Mic stared down at the man he’d killed, thinking—hoping—he would feel something for the life he’d taken. Maybe a hint of remorse, possibly guilt, even the rage he’d felt earlier. Anything would be better than relief.
Robert lay on his back at his feet, his empty eyes staring back at him, dead. He was gone forever and Mic didn’t feel the least bit of remorse. The man had been a monster. He’d killed, cheated, and who knew what else. He’d been willing to let Wilson rape Lillian as if it was his right to do so.
From the second he’d arrived at the camp and realized what Robert truly was, he knew the man would have to die. With Robert dead, Lillian was safe. She’d never have to live her life looking over her shoulder and waiting for him to appear. She could be happy, safe in the knowledge that those who knew her were gone.
“It’s over,” he shouted, dragging his eyes from Robert and glancing over his shoulder toward the trees.
Noah and Caleb emerged from the darkness, supporting a limping Jeremiah between them. Dried blood crusted his buckskin breeches and darkened the makeshift bandage that had once been Caleb’s shirt.
“That was a fool thing. You should have shot him,” Jeremiah growled.
Mic shook his head. “I don’t like guns.”
“Makes you a damn fool.”
He smiled at his brother. “Well I’m not the one that missed his mark.”
Jeremiah glared at him. “Let’s see how good you shoot with a broken arm.”
Mic shook his head at Jeremiah’s antics. His fool brother had barreled into the house after hearing the shot and nearly met his maker. Charles’ man would have shot him if not for the nurse who was caring for Lloyd. She’d knocked him in the head and ran when Charles had called for her.
“If it wasn’t for my arm, I wouldn’t have missed,” Jeremiah answered, “and he wouldn’t have almost killed you. If you got killed, Lillian would skin me alive. Or possibly beaten me to death with her skillet.” He looked around the clearing. “Where is she, Mic?”
He ignored the question. “Get him in the house. Make a bed by the fire,” he told the boys. Thank God, Noah and Caleb had been unharmed in the fiasco at Charles’ and during his confrontation with Robert. They were too innocent and young to die. Too young to be hunted and too innocent to be outlaws. “Then I want you two to get rid of the body.”
“Where should we put him?” Noah asked.
“As much as I want to say throw him over the ravine, the stink of him would be awful. Give him a shallow grave somewhere away from here.”
Caleb frowned at him. “Where are you going?”
Jeremiah stopped his slow progress and grabbed Mic’s arm before he could pass. He glared at Mic. “Where is Little Spitfire?”
“Doing what we taught her to do. She injured one of the men with that pick of Abby’s and then ran. I’d like to go get my wife now.”
It felt good to say those words. His wife, the woman he loved. The woman he planned to spend his life loving.
Jeremiah grinned. “Go.”
Mic didn’t need permission. Grabbing two blankets from the house, he headed east along the pathway. He’d been afraid for her when she’d been escorted into Charles’ place. His fear grew when Robert and the others had taken her with them. He’d wanted to follow her directly and rescue her from the hands of her captors, but was delayed rescuing Jeremiah, which had almost ended with them both dead.
He was just glad to leave Jeremiah in the hands of Noah and Caleb and follow Robert’s trail. It hadn’t been too hard. Lillian had left clues for him, letting him know she was alright. She was smarter than Robert realized or would have ever given her credit for. She’d brought them back to his lands, to the places that she knew.
He’d arrived in time to see Wilson leading her away. The cruel lust in his eyes sent chills through him even now. Wilson hadn’t just meant to rape her, he’d meant her harm.
Forced to skirt the arguing men which had ended in Daniel’s death, he’d arrived in time to see his wife driving a six-inch, very thin pick into Wilson’s groin area. Mic hadn’t hesitated to slit his throat like the pig he was. The man had touched his wife and for that he paid with his life.
He picked up his pace, smiling at the thought of Lillian racing away from him to hide in the forest. He really needed a bath and would have loved to wash away the mud and blood, but he’d not leave his woman holed up a moment longer. He was sure she hadn’t recognized him and had probably thought him a crazy man come to finish Wilson’s job. He’d only let her go because Robert had come and he was better off watching the man than letting him sneak up on him later.
Lillian had learned the lessons he’d tried to teach her and made them her own. Robert had passed within feet of her hiding place. If he’d even noticed the pile of leaves, he’d probably mistaken them as a natural occurrence. If Mic hadn’t been searching for her as he tracked Robert, he’d probably have missed it too.
Stopping in the area of the old fallen log, he softly called, “Uzizitka?”
He wasn’t sure where in the area she was or if she was still there. Maybe her sign was merely to tell him she’d been there. He searched the ground, unable to really see the tracks in the dark. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds around him, picking through the ones he knew belonged to the forest, searching for the ones that didn’t.
“Lillian, are you here?”
Something stirred in the dark to his right. It was too big to be a rabbit and too small to be a bear.
“Mic?” her voice was soft, almost groggy, and it had never sounded so good.
“It’s me, Uzizitka.”
There was a scurry of activity from within the old fallen log and the bush rustled as she wiggled out of her hiding spot. She held a piece of half-eaten jerky in her hand and looked up at him, blinking for a moment before she leapt over the bush to embrace him. “Mic?”
He couldn’t blame her for not recognizing him. He had to look horrible. “It’s me, Lillian.”
“Mic! You’re still alive.”
He enfolded her in his arms, breathing her in. His body swayed. He was bone tired and soul weary. “You too. Though I’d have to say you appear to have fared better.”
She pulled back, scanning him from head to toe and making him feel like he was six-years-old and caught muddying his best clothes. “There’s blood on you. What happened?”
He shrugged and glanced down at himself. He looked horrible and smelled worse. “Wade bled on me after Charles shot him. Jeremiah bled on me while escaping Charles’ men. I’m sure there are a few spots from Wilson.”
“Wilson?”
“The man who thought to take what didn’t belong to him from the woman with a very sharp and long pick. He paid for his mistake twice over.” Mic cupped her face in his hands, kissing her gently on the lips. “I’m so proud of you, my wife.”
Lillian pulled back, eyes wide with surprise. “That was you? The shadowed man who cut his throat?” She laughed and leaned against him, her arm slipping around his waist. “I thought you were one of Robert’s men. It’s not unlike him to get his own men to kill each other and finish off the ones who survive.”
He tucked one of the blankets around her shoulder and led her along the path to the lake. He was going to get that bath tonight, even if it was in the very cold lake. “About Robert…”
She shivered and drew closer to him. “Did you get him?”
They stopped at the mountain lake, the moon shimmering on the water. He drew her close, resting his chin on her head. “He’s dead.”
“Good,” she murmured against his neck. “I hate to see people die, but I didn’t think he would stop unless he was imprisoned or dead.”
Mic wished imprisonment would have stopped Robert, but a man like him wouldn’t have let bars and stone walls stop him from his revenge. “He was a little too keen for your money and shocked when he couldn’t find it.”
“He was at the cabin?”
Dropping the blanket, he peeled off layer after sticky later of clothing. “Ransacked the place from the noise of it. Didn’t find what he was looking for though. Seemed to think I had it. I kinda liked ribbing him over the fact that you hid it good enough he’d never find it. And that I’m married to one smart lady. ”
She grimaced. “I knew the trunk was a dangerous place to keep it, but even so, I hate the thought that his grimy hands were on my things. I don’t know if I can wear them again.”
He paused, wincing at the thought. “I’m sorry, Prudence. I really am.” He dropped his shirt on the ground and drew her to him, kissing her on the forehead. “I’ll buy you new things, but it won’t change that he was there.”
“I don’t want to be called Prudence. I hate that name. I always hated that name.”
“It’s a beautiful name, Uzizitka. But I understand. I’ve never liked Michaiah, but it’s the name my mama gave me.”
She laughed. “I can try to call you by your given name, but I’m not sure I can. If I can’t pronounce that hiakushu or whatever it is, I don’t think I can call you Mikiah-Micaiah.”
He laughed, releasing her then removing his pants. “No one else could pronounce it either. It’s why Mic stuck.” The drawers followed. “Wish me luck.”
He headed for the lake, splashing into the water with a curse, and scrubbing his skin fiercely with sand. Within seconds his teeth chattered and his skin looked far too blue.
Lillian’s laughter echoed from the mountain slopes. “Is it warm?”
“Freezing! But considering the smell, dirt, and blood, I’ll risk the cold.”
“You should have waited until we got to the cabin. I could have heated you some water to put in a tub,” she said, shaking her head at him. “If you’re hungry, I have another strip of jerky.”
Nearly frozen, he emerged from the water. He grinned at her proffered piece of jerky and nipped it from her fingers while wrapping himself in the blanket.
“I didn’t go hungry all night,” she added, a hint of pride in her voice.
“Brilliant wife,” he said, teeth chattering. “I’d have loved to take you up on the offer of a bath in the warmth of the cabin. However, doing so with Jeremiah there would not be so pleasant.”
She slipped into his arms. He snuggled into her warmth, thinking of several ways to warm up, one of which sounded rather pleasant at this moment.
He nipped her neck, drawing her closer. She rose to her toes, her womanly curves rubbing against him. He gently slid his hands over her waist, pulling the shirt from her waistband, drawing it up and over her head.
The delay at Charles’ ranch had almost cost Lillian her life, and he didn’t plan on letting her out of his sight again. He planted several kisses on her forehead, eyelids, cheeks, and lips. He nibbled on her earlobe, her neck, and her shoulders.
She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Don’t you dare ask me to take a bath in that water.”
He grinned at her, his calloused hands sliding over her nipples, waist, and belly, stopping at the waist of her pants. “Wouldn’t think of it.”
Turning her around until he was behind her, Mic unbuttoned her pants and slid them over her hips and down her legs, baring her beautiful body to his gaze.
She looked at him over her shoulder, a seductive smile curling her lips. “Here? Now?”
He nodded, reaching around her to cup her breasts, his fingers pinching and rolling her nipples. “No one here to hear us.”
She groaned, her head resting on his shoulder. Her hands went behind her back, taking his length into her hand, stroking him to hardness.
Drawing one hand down, Mic caressed her, teasing her until she moaned. His finger slipped between her wet folds, rubbing her sensitive nub. Her hips bucked, seeking. She started to turn around to face him and he stilled her.
Taking her hands from around his cock, he placed them on the rock in front of them, encouraging her to bend forward. He placed several soft kisses along the back of her neck and spine. “Don’t move.”
She glanced over her shoulder, a frown on her face. “What are you doing?”
He leaned forward, his arms coming around her, using one hand to rub the nub she so loved him to play with and the other to gently knead her breast. “Pleasuring my wife,” he whispered against her ear, placing a kiss on the back of her neck.
She shivered, a pleasure-filled moan escaping her lips. His finger left a trail down her spine and she arched into his touch. Her bottom rubbed against his straining erection and pushing into his hand.
“Mic?”
Resting the tip of his cock against her slit, he slowly pressed inside her tight passage, her warmth closing around him. She gasped, her bottom wiggling against him, pushing him further inside.
His body quaked. His muscles tensed. He wanted to move slow and take his time with her but was finding it increasingly difficult. He wanted to thrust inside her, to pleasure her until she screamed his name.
Taking care to be slow and gentle, he easily slid into her, working his finger over her nub. His other hand cupped her breast, holding her still and enjoying the perfect fit in his palm. She gasped loudly, her breathing hitched, her body quivering beneath him.
“You are my Uzizitka, my beautiful, smart, inquisitive, amazing wife. And I love you with all my heart and soul.”
She gasped, her body rocking against him, taking him into her body. She was a breathtaking blend of innocence and sultry temptress. She was everything he wanted. She was what he needed. And for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel alone; he’d come home.
Her body shuddered and she cried out, his name a mantra on her lips. Her core wrapped around him, milking him, and he exploded inside of her with a shout to the heavens. She collapsed against the rock, her breath quick and harsh.
He pulled out of her, wrapped a blanket around her, and scooped her into his arms. While he wanted to return to the house, he didn’t want to share her attention with the others. He wanted her all to himself tonight.
Laying her in a sheltered spot beside the boulder, he kissed her forehead. “I’m going to get wood and be back.”
She mumbled, curling tighter inside her blanket and drifted back to sleep. Quickly, he gathered wood and started the fire then washed the worst of the grime from his clothes before returning to his wife. She barely moved as he snuggled behind her and nuzzled her neck. He drifted off into a dreamless sleep.