Chapter Twelve
Sheridan leaned against the side of the bank trembling. Everything had happened so fast. Mr. Sullivan had summoned the town preacher, but the preacher had taken one look at her and had stuck to his guns, refusing to marry an unwilling woman. Mr. Sullivan had been furious, but the preacher had remained unruffled even though his bible had been clenched in a death grip. Sullivan had then ordered the preacher to be at the Crazy S ranch where he would find a willing bride. His words to Bartley, ‘teach her a lesson’ was one of the most petrifying things she’d heard her whole life.
Elijah walked toward her in quick strides. She pushed herself off the side of the bank. Tears burned her eyes and she wiped them away. The last thing she wanted to do now was appear weak, reminding him of his wife. Pain filled moans came from the men in the alley and her eyes scanned them frantically. She dimly heard their groans and realized they still lived. Even though they were vermin, relief flooded her. She did not want Elijah to have their deaths on his hands.
The day was warm and the metallic stench of blood rose hot and fetid in the air. One of the men clutched his face where Elijah’s blade had sliced, leaving a horrid gaping wound. She vomited, emptying her luncheon in the blood-spattered alley. She staggered to her feet. He gave her his canteen and she rinsed her mouth a few times. She gratefully popped the mint he handed her, sucking on its sweet wintry flavor. She prayed he would not mention her apparent weakness in the face of blood and gore.
She tipped her head towards him. “Thank you, Elijah.”
His thumb dragged gently against her bottom lip wiping away the blood. “Do you want me to kill him?” His voice was low and fierce, his expression raw and intent.
“I...no.” She gasped when his fingers caressed her even softer.
“Never come into town without me again. Until you leave, you either travel with me or Miguel, understand?”
She nodded mutely, heart aching that he still spoke so casually about her leaving.
He bent down and kissed her gently. Her heart lurched at his action, only a brief pass of his mouth over hers. His fingers sank into her hair, ruthlessly holding her gaze to his. His voice was rough with some unnamed emotion when he questioned her. “Are you hurt? Do you need to see Doc?”
Sheridan realized his other hand rubbing up and down her back was shaking. “No.”
“Are you certain, Sheridan?”
“Yes I am. They…they didn’t get to do what you are thinking.”
He pressed another quick kiss to her lips. “Let’s go.”
“The sheriff will—”
“Fuck the sheriff. Let’s get you home.”
He scanned the alley, and she noted how empty the street was. They had all fled indoors at the fighting. Elijah’s movements were quick when he launched onto the horse and drew her up in front of him. He nudged the massive stallion into a run and she held onto his arms, the sick feeling of fear still lingering. They had intended to rape her. A harsh sob tore from her and tears spilled down her face. She did not want him to see her cry but she couldn’t help it.
“Sullivan will rue the day he thought to inflict harm on you,” he promised softly at her ear.
“Elijah, no.” She didn’t want any more violence. She only wanted to be at home, in his arms, safe and comforted.
She shifted in the saddle, and he cursed, slowing the horse to a canter. “Ah hell, Sheridan,” he groaned and gripped her hips. “Please, don’t cry.”
She buried her face in his neck and the sobs tore from her unchecked. “No more blood Elijah, please.” She barely heard the soothing words of nonsense he muttered as he urged the stallion to ride faster, but holding her securely.
When she had tried to threaten Sullivan with Elijah’s name, Sullivan had taunted her, describing how he would take Elijah’s life, slowly and painfully. Jericho Sullivan was dangerous. What she had encountered in town today was a harsh reality. No one had been willing to aid her, no one. Not because they despised her, but because they feared him. She knew he was powerful, but she’d never imagined it would have been like that. And he seemed as if he would go to any length to obtain her, and she had foolishly pitted Elijah against him.
She could not bear it if anything were to befall Elijah because of her. She had felt a crippling agony when she thought they would have killed him, and she never wanted to feel such anguish again. If it meant leaving Wyoming that is what she would do. She would prefer to leave him and start over, because if he got killed protecting her it would all be for naught. Because Elijah was home for her.
A harsh sob came from her and his arms wrapped around her—strong and warm.
“Are you certain you are not hurt?”
“No. But my heart still pounds and I can still feel Bartley’s mouth on mine.”
Sheridan felt like she wanted to crawl into Elijah, to have his touch wipe away the taste of Bartley.
“He will never touch you again,” Elijah promised.
The horse came to a stop and she lifted her face bravely. “I will leave, Elijah, and go east,” she vowed.
He stilled an expression she could not decipher flashed in his gaze only to disappear. He pried her from him and shifted her so that she sat astride in front of him.
A crack echoed across the mountain. She twisted to look behind him and he halted her. “What is it?”
“They are hoping to spook Orion. Just hold on.”
“They?”
Without answering he surged the horse into a gallop. For the first time she noticed they were not heading in the direction of the ranch. Orion thundered with beautiful speed on a trail she was not familiar with. “Where are we going?”
“To the mountain cabin.”
“I don’t understand.”
“They are not going to just let us go, Sheridan. The hunt will be on. There are six men on my back trail as we speak. The mountain cabin is hidden. The trail I will be using is only known to me and my brothers. And I will see anyone that approaches…if they find us.”
She nodded her head. “Beth and Gray—”
“They will be fine. It is you they want. I doubt they will go to the ranch. If they do, Miguel and our ranch men are there. They will be able to protect them.”
“Sullivan has a lot of men. If he decided to go—”
“The men riding for the Whispering Creek are hard men. Most of them were soldiers. They will be able to hold their own,” he reassured. “Hold the rifle.”
Sheridan responded to the cold confidence in his voice. He placed the rifle across her lap and rode alert. Despite only his brothers knowing about the trails, he watched every shadow and paused every so often and remained still, listening to the cries of the forest. She relaxed into him, holding onto the pommel as she jerked and crashed into the saddle. It seemed like they rode for hours in painful silence. The trail twisted and turned as it steepened. The stamina of his horse was a marvelous thing to behold, but surely he must soon tire.
“Will we rest shortly?”
“No. I want to lose them. They cannot see us now, but if they have any lick of sense they will be able to follow our tracks. Rain is coming. It will wash away our tracks, but I need to put enough distance between us so they cannot use a spy glass and keep track of the direction we are headed in.”
She swallowed and nodded grimly. As if God had heard him, a large splat landed on her cheek and the sky rumbled.
“It will be a hard climb,” he said in a low voice. “Orion is strong, but it will be hard on him carrying both of our weights.”
They climbed steadily, relentlessly pushing Orion until his breathing became labored. The urgency of Elijah’s action shook Sheridan, and fear rekindled in her breast.
“You do not think they will give up?” she asked softly.
“No. I saw something in town today. It was fear. You were dragged into a saloon and kept there for a while. Then you were accosted in plain sight of the town-folks, yet no one did anything. They fear Sullivan, deeply.”
“What do I do?”
“Pack up and leave would be the best solution.”
She nodded, and tears slipped down her cheeks. “Do you think they will allow me to leave?”
He was silent for a long time. “How much are you worth?”
“The inheritance from my grandmother was fifty thousand pounds. If my father has not disinherited me fully, in four years from now on my twenty fifth birthday and every ten years hence, I will be allotted another ten thousand.”
“Hell!”
They continued in quietness, fording a stream and climbing steadily, the tall pine groves and evergreens blotting out the sky. The air got chillier and she shivered. The path he took was seemingly undisturbed. It was also longer than the route she took from the ranch.
She tensed when he broke the long silence.
“You are willing to leave?”
“Yes,” she conceded painfully. She waited for his response but none came, so she faded back into the muteness of the trek.
The sky cracked a little, and cold steady splats landed on her. For a brief while, Elijah dismounted and she rode alone. They came to a narrow path, where she had to descend and walk through a slab of rocks. They came out in a clearing with about six different trails. They remounted and she was grateful for his calm presence. They rode for a few more hours, steadily climbing and then suddenly the cabin was just there.
He dismounted and faced her. She made to dismount but he rested his hands on her hips and halted her. “Would it be so terrible to go east?”
She forced herself to smile. “No.”
His eyes narrowed. “Do not lie to me, Sheridan. Can you start over?”
“I can start over,” she assured, hating that her voice wobbled.
“But?” he prompted.
The West was a raw country, and the Whispering Creek was her home, but it was not worth his blood. She was not sure how to communicate that. In fact, she was not even sure she wanted him to know.
“Please talk to me, Sheridan.”
“I love the land,” she said. “The wildness of it, the beauty of the mountain, the fierceness of the winds, the cries of the cicadas, and the birds that trill in the meadows. Peace seeps inside of me as I stand on the ridge and overlook the prairie. I am home here, Elijah. I am never lonely. To smell the nature and see the great buffalos, what more to life can there be?”
The silence was so profound she was certain he could hear the wild beating of her heart. He grunted and she shifted her eyes to meet his gaze. The smell of rain permeated the earth and its slow drops ran in rivulets down her face and neck.
“I do understand. I was born on the frontier. The land is in my blood. It calls to something inside of me and I cannot imagine myself anywhere else.”
Acting on the need that had been beating in her, she leaned into him sliding off the saddle and pressed her lips to his. He froze and her heart surged wildly. With a groan, he took her lips in an endlessly tender kiss, before her feet even touched the ground.
His lips left her mouth and slid hotly down her neck. Excitement thrummed through her blood when his mouth returned to hers, gently marauding. Hot, shivery sensations shot up her spine and arched her back. Before she could respond he eased away and set her from him.
“What is it?” she breathed, gripping the front of his shirt. “Why did you stop?”
He dropped his forehead to hers. “Go inside the cabin and stay away from me. Just for the night. We will talk tomorrow.”
“I do not understand.”
“I am on edge, Sheridan. Do as I say.”
Her feet seemed rooted to the earth. He seemed so out of sorts, it troubled her. He led Orion toward the barn, and she stood watching as he proceeded to rub him down, watered and fed him. Then Elijah went to the water trough and dipped his head into what must be very cold water. “Elijah?”
He faced her. She could see he was drawn taut, that something vibrated from him. His eyes were dark, and dangerous. She realized he was riding the fine tip of his self-control. How had he disguised it so much on the ride there? Her heart lurched but she did not want to leave. She sauntered over to his side. “How can I help?”
He sighed. “You cannot. Go inside. Take a long bath. I will be back in a few hours.”
She made to leave but something in his closed off expression warned her. “Where will you be, Elijah?”
His visage became even more shuttered. “I will be visiting the saloon in town.”
She controlled the cry that tried to spill from her lips. His close off mien told her what his lips did not. He was going to the bed of one of the saloon girls. He couldn’t. “I can give you what you need. I want to be with you.”
It flared in his eyes, hot and violent—Lust. “No.”
“Elijah, do not go to anyone else while I am here. It will break me.” She did not know where she even got the strength to confess that, but she would die if he went to the bed of another woman.
His lashes swept down, hiding his eyes from hers. “I am not going to anyone’s bed, I would never do that, not when…not when I am so knotted up inside by you.”
Her breath hitched. “Then why are you returning to town?”
It was as if a violent wave poured from him, then was quickly contained. He was going back to face Sullivan? Alone? She couldn’t bear the idea. He made to leave and she grabbed his hand. “Elijah, don’t go. The men may still be on the trail and rain is coming.”
“Go inside, Sheridan!”
“I need you, Elijah. Not out there facing God knows what. With me,” she snapped.
He whipped to face her and lifted her in his arms. He stalked with her to the cabin and up the few steps. He paused at the door and lowered her. His thumb brushed her jaw. A light soothing touch skimmed over her and she sank into his caress. “I wouldn’t be gentle Sheridan and right now you need gentle.”
His words had heat uncurling in the pit of her stomach. “I need you. Rough or gentle. I won’t mind rough,” she promised.
His eyes burned with dark heat. He lifted her up and wrenched the door open. She grabbed for his shoulders and buried her face deep in his neck. He kissed the lobe of her ear and with bold strides walked her further into the cabin. With quick movements, he reached the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. He mounted them rapidly taking two steps at a time as she clung to him, her heart jerking in anticipation.
The kiss he pressed into the hollow of her throat was violent with restrained hunger. He slammed open his door and carried her over to the bed, tumbling her down. He flicked up her skirt, gripped her drawers and wrenched. The ripping resounded in her ears and she went slick with need.
Elijah dropped to his knees, drawing her legs over his hips, shifting so that he widened her. He dipped one long finger into the core of her. His eyes narrowed as he felt her wetness. He sank a second finger in her, opening them and stretching her, while unbuckling his pants with his other hand. His length sprung free—heavy and thick.
Her breath sawed. Anticipation skittered along her nerves and settled into the deep heart of her. He gripped her buttocks and drew her onto his knees. He nudged his broad head to her portal and with a jerk of his hip, thrust deep.
“Elijah!” she gasped.
Even though Sheridan was slick with arousal, her muscles burned as they parted under the force of his entry. He took her without restraint. His thrust grew deeper, harder, spearing into the depths of her. He held her gaze and his eyes seemed to pierce her soul as he rode her with deep powerful strokes.
She felt like she was caught in a storm—wild, violent, yet hauntingly beautiful. “That’s so good,” she moaned.
He pressed her into the bed and raised her hips, nudging her thighs wide. He withdrew and plunged into her with such force her body quaked. Reality splintered away as pain and pleasure combined in a tidal wave of sensation, drowning her. Hot stabs of heat coiled in her core and her pleasure rolled through her like a tornado. Elijah drove into her over and over again, lunging deeper with every thrust. She gave him everything that he demanded, unable to hold back or protest, matching him thrust for thrust, stroke for stroke. A low keening cry of ecstasy wrenched from her and she fragmented once more. Her heartbeat slowed and her body felt weak and pliant.
“Okay?” he asked, kissing her shoulder, then her neck.
She was too stunned to speak and she could only nod.
He eased from her and cool air washed over her damp skin, making her shiver. She swallowed when she saw that he was still hard and throbbing. “What are you doing?” she asked weak from the pleasure that ravaged her body.
His eyes burned into hers more intense than ever, “I’m not finished yet.”
His mouth took hers, gently. The kiss was unlike any he had ever given her before, raw and hot, yet sweet and compelling. Frissons of pleasure arched over her body to her core, piercing and sweet.
“Lift up,” he murmured, licking the corner of her mouth.
She complied. He worked the skirt off her hips, her camisole and shirt off her body. Her nipples puckered and her mouth went dry as he said hoarsely, “You have no idea how beautiful you are, how sensual.”
He leaned forward and twirled his tongue in her navel, “I am going to pleasure you with my mouth.”
She swung her gaze to his face. “I don’t understand.”
He caressed her nub with his fingertips, lightly caressing her core. She grew hotter, her body quivering in delight.
“I am going to kiss you here.”
She stared at him in scandalized shock. She thought to protest, but the look of raw need on his face froze her. Months of pent-up longing welled. She wanted him any way that he wanted her. She arched her hips in acquiescence and was rewarded when he dipped his head and kissed her as he promised.
He licked her core. Intense heat surged through Sheridan, igniting need in her blood. Heat crawled through her veins. She arched up and whimpered. Fire throbbed low in her stomach hot and wicked. Pleasure rippled through her and she panted for breath. The scrape of his teeth over her nub was more bliss than she could stand, but she still angled her hips more against his mouth, fingers gripping his hair. He murmured approvingly. His tongue lapped, and she cried out, tightening her grip in his hair.
Desire coiled hotly between her legs. She met his eyes and blushed. His eyes glowed dark and hungry as he kissed her in a place she had never thought possible. She bit back a moan as he gently slipped a finger inside of her and started to thrust, a slow, delicious rhythm. She felt herself starting to dissolve.
Yet he was still not finished.
His tongue flicked, circled, and drove her mindless with need. Her heels pressed mindlessly into his shoulders and her fingers gripped his hair frantically as passion stormed through her. She thrashed and screamed as with each sultry flick and caress of his tongue Elijah drove her higher and higher until she splintered. The feeling was exquisite, sweet ecstasy spearing though her.
He rose above her, the beautiful smoky green of his eyes holding hers captive. He plunged back inside her and began to move, sliding in and out, slow and easy. His lips took her with gentle pressure, far softer than anything Sheridan had ever received from him. He moved against her, his deep strokes slow and measured. Her nipples peaked and his callused fingertips caressed them, rousing nerve endings to life as he bestowed more pleasure on her than she had ever received. Pleasure she never wanted to end.
***
Sheridan’s cries wrapped around Elijah soothed the dangerous mood he had been in. He kissed her lips and groaned as he rode her slow and easy. She felt so supple and tiny in his arms, and it gutted him that men had thought to take her against her will. It would have destroyed her.
He buried his face in her throat, lifting her hips higher to receive his thrust. She was so damn soft. Small where he was large, soft where he was hard, but enough. He wasn’t an easy man. His sexual needs were complicated and coarse and she’d always taken him with innocent hunger. He hardly knew how to be gentle, but she made him yearn for it. He yearned to pepper her with praising and loving words.
She moaned, gripping his sweat slicked shoulders as another wave of pleasure drowned her. Her body trembled as delight rippled over it. Her heat drew him under, and a choked, guttural sound exploded from him as he pulled from her at the last minute and released onto the sheets. He would not risk getting her with child.
He rolled over and pulled her trembling frame to him. God she had been perfect, she’d mewled and rocked against his face, lost in pleasure, and even now he could still taste her on his tongue, sultry and sweet. He hadn’t intended to take her at all. But he’d seen the fear in her, despite her attempt to be brave.
He had known then that all of his resolve to keep her at a distance would never work. He’d wanted to love her with nothing between them. Not the past. Not the future. No doubt. He only wanted to wipe the fear from her, and his nightmares from his mind. He had almost been too late, and even now though she trembled in satisfaction, Elijah still felt the echoes of fear that she had been harmed irreparably.
“You do not have to leave, Sheridan.” He was probably being a damn fool, but he would not let her leave. She had not been able to hide the desperation, the pain in her eyes when she spoke of fleeing. The Whispering Creek was her home, and as long as he breathed he would not allow Sullivan to take it from her.