Barefoot Bride for Three Read online

He nibbled on her bottom lip with gentle teeth. He slid his tongue along the crease between her lips. She opened to his kiss, wondering at how good it felt, how right. She pressed her palms against his hard chest. It wasn’t enough. She slipped her arms around him, stepping close so her breasts pressed against him. He moaned and his tongue entered her, unleashing a firestorm of need. She clung to him, rising on her toes to capture more of him, demanding more.

  He was the one who finally pulled back, leaving both of them gasping. Her blood sang through her veins, flashing like white lightning from point to point. He shuddered and pressed her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her.

  If he hadn’t, she would have sunk to the floor, boneless.

  Never had she felt so safe. She reveled in his embrace for a moment and then rested her palms against his chest.

  His strength made her want to give up all her worries, breaching the tall walls she’d built to protect herself from shame and humiliation. If she let him in, she would lose everything that had kept her going when no one cared about her. She would be far too vulnerable.

  No. Giving in to a husband was not how to begin a marriage. Especially if one touch from the man made her crave him even more. She pushed on his chest. After a moment, he released her. He stepped back, frowning and breathing hard. She shook out her skirts and pressed her hair off her forehead with both palms as she thought. How to proceed to gain some control? All her life she’d been accused of speaking too forcefully. For once, it would be to her benefit.

  “If I must marry, I want a husband who sees me as a partner, not a beast of burden. One who won’t beat me or our children.” She met his eyes with a glare. “A real man doesn’t need to use his fists.”

  “You don’t have a choice in this.” She inhaled to rail at him but stopped when he held up his flat palm. “Neither do I. But Elliotts don’t hold with beating women, children, or beasts. My ma was a strong woman and demanded respect. I need a wife who’s tough enough to do what’s needed. It’s a hard life for everyone with more than enough work to keep a body going from before morning light to after dark. Does that make me man enough for you?”

  He looked at her, calm and sure. Her heart pounded so hard she felt faint. He was a man all right, but nothing like those she knew.

  “I, uh, I’m not sure. You could say anything, and I’d not know if you meant it. The only men I know well are from back East. I’ve never even seen my father or brother without a coat, much less felt their arms around me. I don’t know how to judge you, as a man or a husband.”

  She licked her lips as he stared down at her. She hadn’t known a man could heat a woman with only his eyes. She fought to keep still, to not beg for his touch once again. Like Adam and Eve, she’d tasted the forbidden fruit and learned what modest women must never crave. She had knowledge of the wonder of physical desire and was changed forever. Would the touch of his hand on her bare skin do even more to set her afire? This was what made women run off with unsuitable men.

  “Well, I ain’t no Eastern dude afraid to take off his coat and roll up his shirt sleeves to work.” He glanced toward the door, then back to her. She saw a hint of a devilish grin. “How about I show you what you’re getting. Do you want to see what’s under my shirt, Beth?”

  Beth.

  He branded her with that one word, whispered with desire. She’d come to Tanner’s Ford as Elizabeth Katherine James. It was a proper name for the daughter of an important man. That life was gone. Soon, she’d be Mrs. Trace Elliott, his Beth.

  Before she said her vows to this stranger, she would see the flesh she’d clung to. After spending three days and two nights in jail her virtue was long gone. She could flout society’s rules without falling further in disgrace. If the man who would be her husband wanted to show off his muscles, she would not deny him. She nodded.

  He flashed a smile, stepped away and tossed his hat onto the sheriff’s desk. Dark hair, pressed tight against his big head from his hat, curled to his shoulders. Watching her closely, he took his dusty bandana from around his neck. A raised white scar ran around his neck from collar to chin, as if he’d been hanged or dragged with a rope. That’s what happened with horse thieves or murderers. Had he escaped a noose?

  He slowly unbuttoned his worn shirt. Arm and chest muscles shifted as he moved. He took it off and tossed it to the desk. Tiny imitations of her own nipples peeked out from his chest hair. His arms certainly looked strong enough to work all day. A few scars here and there showed he’d not spent his time as a clerk in an office. The dark curls on his chest looked soft. A matching line led down to…a bulge.

  She gasped when he stepped close and took her waist in both large hands. Heat flared, a heat that shot down to her private place. She automatically set her hands on his thick forearms for balance. He raised her off the ground until they were eye to eye, her toes dangling. He lifted her as if she was petite, like her pretty, popular younger sisters.

  “You’ll live on the Rocking E with me and two of my brothers. Me, Jack, and Simon will take care of you. We’ll do what a man does for his wife.”

  Share a small cabin with three men? But it was still better than her other choices. He waited for her answering nod. Both of them panting, he held her to his chest so her body dragged against his. Under her dirty dress her hard nipples, protruding from swollen breasts, scraped against his naked chest. When she touched down, the gritty wood floor felt cool against the soles of her feet. He leaned close. His naked chest waited mere inches from her nose. Raw strength and power oozed from every pore. He held himself as if he needed no gun to prove he was a man. Secure in himself, he didn’t depend on money, clothing, or society to know who he was.

  “In return, you’ll take care of us.”

  He rubbed his hard stomach against her chest, rasping her nipples through the fabric. A bolt of desire shot between her legs. This was what she’d been warned about, the wicked attraction a decent woman had to fight. They said only low women allowed a man’s touch without shuddering in revulsion.

  She shuddered, but in desire.

  He moved her matted hair behind her shoulders with long fingers. He bent and nuzzled her neck. She quivered even more when he brought his lips to her ear.

  “You’ll do everything a wife does for her husband,” he whispered. “Everything.” He gently bit the lobe of her ear. A shaft of white-hot desire set her on fire. “In my bed and anywhere else I want you.”

  Without the rasping croak, his sultry whisper shivered down her spine like ice water. The warm air from his breath teased her neck for a moment. He panted as hard as she. He lifted his lips and nibbled his way to her jaw. Her body arched toward him before she knew it, hard nipples scraping against his naked chest. Only a few thin layers of fabric separated them. He wrapped his arms around her and nipped her earlobe. She grabbed him to hold herself up as her knees buckled.

  “That’s right, darlin’. Hold me tight.”

  She clung to him, reveling in the caring touch of another. She couldn’t remember the comfort of a warm body holding her close. Had never felt the desire that this man brought into her world. How had she lived and not known this delight existed?

  Starved for affection, knowing she would soon marry him and could enjoy this again, she gave in to his touch.

  She moaned when his hand slid up her ribcage. She inhaled a hiss when he weighed her breast. His thumb pressed her nipple, shooting sparks through her greedy body. He pinched lightly and fire exploded as if he branded her.

  When he groaned and stepped back, she found the energy to inhale. Barely. He lifted her chin with his knuckle. She blinked up at him, frozen in place.

  “I’m a big man, as are my brothers,” he whispered. “But you’re a passionate woman with enough flesh to hold on to.”

  He grasped her bottom with both hands and pulled her tight against him. His fingers spread her cheeks apart in a most unsettling manner. His hard manhood pressed against her belly. He groaned, low and hungry.
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  She looked up at the sound, biting her lip. Dark eyes bored into hers. He leaned down, and she knew he was going to kiss her again. She’d slapped her fiancé’s face when he tried, bringing on another beating from her father. But this felt so different.

  She opened her mouth. The first light touch of his lips tantalized her. He slid his tongue between her top lip and teeth. Her legs gave way, and he pulled her close with a heated promise.

  She nestled closer to his warm chest, feeling his heartbeat pound through her thin dress. His strong arms held her, protecting rather than confining. She relaxed into his possessive embrace, aroused and safe in his arms. She could let him do these wonderful things to her body without relinquishing control in their home.

  He pulled his mouth away, resting his forehead against hers. She blinked, the dim light bright on her eyes. Her skin rose in gooseflesh, cold without his heat.

  “Am I man enough for you, Beth?” She stared at him, unable to think, much less talk for a moment. She nodded. He inhaled a deep breath. When he let it out the tension seemed to release as well. He sniffed her hair.

  “You smell nice,” he murmured.

  She snorted at his words, breaking the mesmerizing spell. “I smell like I’ve lived in a privy for weeks.”

  “Nothing a bath won’t cure.” He took her hand and towed her toward the corner desk and the kerosene lamp providing light. He hooked the chair with one foot and sat, then pulled her onto his lap. It put her breasts about the height of his mouth.

  “Tell me about yourself,” he said. He looked her in the eye, no longer laughing, as if he actually cared what her reply might be. She went along, just in case.

  “I was born in Philadelphia twenty-one years ago.”

  He nodded for her to continue, still watching her. She said the most outrageous thing she could think of.

  “I have an education, my brain works well, and I enjoy using it. I like to know what is happening around me, and I expect to have my opinions listened to.” She set her teeth and waited for the explosion. He merely lifted an eyebrow at her silence. “I will not tolerate excessive use of spirits nor abuse of any kind.”

  He grasped her upper thigh, his hand covering the whole of the portion resting on his leg, and grinned at her. She’d hidden her reactions for weeks as men leered at her, expecting her to jump into their arms merely because she rode the Bride Train. Now that she was safe, her anger rose from where she’d hidden it deep inside.

  “Do you think my demands laughable?”

  She struggled to get off his lap, suddenly furious. He put his arms around her so she could not escape and laughed, a rough cawing noise that grated her ears. Her father used to laugh at her pitiful efforts to speak her mind. He enjoyed humiliating his inferiors, especially his wife and children. She fought to escape.

  “Shh, Beth, I’m not laughing at you,” he growled. “It’s just that you sound like Ma. She taught all seven of us to read, write, do sums and debate. I remember Pa getting Ma all riled up by debating the opposite of whatever she said. Though he wasn’t yet twelve when they died, Ben says getting a word in between Ma and Pa was good practice for being a lawyer.”

  His words finally seeped through her anger. It took a few minutes before she realized he was not trying to keep her from escaping. Rather, he supported her so she did not fall to the floor in her mad rush for freedom. She shuddered and let him hold her temple against him. His heart pounded as madly as hers.

  “Beth, I said I don’t beat women, children, or animals. A mule can’t help being a mule anymore than a woman can help being who she is. Or a man,” he continued when she poked him in the chest with her fingernail. He caught her fist and kissed it, slowly and sensuously, daring her with his eyes to retaliate when he released her.

  He leaned forward and tilted his head, waiting. Determined to prove her lack of fear, she met him halfway, demanding rather than merely accepting. He pulled her close and kissed her, lightly scraping his rough whiskers on her chin. She ran her fingers through his hair, holding him tight to her.

  “Whoa!” A deep, laughing voice came from the far door. “The bedding’s supposed to happen after the preacher speaks, not before.” Sheriff Chambers stepped into the jail, followed by the hotel owner, Sophie McLeod.

  Beth leaped back as if she’d touched a hot stove. Luckily, Trace was more aware. He caught her before she fell off his lap. He pulled her tight to him, giving her strength to face the preacher and witnesses following the sheriff. She was allowed to touch him as this man would soon be her husband.

  “Looks like you found yourself a husband just in time,” said Sophie with a chuckle. They’d chatted when she brought meals to Beth at the jail. Sophie set her fists on her hips and grinned widely at the two of them. “I never thought the day would come when Trace Elliott would find himself a wife.”

  “He didn’t,” said the sheriff. “I found her for him. And if we don’t get this done afore certain parties arrive, the preacher will be holding a funeral instead of a wedding.”

  He pointed to where he wanted Trace and Beth to stand. Trace helped an unsteady Beth to her feet.

  A shabby man dressed in black shuffled up to them. He lifted bleary red eyes, nodded at the bride and groom, and then opened his dusty book.

  “The boys’re holding a place for me at the poker table, so’s lets get this over with,” ordered the preacher. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to unite these two in holy matrimony.” He looked around the room. “No one with a reason to complain here. Trace Elliott do you take this gal—” He barely raised his head to see her. “What’s your name, missy?”

  “Elizabeth Katherine James.”

  He blinked at her, then turned. “Trace Elliott, you take this gal for yer wife? You’ll bed her and breed her and care for her best you can all yer days so help you God?”

  “Yessir.”

  “And you, woman. You promise to take this man into your bed, care for him, his family, and whatever young’uns come along for the rest of your life so help you God?”

  “Um, yes, I do.”

  “Is there a ring?”

  Trace shook his head.

  “Nope? Well, then hold hands.”

  Trace held his open palm to her. She placed her hand on his and he engulfed it with the other. The preacher put his hands on top and silently prayed for a moment. He flashed a clear look at Beth. It seared her soul and proved that God was in the room no matter that the words weren’t right and the preacher reeked of whiskey and tobacco. The room seemed less bright when he removed his hands from theirs.

  “Yer now man and wife in God’s eyes and no man can say nay once the beddin’s done.” He closed his book and then turned to Trace. “Yer ma and pa are lookin’ down on ye, boy. You be as good a man as yer pa and this gal will do right fine.” He sniffed and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “Sheriff says ye’ll put gold in the poor box for this.” Trace nodded. “Then what’s holdin’ yah back, boy? Kiss yer bride and get her to bed afore Big Joe hears of it!”

  Trace pulled her tight against him. At first he nibbled, but soon he explored her mouth with his tongue as his hands roved her body. Only the two of them existed until Trace suddenly pulled away, gasping.

  “Any rooms at that hotel of yours, Mrs. McLeod?” said Frank Chambers. “These two need one about now.”

  Sophie laughed. “I sent Elspeth to prepare the best room and get a hot bath ready for the new Mrs. Elliott. You,” she said, pointing a finger at Trace, “will find facilities elsewhere.” She flapped her hands to separate the two of them. “Don’t bother visiting until you’re clean and shaved.” She turned to Beth. “Mrs. Elliott, would you like a hot bath? I have a deep tub that would fit you.”

  The new Mrs. Trace Elliott, dazed from more than the kiss, nodded. She focused on the bath, ignoring what would come after. Like her sisters, as a young girl she’d imagined her wedding day as being sunny and bright. Wearing a pretty white dress, she’d stand in the church beside
a rich, handsome man in a suit. Though her dreams faded by her late teens, never had she considered she’d be part of a forced union between a bedraggled slattern and dusty cowboy.

  Trace placed his hand on her arm, stopping her from turning away.

  “I know I’m not the husband you wanted and this isn’t the wedding you dreamed of.” He looked around the drab, dingy jail and shook his head. “A woman should feel good at her wedding.”

  “Where’d you learn about women?” The sheriff snorted. “Three brothers living out there alone for how many years?”

  “Before she died, Ma taught me how to treat a lady. My wife is a lady and deserves to be treated like one. This may be a rough start, but I’ll make it up her. She’ll have no complaints.”

  Beth looked up at her new husband. Body trembling, she fought sudden tears. She promised herself long ago to never let it show when she was afraid, but kindness was something she’d rarely experienced. She blinked rapidly, turning her head away to hide. He took her face in his hands and gently forced her to look up at him.

  “Shh. You’re my wife now. I’ll kill any man who tries to hurt you.”

  His first words were tender. He likely thought the last ones were also. Was he saying he would defend his property or that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her because he cared for her?

  No, he didn’t care for her as a person. He’d only met her and knew nothing other than she was a means to an end. It didn’t matter. She was no longer alone, fighting to hold her head up when those who should love her, hurled abuse. Though she fought to hold them back, tears spilled down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her dirty hand.

  “Where’s my strong woman? The one who knocked Charlie down with one punch?” He gently kissed her forehead. “A hot bath, food, and clean clothes will make you feel better. But you’ll have to wait a while to sleep.” His wink brought new heat to her face.

  He escorted her to the door, then pressed her arm to wait. She took the moment to pull herself together. She almost lost composure again when he slipped his soft buckskin coat over her shoulders to keep her warm and protect her modesty. She gasped when he swept her into his arms and carried her out the door.