COWBOY ROMANCE: Devon (Western Contemporary Alpha Male Bride Romance) (The Steele Brothers Book 2)

by Amanda Boone

  Tonight was going to be the night. She didn’t care how late he was getting home. She was ready for him to join her in their bed, and she was determined that it would happen—no matter when he got home.

  “Uh-oh, my sister is thinking again,” Mike said, taunting her back to the present.

  She smiled at him. “Always. When you two are done eating, I need to take Emily home and get that little one ready for bed.” She turned her steady gaze to Jared. “I hope you won’t be too late. Somebody’s usually asleep by eight.”

  “Me, right?” Emily asked.

  “That’s right, dumplin’,” Jared replied. “And I’ll try to be home at a reasonable time.”

  “That’s all I can ask,” Bridget said.

  ***

  The wind-up clock on the fireplace mantle chimed eight times, then nine times—and ten. Jared still wasn’t home by ten-thirty. Was he avoiding her? Did he understand her signal and decide that he didn’t want to bed her? This was the most nerve-racking night of her life. She was ready to become a woman in every sense of the word, and her own husband didn’t seem to want her.

  At ten-forty-five she disrobed and put on her nightgown. As much as it hurt her that he didn’t want her, she decided to go to bed.

  A noise startled her, and she spun toward the open bedroom door. There in the doorway stood Jared, his brown eyes fixed on her. He strode up to her, his gaze not leaving her body. Bridget glanced down at herself. The thin, white material of her nightgown was translucent with the glow of the lantern behind her.

  He stopped before her and laid his hands on her narrow waist. Without a word, he bent and kissed her on the lips, just a peck at first. But when she threw her arms around him to show her acceptance, he deepened the passion.

  His lips ground against hers; his tongue darted into her mouth to clash with hers. She melted against his body and clung to him.

  Then he pulled back, asking, “Does this mean you’re ready?”

  “Absolutely,” she whispered.

  “I got home while you were undressing,” he said, his voice cracking with his nervousness as he removed his shirt. “I couldn’t help but see you. You were standing in front of the bedroom door. You’re perfect.”

  Bridget’s face heated in embarrassment. He had seen her naked. Then again, he was her husband. He was allowed to see her nude body.

  While she stood before him, Jared removed his boots and tossed them aside. Then, as he watched the hem of her nightgown, he lifted it at the waist. It went higher—and higher, until it blocked her view of him as he lifted her arms and removed it.

  Now that she stood naked before him, her embarrassment and purity became a memory of the past. Tentatively, as though she would get burned, she reached out to unbutton his trousers, one button at a time, as slowly and languorously as he had removed her nightgown.

  She slid her hands over his bare hips to his buttocks, where she caressed him. Oh, how she loved the feel of him! She stepped against him, letting her nipples harden against the soft hair covering his chest. This felt so good that she could hardly believe she waited so long.

  With her hands in his pants, she slipped them over his hips, glancing down to see his penis dancing in excitement.

  Gazing up into his face, she said, “I thought you didn’t want me after we got married. I thought you were sorry that you did it.”

  “I was just waiting for you, sweetheart,” he said as he finished removing his trousers.

  Jared took her hand and escorted her to the bed, where he held her wrist as she lay down. He came down on the bed beside her, saying, “I love you, Bridget. I would never do something you don’t want.”

  With those words, he kissed her deeply. His fingers learned her body as a blind man’s would, seeking out her curves and crevasses, taunting her breasts by moving his chest against hers. Then he kissed her forehead and moved to her nipple, where he suckled for several seconds.

  Her body wouldn’t hold still for her. She’d thought she would be able to contain her excitement, but it wasn’t possible. Even when she and Matthew kissed, she hadn’t felt like this. She wanted him so badly she could barely stand it.

  “Jared, please,” she whimpered. “I can’t wait any longer.”

  He needed no more persuasion. He positioned himself at her heated womanhood and thrust into her. The pain tore through her for a few moments then lessened. He ground against her, pelvis to pelvis. Her hips gyrated in response.

  Then something happened between her legs that she never imagined—she exploded in tremors that she could only classify as life-altering. Jared thrust into her a couple more times before he stiffened and groaned into her ear.

  At last, he collapsed to the bed beside her, panting as though he was completely spent.

  “My, God, Bridget,” he said. “You were definitely worth the wait, but I would have waited forever if I’d had to.”

  Rolling onto her side, she draped his arm around her and laid her head on his shoulder. “It was worth the wait, Jared. Thank you for making it easy for me.”

  He kissed her hair tenderly and began to stoke it. “I love you, Bridget. I honestly do. It’s been very hard for me to wait. My dreams are all of you and sharing my life with you.”

  “I’ve had those dreams, too,” she admitted.

  “Then you love me, too?” he asked, his voice filled with hope.

  “I like you a lot, but I don’t know if I can love anybody.”

  “That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. I’ll wait for that just like I waited for you. We should go to sleep now. It was a long day today, and it’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

  “What did you and Mike find out, anyway? Did you get that telegram you were waiting for?”

  “We did, and it wasn’t encouraging. Harris doesn’t want us to follow up on it, so I won’t.”

  “But that doesn’t mean that Mike won’t,” she said.

  “Which is exactly why I’m not following up on it. Mike will keep me abreast of everything important. I’ll just be talking more with Rollie Parker, the man who was injured today. But I am going to help Mike in any way that won’t look like I’m working on the story with him. The power of the press, sweetheart, that’s how this case is going to get solved.”

  Chapter 9

  The next morning when Karin didn’t appear to watch Emily, Bridget took her to the newspaper office. She set the child down at Moya’s desk, gave her some paper and a pencil, and asked Emily to draw a picture for her. Until Moya came into work, Bridget would just have to keep an eye on the child to make sure she didn’t play with the telegraph machine. When Mike was done working in his office, she would send Emily in there.

  With Emily busy, Bridget went to sit down by Mike’s desk and question him. “What happened yesterday, Mike?”

  “When Dr. Frey examined Palmer, he said that this wasn’t an accident. Somebody used a board with a lot of force and hit Palmer across the back. Doc said that the bruising couldn’t have been caused by a fall because of how clean the edges of it were.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “A two-by-four was used on him. I saw the injury myself, and I agree with Doc. Rollie Palmer was deliberately injured. That’s assault. It could have been with a deadly weapon if the person had hit Palmer over the head.”

  “Who would do such a thing?” Bridget wondered aloud. “And why?”

  “Palmer doesn’t know—or isn’t talking,” Mike said.

  Bridget studied him suspiciously. Mike was being too cryptic for her liking, and she was getting the feeling that he was hiding something from her. To show that she knew what he was doing, she spoke in a maternal tone. “Michael O’Riley, you tell me everything.”

  His green eyes lit in merriment. “You sounded exactly like Ma, Bridge.

  “Stop avoiding the conversation. Tell me what you know.”

  “Something’s going on here in Forestville. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened, you know.�
�

  And Mike proceeded to explain how Moya had been assaulted, as well, and nearly killed by a blow to the head. It wasn’t a lumberjacking accident. It was deliberate, according to Dr. Frey.

  “I haven’t asked Moya about it,” Mike admitted, “but Dr. Frey was quite willing to talk. He knows that it was deliberate because of the type of injuries, just like with Palmer. Apparently, though, Moya doesn’t remember his attack, so they can’t go to the sheriff.”

  Bridget had known that Moya was injured by a falling limb, which was why he had trouble using the left side of his body, but Elise hadn’t mentioned that it had been deliberate.

  Before Bridget could ask Mike more about what had happened to Moya, though, Mike continued. Since they’d been in town and he was trying to find a story, he’d learned that the owner of the mercantile store was none other than Frank Harris. The owner of the livery stable was Frank Harris. The men working in Forestville, both at the lumberyard and the mill, were paid only a small salary but their homes were theirs to live in rent-free as long as they worked for the lumber company. If they left or worked for someone other than Frank Harris, they would be charged an exorbitant amount of rent. Even the prostitutes at the saloon paid someone from their earnings, although nobody knew who that was because they physically paid the sheriff, who put the money in the bank—owned by Frank Harris and run by one of his cronies.

  “This is beginning to sound like corruption,” Bridget said in amazement.

  “That’s the same thing I thought.”

  “Thank goodness he doesn’t own the press.” Mike cleared his throat, which sent suspicion racing through Bridget. “Michael, tell me he doesn’t own the newspaper.”

  “In essence, he does,” Mike admitted. “When I signed the contract, there was a clause in it that said, if I ever printed anything he didn’t approve, he could take over its operation or appoint someone else to do it.”

  “Mike! How could you sign that?”

  “I was desperate to have a newspaper, and I was thrilled it was happening. At that time, I had no idea that I would actually find evidence that he wouldn’t want published. After all, we’re protected by the constitution.”

  “But not from Frank Harris,” she said angrily.

  “I realize that now, Bridget. Most likely, the last thing I will ever write here is a story about Frank Harris and his minions.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to continue investigating what’s happening?”

  “I am.”

  “I don’t know, Mike. That might not be such a good idea. You’ve already been warned.”

  “We can’t let this go unreported, Bridge. We have to do something to stop it.”

  “I didn’t say we would. Am I included in that contract?”

  “No, just me. You’re just a woman according to him. He didn’t want anything that included your name. I figured that, since I was putting up half the money and you weren’t contributing, it would be okay.” He paused and gazed at her over his desk. “What are you thinking?”

  “Nothing really. I was just curious.” Bridget rose from her chair and started out of the room. “I’d better check on Emily. Who knows what a five-year-old could say on a telegraph machine.”

  But in fact, Bridget was thinking a lot. Mike had given her information that he’d gotten from somewhere, and Jared had told her last night that he wasn’t allowed to do anything about the attack on Rollie Palmer. Nobody, however, had said anything about her not investigating what was happening in Forestville. She couldn’t tell the men what she was thinking, though, because either or both of them would try to stop her.

  For her, this wasn’t about Harris and whatever he was up to; this was about free press; this was about protecting the Constitution. If someone didn’t take a stand, sometime, somewhere, this could grow to cover more than just their little part of the United States. It could fester like an infected wound and spread throughout the country. One reason her family had come to America was because of the freedom, and Bridget would be damned if she wouldn’t stand behind that freedom.

  Chapter 10

  When Moya arrived for work later that morning, Bridget decided to approach him about how he was injured and what he remembered. With Mike out of the office to talk to the sheriff, Bridget joined Moya in the telegraph room.

  “What time did you finally get home last night Moya?” she asked casually after putting Emily in Mike’s office.

  “After midnight,” he replied.

  “Wow! Did it really take that long to get a reply from Harris?”

  “Nej. Mike and I talked for a vile. He had a lot of qvestions. Didn’t he tell you?”

  Thanks to her friendship with Elise, Bridget had learned a little Swedish, and she knew that nej meant no. But Mike hadn’t mentioned talking with Moya. She wondered why.

  “What about?”

  “He vanted to know about my head inyury, so I told him vat I know—noting.”

  “Nothing? Not even bits and pieces?”

  “Noting. Doc said I might never remember, but it might come back a little at a time or all at vunce.”

  Bridget sighed. Moya was no help to her investigation. But she didn’t want Moya to know she was up to in case he told Mike, so she shrugged and spoke sympathetically, “I’m sorry to hear that, Moya. It must be awful to not remember part of your life.”

  “It’s not bad. It’s yust dat few minutes ven I vas unconscious.”

  “Would you do me a favor?” Bridget asked. “I want to check on Karin and see how she’s feeling. Would you watch Emily for me? I don’t want her around Karin if she’s sick.”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks, Moya.”

  After telling Emily to be good for Moya while she ran an errand, Bridget left the building. She didn’t check on Karin, though. Instead, she went to see Jared in his office.

  “Hi, sugar,” he said as she entered.

  Rising and striding around his desk, he swept her into his arms and kissed her passionately. She wanted to be swept into the moment, but she couldn’t. She needed information more than anything else. Pushing away from him, she asked, “Did you know that Moya and Mike sat at the newspaper office until after midnight last night?”

  “No,” he replied as he draped his arm around her and escorted her to a chair. “Is it something I need to know?”

  Bridget sat down and watched as he dropped into the chair next to hers. “I don’t know that it’s something you need to know, but it is interesting.”

  “Interesting how?” he asked.

  “I guess Mike was asking Moya what he remembered about how he got his injury, but Moya doesn’t remember anything.”

  “That’s common knowledge around town. You two probably don’t know about it because you came after it happened. Nobody thinks anything about it anymore.”

  “Don’t you think it’s odd?”

  Jared laid his arm on the back of her chair and toyed with a lock of hair that had escaped from her chignon. “Doc Frey says it’s not abnormal for someone in his circumstances.”

  Despite the flames of desire that shot through her, Bridget knew that this wasn’t the time or place to let those feelings overtake her. To distract her thoughts, she asked, “Do you still think it would be normal if you knew what Mike told me this morning?”

  Bridget told Jared everything that she and Mike had discussed that morning. Throughout her explanation, Jared’s face took on a concerned expression. She didn’t know what he was thinking, because she didn’t know him that well yet, but she knew he didn’t like what she was telling him.

  “What do you think?” Bridget asked when she finished. “Is this something we should be worried about as citizens of Forestville?”

  “I’ll admit that it doesn’t sound very good, but you’ve got to remember that this is a company town. That means the company owns it. If Harris owns the company, he obviously owns the town. Is it really surprising that he would put people he trusted in those positions?”

/>   “But prostitutes? Why would he demand payment from them?”

  “From what you said, sweetheart,” Jared said calmly, “there’s no proof that he’s the one being paid. It sounds like they’re paying the sheriff.”

  Pursing her lips, Bridget considered that for a moment. If she owned a company that owned a town, she would probably put people she trusted in charge, just as Jared had said. Did that mean, though, that she would take money from them instead of giving them a good salary? Suddenly, a thought struck her, and she had to know the answer.

  “Jared?” she asked, unsure she actually wanted to know. “How did you get this job?”

  His face took on a stunned expression. “Surely, you don’t think I’m being bought by Harris.”

  “I don’t know what to think,” she admitted. “It’s not like I’ve known you very long. Besides, I didn’t say you were bought by Harris. I simply asked how you got the job.”

  “He called on me one day about a year ago. He said he’d been asking around because he needed somebody here. He’d heard that I was a good worker and loyal to my boss, and he offered me a salary here that, quite frankly, I couldn’t turn down. He also offered to pay for a nanny and a housekeeper since my wife had died. He lived up to his end of the bargain, and he had got me a nanny who would also do the housework. I didn’t like her, though, because she didn’t always treat Emily well. So I hired Karin instead. She’s turned out to be great.”

  Surprised by his complete explanation, Bridget’s suspicions peaked. It sounded to her like Jared was being bought, not by an outrageous salary, but benefits that were specific to him. He didn’t have a wife, so he was given someone who would serve as a wife. He was given a job of prestige, if not wealth.

  “I don’t like the look on your face, Bridget,” Jared said, breaking into her thoughts. “What are you thinking?”

  Embarrassed that he could read her expression, she gazed down at her hands that lay in her lap. “I just thought it was odd that he found you a nanny and housekeeper instead of letting you pick one you liked.”