The Lawman (Montana Men Book 1) (2 page)

"Will I see you again?" I asked them, worried that I would be completely alone for the long term.

Both women nodded their heads, blonde and dark tresses stirring. "Of course! We're nearby, in Montana Territory standards. Once settled, we’ll send word to each other. All right?" Emily looked at both Caroline and me, resolute. She was the stalwart one of the three of us, sure in her thoughts.

"Yes," I replied, trying to be as positive as she.

"Of course," Caroline murmured, wiping a tear from her eye. I feared for her more than Emily in her new life, sensitive and quiet as she was.

Emily leaned forward. "I hope my husband is as appealing as yours." Her eyes gleamed with amusement and a hint of envy as she glanced briefly over my shoulder to look at Mr. Graves. "I have a good feeling about him, Eleanor," she whispered.

I had a feeling about him, too, and it felt akin to lust.

Mr. McCallister flicked the reins and the stage lurched forward. Mr. Graves stepped up and slammed the door shut, preventing the ladies from toppling out, even as he pulled me back from the path of the large wheels. My traveling companions waved from the window and I was soon left alone with my husband - my very large, very handsome husband. I slowly turned to face him. This time I noticed something I had missed before – an important detail that took me by surprise now that I stood facing with it. My eyes widened and I felt the frantic beat of my heart. Pinned to my new husband’s broad chest was a tin star. I was married to the town sheriff.

CHAPTER TWO

Ryder

When I'd stuck my head into the stage, not one beautiful woman, but three, stared back at me - a blond, a brunette and a fiery redhead. It was quite a variety of loveliness. Mrs. Bidwell had certainly outdone herself when she'd fulfilled the requirements for selecting brides for me, my friend Wyatt Blake and some lucky man further down the line.

I'd spent the past few months wondering about my new wife. I knew she was out there, somewhere, but I didn’t know her name or what she looked like. Mrs. Bidwell had had her work cut out for her. In the meantime, I fended off the perpetual advances of Myrna Flanders and her matchmaking mother. Women in the Montana Territory - marriageable, appealing and with the bent to handle my baser proclivities - were few and far between. Hell, there were none. If there'd been one, I'd have found her, or Wyatt in my stead. We'd had to be extremely vigilant; the chance of being caught in a compromising position and trapped into a marriage was easily done by a desperate female. With Myrna Flanders, it would only be a matter of time before she took extreme measures. Both Wyatt and I had similar requirement, but with no interest in being trapped, we'd had to seek elsewhere, thus, Mrs. Bidwell and her far-reaching assistance. We'd written a joint letter expressing our clear expectations, offering a sizable payment for meeting and even exceeding expectations.

From the look of the ladies – all stunning and clearly out of their element - Mrs. Bidwell had earned every penny. Word of Eleanor's arrival had traveled faster than she had, however not by much. I received notice of her name and her eminent arrival only three days past. But no word was shared as to her looks or demeanor, so I'd been imagining my new wife, forming a mental image of what she’d look like and what she'd do with me.
To me.

If I had to guess which of these women was my bride by first glances alone, I wouldn't have gone solely by their outward appearance, but at their eyes. The eyes said it all.

The blonde's showed fear, worry. The brunette's offered outward eagerness. The redhead's green eyes were banked with desire and a smoldering heat, visible even beneath the obvious nervousness. She was the one. I didn't want a scared wife that I had to coddle and reassure. I didn't want a wife too willing to please. I wanted – and needed - a woman who would awaken beneath my hand, whether it be by gentle persuasion or by stern punishment. There was no question that the beauty with the copper tresses was Eleanor Adams.

As she alighted from the stage I was able to take all of her in. She was petite, rising just to my shoulder. Her form beneath her blue dress was trim, yet lush with curves in all the right places and ample flesh to grip firmly during a good fucking. Her brazen hair was coming loose and curls tumbled down wild and untamed. Pale skin blushed to a pretty pink as she looked upon me; her every thought flickered across her face in a matter of moments: surprise, fear, nervousness, and even desire. I thought of her bottom and how it would change to a similar hue beneath my hand.

The other ladies had called her back to the stage to share their farewells, yet McCallister was anxious to move on. I'd barely had time to slam the door shut and yank Eleanor away before the stagecoach was off again. I didn't want my bride hurt before I'd done more than hold her hand.

"Are you all right?" I asked through clenched teeth, trying to keep my grasp on her gentle all the while wanting to punch McCallister in the nose for lack of consideration. A dead wife did me no good! She glanced up at me with her surprised green eyes. Her lashes and brows were a shade darker than her hair, bringing up thoughts about her hair in other decadent places.

Her full mouth was open slightly, her breath escaping in little pants, indicating her alarm at the rough and swift departure of the stage. "Yes." Her pink tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip and my cock hardened. "Thank you."

We were alone at the edge of town, the rustle of the wind over the tall prairie grass the only sound. Eleanor squinted slightly against the sun, her brow crinkling. I lifted my hand and placed my finger over the spot, her skin soft and warm. She was so small, delicate. Breakable even. "You look...worried."

Surprisingly, my protectiveness had asserted itself and I wanted to ensure that she was not only well, but happy. Safe.

She leaned back out of reach of my touch only slightly, and shook her head. "Oh, um...no." Breaking eye contact, she looked straight at my chest. "I'm nervous."

"I admit that I am as well." I smiled down at the top of her head, all riotous curls and color, although she could see my amusement most likely solely in her periphery. "It's not every day you meet your bride and discover how lovely she is." The words were true, and meant to coax and soften her. I didn't need her on edge or afraid. With what I had planned for her, especially now that I'd seen her and anticipated what kind of fire was deep within, I needed her receptive. Open.

Her head came up.

"You blush so prettily."

"You have me...at a...um...disadvantage."

I arched a brow. "How so?"

She glanced from side to side, taking in her surroundings before looking at me. "You're from here, know people, have friends. This is all new to me.
You're
new to me."

I picked up her small bag from the ground, never breaking her gaze. "Then I should remedy that. I'd like to take you home, if that's acceptable. What I have in mind will have us getting to know each other
very
well."

When she blushed even more, I knew she didn't miss my meaning. Some women would have run away screaming from such bold words, but Eleanor didn't. Instead of bursting into tears or demurring, she nodded, sending a red curl slipping down over her cheek. I was wholly surprised, yet immensely pleased. With my free hand, I tucked it back behind her ear, stroking her soft skin as I paused a moment, ensuring that I had myself in check. I had to stay in control and not let my cock take over. I couldn't toss her over my shoulder in my haste and carry her back to the house and give her a toss-the-skirts-up fucking. That would be for another day. For now, she needed the slow seduction and gentleness required for a virgin. Eleanor needed that and I needed to give it to her. As her husband it was my right, my privilege, to make her mine in the basest of ways.

I moved my hand to her elbow, leading her into town at a modest pace. August Point was small, only a few hundred residents, although large enough for the need for a sheriff and a jail. My house was conveniently close to the jail, which made my life easy and simple. I could return to work the family ranch south of town when my role as lawman was complete, whenever I chose that day to be, but I felt settled in the role, content to let my brothers handle the operation.

We made it to the house in only a few short minutes and I enjoyed the feel of her beside me, and the opportunity to glance down at her full breasts every step of the way. My thoughts consisted solely of the color of her nipples. Would they be fair like the rest of her, a sharp contrast to her striking hair? I guessed peaches and cream and imagined them to taste just as sweet.

Once she was within the private confines of our home, I'd find out. And she'd find out all about me, and what I wanted from her. I wouldn't just take her; I'd
possess
her.

Ellen

We didn't speak as we walked across town. Was Mr. Graves as lost for words as I or was he the contemplative sort? Fortunately for me, August Point’s small size made a lengthy conversation impossible. There wasn’t much of a distance between the stagecoach stop and his house. But maybe that was for the best. While there was much to ask my new husband, I didn't even know where to begin. How could I have found myself married to a lawman? The sun glinting off the star on his chest had me wincing, and not from the brightness in my eyes. What would happen to me if he found out what I'd done? Would he send me back? Put me in jail? No sheriff wanted to be married to a murderer! He was on one side of the law, and I, on the other. Even though it had been Allen who had assaulted me, I was the guilty party. The only person who knew the truth besides me was dead. I could feel the heavy weight of the rock once again in my palm. Feel the sharp edges digging into my skin. I gulped down the panic that rose in my chest. There was nothing I could do. I couldn't tell him; it was out of the question.

Lost in my own thoughts, I hadn't realized we'd stopped at the door of a small, modest house. Contained in one story, it had neat wood siding painted a bright white. Two windows flanked the front door. The house was set back from the main street, with no neighbors directly beside. Only tall grass billowed between one home and the next. I could only imagine the amounts of snow that the wind piled high in the winter without the protection of other buildings or even trees. Fortunately, I had a husband now to keep me warm - so long as he never learned the truth.

He opened the door and let me enter first, then took the hat from his head and placed it upon a peg by the door. The interior was clean and somewhat Spartan, perhaps because it was lacking a woman's touch. A bachelor sheriff did not require any kind of ornament or frills. There was a main living area and kitchen with a stove and pump sink beneath one window, with a large stone fireplace flanking the entire side wall. A thick rug covered part of the wood floor. There was ample, comfortable seating.  A rifle was perched upon two posts above the mantel, reminding me that we were civilized people encroaching on the wilds of untamed land. I shivered at the thought.

A warm hand fell upon my shoulder. "Cold?"

Mr. Graves' warm breath caressed my nape, raising goose flesh across my skin. I shook my head, as I wasn't the least bit chilled. Quite the contrary, in fact. I felt more for this man, this
stranger,
than I did over the weeks of courting for Allen Simmons. Just being alone with Mr. Graves in such close proximity had me overheated. There were no chaperones, no one to question any of our actions. We were married and legally allowed. All other thoughts vanished. His fingers ran up and down my neck as he spoke. "I have a bath ready for you."

I spun around at his words. A bath! It sounded like heaven on earth, but I hadn't seen a tub.

He must have seen the confusion on my face. "In the bedroom." He angled his chin toward the closed door along the back wall. "Mrs. Samuels is a woman in town who comes and cleans and cooks for me. She knew you were coming on the stage and prepared a bath. The water should still be hot."

I moved in that direction and opened the door. A large brass bed covered with a dark quilt filled the space. Mr. Graves was a big man and needed a bed of such size. Beside it was indeed a hip bath tub filled with steaming water. "Oh," I murmured longingly. I hadn't seen a bath in weeks; the journey only offered brisk bathing by basin and washcloth.

Mr. Graves nudged my back, moving me further into the room, closed the door firmly behind us. "Come, let's get you undressed."

I froze in place at his words. His intention was to stay and to help? Oh dear lord! I'd never been alone with a man unrelated to me before, let alone naked. I wasn't adverse to the idea of the...things that happened between a man and his wife, I just didn't know
exactly
what it entailed. The general idea was familiar to me, but I wasn't naive enough to know there was so much more than what I knew.

Taking my lack of movement as invitation, he came around and slowly undid the buttons down the front of my blue dress. The garment wasn't filthy, however it was travel worn and definitely dusty.
I
was dusty. His knuckles brushed the sensitive upper swells of my breasts as he went and I sucked in a breath, surprised by the tingle upon my skin in the wake of his touch. When the last button was undone, he glanced up at me through his sandy colored lashes. His gaze held equal parts question and interest. There was no doubt he wished to continue, but was pausing long enough to gauge my reactions.

When I gave the slightest of nods, he raised his hands to my shoulders, sliding wide so the fabric slipped down my arms to pool at my wrists. He worked one sleeve, then the other, free. He was ever so patient, taking his time as if unwrapping a Christmas present. Once done, the dress slipped over my hips, down my thighs to pool at my feet. My corset and drawers were all that remained.

"Undo your corset, wife. Slowly. Show me what's mine," he said, his voice dark, his gaze intense as he stepped back to watch. At this moment, I was his whole world.