The very next morning, Beth sat on the sofa near the open windows overlooking an artfully tended side garden. She had asked her mother for a private meeting almost an hour ago. It had been unbearable sitting in the breakfast room with David Shaw. He had been so warm and friendly when he invited her to attend the theatre with him that evening. As if she could forget he was the reason she had hardly slept last night. Her mother had accepted on her behalf before she’d had the presence of mind to object.

Elizabeth entered the smaller parlor, arranged the elegant folds of her dress and lowered herself into the sofa beside Beth. "Sweetheart, is everything well? You seemed out of sorts earlier."

She met her gaze steadily. “I will not be attending the theatre with David,” she said quietly.

Her mother stiffened. “It would be quite unladylike like to cry off after you’ve accepted.”

“I didn’t accept. You did. And while I know you mean well Mamma, going forward, I will be the one to respond to my invitations, please.”

How she had forgotten what a significant part of her life had been before she traveled west. The expectations of ladylike conduct, the social calls, and the assumption she would find a man to marry soon. Her mother and her husband also seemed to have those hopes. Worse, her mother was keen on the idea of David courting her.

“You don’t appear particularly pleased by his regard my dear,” her mother murmured. “Is there a reason for that?”

“Other than the fact I just met him you mean?”

A wry smiled touched her mother’s lips. “I only want what is best for you. There is already some speculation about your time back in that ghastly place. A respectable marriage is what you need to settle nicely out here. Why don’t you give him a chance?”

She trod lightly around the question. Then decided there was no way around it. As succinct as possible she informed her mother of what happened at last night’s ball.

"Perhaps there was some misunderstanding," Elizabeth Shaw said, slowly lowering her tea to the small oak table. "Could that have been possible, sweetheart?"

Beth stared at her mother as if she were a creature. “I cannot see how I could misconstrue his assault against my person. He was unforgivably rude and ill-mannered in how he addressed me.” And wasn’t that the problem. Had she been in the west, she would have expected such ungentlemanly conduct. David had soundly shocked her and rattled her nerves. “He also slapped me, Mamma.”

Shock bloomed across her mother’s cheek. “My stepson slapped you?”

“Yes.”

Her mother closed her eyes and fisted her hands in her lap. "I cannot believe it of his character, oh Bethany sweetheart, I am deeply sorry. I will speak with him about his behavior. I ask you to forgive whatever madness took hold of him. I promise you he is not beastly. He is a most eligible bachelor, and all the ladies are quite keen to capture his regard.”

Her mother looked at her expectantly, and a hollow sensation formed in Beth’s stomach. “I’ll try and forgive him for your sakes,” she said softly. “But I would never consider allowing him to court me. In fact, I cannot live under a roof where he has free access. I hardly slept last night, and I cannot exist anticipating an attack.”

“Bethany, I assure you, David—”

“Mamma, please.” She took a steady breath. “I will need to find a place of my own.”

“Your reputation—”

“My reputation will be fine.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Please work with me, Mamma, and not against me.”

Her mother hugged her. “You were always independent with your thinking. You were adamant to travel west, and though I believed it a mistake, I knew I wouldn’t have been able to dent your resolve. I feel you are making another mistake, and I ask you to stay for a while, and not to act in haste. Emmet and I will speak with David. I truly believe he is regretful of his actions which is why he has invited you to the theatre with him.”

Beth considered her mother. She did have little money to move and rent a townhouse for herself. It would be prudent to wait until she had some money saved, though she hated the very idea. Then she recalled Joshua’s demand that she opened an account and telegram him the details, so he could make a deposit to use for his son’s upkeep. He had quoted her a sum that had shocked her, but he had been adamant.

Her heart fluttered in her chest at the thought of contacting him. “It will take me a while to find somewhere for Grayson and me,” Beth offered as a bridge. She wasn’t sure if Kathy would travel with her, for Emmet Shaw had offered her a post in one of his hotels. But there was the benefit of each other’s company if they were to share a townhouse.

“At least stay for my dinner party,” her mother urged.

An event she was excited about, as the crème of Boston society promised to be in attendance.

* * *

The days since Bethany left with Grayson had been passing in a slow grind for Joshua. He worked from dawn to dusk, rode the ranges, branded cattle, broke wild horses, and even pored over the ledgers to see how they had been performing. All the work was updated, and in fact, the Triple K ran with an efficiency that did not need his input. When the first light turned the sky grey, Joshua was still working, until he slumped in his bed exhausted. He pushed, punishing himself with work that the ranch hands could do because he needed to forget the taste of Bethany, the scent of her, the way her entire face lit with her smile.

That still did not keep the dreams from coming, and they visited him every night. At first, he was resentful that whatever part of his mind was responsible for those damn dreams could betray him in such a manner. For he desperately wanted to forget the ache of loving her and wanting her so desperately. Then he became grateful after the first couple of weeks because in his dreams the memories of how she had laughed, how her eyes had seemed so happy, how she had cried and sobbed into his neck when he had pleasured her. In his dreams they were vivid, and he found that he anticipated seeing her come to him in his sleep.

He stared upward into the darkness of the sky, filled with a yearning that couldn’t be slaked. In his entire life he had never wanted, never ached for anything as he did this woman and his child. For her, he would give up the mountains, the high valleys, the rivers. But would she still want him even if he went after her?

He would still be the same man, the one who had killed Abraham Hardin without any mercy. You’re a killer. What if there had been another way? Had he tried hard enough? He could have taken Abraham to the law and seen justice done that way. Joshua wasn’t sure if there could ever be a time he could temper his ruthless instincts when his family was threatened. Men in the west, those who took without asking, only responded to raw, unchecked brutality. Jail hardly held these men, and breakouts were far more common than convictions.

But he was willing to honestly try another way, a more civilized and lawful means. He would try and commit to shooting out their knees and then taking them to the law. And if the law failed, he would then act according to his conscience. To Joshua's way of thinking that was a fair compromise.

Twigs crunched behind him, and the familiar scent of tobacco reached out to him.

“You’ve been out here a long time,” August Kincaid said, moving to stand beside him. “You missed dinner for the fifth time. Your mother was getting ready to come out here and pull you in by the ear.”

Joshua chuckled, knowing his father did not jest. His ma believed she could still drag him about by the ears. And if she came, there was nothing he could do about it other than bend down so that she could reach him. As far as she was concerned her grown sons were still her boys.

He took the smoke from his father, lit it, and dragged deeply of the cigar. They stood like that, staring into the night sky, the silence between them companionable.

“Your ma told me how you met Bethany,” his father finally said. “I’m of a mind to believe the reason you’re not chasing her now is that you think you forced her once already, and it would kill you to do it again.”

The words were a brutal fist to Joshua's gut, and feelings he had no ideas for processing roared through him. He remained silent for it was a thought he'd had several times. That night she had submitted out of fear, and he had ridden her twice without any thoughts for her apparent innocence.

“You didn’t rape her,” his father said flatly. “In my days I’ve been with my fair share of saloon girls. Before your ma. I didn’t believe any of them wanted to be there, but they offered a service, and I handed over my coins.”

His father was sometimes too frank, though, and this was one of those times.

Joshua knew many women who ended up in saloons and whorehouses chose for themselves, but some also felt they had no choice in the matter, and he'd always sworn never to take advantage of a woman like that. But with Bethany, he had seen and wanted, so he did everything that night to win her. "She was untouched," he said gruffly. "I was the one to break her virginity…and it was only out of fear she submitted."

August Kincaid smoked for several minutes before he said, "In the days Miss Bethany was here, all I saw was a woman with stars in her eyes when she looked at you. If she believed you had hurt her that night, there wouldn't have been that soft look on her face every time she gazed your way. If you go for her now and bring her home…you wouldn't be forcing her, simply going for your woman."

Joshua smiled. It was something he had been thinking of doing for days, yet hearing his father echo his thoughts, eased some of the uncertainty inside of him. He’d accepted he couldn’t let her go.

“So, you bringing her home?”

“No…but I’ll be going to her.”

His father thought on that, and then he sighed. “Your ma will be mighty displeased at the notion of you moving to Boston.”

Somehow that night she’d become a part of him, and he’d never been able to let her go, and never would. “I love her,” he said.

August chuckled, and clapped him on the shoulder.

“You’re a frontier man, and you’re willing to leave the wide-open lands to be with her. That tells me you love that woman with your entire soul, son,” his father said. “When we Kincaid men love, we tend to make an ass of ourselves in how we love our women. But I reckon that’s fine.”

And then there wasn’t much to say after that.

Several days later Joshua arrived in Boston to the address Beth had left with him. Instead of walking to the front door of the elegant townhouse, he lingered across the street, discreetly watching the house. A few beautiful ladies and gentlemen walking down the paved road had shot him suspicious looks, and a few well-sprung carriages had slowed to observe him some, no doubt it was the six-shooter strapped to his hip that drew their attention. He'd ignored them.

The door to the townhouse opened. An elegant town carriage and four horses were pulled up outside the house, and a young man held the leader's head. Joshua's breath left his lungs as Beth exited the house. She was dressed in a dark blue velvet skirt and a white ruffled silk blouse. A dark blue hat was perched rather rakishly atop her vibrant red curls. She was a pretty picture of etiquette and grace befitting a lady of society. He belatedly realised she was accompanied by a lady whom he assumed was her mother. Though Joshua had cleaned up, he felt a bit rough around the edges faced with such gentility. She laughed at something her mother said, and she seemed so radiant and happy, not at all ravaged as how Joshua felt.

He had made a mistake. Beth had settled into her life, and here he was thinking to upend it. They climbed into the carriage and then it rolled away down the street, the groom scrambling aboard as it picked up speed. It didn't even make sense for him to head into the town and find lodgings. He had been a damn fool to head out here. This was the life she wanted, and she damn well looked perfect in it.

Except he was not the type of man to omit to say his piece when he had something to say. And it would be an injustice to travel this far and not even touch her, even if it was only once more...

* * *

Beth kissed Grayson on his cheek, before handing him to her mother.

"Mamma," he cried with exuberance reaching for her. With a light laugh, she wagged her finger at him. She'd just spent the last thirty minutes playing with him on the carpet in the parlor. Her mother's expression had said she found Beth's conduct unladylike, but she didn't care. Her mother's anticipated dinner party was the following evening, and there was a bustle of activities taking place as the servants cleaned the townhouse. She had gone shopping with her mother earlier to escape the madness, and Beth had bought new silk stockings and undergarments. How she had allowed her mother to convince her the purchases made sense she would never know.

“I’m off to take a bath, and perhaps nap for a bit. I am a bit tired.”

“Go, I have him,” her mother said, placing a kiss on her grandson’s forehead.

Beth nodded and made her way from the drawing room. David was strolling down the hallway with his father, and she hurried to the stairs, so she wouldn’t have to greet him. While he had apologized to her again most sincerely, she did not trust him and avoided him to his frustration.

She climbed the stairs, opened the door to her room and froze. The shopping bag slipped from her hand, and she moved further into the room hesitantly. The scent of her man and tobacco flaring her nostrils. Had he gotten her telegram already? She’d only sent it yesterday. Don’t be silly, she scolded herself. He had headed to Boston before she'd even decided to send him her message. Her gaze scanned the room, and she detected no one, but she knew he was still there. She could feel him.

“Joshua?” She felt almost silly, but her heart was beating a desperate rhythm.

The door closed behind her, and she trembled. Beth slowly turned. And there he was leaning against the wall by the door. Every feminine instinct she possessed was drawn to him, and she wanted to throw herself at him. But she held onto her composure. The silence stretched out, broken only by the faint chime of the hallway clock. His black, flat-crowned hat was pulled low, and a red bandana was tied loosely around his neck. And he had worn a gun. She’d never seen a more splendid sight. He would have stuck out like a sore thumb in Boston where the men dressed in waistcoats and cravats. Joshua watched her with an unreadable intensity that sucked all the air from her lungs.

“Bethany,” he said. Just that.

She stood, staring at him, still unable to utter a sound. "Joshua, what are you doing here?"

Shadows flashed in his eyes, and she didn't want them there. “I’m happy you’re here, Joshua, I’ve missed you so,” she whispered achingly.

She didn’t think he expected that answer.

“Come here, brown eyes.”

She moved toward him, and he met her in the middle of the room. He hugged her in a tight grip, and she returned his embrace just as fiercely. "How did you get in?" she whispered against his chest.

“I broke in.”

The very idea was so shocking she laughed. There were several servants in the house for God sakes. “Why did you come?”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” she gasped, her fingers tightening on the back of his shirt.

She could feel the pounding of his heart against her face.

“I’ve missed you. I took my first breath just now when I saw you,” he said. “Without you in my life…I am empty. I had to come.”

A thrill burst inside her heart, and she lifted her face from his chest and peered up. His beautiful green eyes glittered with something thoroughly primal and a bit intimidating. “Joshua?”

“Brown eyes?”

“If you don’t kiss me, I will likely die.”

He tugged her to him, lifted her against his chest and claimed her lips in a heated embrace. There was something very savage but so wonderful in the fierce way his lips moved on hers. He stumbled until he sat on the edge of the bed, dragging her onto his lap, so she sat astride him, her knees bracketing his outer thighs. He removed the pins, so her hair fell in wild disarray to her waist. How wanton she must look. She hazily wondered if she had locked the door, but then his thumbs raked over her nipples and her thoughts splintered. When had he parted her blouse?

His fingers stroked over to her collarbone, down to the underside of her breast and around to her back and down to her backside, which he gripped tightly in his large hands…and squeezed. Her skirt was pushed up to her hips, and then his fingers skimmed over the top of her stockings and garters to the opening of her drawers. Those wicked fingers caressed the wet folds of her sex, and she trembled in reaction. That hand disappeared, he lifted her off him slightly with one muscled arm, while the other worked at the front of his trousers, and her man never stopped kissing her, not once.

He made her weak. He made her desperate.

She reached between them and grabbed his thick length, rubbing the flared mushroomed head of his manhood over her slick folds. His groan of approval said she did the right thing. He palmed her buttocks in his strong hands, lifted her until the tip of his manhood was poised at her wet entrance, then he slammed her onto his cock.

The scream exploded from her mouth into his. Pleasure and pain—the sweet, agonizing kind.

He broke their kiss, staring at her. Then he brushed the lightest of kisses on her lips. “Later…much later, it will be gentle. But now, it'll be a rough ride. Can you handle it?”

Her nails dug into his shoulders. “Always,” she whispered, craving him with her entire soul.

Then he didn’t give her a chance to say anything more. It shouldn’t have been possible for his kisses to be such a tender assault because the way he slammed her down on his cock over and over was rough and ravaging. Maybe too rough for she felt stretched to her limits. She sobbed into his kiss, her nails biting into his shoulders as he took her. Acting with carnal instincts, she slipped one of her hands between them, and allowed her fingers to find her clitoris and rubbed it with quickening strokes. Beth tightened even further on his cock as pleasure quaked through her.

“Ride me, brown eyes,” he growled, giving her some measure of control.

And she did. It seemed to go on forever, hard, passionate thrusts that had her climbing higher and higher towards bliss. With a tortured groan, he flipped her around, pressing her deep into the mattress, his arms wrapping beneath her to hold her even closer. With each thrust of his hips, each glide of the thick erection, the sensations only mounted.

“I love you, Bethany,” he suddenly groaned at her ear.

It was as if his words snapped the tight pressure that had been gathering inside her, and waves of delight poured through her as she convulsed in his arms. Yet he didn’t stop riding her. Over and over his broad length stroked into her, filling her with pained delight. She was enslaved by the pure, rich, and wonderful sensation of being loved by Joshua Kincaid. Pleasure became an agony of ecstasy, as she found her release several times before he emptied himself deep inside her with an earthy groan.

He was heavy atop her, but she wouldn’t move him for the entire world. He pulled from her tender flesh, rolled with her so that she was splayed atop him. Beth smiled, knowing he could feel the curve of her lips against his chest. Everything felt right and wonderful. “I love you, Joshua Kincaid.”

His hands tightened around her. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, she only knew she wanted to be with him forever. She fell asleep, though not for long. Joshua roused her with wicked kisses and illicit touches, and took her twice, loving her with exquisite care. And for the first time since arriving in Boston, Beth sunk into a deep, dreamless sleep, her body enveloped by the warmth and comfort of Joshua.