by Jane Henry
It wouldn’t do to fall for the girl. He was so consumed with anger, he almost missed his brother standing up against the tree, one leg propped up as he chewed before he spat. Chewing tobacco. Cole’s crew had none. Monty had plenty.
“Why’d you whip the girl again?” Justice asked. So he had seen.
Cole frowned. “She disobeyed me. Had a fit worthy of a spoiled brat. Trust me, she was askin’ for it.” How much had Justice seen? “And who told you it was okay to spy on me?”
“Wasn’t spyin,” Justice said with a shrug, though his eyes shifted to the side and he didn’t meet Cole’s gaze. “Had to take a piss, and happened to see you take a switch to her.” He shrugged. “Just wondered why.” He started to walk away but looked briefly at Cole. “You need to do it again, don’t forget your brother,” he said. “I’d be happy to save you the hassle and whip her myself.”
Cole growled. The hell he would.
The men were rolling out their bedrolls, the fire mere embers now. Monty was talking in low tones to his men on the other side of camp. Doc was already lying down and likely asleep, as Junior and Aida came back up to camp. They were talking amiably, but both quieted when they approached Cole.
“Junior, watch the fire for your first watch,” he said. “For the last one, you’ll wake us early, before sunrise. You hear?”
Junior nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said.
Cole crooked a finger at him. When Junior was close enough to hear a whisper, Cole spoke quietly. “When you watch, you keep an eye on Monty. Anything out of place, you wake me. You hear?”
Junior’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I don’t trust ‘em.”
“Good. You ought not.” He clapped Junior on the shoulder and was pleased to see Junior straighten, walking with pride to his post.
Cole tossed down his bedroll and laid it out. “You ready?” he asked Aida.
Her eyes cast down shyly, she nodded. She’d stripped down to her chemise, a blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders.
He got in first, then gestured for her to join him. Even Monty’s men had turned in, and it was just the two of them now. The crackle of the dying fire was the only sound in the still evening. Cole tucked her against him, and as her sweet bottom nestled back, his cock hardened. God, he wanted her so badly. He’d have to be patient.
Still, that didn’t mean she had to go without.
He slowly, carefully dipped his hands between her legs and lifted the thin chemise. She shifted back against him, her backside pressing tighter against his cock, welcoming him. He grinned against the soft curls below his chin as he stroked her, slick with arousal and ready for him. He heard her gasp. They didn’t make a sound and barely moved as he embraced her, one arm going to her chest and gently kneading her breast as he stroked her between her legs. She opened her legs wider as he stroked softly but firmly, lazily circling her with his finger. He could feel her mounting as he stroked and he continued until he heard another soft gasp. He could tell she was trying with all she could to be quiet, but her body shook beneath him with the power of her climax. Her hips bucked and her head dipped down as she shoved her fist in her mouth. He glanced quickly around. No one was the wiser. When she stilled, he removed his hand from between her legs and tucked it around her slim waist, lowering his mouth to her ear.
“That’s a good girl,” he whispered. “Sleep now, darlin’.”
She was silent, but she nestled her bottom up against him. Soon he heard her soft, steady breathing.
He wasn’t falling for her. No. This would earn her trust, and that had to happen. She might hate him when all was done, but until then, he’d do what he could to protect her.
* * *
They’d risen before the sun, eating nothing but hardtack with strong coffee as Aida sat next to Cole, wordlessly downing the acrid brew and dry food. She felt as humble and meek as she’d been since she met him, though she hated herself for the way she’d allowed him to have his way with her.
As they rode hard all day long, her backside still stung from the switching and she wondered if she found a looking glass in town if she’d have welts or bruises. She dipped her head down shyly when she remembered being stripped and taken across Cole’s knee. She looked discreetly to the side, taking him in. Dark, hardened, muscled, his jaw clenched sternly as he eyed Monty’s crew when he tipped his head to the side. Her hands tightened around his large hands, and she couldn’t help the feelings that rose in her. The jostling of the horse, memory of the whipping, vivid recollection of Cole’s hands between her legs bringing her to ecstasy… it was all too much. She could not hate him. And despite every logical lecture she gave herself, it simply didn’t work. She wanted him. What would happen when they reached their destination? The desire to run no longer held the same appeal.
When they took a small break to eat and water the horses, and Monty came to talk to him, Cole stepped between Aida and Monty. It was a move she could only assume was meant to protect her. Was it? Was he truly trying to protect her?
They talked in low voices, and Aida wished she could hear them. She didn’t like not knowing what the cruel-looking man with the scar across his face had planned. Her instincts told her that if Cole and his men weren’t there, Monty would do evil, wicked things to her, far worse than Cole ever had.
As they spoke, Monty turned to her, raking his eyes across her chest, leering. He swallowed and licked his lips. Cole didn’t move, but Aida could feel him tense before Monty turned and walked away.
“Come with me,” Cole ordered, dragging her with him. He turned and spoke over his shoulder to Doc. “Takin’ the girl to the privy,” he said. “She’ll get freshened up. When I get back I expect camp broken down and you three ready to ride.”
Junior tipped his hat, Justice nodded, and Doc saluted. Why did her heart stutter at the way he ruled—calm and steady, with a firm hand? There was kindness in this man, even though it lay buried. She’d heard the way he’d praised Junior after meting out consequences. And hadn’t he held her after he’d whipped her? But no. No, that was all for show. He hadn’t really meant it.
She kept her eyes cast down as they walked to the creek. She wanted to berate herself for the feelings she could not tamp down. Her body and mind would not obey logic or reason. She felt riddled with a sudden desire to cry.
“You move quickly, Aida,” Cole said, taking her hand in his and marching her along swiftly. “How’s that backside feelin’?”
She raised her head sharply to look at him. “Sore,” she said.
He pursed his lips. “Good. You gonna behave yourself?”
“Of course,” she said with a toss of her head.
He slowed, and his voice dipped down. “Try that again, darlin’.”
Aida inhaled, then exhaled slowly. She didn’t want to call him Daddy again.
It troubled her how much she liked it.
But she also didn’t want to land herself over his lap again, either.
“Yes, Daddy,” she said. “I’ll be a little angel.”
His eyes warmed at that, and he tugged her a bit closer. “That’s a good girl,” he said. “I like hearing you say that.”
“Which part?” she asked before she thought, her mouth getting ahead of her. “The part about being an angel, or when I call you Daddy?”
They walked in silence toward the creek, and he didn’t respond at first. In the quiet that lay between them for several seconds, Aida regretted her question. But when he spoke, his voice was surprisingly gentle. Sincere, even.
“Daddy. I like hearing you call me Daddy.”
Now that he was actually speaking to her rather than ordering her or chastising her, she couldn’t help but push further. “Why?”
His jaw clenched. “Because I’m a sick bastard, sweetheart.”
No. No, he wasn’t. Yes, he’d whipped her. He’d taken her. But she couldn’t believe it, no matter how hard she tried. She simply couldn’t believe this man was evil. And though part of her wanted t
o stop her mind from behaving with such naïveté, she felt there could be honesty between them. What did she have to lose?
“You’re not,” she said. “I know you’re not. You’re more like me than you care to admit.”
He scoffed at that as they reached the creek’s edge, and when he turned to her, his eyes had hardened. “I’m a spoiled little princess?” he leered.
A lump rose in her throat and she yanked her hand away from him. Maybe he wasn’t good deep down after all. Maybe he was a sick bastard. She wouldn’t look at him.
No, she wanted to say. Not spoiled.
Angry. Hurt. Guarded.
Like me.
But what difference did it make anyway? She was already tainted, damaged goods, her innocence having been stripped from her long ago and no one would ever love her the way she longed to be loved.
She would not bridge the gap between them. She’d obey him to avoid being whipped again, and plan her escape.
* * *
The minute the words left his mouth, Cole wanted to kick himself. They’d come so far, and she’d finally begun to trust him, and when she let her guard down for a minute, he’d slammed the door on her. Her eyes had shuttered. Her hand had pulled away from him, and he’d let her.
This was only about regressing to where they’d been, and he’d have to get her back in his good graces. At least he told himself that. Then why did he feel a deep pang of regret in his gut? Why did he want to pull her close to him and apologize? Why did he want to kiss her, and see her eyes trusting and open again?
He waited in stony silence while she freshened by the creek, then he took her back to camp. Right before they reached the others, he pulled her close to him. He had to make her feel a little better.
“Anything could happen in the next town, Aida. You stay by my side and do as you’re told.” She pulled her chin away but he yanked her face back to his with one swift move. “You know what’ll happen.”
Her chin lifted proudly, she looked him square in the eye. “I do. I won’t disobey you.” But she was hurt. He could see it in the way she pulled back from him and wouldn’t hold his gaze. “No need to worry, Daddy. I’ll do what you say.”
The barb stung more than he cared to admit.
Damn it all to hell. Didn’t matter if she was hurt. What did he care if she was upset by his crass words? She was a spoiled little princess. If she wasn’t, he wouldn’t have had to take her across his lap to spank the brat out of her. He turned from her, yanking her hand so that she had to trot to keep up with him. When they got back to others, no one was ready yet.
“I told you to be done when I got back here,” he growled at Junior, who was still tying up the bedrolls.
“Yes, sir,” Junior said, looking at Cole curiously as he stormed past.
“You ready to ride?” Cole said sharply to Justice, who merely lifted his brows and nodded in silence. “I said be ready when we got back,” Cole spit out. Justice glared in return.
Cole lifted Aida up on the saddle, before he swung up behind her. “Let’s go, boys.”
He dug his spurs into his horse’s flanks and took off at a gallop. The others could catch up.
* * *
They circled the nondescript town as night fell, each pulling their horses up to Cole’s lead in silence. Aida watched everything, taking in each detail. She tried to piece together what she’d learned. Lawson’s was a stop along the way, but a crucial one. Monty rode up to Cole, and though he whispered, Aida heard every word.
“Sheriff’s likely three sheets to the wind by now,” Monty said in Cole’s ear. “Once he’s down, the rest is child’s play.”
“Of course,” Cole said. “I know.” Aida knew by now their identities could be revealed at any moment. All it would take would be one person noticing Monty’s scar, or Cole’s dark eyes from a ‘Wanted’ poster, and their plans would be shot. If only she could get far enough from Cole to get to someone… but as the wheels turned, Monty’s eyes focused on her.
Monty looked at Aida’s hands around Cole’s waist. “You’re sweet on her, aren’t you?” he asked Cole with undisguised contempt. Aida felt her heart flutter. Sweet on her. Cole wasn’t sweet on her. He hated her. Hated that she was spoiled and wealthy. He wouldn’t have whipped her, taken her from her home, and spoken with such contempt for her if he didn’t find her repulsive.
“Course not,” Cole bit out. “I told you she’s my captive. I need her close so she doesn’t give us away.” Even though Aida expected as much, her belly twisted. It still hurt to hear it.
“Yeah, I heard you,” Monty continued. “And I well know there’s likely a pretty price on her head in Litchfield,” he said, as he spat a stream of brown on the ground. “So you’re carryin’ her to earn that prize, but you’re fallin’ for her.”
“Fuck you,” Cole hissed and Monty’s face spread into a leer.
“No, Cole,” Monty whispered. He spurred his horse to walk within inches of Cole. “Fuck her. You know who I am. We meet up with Pearson soon. And you know Pearson makes me look like a saint. You fuck her, or Pearson’ll be haulin’ her by the hair to his own fucking chambers.”
Cole looked sharply at Monty. “Pearson?”
Monty merely pursed his lips and nodded. Aida’s heart stuttered so that she could hardly think, see, or even feel, as Monty pulled ahead of Cole. “I’d just as soon shoot her as look at her,” he said. “But if you let our plans go to hell because Pearson can’t keep his cock in his pants, I’ll kill you.” Monty’s eyes raked over Aida, and she pulled closer to Cole as Monty trotted away.
Cole swore vehemently, before turning to her. “Whatever happens next,” he said in a low growl. “Whatever happens next, you do whatever you can to trust me. I was a bastard earlier by the creek, but I’m tellin’ you now, Aida, it’ll get worse tonight. Just listen to what I tell you.”
Aida felt frozen in place, both Monty’s and Cole’s words filling her with fright.
Fuck her.
Her heart thundered in her chest as they stealthily trotted their horses up to a back door of a saloon. When they arrived, the door swung open, and an older man with graying hair and shrewd, calculating eyes gestured for them to come in.
“Let my men water your horses,” the man said, “and come on in.”
Cole swung down from his horse, then lifted Aida, as the man’s eyes went to him.
“Cole, you’ve got yourself a girl?” the man asked with surprise. Aida wondered why he was surprised. Was it because Cole wasn’t the type to have a girl? Or that he’d take her traveling with him? In any event, her sense of foreboding increased, and her heart twisted at Cole’s words.
“Not my girl,” Cole said. “Can’t talk about it, Lawson. That said, tonight, no ladies for me. I need rest, and the girl will warm my bed.”
Lawson nodded and gestured for them to come in. Each quietly dismounted, Junior and Justice seeing to the horses with Lawson’s men as Cole traipsed into Lawson’s back door. Cole stiffened when he entered the room, and to Aida’s surprise, he put a protective hand on her arm. His eyes had darkened, his jaw clenched.
At the table sat a tall, lanky man. His hair was a nondescript brown, his eyes muddy and unfocused. He had several empty shot glasses on the table. Aida felt as if she were a specimen on display when the man’s eyes roved over her.
“Pearson,” Cole said with a nod.
The man called Pearson looked from Cole, to Aida, to Monty, then over each member of both Monty’s and Cole’s crews that had come in.
“Pleasure, as always,” he said, his voice low and hard. He got to his feet, his eyes filled with contempt as he glared at Cole. Aida felt the air shift in the room as the man turned to Lawson. “You got the rooms upstairs cleared out?”
Lawson nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes, sir,” he said.
“Good,” Pearson said and he trudged with heavy boots on the wooden floor, creaking to where a small staircase to the far right almost lay hidden. “Upstairs,” Pearson growl
ed.
Aida felt Cole tug her along almost fiercely, his hand hurting hers, fingers crushed against the tenacious grip.
“You’re hurting me,” she whispered. Cole did not reply, simply following Monty and Pearson up the rickety stairs in stone-faced silence, though his grip lessened a bit.
When they reached the top of the stairs, Aida could see a hallway with several rooms. Cole gestured for Junior, Justice, and Doc to take a few rooms, while Monty’s men clambered into rooms of their own, until only Pearson, Cole, and Aida remained in the hall. Pearson turned to Aida.
“So pretty,” he said. “You’ll give me a turn, Cole.” It didn’t seem like a suggestion. Aida held her breath.
Cole chuckled mirthlessly. “You know I don’t share, Pearson,” he said.
The man’s lips turned down and he gave Cole a calculating look. “You still playing hero?”
Cole’s lips thinned as he glared back at Pearson. “You know why I’m here,” he said.
Pearson nodded quickly before giving Aida one more appraising look. “We’ll see about that,” was all he said, but as the sound of his retreating footsteps faded, Cole’s arm went to her waist. Aida’s thundering heart slowed just a little. The mere thought of this man touching her sent sickening shivers of dread through her. He seemed capable of anything. With a tug on her hand, Cole pulled her into the room and slammed the door.
Chapter Twelve
Love is merely a madness; and I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and whip as madmen do. ― William Shakespeare
Cole paced the room as Aida used the attached privy, freshening up. Her shoes were lined up next to the door and for some reason, the little shoes played at his sympathies. Aida was so young, so trusting… and could be so easily hurt. If Pearson ever got his filthy hands on her, he’d have to kill him.