Two Roped and Ready [Bewitching Desires 6] (Siren Publishing Menage Amour) (2 page)

Armed with a spell on her tongue and the flintlock in her grip, she pivoted toward the approaching riders. Five men rode abreast, their pace slowing as they came closer. The one in the middle raised his hand to signal for them to stop, and the others obeyed. His beady-eyed gaze sent a warning to her brain as he tugged a bandana down past his chin and lifted a battered hat a scant inch off his head.

“Evenin’, ma’am.” He dropped the hat back into place and swung his leg over the horse’s neck to dismount. Two steps brought him too close for comfort. His alcohol-laden breath sent a shudder through her sinuses. “Wandering alone ain’t safe for a lady such as yerself. So pretty and all. How’s ’bout we
es
cort you into town?”

Tightening her grasp on the pistol and readying to recite the words, she shook her head. “No, thank you.”

He glanced back at his companions. “Aw, now, did ya hear that, boys? She thinks she’s safe out here all by her lonesome. But she ain’t, is she?”

Two more men dismounted, disconcerting grins exposing crooked, rotting teeth. The shorter of the pair cocked his head to the side. “The little lady’s got it wrong all right, Chester. There’s outlaws and robbers ’round these here parts.”

The world won’t miss them if I absolutely must shoot to defend myself.
Raising the gun to point it at the leader, she pulled back the hammer. “I believe I’ll be quite fine on my own, gentlemen.”

“We got ourselves a feisty gal to have some fun with.” Chester stood his ground, not even flinching when she took aim at his chest. The gleam in his eyes made her skin crawl.

Tightening her finger on the trigger, she held her breath.

Bang!
Hands pushed down and back on her arms at the blast of the gunshot.
Bang! Bang!

Vibrations rippled through her right hand to her elbow and shoulder. She tumbled to the ground, certain she’d fired her weapon.
Three shots. Where did the other two come from?

“Let’s get outta here!” The pair of men behind Chester scrambled to get on their horses and dug their heels into their mounts’ flanks.

She caught a glimpse of their leader writhing on the ground before the rest of his gang scattered. Hoofbeats echoed in her ears as she struggled to comprehend what had happened.

Bang! Bang!

Hugging the ground, she jerked toward the sound of more gunfire. Two riders raced past her in pursuit of four of the villains who’d thought to accost her.

Her pulse pounding in her ears, she forced several deep breaths in and out of her lungs. Tremors shook every part of her body, and she rolled her eyes at the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
Logic. I have to use my brain.

Another inhale and exhale cleared her head enough to look toward Chester. He lay curled into a fetal position, his low groans carrying to her on the now-silent air.
Disabled for the moment.
Had she shot him? If she had, at least her bullet hadn’t killed him, setting who knew what kind of changes to history in motion.

Tentatively pushing up to survey her surroundings, she scanned the wagon lane toward the town. The pursuers arced back around in an easy gallop, evidently giving up the chase. Not ready for another confrontation with barbarians from the nineteenth century, she gathered her skirt in her fist and scuttled low to the ground to hide behind the nearest squatty tree. Doubt about her plan cast a shadow on her confidence. Was coming to this time and place a mistake?

Her hands shook as she hurried to reload the flintlock. She spilled far too much powder on the ground while priming the pan before she finally managed to pour the remainder into the barrel and tamp in the rest of the cartridge. By then, her accidental rescuers had slowed their horses to a walk less than fifty feet away. She ducked her head and huddled against the broad trunk of the live oak, trying to quiet her rapid, shallow breathing.

Light clunks on the ground told her the men had climbed from their mounts. A few moments passed with her heartbeat thumping in her head before the masculine voices started.

“Look who we have here, PC. Chester Jenkins. Wanted for stealing horses, attempted murder, and manhandling one of the ladies at Miss Wyndham’s place.”

Another groan tempted her to peek around the wide bole, but she resisted, adjusting her grip on the pistol instead.

A hoot of laughter made her jump. “Damn, that’s gotta hurt. Dontcha think, Quayde?”

“Pretty fair payback for assaulting a woman, if you ask me. You suppose she shot him in the balls on purpose?”

“She’s got a helluvan aim if she did. I reckon the gun went off in a struggle.”

Were they going to have an hour-long speculative discussion?
Collect your bounty and go!

“Hey, PC, how about you tie up Jenkins while I find our sharpshooter? She can’t have gone far.”

Struggling to hold in a frustrated sigh, Ilona debated making a run for it. A half step to the right made up her mind for her. Burning pain radiated from her foot—probably from rubbed-raw blisters. She sank to the ground, ready to remove her shoes and beg for a ride to Encanto. Her grip on the gun cramped her hand as thoughts of another possible assault sent a panicked flood of fear to her churning stomach. Odds were she wouldn’t be able to defend herself again.
They
did
chase away the bad guys. Maybe they’ll help me. Or should I spell myself home?

Muffled footsteps moved closer to her hiding spot. “Miss? Miss, are you all right? I can give you a ride to town if you like.”

The gentle tone brought an unexpected wave of trust. Did her instincts outweigh logic? Slumping her shoulders, she surrendered to the inevitable. Emotional ups and downs were on the horizon. Although her fertility cycle didn’t officially start until midnight, her hormones had already begun to take over her thought processes. Reason wouldn’t rule her brain again until after the third-quarter moon passed. How would she survive without the benefit of her intelligence and common sense?

Tears stung her eyes for the first time since she didn’t remember when. She bit her lip to stem them, but it didn’t help. Her vision blurred, and a painful lump formed in her throat.
So much for all my planning.

“Miss? Where’d you—” A calloused hand closed around the fingers grasping the pistol. “Are you all right? Jenkins didn’t hurt you, did he?”

She shook her head and swallowed a sob. “Th–they…were going…to…”

Blinking to clear the tears from her eyes, she looked up into the warmest brown eyes she’d ever seen. A lock of overlong dark-brown hair curved along his heavily stubbled jaw, framing a pair of full lips. Would they be soft if she kissed them?

“You’re safe now, darlin’.” He eased the gun from her weak grasp. Tucking the weapon behind his back, he gave her a smile that made her tummy tickle. “We’ll protect you, PC and me.”

Protection was the last thing on her mind at the moment. She needed to find a way to hang on to this man until today ended and tomorrow opened the sash in her week-long window of opportunity.

“Hey, Quayde! Did you find her?” The voice calling from the other side of the tree had both of them turning.

Quayde rose from a squat, towering over her as he offered her a hand. “C’mon. We’ll take you to town. Get you some supper and a room at the boarding house.”

She slipped her palm into his much-larger one and pushed to her feet. A soft groan escaped with the first step.

Scooping her into his arms, he rounded the tree. “Did those good-for-nothin’ two-bit thieves steal your horse?”

“Um, no. No horse.” Since when did she stutter and talk in two-word sentences?

“I’m thinkin’ we ought to drag Jenkins back to Encanto, PC.” Quayde’s purposeful walk rocked Ilona in a comfortable rhythm as she leaned her cheek against his broad shoulder. “She claims he didn’t hurt her, but he scared this pretty lady half to death. She was hidin’ behind that live oak with a loaded gun in her lap, tryin’ not to cry. This is PC, darlin’.”

A glance at her other rescuer set another low flame licking at her nerve endings. PC’s blue eyes reminded her of cloudless summer skies and stood out against the blue-black strands of hair curling across his tanned forehead.

The curve of his mouth revealed a dimple in his razor-stubbled cheek. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Paxton Campbell, but you can call me PC. I’d offer you my horse, but he’s already carryin’ a delivery for the sheriff.”

His dimple deepened as his smile widened, assuring her that he had a playful side. Trying to overcome a bout of nervousness, she drew in a shaky breath and exhaled. These men could be her mates, and she wasn’t making a good first impression. “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Campbell. PC. Your timing was impeccable.”

Quayde’s rumble of laughter vibrated through her muscles. “She recovered right quick, didn’t she?” He winked at her. “This rough country could use more tough women like you. Quayde Gallagher. My horse is yours for the duration of the ride to town. Somethin’ tells me those are new boots you’re wearin’.”

Two handsome, intelligent cowboys had saved her from a band of outlaws. The next week would tell her if she’d discovered her mates. “I’m Ilona. Yes, I’m wearing new boots, and I appreciate your help more than you know. Thank you both.”

Settling her on the saddle, Quayde grinned. “Anytime, darlin’.”

PC lifted a booted foot, unhooking the loops from the buttons and finally tugging her foot free. She winced at the stinging pain.

“Sorry about that.”

A tender rub along her calf made her entire reproductive system spasm.

Working on the second boot, he gave her a quick glance. “A good soak and some salve will heal those blisters in a few days. Glad to be of service to you, Miss Ilona.”

He shoved her shoes into a saddlebag a minute later and picked up the reins to his horse while she blew out a relieved breath.
Bare feet—my footwear of choice.

Walking at a leisurely pace, he followed the worn path toward Encanto. Quayde fell into step beside him, the two exchanging looks that she couldn’t begin to decipher. The silent conversation ended with a nod from each man. Whatever had passed between them, they were in agreement.

From her vantage point atop the bay gelding, she gained full attention of the townsfolk as the miniparade strode down the dusty road flanked by wood-frame buildings. A saloon stood next to the jail. A general store stretched the combined length on the opposite side of the street. Beyond the store, a sign with
Bank
and
Post
hung from the eaves of a windowless stone hut. No women stared from the raised-plank sidewalks. Only men. From her research, she’d learned that males populated western towns of this time period for the most part. The few females catered to the sexual needs of their counterparts as prostitutes, maids, and wives.

Her gaze was drawn to the house across from the livery stable. A wooden placard outside the front door proclaimed it
The
Wyndham House
. Her destination. How had they known?

Quayde tied his mount to the rail. “Miss Wyndham will see that you get a bath, a meal, and a bed for the night. She knows just what to do for those blisters, too. Be right back, PC.”

He lifted Ilona from the saddle before she realized he meant to carry her to the entrance. The door opened as they reached it, and he didn’t stop until he set her on a velvet settee in a garishly decorated parlor. A perfumy fog tickled her nose.

A redhead wearing more eye makeup than clothing sat perched on the arm of a chair next to the couch. Her cherry-colored lips lifted into a coy smile. “Well, now, Mr. Gallagher. What brings you to Wyndham House?”

Chapter 2

Shaking his head at Miss Penelope’s transparent invitation, Quayde pulled the door of Wyndham House closed behind him as he left. His half-hard cock hadn’t responded to the blatant display of her well-used wares, and spending an hour upstairs with her wouldn’t satisfy him.

The only woman he was interested in sharing a bed with was the lovely Ilona. She’d shown great strength in defending herself against a downright mean outlaw. She hadn’t fallen into a dead faint when he’d swung her into his arms and carried her to his horse, either—or the parlor of the town bordello. However, it was the safest place in town for a lone female.

She obviously had brains to go with her understated beauty. Even dust-covered and travel-weary, she stole the air from his lungs with one look from those bewitching eyes. She was the kind of woman he’d been waiting for.

No, she’s
the
woman I’ve been waiting for.
That thought made no sense. How could he know he’d been seeking her if he had no memory of his life beyond the past month?

“She’s somethin’ else, isn’t she?” PC gestured for Quayde to join him as he led the horses to the other side of the main road through town. His gaze seemed to flick back to the brothel. “Let’s collect our reward and rustle up some supper. I’m hungry enough to eat my saddle.”