Compromised Cowgirl (24 page)

“She’s lived with raging men. They don’t think before they hit,” said Frank quietly. “It may have been years ago, but Jessie’s been beaten by big, loud men. Whatever you did scared the hell out of her. It’s up to you to fix it.”

Ace picked up the coffee. He held it more as something to do with his hands than drink.

“One more thing, son,” said Frank. “Ross taught Jessie everything he could about using knives. When she gets over her fear, she’ll be coming after you. And you know what they say about a woman’s revenge.” Frank leaned back in the chair. “I was you, I’d find her and apologize. You’ve seen how quick she is with that gelding knife.” He put his feet on the desk and settled himself for a nap.

Ace winced and pressed his knees together. Frank held back a smirk at the reaction. If Jessie hadn’t gelded Finan Junior when he tried to rape her, Ace’s balls were safe. Not that he’d tell the boy.

Chapter Twenty-One

Jessie stumbled out of the jail, pulling the door closed behind her. She untied Trouble’s reins, grabbed the saddle horn with her right hand, and put her put her left foot in the stirrup. She was shaking so bad it took a couple of tries. She steadied herself then hopped, levering herself to mount. She leaned forward, ready to lift her right leg over the saddle. She stopped, weight on her left foot. She dismounted and rested her forehead against Trouble’s neck.

What the heck was she doing? Racing back to the Double Diamond because a man told her to? She agreed to marry Mr.—or was it Lord—Kenrick Langford, but he’d given her neither a ring nor a date. And she never did actually say
yes
.

What would she get out of this marriage? Her horse, for one. She reached up a hand and scratched Trouble between his ears. “You’re good, but you’re no Nightwind.” Trouble pulled off her hat and dropped it in the street so he could nibble her hair. She swooped her hat from the dirt, swatted Trouble with it on the shoulder, and squashed it back on her head.

Sex was second on her list. Ace, Sin, and Henry. Henry kept giving her looks to say one of these days he’d seduce her for hours before he’d let her come. Sin had an amazing tongue and fingers. A flush rushed up her chest and face. She liked it when he spanked her. It was nothing like a beating. That she would never allow. No, after he swatted her, he caressed her bottom, running his fingers between her cheeks and into her pussy. She clenched inside, thinking of how much she wanted more. Was this normal? His fingers felt so good in her bottom. Would his cock feel even better
?

She looked across the street to Miss Lily’s Parlor. She could always ask Lily. No, Lily was always dressed perfectly and acted as if she had everything under control. She, on the other hand, felt like she was never in control. Only on the back of a horse did she feel she knew what she was doing.

Beth and Amelia said she didn’t have to be a witch like Louisa, or get walked all over like Sunbird. They were both strong women who got what they wanted. Not all the time, but often enough to make their lives comfortable.

Jessie swallowed, hard. Dammit, she was whining! Standing in front of the jail with her horse, she was complaining about her life instead of doing something about it!

So, Ace wanted her to haul her butt back to the ranch? Too bad.

She looked up the street. What else could she do?

Ace might head to the mercantile after leaving the jail, so that was out. She knew her brothers didn’t want her to go past the banker’s fancy house. That left the hotel. Her stomach rumbled in agreement.

“Come on, Trouble. You’re going behind the hotel while I stuff my stomach full of pie.”

She tugged gently on the reins. Trouble followed her to the horse trough and drank deeply. She waved back at a small boy sitting in the shade of the huge house going up between the jail and the mercantile. Smythe’s house. The man who lost the Double Diamond to Ace in a card game. The one who might have had the Sinclairs killed. He wasn’t in town, but had he sent someone to watch their ranch?

When Trouble lifted his head she crossed the wide street, avoiding the fresh horse manure in the wide street. She checked for rattlers as she walked in the long, dry grass between the hotel and Nora Dawes’ home. She tied him in the shade behind the hotel and climbed the outside stairs. She might as well use the privy, and there was no way she’d use the one on the bottom. Imagine hearing something drop or whiz past on the other side of the boards, just inches behind your head?

She washed up and entered the hotel. She’d use the back stairs to the dining room in case Ace was in front. She grabbed the square newel post with her left hand and took a step down.

“Well, well. Jessie Elliott. Just the lass I was lookin’ fer.”

She froze, every hair on her body alert. She stepped back up to the landing and turned. Finan MacDougal, fists on hips, blocked the hallway. She braced, ready to run if he lifted his hand.

“Dinna fear, Jessie. I will nae hurt ye.”

“What are you doing here?”

He gave her a theatrical look of surprise that wouldn’t have fooled a child. “Do ye nae remember?”

“What are you doing in Tanner’s Ford?” she repeated, emphasizing each word.

“Why, lookin’ fer me wife, of course.”

“Good luck finding one. I hear Baldy’s got some women living behind his place who might do. Don’t invite me to the wedding.”

He laughed, deep and loud. She backed up a step, just in case. The only times she’d heard Fin laugh was when someone was hurt, or about to be. But this laugh was different. So was the rest of him. His red, bushy hair, beard, and moustache were trimmed. It made his eyes look less like a pig. He wore a clean black suit coat and pants. And his boots…

“Your boots are clean!”

“I told ye, Jessie. I’m here fer me wife. And ye’ll nae need an invitation to the weddin’.”

He pulled at his collar while he looked her over. She wore the same thing she’d put on the night before, when she stormed over to the MD Connected. That wasn’t a crime, but it was also the same clothes she’d worn since she’d changed out of her yellow dress a few hundred miles to the east. Trouble had munched on her hat, and her hair, many times since.

“Would ye like to sup with me?”

She choked, his startling question catching her halfway through a swallow.

“Fer auld times, and new,” he said. “I come all this way to see ye.”

She caught her breath while he waited. He knew better than to help her by patting her on the back. She wore only four knives today, but each was honed to perfection. There was also her pistol, something he lacked in his fancy suit.

“Why should I trust you? And how did you know I was here?”

He held his arms out, away from his sides. The hallway was extra wide, but his arms almost touched the walls. Though he was the shortest of the Elliott and MacDougal males at just under six feet, he was wide, red, and loud. And mean.

“Yer Aunt, Miss Jessamine Bonham, said ye took the Bride Train.” He pulled at his collar. “What did ye do with that yeller dress yer aunt nae approved of?”

“You went to
Virginia
?”

“Aye. Did ye think The MacDougal would have ye return all by yer lonesome?”

“I didn’t think he cared.”

“He cares about ye. So do I.” He gestured politely at the stairs. “At least a cuppa tea?”

Something was very wrong, but she couldn’t figure out what. The best way to find out was to listen to him talk. To be correct, that would mean listening to him boast. She was hungry, and if she could get him to pay, so much the better.

“Are you buying me dinner?”

He smiled. It wasn’t quite as revolting as she’d imagined.

“Aye.”

“Fine.” She nodded. “But you go down first.”

She caught the eye twitch that said he didn’t like it, but he tilted his head in a nod and stomped down the stairs. She waited for him to go down six steps before she followed. Once they reached the ground floor and there were other people around, she relaxed enough to hold her shoulders back.

They caused a stir as they entered the dining room. Fin looked a lot like Gillis but was five inches shorter. Many years under the Texan sky was not good for such white skin. Instead of four years older than Gillis, he looked ten. He also carried more weight, much of it around his belly. Since she hadn’t yet been in town, few would know her.

“Well, if it isn’t Jessie Elliott, all grown up,” said Doc. She’d met him when he came to examine the Sinclairs. He leaned back and looked at the man beside her. “And you have got to be a MacDougal.”

“Finan MacDougal, this is Doctor Henley.” Jessie wasn’t sure if she wanted the entire room to know who she was, and with whom, but it was too late now. Heat crept up her collar at the rumblings around the room.

“Your father and Sunbird are well?”

Fin nodded. “Would ye like te join us?”

“Would you mind, Jessie?”

“Please!”

It would give Fin someone to talk at while she ate. The distraction worked well. Fifteen minutes later she pushed back her plate with a sigh.

“Sure ye dinna want another piece of peach pie, sweetheart?”

Fin’s voice rolled over the room. Jessie shook her head in response, and then froze. Doc’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth.

“What did you say?” Jessie slid a knife into her palm.

He smiled with his mouth. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Is it nae right te call ye sweetheart? After all, ye are me fiancée.” He stood up as she gaped. He tapped his spoon against the crockery. “I’d like te announce that Miss Jessie Elliott has agreed to be my bride. I’d invite ye te the weddin’, but ’twill be held in
Texas
. Mayhaps ye’d like te join me fer a whiskey? I’ve got a few bottles in my rooms.”

The roaring in Jessie’s ears wasn’t all caused by the men in the room. She started when Fin’s big hands grabbed her out of her chair and lifted her high. He held her arms so she could not use her knife. She caught the gleam in his eye before his mouth descended. She used her knee on his belly instead. He winced but didn’t let her go.

“That’s a lie! Take your hands off me!” Her voice was too muffled by his chest to go far.

“Aw, sweetheart. No need to be shy.” The men nearby guffawed.

“Put her down, MacDougal.”

Fin looked at Doc, considering for a moment. He let Jessie go, but not before squeezing her arms so hard she’d be purple by night. Congratulations rang out all over the room. Fin, after one last warning look, swept out of the room. Those eager for free whiskey followed him up the back stairs.

“It’s not true!” she yelled. The men who heard her laughed as if it was a great joke.

“We’d better get you back to the Rocking E,” said Doc. “Shall we go out the back?”

Jessie nodded. She pressed her hands over her rebelling stomach. Doc escorted her outside. She took a breath of air, hoping it would work. She slapped her hand over her mouth as she ran into the privy.

“It’s me,” said Doc’s calm voice when she’d finished retching. She used the damp handkerchief he handed her.

“I am not ever going to speak to, much less marry that…that…”

“Disgusting mudsill blowhard? Four-flusher? Hard case?”

She nodded. “All of that, and more.” She blinked hard. “He followed me to
Virginia
, and then here. What does he want?”

“You.”

“But why?”

“I think you know the answer.”

She turned away. “He wants to hurt me. After I almost gelded him, he—”

“You what?” Doc laughed.

“It was Louisa’s wedding. He didn’t think I’d wear a knife with my dress. He…attacked me. I, well.” She shrugged. “I did what I had to.”

“Good for you. I wish more women would attack the men who try to hurt them.”

He smiled proudly at her. Tears leaked out. He pulled her into his arms. She rested her head on his chest.

“I’m sure I saw Trace and Beth in town,” said Doc. “Let’s go find them.”

She nodded agreement. Trace would keep her safe. Seeing Fin reminded her of how frightened she’d been. That night, and every moment after. Only when she got to
Virginia
did she relax. But she always, always, wore knives. They wanted to put her back into skirts. She wouldn’t be able to run, or ride, or fight. First Ace threatened her, then Fin. When would it end?

Chapter Twenty-Two

By the time Ace thought things through, Frank was snoring. He admired the way the older man could balance like that and sleep. Frank rested his feet on the desk with his chair at the right angle. The wall supported his head.

Frank was right. Something about Jessie made him lose control. If she was a man, he could respect her. She was smart, observant, a bloody hard worker and—he dropped his head back and sighed. And he wanted to make her scream his name as he pounded into her. Every bloody day and half the night.

Why did this cantankerous pixie with a mouth to match make him want to strangle, spank, and cherish her, all at once?