Acres, Natalie - Propositioned by Outlaws [Outlaws 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (10 page)

Lane smacked her ass and stroked the cheek he swatted, caressing her until the spot he repeatedly spanked burned and throbbed. Rolling her hips back, she stayed right with Art, laving him with her tongue as his size became manageable, his release became addictive.

Rising to the tip, she licked the clear film coating the crest. “Mmm,” she whispered, indulging in every last drop of his pleasure. “You’re so sweet.”

“Sweet?” he asked, arching a brow.

“Yes,” she said, taken aback by the surprise in his eyes.

“What do I taste like?” he asked, fondling himself when she released him.

“Come here,” she said, learning from her earlier experience with Lane.

Art licked his lips and kissed hers. The kiss soon became reckless. He cupped her breasts, tweaking her nipples as he pampered her mouth, spoiled her body.

Placing her hands on his broad shoulders, she pushed away from him, placing some distance between them. “So? Now you see why I think you taste sweet?”

Art chuckled. “Let me show you what I think is sweet.” His hand dropped between her legs, and he thrust a finger inside her warm pussy. “That right there is as sweet as it gets.”

Chapter Eight

“Hello?
Victoria
? Is anyone out here?”

“Oh shit!”
Victoria
screeched, reaching for a blanket. “That’s the marshal.”

“The marshal?” Art asked, gulping.

“Yes!”

“Is he a customer?” Art asked.

Victoria
was stunned. Noticing the spots of blood on the horse blanket, she pointed. “If I were some whore for hire, would I bleed like that?”

Immediately, Art looked at his tainted fingers. Rather than acting repulsed by what he saw, he grinned. “Looks like we gave
Victoria
here an education.”

A gun cocked about the same time Art made the statement. “What the fuck is going on here?” the marshal yelled. “
Victoria
, are you all right?”

“Marshal, I…”

“Damn it to hell!” he shouted, fumbling for another gun tightly holstered at his side. “Put ’em where I can see ’em, boys!”

“Don’t show him your cocks. He might blow ‘em away,” she whispered.

“You aren’t funny,” Art said under his breath.

The marshal aimed the second pistol but looked away. “
Victoria
, get dressed. I’m here and I’ll take care of these fellas. Are you all right?”

Victoria
hurriedly gathered her clothes and darted behind the haystack. “It ain’t what you think, Marshal.”

“It’s exactly what I think!” he assured her. “These men raped you, and now you’re afraid to tell me the straight of it. You’re just like your precious momma. She always protected the criminals. Why she’s lucky one of those outlaws didn’t put her in the grave before she turned thirty.”

“Marshal, Victoria is right. It’s not what you think.”

“Shut the hell up.
Victoria
, get your damn clothes on and wait for me in the house.”

“No, Marshal. I won’t do it. These men didn’t hurt me.”

“The hell they didn’t,” the marshal said. “You think I don’t see that blood there on the blanket. Men, get your breeches on. You’re taking a ride into town with me.”

Victoria
hurriedly slipped her dress over her head. After securing about half the buttons down the front, she stepped out in the open. “Marshal, you have to listen to me.”

He studied her face. “Where’d they hurt you, girl?”

“I’m not hurt.”

“You’re in shock. I’ll have Doc Taylor ride out and take a look at you.”

Victoria
glanced at Lane and Art. Lane looked deeply troubled. Art appeared suspicious, acting as if he were up to something. There was a gun near that blanket, and
Victoria
shook her head behind the marshal’s back, praying Art and Lane wouldn’t harm him.

“Marshal, these men are friends of mine.”

“Friends?”

“Yes, friends!”

“You expect me to believe you were out here in the barn poking around with two men?” He shook his head. “No, Victoria. I don’t buy that. I can’t. Now get on in that house and let me have a word with them.”

“No, Marshal.” She defied him. “I will not. This is my home, and these men are my guests.”

The marshal studied the rolled-up blankets and saddles strewn about in a corner dimly lit by a small lantern. “If they’re friends, what are they doin’ out here in the barn,
Victoria
?”

Victoria
took a deep breath. “Marshal, please.”

“
Victoria
, I ain’t tellin’ you again. Get in that damn cabin and don’t come out until I’m through here.”

Defiance
took hold, and she marched over to Art and Lane. She stood in front of them with her arms spread wide. “You’ll have to go through me to get to them.”

“Don’t do this,
Victoria
,” Lane said, gently pushing her arms downward. “We’ll go with him.”

The marshal narrowed his gaze. “Wait a minute. I know you.”

He stuffed his hand in his pocket and retrieved a piece of paper folded in fours. As he opened up the document, he walked toward the only other lantern in the barn, located right next to the very spot where
Victoria
lost her innocence.

She squeezed her legs together and stared at Art, who must’ve known what she was thinking. He winked, but that didn’t ease the fluttering sensation in her gut. She knew what images were on that wanted poster. Lane warned her.

The marshal most definitely would think of him as an outlaw. Wanted men were no count according to those who pursued them.

“Well I’ll be damned,” the marshal said, pacing in front of Art and Lane. “The two of you are wanted for a gold heist.” He shook his head. “You must be the doggone dumbest robbers I ever heard tell of.”

He shook the crinkled paper in front of their faces. “What happened to the gold, boys? Did you buy whores and drink it up, and now you’ve come back to my town to see if you can’t find another miner who strikes it rich?”

“That’s not why we’re here,” Lane assured him, staring straight ahead.

The marshal rubbed his chin. “What brings you back to these parts then, men?”

He wasn’t buying a word Lane said because
Victoria
knew the marshal to be a very sarcastic man when he met up with strangers. Some said when the marshal was the friendliest, he was the deadliest. If his demeanor were any indication, he sure enough thought her guests were guilty outlaws.

“What do you mean…back?” Art asked. “We’ve never been in these parts, and we can prove it.”

Lane shot him a quick glance. Apparently they couldn’t prove much of anything if Lane’s eyes told a truthful tale.

The marshal glared at the blood on the blanket again. He took a few deep breaths and then looked away. “Did the two of you take turns pokin’
Victoria
or not?”

“They did not!”
Victoria
said, justifying her lie by thinking it was none of the marshal’s business. Plus, she reasoned, she’d only been penetrated by Lane, so in one sense, she told the truth.

“I didn’t ask you,
Victoria
,” the marshal pointed out.

“I didn’t get between her legs,” Art said. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, and I’ll leave it at that,” the marshal said.

Victoria
frowned. “Marshal, these men haven’t hurt me.”

“So that’s fine then, I should just let them go, I reckon.”

“You should indeed!”
Victoria
exclaimed. “They haven’t done anything wrong!”

“The law says they have, and that’s good enough for me, Victoria. They’re wanted for robbing a stagecoach loaded down with the gold Max Carpenter pulled out of that mine near
Ute
Pass
last year.”

“There’s no way these two could’ve pulled off a robbery like that, and you know it.”

“Well, they did, and I know nothin’ of the such.”

“The hell we did,” Art said. “We were in
Tombstone
this time last year.”

“Ah,” the marshal said. “
Tombstone
this time last year, he says. And who told you that robbery took place this time last summer? Hmm? Only the true robber would know information like that.”

Lane snatched the wanted poster from the marshal’s hand. He jabbed the paper and read the inscription underneath. “Wanted for the stagecoach robbery dated June 7, 1898.”

The marshal grabbed the paper and stomped toward the door. “I’ll wait for the three of you on
Victoria
’s porch. You’d best be ready to ride into town, boys. I think a lot of
Victoria
, so I’ll take her at her word. Maybe you didn’t bring her any harm, but Max Carpenter is convinced you stole his gold.”

Turning to
Victoria
, the marshal added, “He wants ’em to hang for their crimes. It’s my job to take ’em into town where they can face their accusers.”

* * * *

“Did you do it?”
Victoria
asked, her gaze working between Art and Lane.

“Doesn’t matter if we did or didn’t, we’re still gonna hang for that robbery. You heard the marshal.”

Victoria
placed her hands on her hips and stared at Lane. “But did you do it?”

“Would our hanging be easier on you if we told you we did?” Lane asked.

“No, it would only be easier if I knew the truth.”

“So you could what?” Lane asked, realizing this was the very reason he’d been attracted to
Victoria
from the start. She reminded him of Sarah Ann. She had guts, and probably wasn’t afraid of much.

That was part of the reason Sarah Ann was in the grave today. She believed in the law, and when that crooked
Tombstone
marshal came for her that cold December day, she’d gone with him. She even told Lane she’d be home before he could miss her, and God love her soul, the woman believed that right up until the time the marshal put a rope around her neck.

Lane knew the truth about the law now. He saw his future and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop the marshal outside unless he killed him, and he wasn’t gonna draw his gun and take the life of another. There’d be more marshals coming for them.

“I’m waiting on an answer, Lane.”

Lane took a deep breath and studied Art. Bringing her against him, he gave her a hearty hug and whispered in her ear, “Yes,
Victoria
. We robbed that stagecoach.”

She stilled against him.

Lane released her. He was unable to look at her after his confession. Quietly, he gathered his things and went for his horse. Art grabbed his saddle and bridle. He didn’t acknowledge Lane or Victoria as he tossed the gear on his horse’s back.

“I don’t believe you,” she said.

“I don’t care whether you believe me or not,” Lane said. “I told you the truth.”

“You didn’t tell me the truth, damn you!” she screamed, stamping her foot. “You told me what you thought it would take to make it easier on me.”

“Go on back to the cabin,
Victoria
,” Art rasped. He tightened the girth on his horse, and kept his back to her.

Victoria
rushed them then with her fists drawn. She struck Lane’s back and wailed like a baby. “I don’t want to believe you, because it’s not the cotton-pickin’ truth!”

Lane wheeled around and caught her arms. Tears gushed down her cheeks, and in that moment, Lane cursed himself for his prior actions. And he cussed himself for the words he was about to speak. “What do you care, woman? Huh?” His voice was as icy as a
Colorado
winter storm.

She shook her head. Tears continued to flood her face. “I can help you.”

He released an evil chuckle, one wrought with the pain he was about to cause her, but deliberate all the same. He wanted her to take the night they’d shared together and put it behind her. There was only one way to ensure she didn’t get mixed up in the mess they were in, and that was to protect her the only way he knew how.

“Why would you want to help us?” Art asked, glaring at Lane.

He probably knew what Lane was about to do, and greatly disapproved. It didn’t matter. Art was a pouter, but he wouldn’t have to trouble himself with worrying over his friend’s displeasure for long. The marshal would probably hang them high before dusk tomorrow.

“I want to help you because…because…”

“Because why,
Victoria
?” Art asked, taking a step toward her.