A Contract Bride's Triple Surprise (3 page)

She should unpack her clean travelling dress and shake out the wrinkles for morning. The bed drew her eye. She couldn’t sleep well sitting up on a train surrounded by strangers. Once enough women left the Bride carriage, they’d let male passengers in. The last few nights, she sat next to a married couple for safety, being the only unaccompanied woman on the train.

She yawned, hastily covering her mouth. She should be nervous rather than falling asleep. She lifted her arms over her head and brushed her hair back from her face. The cloth, loosened with the action, fell to the floor. Her breasts filled. She brushed them with her hands, knowing it was wicked but enjoying the rush of pleasure. She had a few hours before her husband arrived, and the bed looked so inviting. Finally, she could touch herself. She might never have a chance to be alone in bed again.

She dropped her thin summer nightgown over her head. She folded the damp drying cloth and placed it over the edge of the tub. She padded to the bed, pulled back the light covers, and climbed in. The ropes underneath barely made a sound. The mattress, far softer than anything she’d laid on in so long, rustled slightly when she moved.

She sighed and relaxed. Pretending it was the man in the street, she touched her breast.

Chapter Three

As soon as it was fully dark, Ross entered the hotel through the back entrance. He didn’t try to hide. He just didn’t want to advertise the fact he was about to bed his wife. Not that anyone would recognize the tall man in a neat, dark suit. Simon Elliott’s suit.

He walked quietly down the long hallway. A few sounds filtered through the open transom windows above the doors. He mentally catalogued them as he passed. No danger there. The ones who would cause problems wouldn’t be back from Baldy’s Saloon until the wee hours. He stopped outside the second door from the front.

His wife waited in there. If she was anything like Prudence, he wouldn’t have to worry about her clinging to him. Like damn near every woman he’d met, Prue was scared of him. The few others wanted the temporary excitement of being with a man who made tough men gulp and back away. A woman didn’t bring that type of man home.

None of them cared about who he was or what he wanted in life. He didn’t expect his wife to be any different. At least she’d insisted on meeting in the dark for the first time. She’d be able to see his size but not his features.

And damn, he was looking forward to her feeling his size. Every inch of it throbbed, and there were more inches pressing against his thigh than in years.

He knocked lightly on the suite door. When he heard nothing, he used the key Sophie provided when he rented the room. He bolted the door behind him. Not being the trusting sort, he set a chair in front of the door. His hearing was like a fox, but he’d never tested it when he was occupied with a wife.

The dim room held a light scent of roses, like the fancy milled soap sold at the Tanner’s Ford Mercantile. Sophie told him Amelia had brought only one small trunk upstairs. The rest of her things would arrive by wagon in the morning. Waiting for it would give him time to learn about Amelia before heading home. By then, the wagon would be full of whatever a city woman considered necessary.

Prue said Amelia had brown hair, was a few inches shorter, and had terrible burn scars on her face, right hand, and arm. Other than that, he knew little.

His eyes fully adjusted to the dark during the few minutes it took to rest his jacket over the back of a chair and pull off his boots. He walked silently to the half-open door to the bedroom. His lungs contracted and heart thudded hard. He grasped the doorjamb with his hand.

“Hot damn,” he whispered.

His wife lay on her left side, facing the far wall. A shaft of moonlight from the high window lit her body. She wore an almost sheer, white nightgown. Brown hair streamed across the pillow like a pennant held by a galloping Army soldier. Her body dipped from her shoulders to her waist before flaring to wide hips. A dark shadow showed the cleft between her plump ass cheeks. He choked. She sighed and rolled onto her back, proving her breasts were as ample as the rest of her.

His cock jerked, demanding to plow into her, now! He agreed. He didn’t care where, be it mouth, breasts, pussy, or ass, just that he brand her as his.

Under white man’s law, she belonged to him, and he could do whatever he wanted to her. Lend her to his friends, ignore her, or beat her to near death. It was his right, just because both of their names were written on a piece of paper. It was not his way. When he claimed something, it was his. Child, woman, or horse.

His cock strained against his buttons. He couldn’t hold back a groan. He knew the second he woke her. She faked it well, but her deep breathing missed a beat before starting again. The clincher was her right breast, the one lit by the slanting moon. As he watched, a large nipple rose to strain against her nightgown. In case he missed it, the shadow thrown by the moon exaggerated its size.

Ross exhaled all the tension he hadn’t realized he carried. As soon as she knew he was near, her nipple sat up and begged for his touch. He considered that a very good start for an Eastern virgin. He could almost feel the way that nipple would roll around his tongue. He took a few deep breaths to make sure he could speak without his voice breaking like an eager boy.

“Good evening, Mrs. MacDougal,” he finally said. “I know you’re awake.”

She stiffened and opened her eyes. He stood in shadow, watching her. Mother Moon had never lit up a more beautiful sight.

“I was just resting my eyes,” she drawled. “I didn’t know when you’d arrive.”

She set her jaw when he didn’t immediately reply. She reached out her hand and pulled the top sheet over her. He let her hide, for now. Gillis told him to do anything and everything to make sure she accepted him as her husband. That meant pleasuring her a few times before he made her his. He was up for that. Literally.

“Are you going to just stand there and stare at me? I’ve had a long journey and would like to get back to sleep.”

Knowing she couldn’t see, he let a grin escape. Prue was demanding but in a surface way. She was easily pleased by material things. This younger sister not only had a backbone, she had a pert tongue. Making her angry would mean she’d need spanking. Soothing her afterward would be worth damn near anything she said.

“You tired?” He still didn’t move, waiting for her reaction. Would she invite him into her bed, ignore him or—

“Yes. Close the door behind you on the way out, thank you.”

She rolled over on her side, again facing away. The sheet hid what he wanted to touch. Such as the curved ass begging to be spanked for her impertinence. He shut the door loudly then waited. He didn’t move but didn’t try to hide his breathing, either. For some reason, he couldn’t control the heavy rasps as he inhaled deep.

“You’re on the wrong side of the door, Mr. MacDougal.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, showing her indifference as a lie. She chose the wrong man if she thought she could control him.

“Nope.”

He moved so his body was in the light but his head still in shadow. He pulled his white shirt from his pants. She whipped her head around at the sound, looking over her right shoulder. He unbuttoned his cuffs, watching her watch him. When he continued with the shirt, she rolled partway back to face him.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking off my shirt.”

“Why?”

She sounded snippy, but nipples didn’t lie. The room was too warm for them to rise in chill. No, she was hot. And he was damn well going to make her hotter.

“I’ve been working since sunup. Instead of sleeping, I rode all the way to town to meet my wife. I want my bed.”

“You’re not getting in this bed with me!”

He unhooked his belt and slowly slid it out of the loops. She watched as if it was a leather snake, slithering toward her.

“Who am I, Mrs. MacDougal?”

She rolled onto her back and clutched the sheet to her chin with both fists. She shifted her gaze to where his face would be.

“You’re my husband, Nevin.”

He rolled up his belt and placed it on the table as he strolled to the far side of the bed.

“Nope. I’m your husband, Ross.”

For a moment she stared then shook her head silently.

“No!” She scrabbled to the far side of the bed, taking the sheet with her. “I married Nevin, the quiet, nice one, not the MacDougal Devil!”

That was the problem with a bad reputation. People believed it. He sighed.

“You want me to turn on a light and show you the contract, wife?”

“No!” She covered her left cheek and ear with her hand. “Why aren’t you Nevin?”

“Because I’m Ross.”

She lay there, eyes wide and chin quivering. He sighed and rested a shoulder against the wall. He put his weight on one leg and rested the toe of the other on the floor. She swallowed, blinking a few times. After a moment, her breathing slowed from mad panic.

“What did your sister tell you about me?”

“People told her you were a vicious killer who put dozens of men in the ground. You always have ravens around you and carry three knives. You like to throw them at people.”

She pressed her lips together as if debating whether to go on.

“You weren’t rude though you usually grunted your answers. She wasn’t sure if you could speak English very well, but you understood it. And when you thought no one was looking, you liked to play with her friend’s baby.”

He didn’t know Prue saw him playing with James Elliott. Every child was a joy to be cherished, and Trace’s boy was a rascal, eager to grab his long hair and chew on it.

“I only kill men who need it,” he said. “Ravens are better company than most men. I always carry two knives in my side sheath and one in my boot. They go where I throw them. I know a few manners, and as you see, I speak English.”

He waited for her reaction.

“What about the baby?” She frowned up at him. “Playing with a baby doesn’t match your tough reputation.” She forced a rusty laugh. “Vicious killers wouldn’t want that to get out.” When he didn’t reply, she gave a small shrug as if it didn’t matter. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“Yes, I do. I want a marriage based on truth.”

“Truth?” This laugh was pure sarcasm. “I thought I signed a marriage contract with Nevin MacDougal. That’s hardly the truth.”

He scratched his chin. “Yes, well, that had nothing to do with me.”

She gasped. She scrambled to sit up. “Nothing to do with you? How, when you signed the paper and mailed it to me long before Prue had her baby!”

Do not look at her chest. Do not check to see if the sheet slipped.

His perfect control snapped. She sat cross-legged in the bed with the sheet resting in her lap. Her breasts were full and round, and her nipples pointed right at him. He stared.

“Ross MacDougal, did you hear me?”

Her breasts jiggled when she shook her finger at him. She finally realized why he was silent and slid into the bed once more, sheet at her chin

“It’s rude to stare!”

He continued to look his fill. He’d kept his cock under control all his life. His family knew him for never showing emotion. All those beatings and never did he cry. Why the hell did the tiny woman in the big bed make him feel like a sixteen-year-old with his first woman?

“Not,” he growled, “when you’re my wife.”

She shut her mouth, but the glare was still there. Though he cursed the effect she had on him, one thing was sure. This marriage, if she agreed to go through with it, would be a challenge. She had fire and gumption, which, if he was lucky, meant passion between the sheets as well. He enjoyed challenges, especially when the rewards would be high. If he played his cards right, he’d have a warm bed and hot woman whenever he was home. Nevin could keep her happy the rest of the time. Slow but definite steps were needed.

He walked to the bed and sat. Not too close, but enough to let her know he wasn’t backing down. She didn’t move away, but she watched him very carefully.

“Here’s some truth. Only my family knows I also carry another four knives that I keep hidden. I didn’t want that reputation. When the townies laid it on me, I made sure it stuck.”

“Did I marry a bully?”

“Nope. If you’re the meanest son of a”—he switched words when he saw her eyebrows coming together—“a gun around, trouble avoids you. It helps keep the MD ranch safe.”

He bent his right leg and rested his ankle on his knee. Having never worn a suit before, he hadn’t appreciated the advantages. The loose material didn’t bind his cock like work pants. If he’d been in his usual canvas pants, there was no way he could sit. He held his ankle to give his hands something to do so he wouldn’t reach out and touch the near-naked woman lying beside him. The woman he had a legal right to throw on her back and take as often as he liked. As hard as he liked. And damn, he had never been harder in his life.

“Because I’m older than Nev, Gil said I had to marry you because you had no choice but to accept me.” He winced at her gasp in response, but damn it, she’d best know the truth from the get-go.