Charlotte Boyett-Compo- WayWard Wind (9 page)

“Sloan!” she yelled and bore down on his fingers, clutching his hair so tightly it brought tears to his eyes, but he did not move. He bit her nipple tenderly--clamping it between his teeth--as another wave of spasms shook her.

Peyton’s eyes were squeezed shut as the pleasure rocketed through her. She exhaled slightly when he slid over her, removing his fingers as the last intimate squeeze claimed her, nudging aside her thighs until he was seated between them, his cock pressing into the wet core of her.

She brought her legs up and encased him within their tight perimeter as he began a slow, long stroke that made her writhe under him. He was so big within her, stretching her so greatly that she thought her flesh would rip asunder beneath his firm assault, but he went deep, withdrew, went deeper still and his strokes began to speed up until he was slapping against her with abandon. Opening her eyes, she looked up at him. His head was back, his strong neck arched, his teeth clenched as he sought his own pleasure. Watching the muscles of his chest flexing, rippling as he took her sent her over the edge once more and another round of orgasmic pulses gripped her.

“Peyton!” he cried out as those little clenches rippled over his stony cock and he spilled himself into her--hard and thick, his cock straining inside her to spurt that one last drop of seed before he relaxed atop her, gasping for breath.

A fish jumped in the stream beside them. The waterfall made a lush, peaceful sound as it cascaded into the water. Harper’s horse snorted, pawed at the ground, then shook its head vigorously, the metal of its harness clinking.

“You know what I want?” Peyton heard her husband ask.

“What do you want?”

“A swim,” he said and in one lithe bound was on his feet, his hand out to her. “Want to join me?”

Peyton smiled and slapped her palm against his. “Aye, cowboy. I do.”

He hauled her up easily, drew her into his arms for a quick hug, then started toward the stream, pulling her behind him.

The water was colder than she would have thought as they waded out into the stream. He didn’t let go of her hand until they were chest high in the rippling water and he arched up then dove beneath the water, striking out for the waterfall. She followed at a more leisurely pace, accustoming herself to the stream. When she reached his side, he was standing beneath the flowing water, plowing his hands through his wet hair.

“I could stay here all day,” she said, joining him.

For over an hour they frolicked in the water, but then Harper reluctantly suggested they get back to the cabin. There were things that needed doing before they could strike out for Tampico.

“I want to leave at daylight tomorrow. The new owners will most likely arrive around noontime to settle in,” he told her.

Wading back through the splashing water and drying off with Peyton’s sacrificed bloomers, they were soon dressed and back on Harper’s horse, her arms tight around his waist as they rode back to the cabin.

He rode out again just as the sun was setting, heading for the border and the money that had been his only legacy from his parents.

Chapter Four

Ten days on the trail tired Peyton out. Making roughly 25 miles a day before bunking down for the night seemed like 50 by the time she rolled up in her blanket, the cold desert air chilling her. Harper had purchased a mount for her from a farmer when she complained her side was bothering her from riding behind him, being jostled on his horse’s rump. Nervous on the animal, she had clung to it for dear life, constantly fearful she’d be thrown, her palms raw from clutching the reins so tightly. The nights of sleeping on the hard ground had made her stiff with a constant ache deep in her hip bones. Although the little roan mare was a gentle creature with soft brown eyes and a dainty step, Peyton ached all over when they entered the seaside town of Tampico just after sunset. The hustle and bustle along the docks and the ships bobbing at anchor drew her attention, but it was the raucous noise in the dockside taverns and the blare of lively music that helped to revive her.

“We’ll get a room at the hotel,” Harper told her and Snake. “Hopefully we’ll find a ship bound for New Orleans leaving in the next few days.”

Harper lucked out and found two rooms for them at the hotel then headed for the harbormaster’s office while Peyton took a leisurely bath in an oversized copper tub and Snake flopped across her bed to take a long nap before supper. When Harper returned, he had good news.

“There’s a ship sailing tomorrow morning,” he said as he came into the room he’d be sharing with Peyton. “I’ve booked passage for us."

Peyton looked around at him, her hand clutching a soapy cloth. “That was quick.”

“Luck is on my side for a change,” he said, unbuckling his gun belt. He draped the weapon on the headboard of the bed to have it close.

“Would you wash my back for me?” Peyton asked.

Harper smiled and began to unbutton his shirt sleeves, rolling them up his tanned forearms. “I would be happy to oblige you, wench,” he said, hunkering down beside the tub. He took the washcloth from her, chuckling at her exaggerated eye-batting and pursed lips. “Behave else I’ll climb in there with you,” he warned as be began dragging the rag over her smooth back.

Peyton sighed and closed her eyes. “What did I do before I had you, cowboy?” she purred.

“Dreamed of me, no doubt,” he countered and ran the cloth down to her rump. “You getting hungry?”

“I’m starved,” she said. “You want to take a bath before we go to supper?”

“Nah, I’m good,” he said. “I’ll just wash under my arms and put on a clean shirt.” He draped the wet rag over her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she said sweetly.

“You’re welcome,” he responded and grunted as he pushed to his feet and began stripping off his blue chambray shirt.

Half an hour later, they were standing at Snake’s door, knocking. The old woman opened the door yawning.

Harper arched one dark brow. “You’re wearing a skirt?” he inquired.

“ ‘Bout time you brats got here,” Snake complained, ignoring his query. She wagged her fingers at them, shooing them back so she could exit the room. “A body could perish to death waiting for you two.”

Harper looked at Peyton and rolled his eyes. All the way down the stairs and into the dining room, Snake kept up a constant barrage of complaints until he pulled out a chair for her and leaned down to whisper in her ear to tell her to cool it.

“I’ve my opinions, boy,” Snake mumbled as she shook out her napkin and tucked it at her chin. “Don’t be telling me not to speak up.”

Harper sighed as he held Peyton’s chair for her then took a seat, casually scanning the dining room. “It’s rather crowded for a weekday night,” he commented. He didn’t notice the two men sitting across the room who were watching him closely.

Supper was spicy and enjoyable and Snake could find nothing that didn’t meet her approval. She finished every scrap on her plate and cleaned it with the last warm tortilla. When she swallowed the remaining morsel, she sat back, rubbing her stomach, hating the faded skirt and wrinkled blouse she’d forced herself to wear for proprieties sake. “That was damned good vittles,” she pronounced then yawned widely.

“I’ll settle the bill,” Harper said, scooting back his chair. “Why don’t you ladies go on up to the room.” He handed Peyton the room key.

“Who you calling a lady?” Snake grumbled. “You’d best watch your mouth, boy, a’fore I take a stick to your hinny.” She seemed pleased, though, that he held her chair for her again, twisting her head around to give him a lopsided grin.

After pulling Peyton’s chair back, he watched his two womenfolk leave the dining room, smiling to himself as Snake looped a hand around the younger woman’s arm and leaned against her. The sound of their laughter made his heart swell.

Harper paid the bill, sending his compliments to the cook and was heading for the stairs when a young boy came rushing up to him. He turned when the boy spoke.

“Senor Harper?” the boy questioned.

“Aye,” Harper replied.

“You are wanted at the shipping office, senor,” the boy said.

Harper frowned. “Now?”

The boy bobbed his head eagerly. “I was ordered to come get you.”

Annoyed, Harper nodded and started for the door, his jaw clenched. Worried there was a problem, his mind rambling over possible setbacks that might make it impossible for them to leave the next morning, he wasn’t paying attention as he walked out on the board sidewalk and headed for the docks. He never heard or saw the men waiting for him, didn’t know anyone was behind him until something heavy connected with the back of his head and the lights went off around him. He fell to the hard packed ground, unaware of the rough hands dragging him down an alley and to a third man lying in wait.

* * * *

Peyton glanced at the watch pinned to her bodice, her brows drawn together. It had been nearly an hour since she’d escorted Miss Coronella to her room and come back to her own. She was beginning to worry about her husband. Chewing on her bottom lip, she paced the confines of the room, a growing nervousness making the pit of her stomach ache. Her glance went to his gun belt and the anxiety surged up her throat.

“Where are you Sloan?” she asked aloud.

* * * *

At that moment, her husband was unconscious, draped over the saddle of a spirited chestnut gelding which took umbrage at having a human tied across his back. With his wrists tied together by a rope that ran under the gelding’s belly to lash his ankles, Harper was effectively immobilized.

“Better gag the bastard,” the man who had been waiting with the horses suggested. “We don’t need him bellowing when he comes to.”

One of the men from the hotel dining room nodded and untied the kerchief at his throat, rolled it into a tube then walked over to Harper and forced the gag between the prisoner’s lips, making quick work of tying it behind Harper’s head. “All set,” he said.

“Mount up and let’s ride, then,” the leader ordered. “I want to be long gone from here before Dalton’s daughter raises a ruckus and someone comes looking for him.”

Kicking their mounts into a trot then a full gallop, the three men rode out of Tampico, the leader holding the reins of the chestnut gelding upon which Harper was being jiggled.

“Why the hell didn’t you come get me sooner?” Snake demanded as she stepped into her denim pants and jerked them up to her thin waist. “Hell, them Rangers most likely got a good hour on us, girl!”

“You believe they were Rangers?” Peyton asked. She had borrowed a pair of Snake’s pants and felt very comfortable in the snug fitting garment. The borrowed shirt was too tight across her bosom, but that couldn’t be helped. Around her hips, she had slung Harper’s six-shooter, much to the amusement of the older woman. “You gonna wind up blowing off a toe if you don’t watch it,” had been Snake’s comment.

Snake shot Peyton an irritated look. “Who the hell else would it be? He’s a wanted man and them Rangers don’t think twice ‘bout coming ‘cross the border after their man.”

“It could be bounty hunters,” Peyton said as Snake started for the door, buttoning her shirt as she stomped. “Or some of my father’s men.” That last thought made her blood run cold.

“We’d best hire us that tracker you mentioned,” Snake said. “Neither one of us is gonna be able to sniff out their trail and especially not in the dark.”

As they hurried down the stairs, Peyton thought back to what the man in the dining room had told her about what he’d overheard, about the conversation between her husband and the young Mexican boy. A messenger sent to the docks had returned to tell her Harper had never arrived and that no one had sent word to him that he was needed at the harbormaster’s office.

“Looks like your husband has disappeared,” the messenger commented. “It happens. We have many pirate vessels that come to our shores, but I checked with a man who would know. Senor Harper is not on any ship in our harbor.”

“Then where could he be?” she asked fretfully.

Accompanied by the helpful messenger and the man from the dining room who took it upon himself to be her escort, Peyton and the men had gone to the constable who--upon learning who the boy was who had come to the hotel to speak to Harper and had sent a man to question him--discovered what had obviously been a ploy to get Peyton’s husband alone.

“Senora, it seems your husband might have been abducted by three Norte Americano hombres,” the constable had pronounced. He had eyed her sternly. “Perhaps he has enemies from your country?”

Not daring to tell the law officer her husband was wanted on the other side of the border, she had shaken her head. “I need to tell his grandmother. She is traveling with us.”

“I will send my men in search of him but ….” The constable shrugged. “A trail at night is difficult to follow unless someone saw something. Was he carrying a lot of money?”

“No,” Peyton said. She was trembling by then and backing toward the door to the constable’s office. “I have to …. I must ….” She looked beseechingly at the man from the hotel.

“Let’s get you back to the hotel, senora,” the man--who she learned was named Roberto Sanchez--said, slipping a hand under her elbow.

Not giving the constable a chance to ask any more questions, Peyton left with Roberto and the messenger, her teeth chattering together despite the humid air wafting over her.

“If you need a tracker,” Roberto said, “I know a good man who will not cheat you. He is a Texan.”

“Would you contact him for me?” Peyton had asked. “Just in case?”

“Certainly, senora,” Roberto had agreed.

Peyton spied the tall, lanky man leaning against the hotel registration desk as soon as she and Snake stepped into the lobby. His pale eyes beneath the brim of a sweat-stained Stetson raked over her then leapt back to her face. He straightened up, swept off his hat and came toward her.

“Mrs. Harper?” he asked, rolling the hat between his calloused hands.

“Yes,” Peyton said. “Are you the gentleman Roberto recommended.

“I am,” the man replied and his gaze shifted to Snake. “How do, ma’am. I’m Jack Starnes.” He smiled slightly. “You don’t remember me, do you?”