The Reward Read online

  “They are coming, amante. Make no mistake about that. They are coming to pick off what is left of the Circle O. Damasco wants the land.”

  She propped herself up on one elbow and glared at him.

  “Why? What does he want with something that’s one-tenth the size of his inheritance?”

  His black eyes regarded her steadily. “The railroad.”

  She sucked in a breath. “It’s coming through my land.”

  His silence was all the answer she needed. She leapt out of bed and paced the room. “Son of a bitch! Why didn’t he just offer to buy it?”

  “Would you have sold?”

  “No.”

  She grimaced at her quick answer. She would have told him no and kicked dirt on him to boot for even asking. But this. This was cruel, illegal, and would soon become murderous.

  “That’s not all.”

  She regretted the impulse, but asked anyway. “What?”

  “I think he killed Sean.”

  That just made her madder than hell. What did Sean ever do to hurt anyone? He was one of the kindest people she had ever known. That Damasco would murder him for money was enough to make her sick. Then she had another nasty thought.

  “You think he’s going to kill us?”

  Malcolm’s gaze never wavered. “I think he’s going to try.”

  Leigh knew in that moment he was fully prepared to take on Damasco’s army of fifty men or more with her measly crew of ten and expected to survive. No, not survive. Triumph.

  “Can we win?”

  “Yes.”

  He sounded so certain. Her confidence in his abilities could not be any higher. It was the abilities of herself and her crew she wasn’t too sure of.

  “We’re not gunfighters, Mal. Me and what’s left of my crew—six of those bastards ran by the way—are cowhands. I’ve never fired a gun at a man in my life.”

  “I will help you learn.”

  She stopped pacing and realized she was stalking around her bedroom buck naked. And didn’t feel embarrassed about it. Perhaps it was the appreciative gaze directed at her.

  “Come back to bed, carina.” His softly spoken command penetrated her self-perusal.

  Malcolm held open the covers with a smile. Oh, that smile of his could turn her knees to jam in an instant. She crawled up from the bottom of the bed and tucked herself back under the covers. Before she even stopped moving, he pulled her close to him spoon-style. Now that was worth waking up to every day. His hard, warm body was like a living piece of sculpture, perfectly defined, hard, hot and smooth to the touch.

  “What else did you find out?”

  She felt a tightening in his muscles, a minute change she would not have noticed if she wasn’t pressed up against him from head to toe.

  “I saw my father.”

  Leigh wanted to blurt a hundred questions, but decided not to. Whatever he had to say, she needed to hear it, and she had to be patient. She loved Alejandro like an uncle, but she loved Malcolm like he was her life. If father and son could not make peace, she would have to choose between them. And miss Alex because her choice was already made.

  “He is the one who told me about the railroad. We…we talked.”

  The silence was excruciating. Her natural inclination to shake him didn’t seem like a wise thing to do.

  “I made my peace with him, amante. He promised to help us with Isabella.”

  Now that was surprising.

  “I don’t know if I trust him, but I believed him.”

  His arm had tightened a bit against her stomach while he spoke of his father.

  “Good… How long do you think we have?”

  She felt him shrug one shoulder. “Could be two hours. Could be two days. Could be two weeks. All we can do is be ready to face those cabrons.”

  She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him as close as he could get. She wasn’t used to being nervous or afraid without doing something about it.

  ———

  Malcolm woke up again just before dawn. The gray light filtering through the curtains shed a gloomy pall over the room. He lay in a soft bed with a woman beside him, spooned together. A tall, sleek woman who fit next to him like she was made to be there.

  His very own Eve. Too bad the Circle O Ranch wasn’t the Garden of Eden.

  He began nibbling her shoulder and neck lightly. Tiny little bites meant to titillate and tease. She moved against him, arching, pressing her rump against his rapidly expanding cock.

  More.

  He circled her breast with his fingers. Around and around, not touching the nipple, but caressing the petal soft skin.

  He grew hot as his blood pumped faster. A pink flush crept over her skin and he knew she was awake.

  “Are you going to torture me all morning or latch on?” came her sweet sleep-laden voice.

  “Mmmm…I think I like to torture you.”

  She pressed herself against his hardness and wiggled her ass. “Me, too. Only because I know how much I want it. How much I want you. God, Malcolm, please, touch them…”

  He ignored her pleas and continued to circle her breast over and over.

  She opened her legs and he slipped his engorged staff between them. She was wet and slick. He slid back and forth against her throbbing pussy. Hot, wet skin against hard, taut skin, pulsing and moving as one.

  “Jesus, yes, please,” she breathed as she caught his rhythm and moved in sync.

  He was tempted to thrust into her, but wanted to savor the anticipation a few minutes longer.

  His fingertip finally reached her nipple and he tweaked lightly. She jerked and gasped, shoving herself toward him hard, forcing the head of his cock into her an inch.

  Oh, sweet Heaven. She was so hot and wet.

  He pulled himself out with a groan.

  “You aren’t going anywhere,” Leigh said huskily.

  She lifted her leg and grabbed him, leading him back to where she hungered the most.

  “In, in.”

  Leigh took his cock in her hand and rubbed it against her pussy, spreading her juices all over him and her hand. She moaned each time the head made contact with her clit.

  “Yes, amante, please yourself. Please me.”

  Her nimble fingers pushed him inside her hot cavern again. She rocked slightly and the movement set his teeth to tingling.

  “Deeper.”

  He pulled away from her when she tried to impale herself. Instead, the head slipped in and out of her pussy to her rhythm, teasing, tantalizing both of them. His body screamed to bury himself inside her yet he held back. Anticipation ran through his veins. She slid her hand down and started caressing herself. He jerked in surprise and his arousal notched up even higher Malcolm had never had a woman do that with him inside before and he grew another inch. He bit her shoulder, holding back the initial deep thrust he was desperate to make. He tweaked and twisted her hardened nipple while she teased herself, teased him.

  “Deeper.”

  Her command grew frantic as her hand moved faster.

  “Please, Malcolm.”

  He couldn’t stand it another moment. With a thrust he was embedded in her hot, wet core. Deep, deep inside where she clenched and pulsed around him. Incredibly he found himself ready to climax immediately. He stopped where he was, savoring the feeling of being so deeply connected to her.

  Leigh couldn’t be still though. She moved, caressing herself, slick with her own juices.

  As soon as he had himself under control, he started his rhythm. One he had learned from a Chinese whore down in San Antonio.

  Nine long strokes, one short stroke, Eight long strokes, two short strokes. Seven long strokes, three short strokes. Alternately building until he was at one long stroke, and nine short strokes. By the time he reached the end, Leigh was panting. She grabbed his leg and pinched.

  “My turn. I want that ride now.” Leigh’s voice was whisper soft, yet determined.

  When she pulled away from him, Ma
lcolm felt the loss of her heat and he groaned. With a shake of her head and a grin, she pushed him onto his back. Oh, she was going to ride all right. As her long legs straddled him, her eyes wild and her pupils dilated with such passion, Malcolm felt a moment of pure heavenly anticipation. He quivered with the need to grab her and throw her back on the bed. Leaning down, Leigh kissed him open-mouthed while she took his cock and guided it into her hungry self. Slowly, inch by inch, she swallowed him up.

  “Jesus, I didn’t know it would feel this good.”

  He tried to laugh, but found his voice had deserted him momentarily. He was buried to the hilt inside her, with his balls pressed up tight against her ass. Skin to skin.

  It could not feel any better than this. He reached up and continued to twist and tweak her nipples, wishing they were closer to his mouth so he could bite them. Leigh sat up and started rocking like a woman used to riding. The natural sway of her hips allowed her to find her rhythm quickly.

  “Like riding a stallion,” she murmured as she picked up her pace. She rode him fast and hard like a wild bronc, with abandon and passion he’d never seen before. Each time she came all the way down and impaled herself, pleasure ricocheted through him.

  Malcolm didn’t think his balls could get any tighter, and the orgasm building inside him felt like a volcano. He couldn’t hold back anymore, and he wanted her to come with him. She was panting and moaning, still rubbing her clit and swallowing him into her moist, tight cunt.

  “Now, amante, now!”

  She slammed down on him, gripping him so hard it was nearly painful. He buried himself deep into her pussy and felt pleasure so intense he thought he heard bells in his head. His ears rang and even his toes tingled.

  She jerked as the ripples of her orgasm faded and his still echoed through his body.

  He thought he might have died, it surely felt like angels were singing around them.

  “Damn, Malcolm.”

  Leigh lay down on top of him, pressing her breasts into his sweat-coated chest. Her heart beat like a rabbit’s against him. She even shook a bit.

  That’s when he realized what he felt on his shoulder was not sweat. It was tears.

  ———

  Leigh was crying. She tried to stop it, tried to bite her lip to send the tears back, but dammit, it wasn’t working. She was crying for God’s sake. She hadn’t cried in so long, she had forgotten what it felt like. Her nose filled up and her eyes hurt; her throat clogged.

  “Amante?”

  She shook her head slightly against his hot skin, signaling she wasn’t ready for him yet. Not yet. Not until she stopped the horrible leaking.

  Their love making was, and she could say that with certainty, so intense an experience it had made her cry. So much. There was just so much that had zinged through her. Like a tornado or something. More than her cobwebby soul could handle.

  Malcolm stroked her back slowly with his big callused hands. Soothing her battered emotions. After a few minutes, she felt more in control of herself. She wiped her eyes with both hands, then straightened.

  That’s when she remembered he was still nestled deep inside her, and he was still hard. Not only that, he was smiling at her like she was the only other person in the entire world. Lord, how she loved him.

  ———

  They slept late, then made love again. But their idyllic peace came to a crashing halt when a fist pounded on the bedroom door. In less time than it took Leigh to realize what the noise was, Malcolm was crouched, pistol drawn and pointed at the closed door.

  “Miz Leigh! Ya gotta get up.”

  It was Andy Parker. He did not sound like his usual chipper self, but then again, he hadn’t for days. This time he sounded a little frantic.

  “Give me two minutes, Andy,” she answered.

  Malcolm lowered his weapon and his chin dropped to his chest. She heard him muttering in Spanish. She didn’t ask or push him to talk. Figured he’d get around to it if he wanted to.

  She jumped out of bed and went to the washbasin. Using the cold water in the pitcher, she gave herself what was called a “whore’s bath” by washing between her legs and under her arms. She dried off then yanked clean clothes off their hooks and dressed as quickly as she could. Even so, when she turned around, Malcolm was completely dressed with his guns strapped on and an impatient expression on his face. Then he looked at her neck and his expression turned furious.

  “Who touched you?”

  She didn’t understand at first. “Only you, Mal.”

  He crossed the room and gently wrapped his hand around her neck.

  “I am only going to ask you one more time. Who touched you?”

  His voice was cold and hard. The fury in his eyes was nothing she had ever seen before and hoped to never see again. It sent a chill dancing down her spine and goose bumps rising on her arms.

  Leigh hadn’t realized Damasco had left behind any bruises when he’d pinned her against the wall yesterday.

  “It’s nothing.”

  His grip tightened so slightly she hardly felt it, but she could not move.

  “It is not nothing, carina. Tell me so I can hear his fucking name.”

  For a moment she felt sorry for Damasco, but it was only a moment.

  “Damasco.”

  He cursed heartily in Spanish as he glared at the offending marks. As if his anger would will them away.

  “How? Was he here?”

  “No. I went to town to talk to the Sheriff, remember? I…I ran into Damasco and I got away before he hurt me.”

  “No, you didn’t. You have his fingerprints on your neck, amante.” His voice was like a hot knife, slicing through everything. “There is something you’re not telling me.”

  “Miz Leigh!” came Andy’s voice again. “Please hurry up.”

  “We can’t talk about this now.” Please, please, let it go.

  He finally took his hand away from her neck. He stared at the bruises once more then did the one thing that guaranteed she would love him for the rest of her life. He bent down and pressed feather-light kisses on each and every mark. His lips were soft and his breath fluttered on her skin.

  Stupidly enough, she felt the prick of tears again in her eyes. What the hell was wrong with her anyway?

  “I will never let anyone hurt you again.”

  She saw a promise in his black eyes. A promise that warmed her from her head to her toes.

  “Miz Leigh!”

  Andy’s shout broke the spell.

  “Coming,” she said as they headed for the bedroom door.

  ———

  Alejandro Zarza had made many mistakes in his life. Mistakes he’d come to regret as the years passed. His first was giving in to his father’s machinations to marry Isabella when he was in love with Leslie Ross.

  His second was allowing Isabella to treat Malcolm like dirt beneath her feet and throwing him out to the stables when he was a young boy. Alex thought perhaps if he hadn’t showered so much attention on Malcolm, Isabella might have left him alone.

  It didn’t work. Instead, he spent little or no time with his firstborn son after Damasco was born. Then Malcolm began to resent him and the chasm between them grew wider and wider until it seemed they would never again see eye to eye.

  When Alejandro thought Malcolm had died, his heart nearly burst from grief. To know that his wife caused his son’s death—a cruel, tortured death—was the day he began to hate Isabella as much as he hated himself.

  He had not made love with her since, nor shared any affection whatsoever. Her fussing over him now he was dying was for show, although he wasn’t sure who she was trying to impress. Lorena and the rest of the household knew who slept in whose bed. It was no secret. Perhaps she thought he would cut her out of the will if she didn’t mend a few fences.

  Little did she know that Isabella and Damasco were no longer in his will. He sent Diego into town before the sun rose to fetch Burt Green. A little bleary-eyed, but happy to help, Burt revise
d Alejandro’s will. Everything on Rancho Zarza would be Malcolm’s. It would not make up for all the years he’d lost with his son, but it would ensure Damasco and Isabella no longer had any power over Malcolm or Leigh O’Reilly.

  He couldn’t wait to tell Isabella the news. He had even had Burt send a copy of the will to Houston immediately so there could be no disputing the legality of the document.

  Lorena came bustling in with his morning tea and smiled at him. He was sitting in his chair by the window with his ever-present quilt on his damn frail legs. She was dressed in her normal flower print dress and blue apron with her black hair in a long braid down her back.

  “Buenas dias, Patron. How are you feeling today?”

  She knew who had been there already and why. He smiled back at her.

  “Much better, Lorena. Much better.”

  “What are you two grinning about? The patron is dying, Lorena. Have you no respect?” Isabella’s shrill voice cut through his good mood like a broken glass.

  Lorena set the tea on the table and, with one last wink at Alex, exited the room.

  “I shall pour.” Though strict in enforcing manners in others, Isabella held herself above those standards. Her bluntness was never dulled by any sort of manners. She simply did what she wanted. Today she was dressed in dove gray, apparently anticipating wearing black soon. He could almost hear the wheels of greed grinding in her head.

  “I saw Malcolm last night.”

  The teacup she was handing to him jerked, splashing boiling hot tea on his stockinged feet. The pain was minimal compared to the satisfaction he found looking at her expression. She was shocked. It had been a long time since anything he’d done had shocked her.

  “What do you mean, you saw Malcolm? He’s dead, Alejandro. He did not suddenly come back to life.”

  She looked down at the mess on the floor and he stared at the top of her head, the silky black hair caught up in a perfect knot at the base of her skull. She was an incredibly gorgeous woman. Too bad her beauty hid a core of hate and venom.

  “Do not pretend with me, Isabella. You know he’s not dead. He left here very much alive and came back the same way.”

  She tried to look surprised, but failed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You must be having hallucinations.”