Fire on the Plains (Western Fire) (27 page)

Lydia went
stock-still, a stunned look on her face. Several seconds passed before she quietly murmured, “If you must know, this is the first time that you’ve made mention of it.”

“Then I’ve been sorely remiss.” Angling his head, Ben nuzzled
Lydia’s neck. “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

“That all depends.”

“Oh? On what?”

“On what happens in the next few hours,”
his wife murmured as her hands slid over his chest.

Ben didn’t know whether
to groan with pleasure or shout with joy.

“Where’s Dixie?” he asked, his hands traveling the length
of Lydia’s spine as he pulled her snugly to him.

“I left her with Uncle Avery for the night.”

“Okay, next question: where’s the bedroom?”

Lydia inclined her head toward an open door on the other side of the room.

Taking her by the hand, Ben led the way to their new bed chamber. “You do know that this is the first time since we’ve been married that we’ve been truly alone.”

Lydia nodded. In fact, that was the very reason why she left
Dixie at the hacienda – so that she and Ben could be alone together. She didn’t want to spend another night with an invisible boundary running down the middle of the bed, each of them fortressed on opposite sides of the feather tick.

“Looks like you clea
ned in hear, as well,” Ben remarked as he pulled her into his arms. “Those curtains on the window are real pretty.”

Lydia was inordinately pleased
that he’d noticed the clean bed linens that she’d placed on the straw mattress and the freshly-laundered curtains that she’d hung at the window. “Because this is our first night in our new home, I wanted it to be welcoming.”

“Well, since you went to so much trouble to make the bed, what do say we muss it up?”

At seeing the wicked gleam in Ben’s eyes, Lydia girlishly giggled. “I can’t think of anything I’d enjoy more.”

Cradling her head between his hands,
Ben held her steady as his lips captured hers in a tender kiss. Whimpering softly, Lydia opened her mouth, silently begging him to deepen the contact.

To her delight, Ben did just that, his tongue sinuously seeking
hers.

Having long since lost her embarrassment over loveplay during the daylight hours, Lydia brazenly leaned into
her husband. She then smoothed her hands over the front of Ben’s linen shirt, unable to curb her desire. And she did desire Ben. In every way that a woman could desire a man. And because of that, she wanted to burrow her head against his chest; squeeze and test the strength of his muscles; kiss his nipples, his abdomen, his thighs. And though it was a brazen thought, she also wanted to put her lips upon the manly organ that hung between his hips.

When the kiss finally ended
, Ben took a backward step, giving himself enough room to undo her bodice buttons.

Within a matter of moments, he had her dress unfastened and
pulled away her shoulders. As Lydia observed the way that his lean fingers unhurriedly tugged on the bow that fastened her chemise, she was put in mind of someone who was carefully, and very deliberately, unwrapping a gift package.

A
s Ben lightly dragged his forefinger over a distended nipple, his gray eyes gleamed with a passionate intensity. Lydia gasped, the muscles in her legs reflexively tightening as a small, unanticipated spasm pulsed between her hips.

When
all of her garments had finally been relegated to a pile on the floor, Ben pulled at his shirt, freeing the tails from the waistband of his new trousers. Undoing his shirt buttons, he reached behind his neck, yanking the garment over his head and shoulders in one sure motion.

Her excitement
rapidly mounting, Lydia sat on the edge of the bed. Enthralled, the realization struck her that this ruggedly beautiful man belonged to her; that they were bound together, one to the other.

Feeling a warm gush between her legs, Lydia unthinkingly inched her thighs apart.
More than anything, she wanted to take her husband deep within her. So deep, he touched her very soul.

Smiling warmly at her,
Ben stepped over to the bed, the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders blocking the meager light from the window. Suddenly greedy for the taste and feel of his bare skin, Lydia slid a hand across the stiff denim of his new trousers. Reveling in his manly strength, she squeezed his calf, his knee, and his thigh, before fanning her hand to his outer haunch. Quite intentionally, she bypassed the lump between Ben’s hips. When he jerked toward her, she smiled, taking a womanly delight in his unspoken plea.

To
mollify him, Lydia glided her hand over her husband’s crotch, silently marveling at how quickly his manhood swelled and lengthened against her palm as she unabashedly took his measure. After favoring Ben with another brazen caress, she began to unbutton his trousers. A few moments later, she pulled aside the gaping fabric, her eyes opening wide in silent praise.

“There’s something that I’d like to do to you,” she
said coyly as she wrapped her hand around his exposed organ. “Can you guess what that is?”

Ben’s chest heaved
as he took a deep breath. “I’m guessing,
no
, I’m hoping that— Ah, Christ, that feels good,” he moaned as Lydia cupped his testicles in the palm of her hand. When she next fingered the fleshly seam that separated the two halves of his scrotum, his penis boldly jerked against his belly.

Raising her head, Lydia stared at the virile, handsome man standing before her, excited by the impassioned look on
her husband’s face. Given his woefully swollen condition, Ben had dire need of her. Not wishing to torment him further, she gripped the base of his engorged member between her fingers as she angled him in her direction.

“Tell me what you what,” she whispered, her mouth poised above him.
“I need to hear you say it.”

Ben groaned as Lydia’s warm breath chafed
his cock. “Take me . . . in your mouth,” he begged, not knowing what he’d do if she didn’t soon make good on her seductive promise. “
Please.
”

The
plea escaped his lips on a ragged breath as Ben jutted himself against Lydia’s willing lips. In a near sensual stupor, he watched, mesmerized, as her lips parted. A moment later, those same lips closed around him as her tongue lathed the bulbous tip of his penis. Although untutored, Lydia instinctively knew how to pleasure him, her lips and tongue branding his organ with a fiery heat.

Standing
motionless, his hands bracketing either side of Lydia’s head, Ben didn’t know which was more stimulating – the feel of her moist caresses or the sight of her red lips tightly clamped around him.

When she drew him in deep, Ben feared
he would erupt like a geyser if he let the proceedings continue much longer.

“It just feels too damn good,” he muttered
hoarsely as he gently tugged at the thick knot of hair on the back of Lydia’s neck, pulling her away from him.

Moss-
green eyes opened wide in surprise. On the verge of exploding, Ben pushed Lydia against the mattress with one hand, while he shoved his britches off of his hips with the other.

“Lady, I hope you can take it as well as you dish it out,” he husked
, hurriedly maneuvering himself between her legs. “Cause this train doesn’t stop until we both come.”

Lydia flashed him a wanton’s smile
as she slid her hand between their two bodies, guiding him toward her.

It was all the invitation
that Ben needed. Cupping Lydia’s buttocks in his hands, he thrust into her.

Wrapping her legs around
her husband’s flanks, Lydia gasped aloud, taken aback by the pleasurable friction. When, a few moments later, her body finally gave way, allowing Ben full penetration, her heart swelled with love.

They
were now as one. As fate intended them to be.

“Harder, Ben.
Push harder,” she begged.

Obeying
that hoarsely uttered demand, Ben shoved more forcefully, imbedding himself that much deeper. Each and every time that he thrust into her, Lydia veered closer to the razor’s edge, her body wound tight. Clenching her pelvic muscles, she bucked wildly, her fingers digging into Ben’s buttocks.

She was so
very close. All she needed was—

Oh, Yes!

Blindsided with a rupture of exquisite pleasure, Lydia nearly sobbed with joy when she was hit with a second burst. And then a third.

Seconds later,
Lydia heard a low, masculine groan as Ben’s warm breath sputtered across her face. In the next instant, his huge body began to convulse.

“I love you,”
Ben whispered once his hips had finally come to a slow, shuddering stop.

“I love you,
too,” Lydia murmured, barely able to catch her breath.

In the still aftermath that followed, Lydia lovingly stroked the back of her husband’s head,
her fingers threading their way through the damp strands of silvered hair. Never in her life had she experienced a moment so profound, so infinitely moving.

For a long time, Ben lingered inside of her, nestled in the warmth of her woman’s body, his head resting in the crook o
f her shoulder. Somewhere on the periphery of her exhausted consciousness, Lydia noticed that the late-day sun had tossed filigree shadows onto their bedroom wall.

When, at last, Ben eased his body away from hers, Lydia
suffered a momentary pang; one that instantly vanished when he rolled onto his back and pulled her into his arms.

Laying
her head on Ben’s chest, the rhythmic cadence of his breathing lulled Lydia into much needed slumber.

Truly, s
he’d never known such peace. Such love.

“I have to hand it to you, Lydia. You certainly outdid yourself on this ste
w.”

“Why, thank you,
husband.” Wrapping her arms around Ben’s neck, Lydia kissed him soundly on the cheek before joining him at the supper table. Long hours had passed since he’d arrived at their cozy hacienda, and only now were they getting around to eating the rabbit stew that she’d earlier prepared.

“
Although given that you endured such unappetizing cuisine during your four years of military service, I do believe that I could get you to eat just about anything,” Lydia said teasingly.

“Are you saying
that they didn’t feed us right in Abe Lincoln’s army?”

“I have my doubts,” she replied
airily as she ladled another helping of stew into Ben’s bowl.

As the two of them ate their supper, Lydia
was overcome with a feeling of utter contentment. Not to mention that there was something sinfully provocative about having the house all to themselves, the two of them alone together, insulated from the rest of the world.

And because they were alone, she thought it a propitious moment to broach a
delicate subject.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately and . . . please don’t think me forward, but. . . .”
Suddenly tongue-tied, Lydia paused. To her dismay, the words were proving more difficult than she’d anticipated.

Reaching across the table, Ben took hold of her hand
. “It just so happens that I like forward women,” he said with a roguish wink of the eye.

“
In that case, I shall come right out and tell you that –” Lydia smiled bashfully – “that I would very much like to have a child.”

“A child?”
Ben parroted.

“Not just any child.
Your
child.”

Still holding onto her hand, Ben raised it to his lips, placing a loving kiss on each
knuckle. “You grace my life, Lydia. No two ways about it.”

“Then you’d be pleased if I
was to conceive?”

“Pleased?” Ben laughed, evidently amused by
the question. “I’d be downright ecstatic.” Releasing her hand, he rose to his feet. “I’d planned on waiting until
after
we’d officially moved into our new home. But I think that right now is as good a time as any to give this to you.” As he spoke, Ben removed a beautifully engraved silver ring from his trouser pocket.

B
arely able to keep her tears at bay, Lydia’s throat tightened with emotion. Unless she was greatly mistaken, her husband held a wedding band between his fingers.

“Ben, is that what I think it is?”

He nodded solemnly. “I stopped at a silversmith while I was in town today.” Placing a hand under her elbow, he helped Lydia out of her chair. “I had to guess on the size,” he said as he slipped the ring onto her finger.

“
Why, it’s a perfect fit,” she marveled, unable to hold back the tears as she stared at the intricately engraved flowers that covered the entire circumference of the ring.

“I hope those are tears of joy?”

“Oh, Ben, how could you think otherwise?” Holding her left hand aloft, Lydia admired her new ring.

“If you’d rather have a gold band, I can
—”

“Under no circumstances is this
wedding ring coming off of my finger,” she declared, determined to put
that
notion immediately to rest. “The ring is beautiful, Ben. Absolutely beautiful.
Although
. . . given our current financial situation, perhaps you shouldn’t have spent so much money.”

Ben shrugged
. “Seeing as how I bought some new clothes for myself, I thought it only fair that I buy something for my wife.”

With a flirtatious smile,
Lydia appraised his attire. “I couldn’t help but notice how well your new trousers fit.”

“So you like how
I fill out my britches, do you? Of course, anything would be an improvement over what I was forced to wear this past week,” Ben grumbled good-naturedly. “No need to reiterate how I felt about wearing Beaumont’s hand-me-down gray britches.”

“I confess that I could never figure out which you despised more
: Colonel Beaumont or his trousers,” Lydia teased, not about to let Ben off the hook so easily. While she was relieved that they’d closed the book on that particular chapter, she still thought that Ben’s jealousy of Percy Beaumont had been completely unwarranted.

“You know, it’s ironic that Beaumont’s name should come up in conversation.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because earlier today, I
found out that he’s a fugitive from the law.”

Utterly flabbergasted,
Lydia’s jaw slackened. “Surely, you jest.”

“
Surely, I don’t. The Federal authorities are looking for Percy Beaumont; and they’re offering a five thousand dollar reward to the first person who finds him.”

“But why in heaven’s name would the authorities be looking for Colonel Beaumont?”

“Because he’s a war criminal, that’s why.”

“A war criminal! How can you even
suggest such a thing?” Lydia demanded to know, taken aback by the mercenary gleam in her husband’s eyes. “Regardless of your personal antipathy for Colonel Beaumont, I happen to know that he is a brave and honorable man.”

Folding his arms over his chest, Ben said,
“And if things go according to plan, I’ll have his brave and honorable hide in custody by daybreak. Then, quick as I can, I’m gonna collect on the bounty.”

Horrified,
Lydia splayed a hand over her heart. “Lest you forget, Colonel Beaumont rescued us from certain death at the hands of the Comanche.”

“And I’ll be sure to thank him the next time
that I set eyes upon him. Which will be about eight hours from now,” Ben informed her.

On the verge of chastising Ben for his sarcasm, Lydia held her tongue, fearful
that she might say something that she would later regret.
Somehow
she had to appeal to her husband’s innate sense of decency. Despite Ben’s loathing of the man, Percy Beaumont
had
come to their rescue. To apprehend him, and then reap a reward for doing so, was unconscionable.

“No doubt, a
grievous mistake has been made,” Lydia stated in a confident tone of voice.

“Yeah, and Beaumont is the one who made it.” Ben
wagged a finger at her. “I know what you’re up to, Lydia. You’re trying to make me feel guilty about capturing a wanted criminal.”

“
A criminal?
Why, the last I heard, a man is innocent until proven guilty. Or do you not subscribe to that belief?” she taunted, unable to curb her ire.

Refusing
to take the bait, Ben placed a hand on her shoulder, urging her to retake her seat. With a loud huff, Lydia spread her skirt and sat down.

Surprisingly calm, Ben also
resumed his seat. Then, locking gazes with her, he took hold of left hand. “We
need
that money, Lydia.”

“Not so much that we
must compromise our principles,” she retorted. “That sort of behavior is beneath you.”

“
Can you just curb your indignation long enough to hear me out?” Ben paused, waiting for her reply. When Lydia grudgingly nodded her consent, he said, “That bounty money will enable us to hire ranch hands, build fences and corrals, and construct a bunk house. Without it, I’ll be indentured to your uncle. Completely dependent on him for our bread and butter. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not. It’s just that
—” She stopped in mid-stream. On the verge of telling Ben that he’d allowed his hatred of Percy Beaumont to cloud his judgment, she thought better of it at the last, suspecting that her husband would not take kindly to the sentiment.

“No matter how you slice it, it takes money, more than we currently have, to start a cattle ranch. I’m telling you, Lydia, that bounty money is a godsend. And there’s
nothing
that you can say to make me change my mind,” Ben stated emphatically. “Am I making myself clear?”

“Perfectly clear,” she
mumbled.

Although she loved Ben Strong with all
of her heart, Lydia was convinced that apprehending Percy Beaumont would be a gross miscarriage of justice. What her husband considered a stroke of good fortune – one that he fully intended to profit from – she considered a dishonorable act unworthy of any man.

Unfortunately, because he served
in the Union army, Ben viewed Colonel Beaumont as the enemy; the same enemy who’d killed so many of his friends and comrades.
The same enemy who killed his brother Ethan
. And that blind hatred was now causing him to make a hideous mistake.

For some reason, one
that Lydia was at a loss to comprehend, Ben could not see that Percy Beaumont lived by a code of civility, a
noblesse oblige
that set him apart from other men. And because of that, it was impossible for Colonel Beaumont to have committed the crimes attributed to him.

“Come on. Let’s go back to bed,” Ben said wearily as he scooted his chair away the table. “I need to get a few hours of shut-eye before I head out.”

“And where is it that you’re headed to?”

“According to Sheriff Jenkins, Beaumont and his crew are encamped along a stretch of river bank about three miles west of town.”

“I noticed earlier that you were rubbing your right shoulder. Would like me to put some ointment on it?” Lydia inquired, intentionally changing the subject.

One corner of
Ben’s sternly-set mouth turned upward, the last vestiges of anger vanishing from his face.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”
Extending a hand in her direction, Ben caressed the rounded curve of her cheek with his fingertips. “You’ll see, Lydia. This will all work out for the best. I promise.”

Somewhat guiltily, Lydia met her husband’s gaze. “Yes, no doubt, it will.”

“Lydia! Where the heck are you?”

As
Ben stomped from the bedroom to the deserted sitting room, he again called out his wife’s name. Having awakened a few moments ago, he’d been surprised to discover Lydia’s side of the bed vacant. With dawn still two hours away, her unaccountable absence was peculiar, to say the least.

Just
where is that woman hiding herself, anyway?

Didn’t she know that he had better things to do than
to tramp around searching for her? He needed to saddle up and hit the road so that he could meet with Sheriff Jenkins at—

Ah, Christ!
Don’t tell me.

Hit with a
sudden, gut-wrenching thought, Ben yanked the front door wide open and charged across the porch, the warped floor boards groaning beneath his booted heel. He then ran to the back of the house, hoping to God that his fears were ungrounded.

The
hope proved short-lived.

In the pale moonlight, Ben could see that there was only one horse stabled in the lean-to. Before they’d retired for the night, there had been two horses there, his
and
Lydia’s. Which could only mean one thing – his wife had tip-toed away from the hacienda while he was sleeping.

“Goddammit,” Ben muttered, certain that
Lydia had gone to warn Beaumont about the planned ambush.

Sweet Jesus
! How could she do this do me?
After he’d invested not only his trust, but his heart, how could Lydia have deceived him like this?

No, she did worse than that.

Lydia betrayed him, that’s what she did.

Furious, Ben balled his fist and punched the first solid thing
that he came into a contact with – a wooden post that supported the back end of the lean-to.