie deposited a plate steaming with eggs, beans and toast.

  “What is it?” Stephanie asked, startled.

  “Nothing,” Carter said, his voice cold.

  He lowered his head and pretended to read the newspaper. Thoughts of Catherine, however fluttering, always managed to upset him. She had been the sweetest lady on earth, concerned with others more than herself. She had given him the space to work and build the ranch from where his father had left off.

  Losing Catherine had been a blow, but like all other blows that came his way, Carter had borne it and continued with his life, albeit with less enthusiasm. He rarely thought about his son, who had slipped from his mother’s womb without a single breath. It was too painful.

  His marriage, like all major milestones in his life, had been planned to the letter. He had married Catherine when he was thirty years old and lost her three years later. Five years was a long time to mourn, but the truth was that Carter would never stop mourning Catherine. He glanced at the words in front of him and on his side; he heard the stomp of Stephanie’s boot as she stalked off.

  A gentleman doing good business in the city requires the acquaintance of an intelligent lady, possessed with means and one willing to make a warm home.

  Carter chuckled, his earlier stormy mood forgotten. He read a few more adverts and then shut the pages to see the name of the publication. Matrimonial News. He had never heard of it but then it was from the East. He wondered how it had made its way to Montana.

  He flipped the pages and returned to the adverts. They intrigued him. The idea intrigued him. It sounded so simple for a man to advertise for the bride he wanted. He looked up and met Stephanie’s pouting lips—A reminder that she was far too young for him. She was twenty-two, though the things she did between the sheets could have put an older, more experienced woman to shame.

  Carter sobered up. He really did need a wife. He badly craved an heir, and the sound of little voices filling the huge mansion he called home. He looked at Stephanie again. He would never marry her. For one, he was not in love with her but most of all, there was not much between Stephanie’s ears. Carter would like his wife to be a woman he could hold a decent conversation with during dinner.

  Stephanie was good for one thing only. And he had enjoyed it while it lasted, but now was the time to get serious about finding a wife. He glanced at the adverts again. His own requirements would be a moderately intelligent woman and if she was easy on the eyes that would be an extra bonus. He didn’t want love. He had had that already and he knew the chances of finding what he and Catherine had had were very slim. Yes, advertising for a bride was perfect.

  There were slim pickings in Crab’s Creek. The ones available worked in the saloon, the one place you were guaranteed to find company for a cold night rather than a woman suitable for marriage. His mood lifted considerably, having made the decision to advertise for a wife.

  “Well?” Stephanie asked when she returned to his table.

  “I have to get going.”

  She stared at him in disbelief, her hand on her waist.

  “You haven’t finished your breakfast.”

  “I’ve had enough, thank you. Matter of fact, I’d rather be feasting on something else,” Carter said, holding her eye.

  She thrust out her chin. “Oh yes?”

  He broke the stare and fished out some money from his wallet. He handed over the bills as well as a generous tip. Stephanie slipped it into her pocket without acknowledging the tip. Carter was now impatient to leave.

  “Shall I see you Thursday?” she asked.

  “Sure,” Carter said, his mind clearly on other things.

  “You’ll send the carriage?”

  Carted nodded his eyes on the door.

  Stephanie clicked her mouth. “I don’t know why I put up with you Carter!”

  Carter grinned. “Because you know you can’t have me.”

  Stephanie watched him thoughtfully as he strode out of the diner.

  Crab’s Creek was T-shaped with the main street containing a row of businesses on either side of the road. Carter walked the small distance to the stables, past the saloon with its swinging double doors. He tipped his hat in greeting to the men he passed on the street. In the stable, he slipped a coin into the stable boy’s hand and waited for him to fetch his horse form the back where there was a grazing patch.

  Feeling as if he had wasted a lot of time, Carter urged his horse, Arthur, to a sprint. It would take him at least four hours to get back to the ranch, Carter calculated. He wanted the advert posted that very day. He would compose it and send one of the ranch hands into town to post it.

  Impatiently, he spurred Arthur to a greater speed.

  Chapter Two

  Carter had been galloping home for some time. His heart pounded against his chest. In the distance, great bellows of grey smoke rose up to the skies. Fires in the summer were a catastrophe and he could see that the source of the smoke was the Circle One Ranch.

  He squinted his eyes. If he was not mistaken, the fire was on the hill on the northern end of the ranch. The hill, if he remembered correctly was covered in spurge, yellow flowers that were weed and which inhibited the growth of
pasture. The pace of his heart dropped when he realized there was no immediate danger to the ranch house.

  Still, the fire needed to be contained. Thankfully, the air was stifling with no breeze but a wind could pick up anytime and if that happened, the fire could spread rapidly. Arthur sped at a breakneck speed, sensing Carter’s urgency.

  They raced past a thick forest of cedar trees and then to the open plains. Carter and the horse flew past the stone filled road to the ranch, past the main ranch house and to the back, towards the pasture. His breathing came hard and fast. As he got nearer to the hill, he was relieved to find the ranch head, Richard Burk as well as his brother, James in charge of the operation.

  About fifteen men in total were engrossed in fighting the fire. They had arranged themselves around the hill and within minutes, they had lit burning strips of prairie. Fire would fight fire. Arthur neighed, the sound rising until it was a mad sound in the midst of the crackle of the grass as it burnt.

  Carter slid off the horse and let it canter away back to the safety of the barns. He joined the men in creating a ring of fire. He took one of the hazel brushes on the ground and used it to beat the outer edges of the flames so that the fire spread upwards to the top of the hill. There it met the main fire and slowly, it battled the larger flames.

  The fire under control, Carter looked around at the men, their faces coated with smoke and dust. He spotted James and walked to him.

  “How did it start?” Carter asked.

  James shook his head. “The new ranch hand, Brian, thought to burn the patch of spurge to get rid of them. He lost control of the fire.”

  Carter swore under his breathe. It was always a risk taking on inexperienced ranch hands but the boy had begged him for a job. Carter searched for his unlined face amongst the men.

  “He’s probably run off,” James said.

  “Just as well,” Carter muttered. There was no telling what he would have done to the boy. He was eighteen years old and he should have known better.

  “I haven’t seen Hoss either,” Carter commented, watching as the men wearily trudged down the hill.

  James looked around and grinned. “Now that you mention it, he isn’t here. The only person who is surprised Carter, is you.”

  Thick smoke hung above the prairie, creating a black canopy. The hillside now stood bare, the fire having consumed all the brush and grass.

  “He should be here,” Carter said stubbornly. “The ranch is our responsibility.”

  “He’s probably lost in his paintings,” James said with a shrug.

  Carter whirled around and without another word, he proceeded to march down the hill. He did not care what he took to get Hoss to take up responsibility, even though he had to shake his shoulders to drum it into him. He was never there when the ranch needed him.

  In long, fast strides, Carter strode past the house, to the eastern side to the ranch house which Hoss lived in. He marched up the steps to the porch and pushed the door open. Hoss was not in any of the ground floor rooms and he took the stairs two at a time. He had an idea where his brother would be.

  He did not turn back even as Carter noisily flung the door to the room on the attic open. Hoss had his back to the door and propped up on an aisle, was a huge painting of the ranch house and the surrounding gardens. Carter stopped and was taken aback by the real looking painting.

  Hoss had captured every detail of the ranch house, including the beams that gracefully wrapped the house. Hoss had hinted at the prairie wilderness that lay beyond the house and had painted pine woodlands and in the long grass, rabbits frolicking in the grass.

  “I take it you like it?”

  Carter snapped back to the present and sighed.

  “There was a fire in the prairie Hoss,” Carter said, his tone cold.

  “Your presence tells me that it was contained?” Hoss asked tugging at his blond too-long moustache.

  “That’s not the point,” Carter said, his voice rising.

  “What is the point?”

  “Do I need to point it out to you? The ranch belongs to the three of us. Father’s wish was that we run it together. And you don’t pull your weight.”

  “Father’s wishes were not mine. I have offered to sell you my part but you won’t have it, so where does that leave us?”

  Carter glared at him. Hoss held his stare.

  “We will abide by Father and Mother’s wishes,” he hissed.

  Hoss shrugged and turned back to his painting. His brother infuriated him, Carter thought with rising frustration. Why could he be like the rest of them and accept that ranching was their life?

  Still he would not give up on Hoss. He had to come around, Carter thought, staring at his brother’s back. He turned back slowly and walked to the door.

  “Be a dear and shut the door behind you,” Hoss called out, a hint of amusement in his voice.

  Carter walked through it and pushed it further open. It was a childish action but it gave him a little satisfaction, especially when Hoss’s swearing followed him down the stairs.

  Chapter Three

  Stephanie was piqued, impatient to get to Circle One and find out why Carter had been so inconsiderate. It wasn’t like him to forget. They had agreed on Thursday, hadn’t they? She had waited in her rented room at the boarding house for two hours, and then another hour on the street. He had not sent a carriage for her.

  She was worried. The last couple of times they had met, Carter had seemed distracted. She shivered under the summer sun, the idea that he could have gone off her, horrifying. She had had to dip into her savings, which she guarded with her life to get money to pay for the carriage to Circle One Ranch.

  Now, the carriage slowly got off the main road, past the Circle One Ranch sign and into the long winding road leading up to the ranch house. Soon the house came into view, an imposing wood and stone structure of the most magnificent house Stephanie had ever seen. It never failed to lift her spirits but today, she had too much on her mind to pause and admire the house surrounded by well-manicured gardens.

  Hurriedly, she paid the carriage driver and hopped out. She went straight to the front door and gave it a string of impatient hammers. Stephanie stood waiting for what seemed like a long time. She lifted her hand to knock again and stopped midair when the door was opened.

  Mrs. Hunter stood looking at her, her mouth curled in displeasure. Stephanie swallowed her annoyance. The housekeeper treated her like something the cat dragged in. She had complained to Carter several times and he had laughed off her objections.

  “Ms. La Rue?” the plump woman said.

  “Good evening. Is Mr. Taft home?”

  “Which one, there’s three of them?”

  Stephanie was quickly losing her patience. “Mr. Carter Taft of course,” she snapped.

  A hint of a smile crossed Mrs. Hunter’s face. “I’m afraid he’s not in, he left yesterday and is not expected back for a couple of days.”

  The information took Stephanie aback. Why hadn’t he told her he would not be home? The noise of the door swinging brought her back to the present.

  “Have a good day Ms.—”

  “Wait,” Stephanie said, holding the heavy door with her hand. “Is Mr. Hoss Taft home?”

  “I don’t know,” Mrs. Hunter said, her tone conveying her exasperation with Stephanie. “I don’t keep track of his movements.”

  Stephanie glared at her one more time, before flouncing off. She took the path that led to the back of the house and towards the ranch house. Her fingers were curled in a fist. She could wring Carter’s neck! She had dismissed the carriage driver and now she had no way to get back to town.

  The door was slightly ajar and she pushed it open and padded in. Hoss was not in any of the rooms. She found him in the attic, completely engrossed in a painting.

  “That’s beautiful, I didn’t know you were that talented,” Stephanie breathed.

  He twisted around and smiled when he saw her. His eyes roamed over her body,
clad in an open necked dress that barely covered her bosom. Stephanie’s mind worked fast. She had always fancied Hoss. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way with blond hair that fell over his face.

  She thought of her empty afternoon which stretched before her. Her lips creased into a smile and she looked into Hoss’s eyes.

  “Do you mind if I come in,” she said.

  “No, not at all,” Hoss said.

  She bent a little to get a good view of the painting as well as to give Hoss a better view of her assets.

  “I’m sorry you missed Carter. He left for Nebraska yesterday,” Hoss explained, his voice strained.

  “Oh that’s fine, I should have told him I was coming.”

  Stephanie studied the painting. It was actually quite good. She loved the front of the house, the way he had darkened the grass to show it at its best. Still, she thought she mustn’t lose sight of what had brought her there.

  “Do you ever paint people?” she asked, letting her hand rest on the back of his chair, so that the tips of her finger touched his back lightly.

  “I would want to but I’ve never found a willing subject,” Hoss said. “I’m a great admirer of Gregory Whiting. Do you know of him?”

  Hoss did not look at her while he spoke.

  “No, I’m afraid I don’t,” Stephanie replied.

  “He painted nudes.”

  “Oh,” Stephanie said, her eyes widening.

  The idea of a nude painting of herself appealed to her. Still, it was a little much if someone who knew her saw her private bits.

  “I don’t know about that,” she said to Hoss. “I’m not sure I would want people seeing my…”

  “Oh, we would do something about that. There are ways to pose that you know, leave a lady’s modesty intact.”

  “Alright, why not?” Stephanie said.

  She took a few steps back and shut the door. She faced Hoss, blood coursing through her veins. She hadn’t felt as excited as she was in a long time. Carter could go to hell! It was his own fault anyway, going off to wherever without a word.