SHE FOUND BEAUREGARD IN THE BARN RUBBING DOWN BARNEY. There were no words she could offer to ease his pain. She knew he hurt. How could anybody not hurt after that kind of confrontation with family?
Rather than let him simmer for the rest of the night, she decided to salvage what she could of the evening.
Ducking under his arm, she stood between him and the horse. “Supper’s cold.”
“No matter.”
“We can still eat the cake.”
He shrugged.
“You never expressed appreciation for all my hard work.”
“Thanks.”
Smiling coyly, Roslyn bobbed her head. “You’re welcome, but that’s not good enough.”
“Thank you kindly?”
Mischievous, her brow rose.
He eyed her askance, as if he expected such kindness came with a hidden charge. “What do you want?”
“A kiss.”
Beauregard stilled. Bored his gaze into hers. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I won’t stop.”
“So?”
“You need gentle. It won’t be gentle.”
Hating his family for making him doubt, she cupped his bristled cheek. Lifting onto her toes she rubbed their noses together. “You won’t hurt me. You could, I’ve never seen such strength, but I know you will never use it against me. There’s no pain between us. There never will be, so don’t hurt anymore.”
He searched her face then dropped the grooming brush into a bucket. His hands closed around her ribcage then swept up to cup her breasts.
The breath left Roslyn’s lungs in a rush. Before she could drag down more, Beauregard slanted his mouth over hers. It was the second time they had kissed, and it was more spectacular than the first. Dazed, she let him pull her into an empty stall.
He lay her down in the hay.
His hand thrust up her skirts, the other fumbling with his belt when she realised what he intended.
“Wait! No.” Roslyn pushed him off and sat up. “I–”
“You had me fooled. Just for a minute.”
Hands pausing just before she started unbuttoning her bodice, Roslyn’s brow furrowed at the bitterness in his tone. “I was just–”
“Save it.”
“But I–”
“I said leave it.” Beauregard lurched onto his feet and strode away. “Just don’t forget you came to me. I won’t touch you again. Not if this is how you–”
Scrambling up, she tackled him. There was no talking to him when he was like this. Hell would freeze before she let him walk away misunderstanding her actions. She learnt her lesson the first time. Roslyn threw herself into his legs, bringing him down like a bull calf that needed branding.
Face buried in the straw, Beauregard cursed, and twisted onto his back.
She crawled over him and fisted her hands in his shirt. Shook him hard. “Stupid, stupid man. What are you thinking?”
They wrestled, and he made sure to cuff her wrists so she didn’t hurt herself, but then he noticed her body shaking oddly. He froze. He stared at her, incredulous. “Are you laughing? This is funny to you?”
“Sure it is. God, if your family could see us. Caroline would probably faint, and Wyatt would pitch a fit.”
“Will would ask to join in.” Beauregard wondered what on earth possessed him to say such a thing to a lady.
Roslyn gawped then burst into giggles. “You wouldn’t let him touch me like that.”
“I would not.”
She sobered, and leaned until her breasts crushed against his chest. “You thought I rejected you. Even after I was the one teasing.”
“Don’t worry about it. I understand.”
“Men rarely do.”
“You might be in the mood to play, but I’m not.”
“Beau, I wanted to hold you.”
“What?”
She rubbed the dimple in his chin. “When we’re together in this way I like to hold you. The feel of your skin against mine makes it feel better to me.” She blushed. “It excites me.”
His eyes turned molten. “Is that so?”
“Mmhm.”
Beauregard leaned up and removed his shirt over his head with a swift tug. He patiently began unhooking all the buttons that ran from her throat to her navel. “Want to learn how to ride astride?”
“Now? In the nighttime? Aren’t we going to–What are you ... oh! Oh. Oh, my.”
THE OLDER KELLINGTONS SQUABBLED. Caroline was sent to her room and told not to come out until breakfast, so ashamed was Wyatt at what she’d said about his brother. The fact his wife only repeated what he’d ranted countless times was not lost on him. Hell, he was too wound up to feel hypocritical.
He’d never lay a hand on his wife, but his new sister-in-law made Caroline’s stanch dismissal of Beauregard’s lack of birthday celebration seem so much worse, like such a failing of what should be her good character.
Yes, Beauregard was a pain in the ass, but he was his brother. He was family. Family took care of one another regardless of past offenses.
Wyatt knew he gave Beauregard a hard time. It was only because his brother seemed to honestly not give a shit about anyone but himself.
“I feel like a horse’s ass.” William thumped his head against the kitchen surface. “Never in my life has a woman made me feel so small.”
“Feisty thing, isn’t she?”
“Hell yeah.” Will grinned, making the reason for his nickname Handsome William more than apparent. “I wish I’d known it. I’d have courted her years ago.”
“Elstein kept that one under lock and key. I’m beginning to understand why.”
“I may’ve idly wondered if Beauregard was innocent, but damn it, Wy, I’m really beginning to think we’ve screwed up here.”
“We haven’t done anything.”
“Exactly.” William sat. “If I was caught with a virgin daughter, beaten near death, forced to marry her under twin barrels then harassed by the town folk, the whole time innocent, mind you, what would you do?”
Wyatt declined answering. Words weren’t needed. He’d tear the goddamn territory apart with his bare hands until justice was served. “You know.”
“Yeah. And I know what I’d do for you. Thing is, I’d never think to do it for Beau ‘cause he’s so mean. I never think of protecting him.”
“Neither do I. What’s your point?”
“He’s our baby brother and we never protect him.”
“We stop gossip.”
“For him? More like to protect the family name.” William shook his head. “I feel disgusted with myself.”
“Don’t go getting weepy. Beauregard may have not done all they accuse him of, but don’t forget what he’s done in the past.”
“But if we’ve made a mistake now did we make a mistake then?”
“Go on.”
“He was found outside that burning barn all torn up.”
“Yeah. And?”
“We never really asked what happened. Just took Elstein’s word there was burned remains in the barn. That Beau must’ve killed Franklyn ‘cause he was the only living body there. Christ Almighty, you ever heard anything so stupid? Why did we take Elstein Roseberry’s word as truth, Wy? We wouldn’t now, so why then?”
“I don’t see where you’re going with this.”
“Would you ostracise me for protecting myself against a man twice my size and three times my age?”
“For protecting yourself? Hell no. For burning a man alive? Damn right I would.”
William grimaced. “Even if that man had unnatural thoughts? Tried to touch me one too many times before he caught me lonesome?”
Wyatt stiffened. He’d forgotten that part. But still, murder was murder. “You think a few hits and perverted touching makes it okay to kill?”
“I’m just saying we may have let the comments about how savage and violent he is influence our behaviour towards him. I know if a man tried to touch me uninvited, I’d slice his nuts off.”
“The time he jumped that gunslinger?”
“Come on now. You know as well as I the man insulted him the entire night. Called him all kinds of names. Hell, if it were me, I’d’ve knocked his teeth in. Beau lasted all night before he snapped. What did we do? Yell. Accuse him of trying to beat the man to death.”
“So, you’re saying all these years gentled Beauregard from an untamed jackal into a tender pup?”
“Naw. I’m saying Beau has always been gentle. We’ve never taken the time to see it ‘cause he’s all gruff like.”
Feeling turmoil, Wyatt pushed out of his chair. “I need air.”
Sensing his unrest William let him go. He took time to think on his younger brother and the beautiful woman calling herself his wife.
Wyatt circled the house. Tension refused to leave his shoulders. The question Roslyn asked pounded his brain.
‘Can you honestly say you’re ready to hear the truth?’
Her blue eyes had been so open, so ingenuous. How did a lady like her end up married to his hell-raiser brother? Did she genuinely see past the bad reputation to his brother’s true character? One he’d hidden from the world because they expected him to act like a monster?
‘Are you ready to learn what kind of man your brother is?’
Wyatt spent his life thinking his youngest brother was half feral. To think he might have it wrong made his belly lurch, his heart seize.
He couldn’t be that wrong.
Saddling his horse, Wyatt rode to the only place he’d get answers. He knew every inch of this land, including his brothers’ plots. It was a long ride to take again so soon, but he needed to talk to Roslyn, needed to hear from her lips what happened that morning she was taken from her home.
He dismounted in the flowery yard, and frowned when he found the house empty. Hearing a feminine moan, he spun, and spied the barn door open, a triangular slither of light cast upon the ground.
Another moan, louder, and more tortured than before.
All sorts of twisted things flew through his mind. He strode towards the sound. He’d catch the bastard in the act, and then there’d be no more doubting, no more uncertainty.
Wyatt slipped into the barn and followed the sounds to an empty stall. A dimly lit lantern hung from a rusty nail above it.
He peeked over the edge, and his eyes bugged out of his head.
Clothing was strewn across the floor. Half eaten cake and empty glasses littered the space suggesting the stall’s occupants had been frolicking a while.
Roslyn, naked, straddling his unclothed brother and riding him like a lazy horse in the hay. Curving over him the indentations of her spine moved. She groaned, rolling her hips, hands digging into his shoulders.
Beauregard reared up and hungrily suckled her breast.
Gasping, the breathy rush of sound delighted, she grabbed his ears to tug him closer. She moved faster, hips snapping, hair streaming to her gyrating waist, and sighed his name like a prayer. Sweat glistened on her shoulders. Stalks of straw decorated her hair making her seem like a fertility goddess revelling at harvest time.
Wyatt sucked in a breath.
Eyes snapping open, Beauregard straightened until he could see over Roslyn’s head, which she dropped to his shoulder as she pleaded with him to, “Douse the flames.”
Their gazes clashed.
Eyes going from soft amber to hard bullion, Beauregard jerked his chin, signalling Wyatt to leave. His rhythm never faltered. Instead, he dismissed his eldest brother as unimportant, and returned his attention to his lusty wife. Arms banded about her waist, he thrust his face in the curve of her neck as she rode him.
Backing up, Wyatt tore his eyes from the wild coupling. He turned and left the barn as stealthily as he arrived. He panted by the time he reached his horse, still reeling, and gripped the plain saddle.
What he’d seen was....
Wyatt knew Roslyn possessed the same training as his own wife having come from a genteel family, but what he’d seen threatened to blow his mind.
Caroline had never, ever responded to his touch like that. His wife spread her legs, told him to get on with it, and lay stiff as a corpse until he finished.
The whole experience was so cold and awkward most times Wyatt could barely keep his dick hard.
As he mounted and gathered the reins in his hands he heard a hoarse shout then a female shriek of satisfaction. The sounds raised goose pimples across his flesh.
Aroused, stunned, Wyatt set his spurs to Thunderbolt’s sides and raced towards home.
His mind struggled to reconcile the passionate lover he’d seen in the barn with the forbidding hermit he knew. When he’d thought about Beauregard using Roslyn in the carnal way, he imagined his brother a leering maniac, rutting on the frightened woman trapped beneath him.
Never had he imagined....
Roslyn and Beauregard weren’t having sex. They were making love, and not just the physical kind.
Whatever tomorrow brought, Wyatt knew a visit to the Velvet Touch would be the only thing that eased him.
Lord knew his frigid wife would never do.
BEAUREGARD AND ROSLYN WENT TO TOWN THE NEXT DAY. They separated as before to get what they needed faster.
Beauregard spotted his brother’s horse Thunderbolt tied outside the Touch. He entered the brothel with a sigh.
He wanted to make it clear to Wyatt that he was never to mention what he’d seen the night before. Nobody would use his wife’s passion against her. Over his dead body would she be made to feel shame for enjoying desire.
The Velvet Touch was a simple enough place.
Big Fat Nolan, a skinny man with too many teeth in his smile, stood behind the bar spit shining shot glasses with a dirty rag.
Lighting dim, the place smelt like old vomit, sour man sweat, and stale tobacco. Someone bashed a racket on a piano loud enough to make the ears bleed. Even at this early hour there was a steady buzz of conversation in the air. Come nightfall he knew the place would be filled to the rafters. Rickety stairs led to a corridor of doors where the whores took their patrons.
He’d visited this place once as a frustrated young man of seventeen ready to lose his virginity. The girl he’d wanted was beyond his reach. He found the experience passable, and not worth repeating. He’d bedded a tailor’s wife on a jaunt to Denver when he was twenty. That had been somewhat enjoyable. Ms Mary-Anne taught him a thing or two about pleasure.
Since then his palm took care of his needs to stop himself developing a brain fever.
Then along came Roslyn.
His wife who made his eyes roll into the back of his head. The lady savage who held his gaze as he came, and smiled. The lioness who growled when he thrust in such a way, nibbled her throat just right.
“Can I help you, Mr Kellington? A drink maybe? A dove?”
Big Fat Nolan was well travelled and didn’t give a damn if Beauregard was White, Indian or a Celestial from China. It was well known he was in a long-term relationship with Ophelia, the stunningly exotic negro who more than one man in town lusted after, not that they’d admit it with a gun to the head.
It was Nolan and Ophelia who’d stood as witnesses at the signing of Beauregard and Roslyn’s wedding certificate.
“Naw, Nolan. Just lookin’ for Wy.”
“Upstairs. Might be awhile, he looked fired up.”
Snorting, Beauregard just bet he was. “Will?”
“Out back with Tom Twin.”
“Doin’?”
“Gambling.”
Beauregard swore. His older brother had been a black leg since he shaved his first whiskers. “Any fool knows the Twins cheat.”
“He got bored waitin’ for Wyatt. Like I said, your brother was wound up mighty fierce.”
“Hm.” Beauregard started for the back. He’d leave an oblique message for William to pass on. That’d have to do until he could catch up with Wyatt alone. Maybe he’d beat on the Twins a bit before he left. “Thanks, Nolan.”
ROSLYN WALKED INTO THE GENERAL STORE THEN WALKED RIGHT BACK OUT REMEMBERING SHE’D FORGOTTEN TO ASK BEAUREGARD IF THEY NEEDED MORE COAL OIL. She’d taken not two steps before she saw him stroll into the Velvet Touch.
At first she refused to believe her own two eyeballs. There was no possible way what she’d seen was real. He wouldn’t do that to her. Not after last night. They had come together in such a way she’d seen stars.
“Looks like one whore isn’t enough to satisfy the Injun.” Sarah Halliday promenaded past arm-in-arm with a glum Emmalee. “Then again I’d suppose it’s a relief. Imagine being taken by that heathen.” She shuddered. “Just thinking of it makes me shiver.”
“Then don’t,” Roslyn replied woodenly. “Don’t think of my husband’s hands on you. He would never mount a bitch such as you.” Though he would a whore, she thought bitterly.
Hiding giggles behind her lacy palm, Emmalee shot her girlhood friend a covert look of congratulations.
Sarah choked and spluttered.
Steel infusing her spine, Roslyn was gone before the woman could respond. She was so hurt she could barely breathe. It might have been because her corset was laced too tight, but hell, it didn’t matter. She marched up to the saloon entrance then pushed into the building no well-bred lady entered before.
All talking quietened.
Someone guffawed.
A glass of firewater crashed to the grimy floor.
Chin held high, Roslyn fixed her gaze on the first male she laid eyes on. “Where is Mr Kellington?”
The bleary eyed drunk gazed up slack-jawed from his grubby bottle. He blinked owlishly. “Kellington? Upstairs. He grabbed Lucy, the bastard. I wanted Lucy. Been waitin’ for Lucy all damn mornin’.”
Seeing red, Roslyn left him there to mutter and complain to the empty seat opposite.
“Wait,” Nolan called. “Ms Roseberry–”
“My name is Kellington,” she screeched, half way up the staircase. “Ms Kellington, though God knows the vows we took to make it so have been so besmirched I don’t see why I should hold to them if he won’t.”
The barkeep’s bottom lip dropped at her scathing tone. Slapping the rag over his shoulder, he moved from behind the bar and shambled towards the back of the saloon.
Roslyn reached the landing and stared at the faded burgundy doors. She banged on the first and nearly fell inside when it yanked open.
A mature woman dressed in a gauzy peignoir leaned on the splintering doorframe. Her painted face frowned. “You lost, sugar pie?”
“Ma’am, which of these rooms belongs to Lucy?”
“That one.”
“Thank you kindly.” Roslyn bobbed a curtsey. “Have a nice day.”
A thin charcoal brow lifted. “You too, sugar. If she charges you more than five dollars you come back to me. Wendy will take care of you for free.” The whore winked then kicked her door closed in Roslyn’s face.
Marching to the door indicated, Roslyn banged a fist against the wood.
“Occupied,” yelled a smoky voice.
Furious imagining Beauregard under another woman, Roslyn fumbled for the door handle. “Yes, I believe you are, with my husband.” Unbelievably, the door swung open and she hurled herself inside. “Beau, how dare you do this to me. You promised to be faithful. You swore to me you-Oh, my.” She stopped shouting long enough to understand she didn’t recognise the lily-white body sprawled beneath the nude woman giving her the stink eye.
Her husband was bronzed all over, and leaner. This man only had a tanned face and forearms.
“Look, I said I’m busy.” The whore didn’t stop working her hips. “Are you looking for a job? You need to talk to Nolan about that.” She pinched a puckered male nipple. “You’re gorgeous. The men of this town will eat you alive. Now scoot.”
Roslyn and Wyatt stared at each other in mute horror.
As if possessed, his startled eyes dilated into black holes and he choked, “Oh God. Oh Roslyn,” as he shuddered and bucked, his abdominals tensing.
“Who?” Lucy asked breathlessly. “Oh, yeah, you wanted to call me Roslyn. Remember that’s a dollar extra.”
Stifling a whimper, Roslyn slapped a hand over her mouth and hobbled backwards. She’d made an awful, dreadful mistake. How on earth would she explain this to her husband? How would she ever look Wyatt in the eye without seeing this?
“Well, isn’t this cosy?”
The drawl had Roslyn flushing to her hairline. She twirled, and gave Beauregard a look of abject mortification.
Sparing a flinty look to his brother who long since stopped enjoying Lucy’s vigorous bouncing and noisy exclamations proclaiming how well he filled her, Beauregard gave Roslyn a wintry look.
He walked away leaving the door open.
Roslyn decided not to look at her brother-in-law again. Nothing good would come of it. She muttered an apology to the whore for barging into her room unannounced then trailed after her husband, eyes downcast.
The rest of the visit to town was done in painful silence.
They arrived back at the ranch as the sun went down.
Beauregard hadn’t said a word. The whole journey Roslyn bit her lip, wondering what went through his mind.
Alright, so she’d jumped to conclusions. Really, what was she supposed to think seeing him walk into that place?
Pulling the wagon to a stop, Beauregard jumped to the ground then snatched her off her own seat. He flung her over his shoulder, and strode towards the house. Inside, he dropped her onto her feet and spun her around. Throwing a chair aside, he pushed her to the edge of the table and bent her over. Her skirt was thrown over her back and her draws shredded by God knew what, his teeth?
Beauregard used a foot to kick her legs apart. She heard him remove his belt.
Tears welled in her eyes.
She’d never thought he’d punish her like this but she supposed she deserved it. Not only had she walked boldly into a den of iniquity, she violated his brother’s privacy, and embarrassed them all with her shrewish behaviour.
To her astonishment, Beauregard delved between her legs. He grunted finding her wet.
Well, the sight of Wyatt having relations made her remember how she and her husband had lain the night before, and that made her excited.
She felt Beauregard’s heat a moment before he plunged inside her. She gasped and slapped her hands to the tabletop. He rode her hard, hips thrusting with such strength the heavy table jerked across the floor. The rough urgency had her writhing. She anticipated each powerful lunge with eager pants. He pushed a hand between her legs and slid two fingers across her pearl. Circled the nub with firm, swift strokes.
She cried out as a million bursts of light exploded before her eyes and her body sucked at his.
Groaning loudly, Beauregard pressed his groin to her bottom and tangled a hand in her hair. The dominant gesture prolonged his release and had Roslyn aching for more, but at a loss of how to ask for it without sounding unladylike or greedy.
After a stark silence where only their heavy breathing filled the air, he slipped out of her and yanked her skirt down. Manacling her wrists with his hands. He leaned over her back, and put his lips to her ear. “A vow.” The words were delivered with that cutting precision she’d heard him use on others, but never on her. The blade of his voice sliced her as deeply as her mistrust had him. “I made a vow.”
Roslyn remained where she was. Eyes wide and staring as he left through the door he hadn’t closed as he’d taken her. He hadn’t even removed his hat.
Mouth dry from all the moaning, she licked her lips and swallowed a few times as her mind steadied.
She’d hurt him. Like everybody else she’d jumped to the worst possible conclusion. Instead of treating him as her respected husband, she’d branded him a traitor to their marriage and flown off the handle. When push came to shove, she was no better than the people who’d judged him unfairly his whole life. Worse, she knew better. She knew the man he was, and still she’d condemned him.
Beauregard never judged her. Even when Franklyn Junior spread his filthy lies, he’d asked for her side of the story then made up his own mind, and always chose to believe in her.
He asked. Always. Because to the core he was decent.
A tear slid down her cheek.