The Circle Eight: Nicholas (8 page)

The more she touched him, the more she needed.
She was addicted and out of control. And for the first time, she welcomed the feeling.

The morning sun
bathed them as they made love. She pressed kisses against his collarbone, the salty tang of his skin lingered on her lips. He cupped her buttocks and pulled her closer, his cock sliding impossibly deep within her.

He filled her, in more ways than one. She kissed him hard and leaned back, spreading her legs further.

“More.”

His eyes widened and a smile played around his full lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

His hands moved up her thighs, whispery soft. Shivers raked her, making her pussy walls clench around him. He grunted and dug his fingers into her skin. Her breasts bounced with each thrust and his gaze locked on them.

As though he read her mind, he leaned forward and captured one nipple in his mouth
. He sucked while his tongue swirled around on the hardened peak. She groaned and pushed her flesh further into his hot mouth. When he bit her tender bud, she started and grew even wetter.

“More.”

To her delight, he bit her again while he continued to pound into her core. Pleasure streaked through her, stealing her thoughts and reason. Winnie should feel guilty, but she couldn’t. Finding bliss with Nicholas was natural as breathing. Unbelievably natural.

His pace quickened and she barely held onto all rational thought.
Pleasure soared through her, crashing over her. Stars danced behind her lids and for one perfect moment, the world fell away and there was nothing but this. The two of them, the bliss found in each other’s arms. Nicholas whispered her name as he found his own release, shuddering in her arms.

Harsh breathing and the scent of sex filled the kitchen. Winnie managed to lean back and smile. His gaze, for once, was unguarded and relaxed.

“Breakfast?”

To her delight, he smiled. A genuine smile from the unhappiest person she ever met. “I reckon I worked up an appetite.”

To this, Winnie laughed and kissed him hard. The tension in the room was gone. They would eat and then start on the journey to find Grace. She was determined now. This quest was the right thing to do.

Rebecca stretched the kinks out of her back and yawned. After two days of nursing Pops nearly day and night, she was exhausted and sore. He was a bit of a codger but it was evident he loved his family. The second pot of coffee was already on the stove and breakfast consumed.

The Gibson men all had hearty appetites, except for Pops. Will, Jeb and Tobias were the oldest of the bunch and
devoured food as though they hadn’t eaten in weeks. The three little ones barely spoke but they knew how to stuff food in their mouths. She had taken to calling them sweetie, honey and sugar. None of them spoke while she was around. Elizabeth mentioned they liked to be read to but Rebecca had to spend her time nursing Pops.

He was dying and he knew it.
She knew it. Tobias knew it but refused to accept it. Pops had obviously been sick for a while but had kept it to himself. He had a wasting sickness, one that was stealing him breath by breath. Rebecca used her knowledge of herbs to locate those that would help him, but it was a temporary fix. The man had less than a month to live if she were to hazard a guess.

“Why aren’t you in there helping him?
” Tobias was always angry at her, at Pops, at the world. Rebecca, however, refused to rise to his anger.

“He’s sleeping. Would you like me to wake him so I can wipe his brow?” She shook her head. “He managed to
a bit of bread and some eggs this morning. It’s more than he’s eaten since I got here.”

Tobias looked terrible. A few days
’ worth of whiskers darkened his cheeks and his eyes were red as beets.

“When was the last time you slept?” She reached for a cup to pour him coffee.

“I’ll sleep when Pops is better.” He sounded as though he’d swallowed rocks.

With four brothers, not to mention brothers-in-law, she knew not to argue with a stubborn fool. With a shrug, she handed him the coffee.

“You must realize he is very ill.” She chose her words carefully.

His eyes narrowed. “I reckon you’d better make him better than.”

Rebecca frowned. “Mr. Gibson—”

“You’d best call me Tobias. We’ve been under the same roof for two days. There ain’t going back now.”

She blinked as the knowledge sank in. Matt was going to be furious with her but she had to come. The old man needed someone to make him comfortable, to ease his pain. She wouldn’t regret whatever came next.

“Tobias, your grandfather is more than ill. He’s dying.”

Mixed with the rage that nearly exploded from his expression, Rebecca saw grief and despair. Tobias Gibson was more than an angry man. He was a grandson who hurt for his grandfather.

“That ain’t true.”

“Whether you believe it or not, it’s still true.”

He threw the coffee cup against the wall, splattering hot coffee everywhere. Pops stirred in his sleep across the open cabin. Rebecca held onto her own temper, by a thread, but she held on. Someone had to be the adult.

“Fix him!”

“I can’t.” Her throat grew thick with the certainty that Pops would die with the love of his family around her. Tobias was rough but he cared. A great deal.

“Fix him!” He took hold of her arms and lifted her from the ground. His grip was tight but not painful. She stared into his eyes, this complicated man who she found herself drawn to.

“I can’t.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

To her utter shock, Tobias kissed her, hard enough to make her teeth cut into her lips. Her first kiss. Not what she’d expected. And she definitely was not enjoying it.

He wrenched his mouth away and let her drop to her feet.
Rebecca swayed, grabbing the table to steady her. His breath was loud in the small cabin.

“Shit.
That shouldn’t have happened.”

She couldn’t agree more.

Nicholas hitched up the team with practiced ease to the rattletrap conveyance. The horses both possessed a good temperament and were placid as he secured the traces. They were good animals although they were old. He savored the opportunity to return the rig to the idiot who rented it to Winnie and the old man.

She was getting herself ready to travel. After their early morning
interlude in the kitchen, he’d needed the time to himself. To recover. To think. To stop his knees from shaking.

Each time he touched her,
he lost control of his senses. She was softer than the petal of a rose and just as beautiful. The sad fact was, Nick had never experienced such an intense reaction to anything. Ever. Until he met Winifred Watson.

She was dangerous to his equilibrium but he couldn
’t help himself. No matter how much he pushed away, she drew closer. And he let her.

Now they were about to embark on a quest for which there might not be a happy ending.
It had been his idea but they both knew there was only a slim chance they would find the girl. Slim was better than none.

He could not fail her. Would
not. This was too important. For both of them. Redemption. Absolution. Forgiveness.

Nick had penned a letter for his brother, Matt, to let him know he would be away from the ranch longer than planned. He knew his oldest brother would not mind. In fact, Matt might breathe a sigh of relief to have Nick gone for a week.

Winnie stepped out of the house with her usual grace. Petite and curvy, she cut an amazingly appealing figure. One that made his body tighten although it had been scarcely an hour since he’d been inside her.

“We have to get another mount for you.” He again hooked his horse to the back of the rig. “Can you ride?”

She frowned and her lips twisted. “I can but it’s been some time.” She glanced down at her dress. “I have a riding skirt inside. Let me change. It won’t take but a few minutes to brush it out.”

“I can go return the rig without you.” He didn’t want to think about her changing her clothes.

“No, you won’t. I need to be the one to speak to Mr. Sylvester.” She speared him with a “don’t argue with me” look and marched back into the house. “I won’t be a few minutes.”

Nick told himself to be patient. They didn’t have an appointment
, only a stop on a rather unusual journey. He checked his horse’s gear, noting he needed to polish the leather. Everything was in tip-top shape, unlike the rented rig. The carriage had groaned and creaked, barely making the journey across the rough Texas terrain.

He wasn’t about to be nice with Mr. Sylvester.
Anticipation about tearing into the livery man had been the high spot of getting everything ready this morning. She was not about to take that from him. No matter how sweetly she batted her blue eyes or, more than likely, told him what to do. Winnie was a strong-willed woman, one who had been through much in her short life. He respected her for a great many things, but in this, he would not bow to her will.

Twenty minutes later, she stepped back out wearing a light brown split riding skirt that hugged her delicious curves. She wore a matching vest and a dark green shirt. On her head
was a flat-brimmed, practical, brown hat.

She smiled as she
walked toward him and his heart thumped so hard his bones vibrated.

“I’m glad the sun decided to shine on us today. It will make our traveling easier.” She carried a basket on her arm. “I packed what food I had.”

He could only nod and take the basket from her, then hold her hand as she climbed into the rickety rig. It rocked from her weight and she was half his size. No matter what he was going to speak his mind to the livery owner.

Mr. Sylvester was a wisp of a man, ninety years old if he was a day. Nicholas’s anger fled in the face of such an ancient man.

Winnie smiled broadly at the old man. “Mr. Sylvester, how lovely to see you. As promised, I’m returning your carriage and horses.”

Nick bit his tongue and forced himself to remember to respect his elders. Granny Dolan, who had left them earlier that year, would have stripped off a layer of his skin if he’d yelled at her the way he planned to yell at Mr. Sylvester. She had been a feisty old woman and spoke her mind as often as she wanted. He missed her, which was a difficult thing to admit. He didn’t want to need anyone, or express his feelings.

“Good morning, Miz Watson.” Sylvester had barely a fluff of white hair ringing his head but a full white beard on his bony chin. Scrawny and f
rail looking, the livery owner tottered over to them. “Where is Mr. Bartholomew?” He shot Nick a distrustful glare.

“He was injured during our trip and is staying with friends.”
Winnie patted the old man’s shoulder. “My friend, Mr. Graham, escorted me back.”

Sylvester’s bushy white eyebrows lowered. “
Graham? Is that the same family I heard about?” He pronounced “heard” as “heer-ed”.

“Mr. Graham’s family is the highest quality, good people.” She gestured to the carriage. “They ev
en did some maintenance for you.”

“Hmph. I’ll have to check it to make—
”

Nick couldn’t keep the words in any longer. They burst forth on a single gust of air. “Listen, old man, this rig barely made it to my family’s ranch. I’m surprised the axle didn’t snap for lack of grease. The traces were cracked and in desperate need of some damn work. You’re lucky Miss Watson wasn’t injured.”

“It ain’t that bad.” The old man looked to Winnie. “Were it?”

She met Nick’s gaze with reproach in her gaze. “I’m afraid it was.” She sighed. “However, no one was injured.”

“I ain’t got nobody to help me so I do all the fixing ’round here.” His slight shoulders slumped.

Guilt sliced into him. He didn’t know there was no one to assist him. However, Nick should have recognized that by the
tiredness of the building. Certainly there were a number of liveries in Houston in better shape, with better equipment and horses that weren’t born two decades ago.

“After Miss Watson and I finish our, er, quest, I can come back and help you. My sister-in-law is a blacksmith. She can fashion some new
gear for you.” Nick had no idea why he was offering to help the old man. When Winnie turned that brilliant smile on him, he understood.

“Thank you, Mr. Graham. That’s very kind of you.”

“If you tell me he’s good folk, then I’ll believe it. I ain’t no charity case, though.” Old man Sylvester had his pride, which Nick could relate to. What man didn’t?

“Then you can rent us a mare for Miss Watson to use for a few days, maybe even a week.”
Nick gazed down the stalls in the barn. “I’ll pick her out.”

“That sounds fair enough.” Sylvester led them into the bowels of his establishment. Each moment they walked further in, the worse the smell of horseshit became. Likely the elderly man couldn’t lift the shit to shovel it. Things were worse than they seemed. Truly, he ought to sell the place and make arrangements to live there until he died. This was too much for one man
, much less one who had passed the far side of sixty long ago.

The animals weren’t neglected. They were well
fed and groomed. That was something the old man did well. Nick glanced at all of them before deciding on a healthy roan mare. She wasn’t the prettiest of the lot but she was sturdy and took to touch without shying away.

“This one here. What’s her name?” Nick blew into her nostrils to give her his scent. The mare tossed her head, nudging his shoulder.

“Her name’s Juliet.”

Winnie stepped up beside him. “A Shakespeare fan?”

“I don’t know nobody named Shakespeare. She already come with a name.” Old man Sylvester scratched his balding pate.

“It’s a lovely name and a lovely horse.”
Winnie ran her hand down the horse’s neck.

“I think
she’s stick ugly but if you want her, she’s yours as long as you need her.” The old man shrugged his shoulders. “I gotta saddle that should be good for ya, Miss Watson.”

“Thank you
, Mr. Sylvester. I’ll ask Consuela to send her boys over to help you with the clean up.” She smiled at him. “I’m sure they would appreciate some extra coin and I’ve got some lying around doing nothing.”

After a few more grumbly words about not being a charity, Winnie paid him for the use of the mare and Mr. Sylvester stopped complaining.
Just like that, they were headed away from the sad livery on horseback. Nick watched Winnie as she settled herself on top of the horse. Her wary expression told him she wasn’t comfortable on the animal.

“You need a few minutes to practice?”

Her lips tightened and she flicked him a dismissive glance. “I do not need practice, nor do I appreciate your implication I do.”

If she could have, she might have stuck her nose way up in the air and stomped away. However, she leaned over and whispered in the horse’s ear. He wished he could hear what she told the mare. After a short conversation with the equine, she sat up and
patted the horse gently.

“All set then?” He wanted to smile at her but she probably would not appreciate it.

“Of course.” She straightened her shoulders and nodded regally at him.

“
You said we were going someplace near Houston.” He was a little frustrated with her. She refused to name where they were going to return only that it was where she gave birth.

“Espejo.”

Nick concealed his surprise with a nod of his head. He kneed his horse into motion and kept the animal at a slow gait knowing she was still getting used to riding.

Espejo? That was a surprise.
He knew where it was from his previous trip to Houston. The small town was nestled between the hills and could be missed if you blinked. There were less than twenty buildings, and only a few hundred residents. What set the town apart was the reputation of just one building.

The brothel.

His younger brother, Benjy, had been goggle-eyed when they’d ridden passed the infamous building. The brothel had been the nicest structure in Espejo, with gleaming windows downstairs that allowed potential customers to see the goods.

His gut bubbled with questions. “Why Espejo?”

She was silent for long enough he nearly repeated the question. “The midwife who delivered Grace lives there. At least I hope she still lives there. The last time I saw her was three years ago.”

“Is she a friend?”

Another lengthy silence before she spoke. “Of a sort. Sometimes women help each other because there’s no one else to do it. In a world where men make the rules, women have to survive any way they can.”

He didn’t quite understand it all but he knew from her tone of voice that she believed every word of it. He knew how hard it was to survive for a man. A woman had other problems to contend with he didn’t.
No doubt his sisters would give him an earful if he dared to ask them.

“Will
she tell you what we need to know?”

Winnie sighed. “
Yes, I think so. It has been some time since I saw her but she owes my father no loyalty. And since he’s dead, he can’t threaten her.”

Nick was startled. “He would have threatened her if he was alive?” He knew her father
was a ruthless bastard, the kind who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. That apparently included threatening a woman who was kind to his daughter.

“Of course.” Her tone was off-hand
, as though it should have been obvious.

He chose his words carefully. “Does she have a house in town?”

Winnie snorted. “You are being far too circumspect, Nicholas. No, she doesn’t have a house in town. She lives at the Slipper and takes care of the girls. “She’s always lived there. Josie was born there and she hasn’t left. She is a fixture there as much as the Ruby Slipper.”

Nick’s mind whirled with the notion the midwife lived at a brothel. She had told him her father used her to entertain the men he wanted to steal from. He hadn’t imagined that it involved an actual brothel
, though.

“I didn’t want to presume anything.”

“She is a good person, no matter where she lives or what she does. Good people are who they are. There are too many rich people with more money than God and they have the blackest souls on earth.” Her jaw tightened as she spoke. “You may not pass judgment on her or anyone else at the Slipper.”

Nicholas deserved some of her accusations but not all of them. “I ain’t gonna pass judgment. Hell, Winnie, I was trying to figure out where we’re going and who we’re going to see. I’m not doing this for me.”

She let out a breath through her mouth, nearly whistling through her teeth. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m acting like such a ninny. You’ve been wonderful.”

“Let’s not exaggerate now.”

She laughed, a tinkling sound he soaked up like a dry sponge. “You have been wonderful. Not sweet or accommodating, but without you, I wouldn’t have looked for her.” She glanced at him with suspiciously shining eyes. “For that, you are wonderful.”