Bewitching Bret Page 3

  The only complaint out of my husbands had been over said monstrous corsets that had so restricted my breathing – and their impediment to quickly revel in my body’s luscious bounty. What had once been a cage had given me an hourglass figure that accentuated the generosity of my full hips and the breasts my husbands loved nothing more than to bury themselves within.

  Bret rose with a playful growl, his movements lithe and fluid with grace. His long, silky strands of native hair whisked in the breeze as he glided my way. His firm body glowed with health and vitality. Virility.

  My heart beat faster and my stomach fluttered with a tease of desire. How would I ever live without him in my bed for even one night? How was I ever going to hide my wanting of this man from my sister? A look or glance – even a thought that brought a rush of warmth into my face – was sure to be enough to give me away.

  His hands slid around my narrow waist and cupped my rounded buttocks, his touch eliciting a groan from my lips that he quickly captured with his own, pressing his firm, hard length against where our child nestled in my belly.

  “Does that answer your question about what I think of your body?” Bret whispered with a nip to my earlobe.

  “Yes,” I hissed, basking in the feel of his skin sliding beneath my fingers. The hard planes of his body pressed against my own.

  Bret’s attentions continued down my neck and across my shoulder. “You’ve been over here gnawing on something for awhile now, Essie.” He raised his head and pressed his forehead to mine, his dark-pooled stare diving deep. “What are you worrying on about?”

  I stared into those eyes before laying my head against his strong chest, listening to the thunder of his heart that beat in rhythm with my own. My beautiful, dusky savage – or at least that was how my sister was likely to see him.

  And our children.

  I sighed and feathered my fingertips across his taut nipple. “I was just missing you, is all.”

  “Missing me?” A slow smile oozed into his voice like melting butter. “How can you miss me when I’m right here?”

  His hands slid up and down my buttocks before inching between my cheeks to come up against my puckered opening. I shivered in wanton abandon as he swirled and pressed against it, remembering the sharp pleasure of being taken there. To be filled by my men in every opening my body possessed. To overflow with their seed. Their desire. Their love.

  Something that would soon be denied us. For a time.

  I plucked at his dark peak again before sliding my tongue over it and earning a breathy moan that brushed the top of my head. “I was thinking about how empty my bed will feel…when Abby arrives.”

  He stiffened. His shoulders slumped and his chest caved in away from my attentions as if struck by an unseen force. “So you’re going ahead with the farce.”

  I’d tried to discuss this before. Introduce the topic gently in the month or so since receiving Abby’s missive. But none of my husbands would even consider discussing such a thing – as if ignoring the reality would make it dissipate like smoke up the chimney.

  Tears pricked my eyes at the defeat in his tone. “Surely Abby doesn’t plan to stay more than a few weeks. Any longer, and she’ll be stuck here through winter.”

  He murmured against my hair. “A day is too long to be away from you, Essie. Away from our bed. Your body.”

  I choked as the tears came in a full-on torrent. The one thing I despised about pregnancy was how emotional I became about everything.

  I clung to my beautiful and loving husband. “I am dreading the coming separation.”

  He pulled back and wiped at my tears with his gentle thumb then kissed my nose. “Then we won’t be.”

  I blinked. “Won’t be what?”

  “Separated.”

  “H-how can you say that with my sister arriving?”

  “Why do we need to keep our love secret, tucked away as if we’re ashamed?”

  His emphasis of that word mocked our conversation of mere moments ago. Mocked the freedom I’d finally found in my own curvy flesh.

  My hands planted firmly on my hips. “I love you, Bret Carston. But…”

  “But?” A dark brow hiked up in challenge.

  One thing I loved about this man was his ability to remain calm in even the tensest of situations. At the very least, project an appearance of calm, regardless of the swirl of turmoil that sometimes swam in those coal-black eyes.

  His assuring demeanor was the thing that had kept me focused during the exhausting and frightening experience of unexpectedly birthing Cole’s twin sons, effectively shutting out the cries of their father on the other side of the barricaded bedroom door.

  I only hoped that rational side I’d come to depend on wouldn’t escape him with my words. “You have to know that what we have…our actions and practices here at the ranch…none of this is considered acceptable in society.”

  With a barely concealed snort, Bret released me and backed away. “And when, Estella Carston, have you ever given a damn about what society thinks?”

  His words were spoken calmly. Controlled. Without emotion.

  “Bret…even our marriage,” I emphasized by drawing my finger through the gap that widened between us, “isn’t considered legal. As far as society is concerned, Cole is my only husband.”

  “Well fuck society,” Bret muttered, his voice barely rising with any discernable measure of heat, “and the law.” Sinewy arms crossed over his muscled chest as if to hold in everything he felt. “As far as this family is concerned, you’re as much my wife as Cole is your husband. Nothing anyone can say or do will ever change that.”

  Every word a matter of fact. Heralded truth like the ring of gold I wore on my left hand. Four vines twisted together around a lovely stone of sapphire Cole had ordered made for me to signify our shared love. But no matter how much I believed in the symbol, there was one thing his words couldn’t deny.

  I splayed my hand over the tiny paunch of my belly. “How about what they say about our children?”

  I’d spared little concern about what anyone around the ranch and in our small circle of friends thought of what I shared with the Carston men. Of the love that brought such incredible joy into our lives at the birth of each of our children.

  Until my sister’s impending visit.

  My words brought out the first hint of how Bret really felt, his face grimacing as if in physical pain. “Are you saying…you’re ashamed of Meg? Our baby you carry?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then how will you explain our daughter’s differences to your sister?”

  I groaned in agony as my heart constricted. “Bret…”

  “No, Essie. Biology doesn’t lie. I’ve studied enough medical journals and bred enough horses by now to understand how it all works, so respect me enough to answer me that. It’s obvious you’ve been giving this all a lot of thought.”

  How had my worry over sleeping arrangements for this visit given way to an explanation of my thoughts on our children? Their differences?

  And painful similarities.

  “Well…Meghan and I share the same dark hair,” I cautiously began.

  “And the resemblance ends there,” Bret finished for me.

  I threw my hands up toward the sky in despair. “What would you have me do, Bret? Shall I explain how the three of us make love all together? Sometimes four when Drew’s allowed into our bedroom, which has still never been adequately explained, mind you.”

  He had me in his embrace in two strides, squeezing his strong muscular arms around me as if he never planned to let go.

  “Yes and yes,” he hissed then buried his face in my hair, breathing deep of my essence as he clutched me desperately to him. “I’d tell her of every touch. Every thrust as we fuck you with abandon. Of each time we shoot our cum into your hot mouth. And into your greedy little ass.” He groaned. “And how I can never get enough of fucking your sweet, sweet pussy with my tongue and cock.”

  I gasped as hi
s mouth came down hard on mine, tongue thrusting. Taking. Claiming in all his controlled fury. Owning me in heart, soul, and body.

  He drew me down to the quilt and came over me without breaking the kiss that deepened with each thrust of his glorious tongue. I opened my legs and gripped his hips with my knees, crying out with abandon as he slid his hard length between my thighs and impaled me in one deep thrust.

  There was no slow, sensual teasing this time. No languorous lovemaking. Bret pumped hard and fast, sliding his delicious manhood in and out of my quivering channel in a desperate bid to prove his ownership of my body.

  And I welcomed it as our juices mingled and our sweat dripped as we rode over the cliff together toward a sudden and shattering release that came over us faster than a freight train.

  Our breaths continued to come heavy as he propped himself up on his elbows, his long locks tickling across my face and teasing my erect nipples just as I always relished.

  “You’re mine too, Essie. Every part of you.” His kiss was gentler this time. “And I don’t give a fucking damn who knows it.”

  “I think you’ve made that rather obvious,” a strange voice interrupted.

  Chapter Four

  Bret

  Caught unawares.

  I was never caught with my guns so far out of reach. That’s what I got for thinking only with my cock when I had Essie all to myself for the first time in months.

  But at least I knew that voice – and recognized its twin when it joined in.

  “How’d a savage like you find such a nice piece of female ass out here…cousin?”

  With one fluid motion, I whipped a corner of the quilt over to cover Essie’s nakedness as I protectively stood up between her and the two interlopers who’d interrupted our pleasant day. The two young men sat forward in their saddles, surveying me as I stood before them in complete disregard of my nudity.

  The snide manner in which they used the term cousin wasn’t lost on me. Technically speaking, we weren’t blood cousins. However, they were connected to my brothers through Jacob Carston, the man who had raised me with my half-brothers when my Sioux father had disappeared one spring and never returned.

  Pa Jacob’s younger brother had spent his life prospecting in the Colorado and Utah Territories before settling somewhere in the mountains of western Montana. His union with a whore had given him these two ne’er-do-wells to raise, and they’d spent their young lives right beside their father, doing what he did best.

  Accomplishing nothing.

  Of all the things Pa Jacob taught me over the years, it was the value of hard work. Of setting your mind to a task until you knew it backwards, forwards, and inside-out.

  It’s what drove me to read and learn everything possible about animal husbandry, which somewhere along the way branched off into the study of the fascinating world of the human body.

  Essie’s notwithstanding.

  The few times our uncle and his twin sons stopped by the ranch was always just to mooch off the Carston good graces. Pa wasn’t about to let someone go hungry, and he especially wouldn’t turn away family.

  No matter how worthless.

  I simply nodded to the twins, ignoring the savage comment as I usually did when these idiots showed up. I wasn’t about to get into an altercation with them when my wife was so exposed. And my guns were so far away.

  So I simply dipped my chin in acknowledgment. “Seth. Sean.”

  “Bret,” they both said in unison.

  I never could tell which twin was which. They both had the Carston light brown hair and green eyes. The same tenor in their voices. The one difference between them was only apparent when they shucked their clothes for a swim in the river and Sean’s scar along his right side under his arm was on display. All caused by a knife fight over some damn poker game.

  I glanced around behind their stamping horses. “Did you leave your father behind at his claim this time, or did you finally do him in?”

  A look passed between them before the one I took for Seth spat a stream of tobacco juice – just like Evan. “You could say that.”

  I wasn’t exactly sure what to make of that response as I studied these two. Seth’s hat was dark brown, leaning toward black that had faded by years in the sun. Sean’s was a lighter tan. Looked newer. Less dusty and dingy with sweat and grime.

  Their horses were packed pretty heavily, with bulging saddlebags, bedrolls, and an assortment of pots, pans, and other gear piled high on their rumps. It appeared as if they’d brought along everything they owned, which said they were planning on staying for more than awhile.

  But before I could ask their intentions, warmth sidled up behind me as Essie held my pants in front of me. She was still bundled up in the trailing quilt.

  “I thought you might want these.”

  I was more interested in slinging on my belt and holsters to have my weapons in hand, but clothes were a start. I wasn’t about to take my eyes off these two though as I dressed. And I was definitely staying firmly between them and my wife.

  It wouldn’t just be Cole, Drew, or Evan who’d kill me if something happened to Essie. I’d never be able to forgive myself either.

  But once again, our stubborn wife had ideas of her own. “Did I hear correctly that you’re cousins of the Carstons?”

  I wanted to shoot the leering grins off these two lechers as she so carelessly moved around beside me, still draped in the quilt like a character from the Odyssey or Iliad.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m Sean and this is Seth Carston.” Sean touched his tan hat brim. “And you are?”

  She smiled as she squinted up at them. My wife actually fucking smiled at these two scoundrels as she stepped forward. “Estella Carston. I’m…uh…the…wife.”

  Essie looked back at me with confusion and doubt in those big, blue eyes as I gripped her arm to stop her forward momentum. At least she hadn’t pretended to be only Cole’s wife this time. But neither did she claim to be mine, even though we were caught fucking together under the September sun.

  Yep, this whole visit from her sister was going be a disaster of a shitstorm that would rival our biggest prairie thunderstorms. And now we were going to have two more family members to deal with all at the same time. At least Seth and Sean could sleep out in the bunkhouse with the ranch hands.

  Or the barn with the rest of the animals.

  I hooked an arm protectively around Essie’s waist, drew her closer to me, then kissed her temple. I kept my voice low for her ears only. “Grab your clothes and go hide in the trees to get dressed. Then we need to head home.”

  “But what about the huckleberries?”

  “We’ll come back another time.”

  She looked down at herself with a huff to hide the embarrassed flush in her cheeks. Damn how that rather innocent reaction usually made me hard.

  Except when danger was present. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I’ll go make myself a bit more presentable.”

  As soon as she scurried away out of hearing range and out of sight, I focused all my attention on my cousins. “Alright, you two. What’s really going on?”

  They again shared a brief – and weighty – look between them. “Pa’s dead.”

  No matter how much of a headache they’d been over the years, losing family wasn’t an easy tonic to swallow. I’d already been through that pain more than my fair share. My heart went out to the brothers.

  Until I remembered their response to my smartass question earlier. I still wasn’t about to let my guard down with these two.

  “I’m sorry to hear.” I shook my head as I slid first one leg then the other into my trousers. “What happened?”

  “Mining accident,” the other twin replied. “Or at least that’s what the sheriff said.”

  “You have reason to doubt him?” I buckled my belt around my hips, relieved to be armed again.

  “There’d been a rash of claim jumpin’ all through the summer.”

  “And ever’ last one of ‘em
deadly.”

  I slid a glance over my shoulder to make sure Essie remained out of sight. “So you’re saying the sheriff was too busy for a proper investigation?”

  “Or he was paid off.” Seth spat a stream of tobacco juice.

  “There was a big group come in with a lot of money behind ‘em, buyin’ up old claims.”

  I pressed my hat firmly onto my head then stuck my arms into the shirt Essie had made for me last year. “I assume those that didn’t want to sell were forced out.”

  Both twins nodded.

  I’d heard enough stories over the years from people passing through looking for work to know that claim jumping was a real problem up in the mountains. Hell, we had a few agate mines further south of here that had problems with raiders and companies looking to buy out the small operator – and were willing to fight dirty to get what they wanted.

  A rustle in the trees signaled my time for getting information was short. “So what are you two planning on doing here now?” I pointed at their packed mounts. “Looks to me like you’re carting along everything you own.”

  Sean spoke up first this time. “We’re tired of the minin’ life.”

  “And would like to settle down…do somethin’ a little more stable-like.”

  Stable-like. Doubt if they meant breeding and training horses as I did. And large-scale farming out here was iffy at best, what with the unreliable weather eastern Montana was growing famous for. That left only one other possibility.

  Cattle ranching.

  I finished buttoning my shirt. “Well, cousins, nothing in life comes with any guarantees.”

  “We’re aware.”

  I tucked my shirttails into my belted waist. “And ranching is hard work with a lot of time in the saddle that’ll take years to find a good payout.”

  “Kinda like minin’,” Sean muttered.