Montana Men Complete Boxed Set: Books 1 - 3 E-Book

Vale Vanessa

• Herausgeber: Vanessa Vale
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

The ultimate boxed set! All 3 historical westerns in one!

Included:

The Lawman -

I’m considered the most eligible bachelor in the Montana Territory.

That might seem like a good thing, but pearl-clutching mothers are eager to match me to their mild and meek daughters.None are who I want, so I send for a mail order bride.When she arrives, she meets all of my expectations. Wild and passionate. Headstrong and defiant, a complement to my role as lawman.

But my new wife is not all she seems.When I learn the truth, will my need for justice make her face the consequences of her past?

--

The Cowboy-

I’m a simple man. A cowboy.It’s time to find a wife. A wife who can meet all of my more carnal needs. No one in my small town will do.

My only option: A mail order bride.When she arrives by stage, I know she’s the perfect match in every way.But when I get her beneath me, I discover she has more knowledge in the ways of men and women than the typical virgin. She has a dark secret.Will our new marriage survive when I learn the truth?

--

The Outlaw-

A mail order bride is coming to town. To marry a ruthless man. I won't have her stuck in a cruel marriage. The only way to save her? Kidnap her from the stage prior to her arrival.

One look at the woman and my possessiveness is instant. I'm keeping her for myself. She'll be my bride and no one else's.

Between the two of them though, he's not the only thief.

The little outlaw didn't just steal his heart. Her other crime will catch up with her. With both of them. Will their love survive when revenge could destroy it all?

The ultimate cowboy experience! This steamy historical series has it all, including alpha, dominant and handsome heroes!



 

Leseprobe

MONTANA MEN BOXED SET

BOOKS 1 - 3

VANESSA VALE

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Montana Men Boxed Set

Copyright © 2015 by Vanessa Vale

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author's imagination and used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from both authors, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover design: Bridger Media

Cover graphic: Deposit Photos: GeraKTV; naum100

CONTENTS

The Lawman

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

The Cowboy

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

The Outlaw

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Note From Vanessa

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Also By Vanessa Vale

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THE LAWMAN

MONTANA MEN - BOOK 1

1

ELLEN

I was to be first. First out of the ridiculous sanctuary of this bumpy, stuffy, uncomfortable stage coach and into the keeping of a complete stranger. Until death do us part. We had endured the arduous ride from Ft. Mandan - Caroline, Emily and myself - and had become close friends, commiserators of sorts to our fears of our identical life changing decisions to become mail order brides.

"Just think, if we hadn't gone to Mrs. Bidwell's office, we never would have met," Caroline said in her soft lilt. She matched her voice: petite and shy.

Emily smiled, although clearly forced, and grasped her hand. "I couldn't agree more." She turned and shared her somewhat reassuring smile with me. "Although now that we're almost to August Point, I fear for you, Eleanor."

My stomach leapt toward my throat, not from another rut in the hard packed ground, but from the thought that soon, only minutes from now, I'd meet my husband. All three of us had wed by proxy in Mrs. Bidwell's office in Minneapolis to men in the far off Montana territory. Men who had written to the older woman whose business was to find single, eligible and willing women to move west and marry complete strangers.I had no doubt finding women--unmarried and of childbearing age--in a wild and untamed land was a veritable impossibility. My new husband might be desperate, but not such as I.

Fleeing town wasn't a simple fancy of mine. Being questioned for murder--even if I was innocent--had me seeking the easiest avenue of escape. It had been self-defense; Allen Simmons had been intent on raping me. Coshing him on the head with a rock had only been to stop his assault, not kill him. Of course, his rich, socialite family would paint their son the victim, not me. There was no question the police offered their name substantial clout. I had none. I was just a plain woman he'd met at church and decided to court. Then one day, he'd decided that courting wasn't enough. He'd wanted more. Much more than I'd been willing to give. I had no recourse, no way to save myself other than to flee before they found me and pinned his death on me.

Remembering a posting for mail order brides I'd seen once in the wanted section of the newspaper, I'd taken bold and furtive steps to Mrs. Bidwell's office as my means of escape. I had no choice, no alternative but to leave Minneapolis, to run as far away from the Simmons family as I could get. With little means, I could only get so far on my own. Being a mail order bride offered me the distance and the safety of obscurity. I invented a new name, Eleanor Adams, instead of my real name, Ellen Oldsmere, to prevent being followed, to keep my travels across the country hidden from anyone wishing to follow. In the small confines of Mrs. Bidwell's office, petrified of being found, I'd met Caroline and Emily straightaway. Quickly matched to eager men, we were wed by proxy and before the ink was dry on the licenses, we were on our way to the West and new lands, new lives and new husbands.

I'd found myself looking over my shoulder the entire journey, fearful of being followed. Even as the distance grew, I remained wary and guarded about being hauled back to Minneapolis in handcuffs. It wasn't until the stage driver yelled out that August Point was five minutes away that reality set in. I wasn't just escaping the Simmons family, I was meeting my husband.

"Fear for me?" I hadn't told the others of my illicit reasons for becoming a mail order bride; it was something to which I could never speak. "You are in a similar predicament, Emily, meeting a perfect stranger." The woman was lush and curvy with thick dark hair and equally dark eyes. She was quite beautiful and if her new husband based Mrs. Bidwell's efforts on visage alone, the man would find her matchmaking skills exceptional. "I have both of you to send me off. To see the man to whom I am matched. You have Caroline, and of course Caroline will be quite alone."

I was to disembark at August Point, Emily at the next stop on the line in Lewistown and Caroline a little further in Apex. We only knew our husband's names and destination.

Mine was engraved upon my mind. Ryder Graves. August Point.

I turned my gaze from my nervous-for-me friends and glanced out the open flap which let in the fresh air, yet an equally fair amount of dust. The land was verdant and green, the tall grass blowing in soft waves against the summer breeze. The sky was blue, dotted with fluffy clouds. Nothing unusual for a beautiful day. What was unusual was that the sky went on forever. The vastness of it was impressive, so big, so...open. Urban life did not lend itself to any form of scenery. The few times I ventured into the country, trees abounded and blocked any kind of view. Here, only a few trees were to be seen and they hugged the banks of a river or creek, wise in their placement besides the constant nourishment.

Was I as smart as a rogue tree? My ridiculous comparison had me shaking my head, returning to reality. Was I venturing into an unknown that was worse than my options in Minneapolis? Could being married to a stranger in a strange land be worse than a Minneapolis brothel? Unfortunately, the answer was a definite yes.

What was Mr. Ryder Graves like? Was he handsome? Kind? Successful? For all I knew of the man, he was a lush with seven children. Perhaps he would beat me. Perhaps he smelled.

"August Point!" the stage driver shouted, his voice irascible and abrupt. He didn't care about our fates, only the end of the line where he'd rest, get fresh horses, then make a return trip.

The pounding of the horses' hooves matched the frantic beating of my heart. My palms became damp and sweat dotted my brow. What had I chosen for myself? Panic set in, making it difficult to breathe. There was no escape. There was literally nowhere to go but into my destiny.

I darted a glance at the other two women trying to wear a brave face--their own turns soon followed and didn't want them to become upset. We all leaned forward to look out the window to view our first glimpse of the town. And my husband. No doubt our three heads poking out was a sight to see!

The town that came into view was small. Tiny, really. Only a long row of clapboard buildings with a church steeple in the distance. Houses dotted the horizon. Several people were going about their day, shopping and working, but only one stood in front of the stopped stage.

Oh my. I swallowed down my nervousness as best I could. This had to be Mr. Graves. Who else would be waiting?

"That's...him?" Caroline whispered, eyes wide. "He's so, um, big!"

"He's not sixty, Eleanor. That was one of your worries," Emily replied, speaking in quiet tones.

Most definitely not. Thirty, perhaps. I started at his dusty, work worn boots and worked my way up his very male body. His legs were long and lean, thigh muscles thick and taut beneath snug pants. Narrow waist. White shirt with the sleeves rolled up showed tanned, corded forearms sprinkled with sandy colored hair. Big hands. Oh my.

His shoulders were so wide, the man would loom over me like a veritable giant! His face was hidden in shadow beneath a wide brimmed hat, but I could see a square jaw, darkened by a new growth of whiskers. His hair curled from beneath the hat to touch the collar of his shirt. Just looking at the man had my heart beating fast once again, and this time not in nervousness. Many of my wonderings over the hard packed miles about my new husband were instantly wiped away, like a wet cloth on a school slate. He didn't have a paunch, nor jowls. He wasn't shorter than I. He appeared to have his hair and most likely his teeth as well. He wasn't elderly, and no children were clinging to him.

What he was was very handsome. Bigger than men in Minneapolis, clearly hard working, weather worn and he somehow met every visceral need my body sought in a husband. Nothing like Allen Simmons. My body responded to the mere sight of him with familiar stirrings I felt and encouraged alone in bed when my fingers played with the secret spot between my thighs. I was attracted to him in a way I'd never felt with a man before--and I hadn't even seen his eyes!

Before the three of us could ogle further, he stepped up and opened the stage door, the remainder of the kicked up dust settling at his feet. He removed his hat. Leaning his head in, he took in the three of us in turn. "Miss Adams?"

Oh my. His eyes were the lightest shade of blue, like ice on a Minnesota pond. His hair was a light brown with hints of gold, as if burnished by the sun. I wondered if it would feel as silky soft as it looked.

My mouth was so dry at the sight of him I couldn't speak at first, even forgot what my new name was. Eleanor. I was Eleanor now. I shifted forward on the hard wood seat just as Caroline and Emily each grabbed one of my arms and pushed me forward. I stumbled a bit awkwardly and blurted, "Yes." I cleared my throat. "Mr. Graves, I presume?"

He grinned showing straight white teeth as he looked me over, just as I had him. I couldn't be making an exceptional first impression; I was travel weary and dusty. My hair was twisted up only as securely as the pins that bound it. The jarring of the stage for hours on end had tendrils escaping and falling down over my shoulders. I felt weary and I knew I looked just so.

"Yes, ma'am. Let me help you down. McCallister is stopping only long enough to get your bag before continuing on. Ladies," he said the last as he nodded to Emily and Caroline in greeting. Clearly he was familiar with the stage driver to call him by his given name.

I took his proffered hand, mine so small and dainty in his large one. I could feel callouses on his palm, yet his skin was warm and his hold gentle. I looked up into his eyes and my breath caught in my throat. He was...virile. Something dark flared in his eyes and it had my nipples hardening beneath my corset. I wished I could peer into his mind at this moment to know his thoughts. Were they as carnal as mine?

I alighted the stage to bright sunshine and fresh air. Mr. Graves was much taller than I; I had to tilt my head back to hold his gaze. Without the protection of his hat, I could look my fill. He had a striking brow, making his fair eyes even more intense. His nose had a slight crook in the bridge as if broken at some earlier juncture. His mouth was full and the smile he shared with me was warm and, dare I say, friendly?

"Eleanor!" Caroline called out from behind me.

My eyes widened as I realized how quickly I'd forgotten about the two other women. "Oh, I must say goodbye to my friends."

Mr. Graves released his hold on my hand and I turned back to the stage. Mr. McCallister handed my bag to Mr. Graves--it was all of the meager possessions I had from my hasty departure--and remounted the front to continue on to the next stop.

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

Both women nodded their heads, blond and dark tresses stirring. "Of course! We're nearby, in Montana Territory standards. Once settled, send word to each other. All right?" Emily looked at both Caroline and myself, 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 all the while pulling me back from the path of the large wheels. They 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. How that happened was quite surprising as now that I was face to face with it, it was blatant and obvious. My eyes widened and I felt the frantic beat of my heart. Pinned to his broad chest was a tin star. I was married to the town sheriff.

2

RYDER

When I'd stuck my head into the stage, not one beautiful woman, but three, stared back at me. A blond, brunette and fiery redhead; quite a variety of loveliness. Mrs. Bidwell had certainly outdone herself when she'd fulfilled the requirements for selecting brides for myself, 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, however not her name nor 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 of us had similar requirements--and no interest in being trapped--and 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--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 imminency 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 looked 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 look solely at their outward appearance to sway my decision, but at her eyes. Her eyes said it all.

The blond's showed fear, worry. The brunette's offered outward eagerness. The redhead's green eyes were banked with desire, 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 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 solely to my shoulder. Her form was trim, yet lush with curves in all the right places beneath her simple blue dress. Ample flesh to grip firmly, to hold onto and keep in place for 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 slam the door shut and yank Eleanor away before her being run over. 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, alarmed by 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, shook her head. "Oh, um...no." Breaking eye contact, she looked straight at my chest. "I'm nervous."

"I admit, 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 being missish, she nodded, 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 fuck her. Just toss-the-skirts-up fucking. That would be for another day. For now, she needed slow seduction and gentleness required for a virgin. Eleanor needed that and I needed to give it to her. As her husband--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 ability 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.

3

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 was small enough where a lengthy conversation was impossible. There was much to ask my new husband, however 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 betrothed to a murderer! He was on one side of the law, and I, the other. Even though it had been Allen that 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. 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. One story, it had neat wood siding painted a bright white, two windows flanked the front door. It 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--as 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 frill. This was the main living area and kitchen with a stove and pump sink beneath one window, a large stone fireplace flanking the entire side wall. A thick rug covered part of the wood floor with 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 having a man such as Mr. Graves so close and we were alone had me overheated. 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, a woman in town who comes and cleans and cooks for me, knew you were coming on the stage and prepared a bath. The water should still be hot."

I moved in that direction, opened the door. A brass bed, large and 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. 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 his wake. 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, his hands lifted 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 undergarments remained; corset and drawers.

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

I should have been appalled at his choice of words. Show me what's mine. But I wasn't. Quite the opposite. My skin heated even more, as if I were already in the tub. My stomach flipped, nerves tangling with arousal. His words enflamed me, made me feel like I belonged. That I really was his. My lips parted, my ragged breath escaping in little pants, the top swells of my breasts rising and falling in time.

There was no reason to resist, no possible diversion for hesitancy. He was my husband. It was his right. A powerful thought came to me. It was my right to show him my body. I could offer it to him freely, without repercussion. I no longer needed to protect my virtue. It belonged to him and I was going to give it to him freely. My nervous fingers moved of their own accord to the top clasp of my corset, his eyes riveted to my actions. Undoing one stay, then the next, his jaw clenched tight, a ruddy flush came to his cheeks. With each bit of corset I released with the slowest of motions, the air between us heated even more, crackled with energy like just before a lightning strike.

Finally, finally, it was undone and I let the garment fall to land upon my dress. As if he couldn't resist a moment longer, he raised his hand to my breast, one blunt finger brushed over the turgid tip. I gasped at the illicit touch, my head falling back, eyes closing.

"More, Ellie. Take off the rest." His hand fell away and I felt bereft.

My name had never been shortened, never taking a fancy to be called Ellie before. Until now. The sound was more endearment than nickname. Fortunately, I'd chosen a false name that shortened in a similar fashion. When he called me Ellie, I felt like myself, not an interloper. I stood solely in my drawers. Face heating at the thought of Mr. Graves seeing my breasts, I kept my gaze averted as I undid the drawstring, then let the only remaining covering join the pile at my feet.

"Oh, Ellie," Mr. Graves murmured, just before his head lowered for his mouth to close over one nipple.

I almost fell backward with my surprise, having not expected his action. One arm wrapped around my waist, holding me in place as his raspy tongue licked, just before he sucked. Hard. I cried out at the intensity of the pleasure coming from just my nipple. I had no idea such intense pleasure could be found there. And with his tongue, no less! Mr. Graves growled in the back of his throat just before releasing me.

"Into the tub with you." His voice was rough like tumbled rocks, his jaw clenched. If I hadn't heard the pleasure in his voice at the sight of my nakedness, I'd think he was angry with me.

I carefully climbed into the tub, the water hot. It was my turn to make sounds of pleasure, although I was just pleased to be enveloped in such warmth. Submerged to my neck, I felt covered, however the bath water did nothing to hide my body from his view. But in this moment, reveling in the feel of the scented bath water, I would never take for granted the idea of getting clean, completely so, ever again.

Mr. Graves knelt beside the tub, cloth in one hand, a white block of soap in the other. "Let's get you washed because I want to make you all dirty again."

Instead of the look of hard intensity there moments before, now I saw...desire.

"Mr. Graves, I--"

"Ryder. My name is Ryder." He lathered the soap onto the cloth, then started to wash me, my shoulders, then lower to my breasts, cleaning me with a little more thoroughness than perhaps necessary. But I wasn't complaining. The feel of the cloth was so sensitive, the scent of the soap citrusy and fresh. "Considering the things I plan to do to you, I think we can eliminate formalities."

What did he plan to do to me? I could only imagine what he had in mind.

"I have many plans," he replied, and I realized I'd asked the question aloud. "For today, I plan on learning every inch of your body, discovering what makes you whimper, what makes you scream. By then, I won't have to take your maidenhead, Ellie. You'll be begging to give it to me." His hand at this point had moved between my thighs, the cloth sliding over every fold, again and again. I lifted my hips, arching into his ministrations. It felt so good! Sadly, he stopped, shifted around the tub to kneel at the very back and washed my hair, his long fingers working the tangles free of my long tresses, massaging my scalp.

The water heated, or perhaps it was my skin, but it was becoming too much. I relaxed my muscles and reveled in his touch.

"Oh no," he murmured, tugging me up none too gently beneath my arms to pull me to my feet. "We can't have you drown." Grabbing a towel, he dried me, ever so slowly, being thorough to get the most water from my long hair. "Peaches and cream," he murmured.

My mind felt like it was lost in a fog, my thoughts unclear, muddled, my focus solely on Mr. Graves--Ryder. His words, his hands. I didn't even mind that I was unclothed while he was still fully dressed. "What?"

"Your skin. It's like peaches and cream. Let's see if you taste the same."

The room spun as I found myself on my back, the cool yet soft quilt beneath, the hard body of Ryder above me. His head lowered to my breast once again, licking, swirling, sucking. His mouth was doing wicked things that had me arching my back, threading my fingers through his hair. Was I holding him in place or pushing him away? The feelings he brought about were so intense they made me burn. How did his mouth upon my nipple make the place between my thighs tingle, pulse even? Whatever he was doing, I didn't want him to stop.

Moving his head from one nipple to the other, he persisted. His hand came up to mold, shape the breast being neglected, and he took the tip between his finger and thumb, tugging it. When he gave it a slight pinch, I cried out.

He lifted his head, looked down at me. One sandy lock fell over his forehead to add to his rogue-like, wicked look. Grinned. "Like that, do you?"

Like it? I couldn't describe how I felt about it, so I could only nod. He winked at me and did it again, giving the nipple a strong tug, then a sharp pinch.

My head fell back, eyes closing. I was surprised my damp hair didn't steam from the heat that surrounded us.

"My wife likes it a little rough," he murmured, his hot breath fanning my skin.

I didn't like it, I loved it. Why did I like it from the very first hint of rough with Ryder and when Allen had touched me--

Ryder lifted his head, gazed up at me with his light eyes. "Where'd you go, baby?"

I stiffened in his hold as the thoughts of how Allen had touched me came flooding back. He hadn't gotten me naked, only ripped the bodice of my dress a little. His hands had roamed over my body, fondling my breasts. One hand had been sliding up my calf, but hitting him had stopped that and whatever else he'd planned.

"Sorry, I...you frightened me for a moment." I licked my lips, suddenly dry.

He moved his head from side to side very, very slowly. "Being a little frightened is good. Makes you anticipate what might come next. But remember this, I will never hurt you." His gaze became as serious as his words. "Do you believe me?"

"I barely know you." I looked down at him, the soft mounds of my breasts framing his face.

"Then let me prove it to you." He grinned wickedly, shifted back on the bed as he rained kisses down my belly, lower and lower as his large hands pushed my thighs wide. "Right now." His breath fanned over my woman's core, his fingers slipping through my curls that hid it. "I wondered the color here." He gave my hairs a little tug, and with it came a slight hint of pain.

"Ryder, I've never--" My fingers tangled in his hair once again.

"I know, baby, and that makes me very happy." His tongue darted out, licked at the spot that I'd played with, alone and in the cover of darkness. Right now he could see me there, see it all. The feelings I'd felt when I'd touched myself back in Minneapolis had been wonderful, luring me to do it again and again, night after night as if addicted, but this.... This was something else entirely. "I love that the first place I'm kissing you is your pussy."

My...?

As Ryder settled in--and that's what he did, placing his broad shoulders against my thighs keeping me wide open--he put his mouth on me in wicked, scandalous ways I'd never dreamed. His mouth! All the while, he murmured to me. So beautiful. You taste so sweet. I love seeing you spread so wide. You're almost there, aren't you? Come for me.

I was lost, completely and totally lost. I wasn't nervous; he didn't give me another chance to feel that way. His mouth was getting me to that familiar brink so quickly, yet when he slipped a finger inside me, I went right over the edge, like hurtling off a cliff. Soaring, flying like a bird, before tumbling back to earth. I came. I didn't know that was the word for it, but it happened. So hard, my inner muscles clenched down on his finger greedily. I cried out his name, my hips shifting, lifting trying to eek out every last bit of pleasure he wrought.

He continued to lick, to work his finger within me until the last tremors left my body. Then, and only then, did he lift himself up. I couldn't move, my body felt as if it were boneless, as if I'd melted into the bed.

Levering over me, he kissed me, his tongue prodding my mouth to open. This wasn't a simple peck on the lips, but an outright assault on my senses. His lips were demanding, his tongue plundering and taking. I had no doubt this was the way it would be with him, using me to get what he wanted, all the while giving me exactly what I needed. I might have come, but I wasn't done. I wasn't the least bit sated; he'd ensured that. I tasted myself on him, surprised by the blatant carnality of the action. It seemed there would be nothing between us. This would not be a marriage of fumbling beneath the covers.

"See? So sweet." His hand brushed a wayward curl from my face, then skimmed over my heated flesh and back between my thighs, slipping not one, but two fingers within me. I arched up to meet him, my head pressing into the pillow. "You're so wet. Dripping."

I blinked. "Is that...is that a good thing?"

"Oh baby, it's your body telling me it's ready. My cock is going to slide right in." He was still dressed, his clothing rough and abraded my sensitized skin. Pressing deeper, he worked my swollen tissues with expert precision. "I can feel it, baby. Your maidenhead. Right there. Are you ready to give it to me?" His lips pressed into a very sensitive spot behind my ear.

I nodded, his nose nuzzling against my nape as I did so.

He sat back on his haunches, his knees between my thighs. Quickly, he tugged off his vest, freed the shirt from his pants, undid the buttons, tossed it to the floor.

Oh my. His chest was muscular and broad, a smattering of hair looked soft to the touch and tapered into a thin line trailing down to his pants. Climbing off the bed, he stood, undid his belt and removed his pants. Before I had an opportunity to glimpse his naked form, he was back between my thighs, propped on his forearm by my head. I glanced down his tanned body. His other hand was holding his...cock in a firm grip, sliding up and down. "I know I said I'd never hurt you. But this might hurt, but there's no way to avoid it. Remember, I'll take you later, but right now you're giving yourself to me."

He guided himself to my entrance as I thought about his words. I was too muddled to understand the difference. When I felt him slip inside, stretching me wide, I stopped thinking all together, just felt him opening me up.

I started breathing hard as I adjusted to him, pushing my hands against his unmoving shoulders. I could feel the springy hairs on his legs tickling my thighs. "Ryder, you're too big. It's too much."

Inch by inch he filled me, slowly, but I couldn't accustom myself fast enough. Shifting my hips, I tried to accommodate all of him, but he was so large!

"I'll fit, baby. You were made for me. I can feel your maidenhead." He nudged forward ever so slightly. Our breaths mingled. His scent was strong, pine and outdoors. He was watching me, his light eyes intent on my face. Sweat dotted his brow, his arms rigid and tight with solid muscle, holding himself aloft. We touched only in the most intimate of places. He was being patient. I could tell his restraint was costing him, allowing me time to accept him. "All right?"

"Yes," I said, my voice a hoarse whisper. I felt full, consumed by him.

"Lift up your hips. Give over, baby."

I took a deep breath, my hard nipples rising on the inhale to brush against his chest. I felt it all the way to my toes. Doing as he bid, I lifted my hips off the bed and he pushed forward, thrusting deep in a quick rush.

My head arched back at the exquisite fullness, the stretching, the openness and the burning of being claimed. For this is what it was. A claiming. I was Ryder's and there was no way I could ever forget.

He kissed my cheek, my closed lids. "There now. Was it so bad?"

"No," I breathed. "It didn't hurt, just...uncomfortable." I relaxed my clenched muscles, finally acclimating to his possession.

Once I did, he pulled out a small amount, easing the fullness, but slid home once again. I felt my body relax even more as he rubbed against some place, some secret spot hidden behind my maidenhead. It was even better than when I touched myself, the intensity of the pleasure. Touching myself alone would never be enough now that I knew there was more. So much more.

He moved again. I moaned.

Again. I clenched my knees about his hips.

Once more. I dug my fingernails into his shoulders.

"Ryder, please!" I begged. Exactly for what, I didn't know, only that he alone could give it to me.

Gone was the slow, gentle touch. In its place was a man who was overcome with his baser needs. Pulling almost completely out, just my lips parting and clinging to him, he rammed home. Over and over. His head lowered to my breast, his tongue flicking and tugging on my nipple. All at once I came, my inner walls clamped down on his probing cock, wringing as much pleasure from him filling me as I could. I screamed and dug my heels into the backs of his thighs, lost, overwhelmed. Turned inside out.

With one deep thrust, Ryder buried himself deep within me, body rigid. He practically growled his pleasure as I felt him pulse again and again, filling me hotly with his seed. Lowering himself to one forearm, he kissed my damp brow, ran his hand over it to brush away my damp curls. Instead of pulling free as I'd expected, he rolled us so I lay atop him, still joined.

4

RYDER

I fell into a sex induced sleep, waking to a very pliant, very sated woman sprawled atop me. My cock had slipped from her body, but quickly turned hard once again feeling her breasts pressed against me. They were full and plump and her nipples were incredible. A soft pink, they tightened at the slightest touch or look and were very responsive. Sensitive. Ellie's skin was so soft, silky even. Her porcelain complexion was a strong contrast to my tanned, weather and work worn skin, making her appear even more feminine, even more fragile than I'd first figured.

Ellie. She wasn't an Eleanor. The name was too prim for my passionate bride. Ellie suited her much better.

Dark red hair fell in a thick curtain over my chest, a vivid hue that seemed almost unnatural. Everything about her was unreal. A fantasy. A fantasy that had come to life. She was my wife, she was here, naked, upon me. She'd given herself to me, although I wouldn't have offered her much choice if she'd resisted. The point was, she hadn't resisted. She was as fiery as her hair.

I had to have her again. Now. Shifting her spread legs so she straddled me, I moved her until my cock nudged at her slick entrance. My seed still coated her there, making it easy to push her down upon me and fill her.

She came awake at that, her head coming up, her eyes wide with sleepy surprise.

I just laid there, savoring the pleasure of just being surrounded by her slick heat. I'd have to move, but not yet. "Ride me, baby."

Frowning in confusion, her smooth brow crinkled. Having no idea what I meant, I showed her instead. With my hands spanning her hips, I gripped firmly, lifting her up and almost completely off my cock, then back down. Her eyes widened and she bit her lip against a moan.

I tilted my chin in her direction; my hands were occupied. "Sit up and ride me. Show me your gorgeous body."

Moving one hand to her shoulder, I helped her rise, watched as awareness spread across her face as she could feel me embedded so deeply. "Oh."

She shifted her hips, trying to settle on my cock. I was big, no question about it. A virgin like Ellie would be untried at handling me. I gritted my teeth at her innocent moves; she was all but killing me. I longed to thrust up into her, over and over until I came, filling her once again. But this was going to be about her body's awakening. I wanted to watch her pleasure take over. Learn what made her hot.

Placing her delicate fingers on my chest, she ran them through the crisp hair there, over my nipples and I swear I grew even harder. "Move, baby," I growled.

Tentatively, she raised up on her knees, lowered back down. I watched, mesmerized by my cock disappearing into her body, her pussy lips opening wide to take me in. Her head fell back, her eyes closed, lost in her motions. Furled nipples begged to be touched so I moved my hands to cup her breasts, run the pads of my thumbs over them.

Crying out, she started to move faster, but I could tell she was tiring quickly, her body's unsure motions not getting her there. Licking my thumb, I reached between our bodies and found her hard clit, poking out and ready for my attentions. Moving in slow circles, I rubbed her off in a contretemps to the rise and fall of her hips. Her eyes flared open and she stared at me, widening in surprise as I felt her pussy clamp down, pulsing with her orgasm. I held her gaze, watched as she came. Her pupils dilated so the green was almost completely gone, a hot, red flush spread down her neck and over her breasts.

I couldn't hold back my seed any longer. She was squeezing my cock in a tight grip. I was lost, the pleasure starting at the base of my spine, tightening my balls and shooting forth in pulse after pulse of my seed. There was no doubt that I'd marked her as mine.

I was catching my breath, holding Ellie's body close to me once again when someone pounded on the door. Ellie stiffened, her head whipping up and toward the sound. Fear and panic crossed her face and I could see it wasn't from being caught at the tail end of a good fucking. I had all the time in the world to learn what made her tick, but now didn't appear to be the time to start. Was she just modest or was there more?

Whomever was at the door had better be dying or having a baby because slipping free from Ellie's very hot, very wet pussy was the last thing I wanted to do. Sighing, I slid her onto the bed beside me. I was able to sit up and grab my clothes from where I'd hastily thrown them. "Sorry, baby. Duty calls."

She watched me sleepily as I buttoned my shirt, her eyes focused on my sheriff's star. "It's all right. I understand." Her voice was raspy from her screams of pleasure.

"Rest. The journey was long and I've certainly used you hard. If I'm not back when you wake, come down to the jail. You remember seeing it?"

She nodded as the pounding started again. "Sheriff!" Murphy called out. An old and trustworthy friend, I deputized him to help with keeping the peace. Something must require my attention with Baxter, the man being held in the single jail cell awaiting the circuit judge and the gallows for murder. The man wasn't going anywhere until at least Tuesday, but he was no doubt going to be a pain in my ass until then.

Only a sheriff would be interrupted from fucking his new bride. I'd had her twice, but that wasn't nearly enough. The last thing I wanted to do was leave her. Naked. I bit back a curse and leaned down to kiss her brow. If I kissed her anywhere else I'd never get to the door.

"Go," she told me, her voice soft. "I'll be fine." I took one last look at her lush body before I turned and left, cursing under my breath the whole way.

5

ELLEN

I awoke disoriented and confused, not knowing where I was. The room was unfamiliar and I was naked. At that thought, it all came back, every caress, every lick, every thrust. My body felt loose, relaxed and achy. Sore in places I never imagined. But I felt...good. Very good.

The sun had shifted in the sky, the soft light through the window the only indication to the time of day. I listened to the quiet; Ryder had not returned. How long had I slept? I felt exposed being naked in a strange place without Ryder, so I found and donned a clean dress from my bag he'd left by the door. Mrs. Bidwell had given each of us--Caroline, Emily and myself--small packages to give to our prospective husbands. Unopened, the package was travel worn and a mystery to me. I placed it on the table for Ryder upon his return. Standing at the mirror on the wall above an ewer of water and a basin, I freshened up, using a cloth to wipe the sticky essence between my thighs, noting the tinge of blood, tidied my hair and pulled it back into a simple bun.

Venturing out of the house, I took in my new surroundings. Vast prairie land, tall, waving grass, big, vast sky. Quiet. No gas lamps, no loud clomping of horses' hooves on cobblestone streets. No people. It was desolate in the most beautiful of ways. The air was a touch cooler than earlier, the sun having moved to hang just over the western horizon. I made my way from the house down a worn, narrow path through the grass to the main road, then turned toward the jail. Hearing raised voices, I knew Ryder was there and was instantly reassured.

The jail was not big, but made of cut stone to make it more secure than a building of wood. I didn't know where the material had come from--there were no mountains nearby--but I was unfamiliar with the area to know of alternatives. Small windows on the front and sides had bars upon them. I pushed at the heavy door, leaning into it with my shoulder. It gave all at once and I practically fell into the room. What I saw when I caught my balance was unexpected and I gasped.

There were three men in the room, Ryder with his hands out in front of him in a placating gesture by a desk. The second man held the third securely about the waist, gun nudged against his waist. The one at gunpoint was shorter than Ryder, but stockier. His expression was grim, but calm.