A Lady of the West Read online

  But that wasn’t true anymore. His greatest fear had been realized. He couldn’t get an erection.

  She was so dainty and pristine, so untouchable. Frank McLain sat in the darkness of his room and tried to work things out in his mind, find some sort of explanation for the humiliating failure of his flesh. Goddammit, he’d never had any trouble humping a woman before, once he’d recovered from the knife wound. Only this one.

  So it had to be her fault. It wasn’t him; it was something about her. Maybe ladies weren’t for screwing. He had his lady for ruling over his house, his lady to dress in fancy gowns and show off in Santa Fe. With her culture and background, there was no limit to how high he could rise in the territory. That was why he’d married her. Hell, he didn’t care if he got any brats on her; he didn’t give a damn about leaving all of this to some snot-nosed kid who probably wouldn’t have half of his own strength. This was his, won with his guns and brains and guts. He was undisputed king in this part of the territory, and now he had his queen. He had what he wanted. Let her keep her knees locked; women like her were made to be treated like dolls, cosseted and protected, showcased in all their finery and jewels.

  That was what was wrong. He just hadn’t understood before. He’d take care of her like she was royalty given into his protection, untouchable and untouched. When he wanted to hump somebody, he’d go to the kind of women he was comfortable with, women who squirmed and squealed and liked it.

  Like Angelina Garcia. She was just a whore, but she liked it any way a man could give it to her. McLain thought of the times he’d plowed her himself and to his enormous relief felt his manhood begin to stir. Yeah, that was what it had been all along. There wasn’t anything wrong with him, it had been his wife.

  He jerked off his nightshirt and hurriedly dressed. He had to have a woman, a real woman.

  Angelina had a room in the small building where the houseservants once lived, back when the damn Sarratts had kept enough servants to button up their britches. Most of the building was used for storage now; Carmita, Lola, and Juana used two rooms just off the kitchen. Angelina wasn’t much on keeping her room neat; it was always strewn with clothing and food, and stank of sex. She was greedy; she wanted several men a day, and if they didn’t come to her she went to them. She was flamboyantly beautiful, with a lush body, long black hair, and flashing dark eyes. As he hurried across the dark ground, McLain thought of what he was going to do to her and grew fully hard.

  He could barely wait. A thin line of light showed beneath her door. He pushed it open and Angelina turned her head sharply at the intrusion. She was naked, lying under a patched, yellow sheet, and she wasn’t alone. One of the cowpunchers lay naked and groggy beside her.

  Angelina was at first astonished to see him; after all, he’d only gotten married the night before. Then a slow, self-satisfied smile curled her lips.

  “Get out,” McLain said to the cowboy.

  The man stumbled to his feet and awkwardly got into his britches and boots. He too was astounded that the Major was there. The tale would be all over the ranch by morning.

  Angelina lolled against her pillows, letting the sheet fall to the side so that her large breasts were revealed. “So,” she said in a purring voice. “Your grand lady can’t satisfy you?” It wouldn’t take much, as she knew from experience. The Major was too fast, but she always praised him as if he were the biggest and best stud she’d ever had. Angelina was shrewd enough to know she had a good thing here, and the best way to keep it was to butter up the boss.

  McLain grunted as he unbuttoned his pants. “She couldn’t even get it hard,” he muttered, and from that, and his haste, Angelina understood exactly what had happened. She wanted to laugh, but knew she had too much to lose if she shared the joke with others, even later. She stifled her smile and instead stretched out her arms toward him.

  “She must be a cold fish, then,” she purred.

  McLain freed his erection and lowered himself. “Bend over,” he panted, already near climax at the thought. “I want to do it that way.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The dull, endless chores of domesticity had a settling effect, Victoria mused. It had been a week since her marriage, a week in which she had thrown herself into the duties of running the household in an effort to make herself too busy to think. She admitted that the larger portion of her growing serenity was due to the Major’s continued absence from her bedroom, but mending had its own soporific effect. She stifled a yawn.

  Emma chuckled. “Here we are, about to doze in the sun like two doddering old tabbies.” She took two more tiny stitches, then smothered her own yawn.

  “It’s so pleasant here,” Victoria said. She was coming to appreciate more and more both the weather and the landscape of her new home. It was June; the sun could be quite hot at noon, but the air was dry. The result was wonderful, after the humidity of the South. The nights were chilly and crisp, perfect for snuggling under blankets.

  “Especially here, in the courtyard. I don’t believe I care if this hem is mended.” Emma replaced the skirt in her basket, looking enormously satisfied with the decision. She yawned again. “But I do believe a nap is necessary.”

  “Siesta must be contagious.”

  “It seems to be. Not that they’re totally foreign to us. Remember when we used to take naps before evening dances?”

  “A long time ago.” Victoria looked down the past five years.

  “Yes.” They said no more about the days past. Neither of them liked to discuss it. The changes brought by war had been too violent, the difference in their lives too complete. Too many people had died.

  Emma got to her feet and Victoria did also, her brows knit as she realized she hadn’t seen her sister in at least an hour. “I think I’ll look for Celia,” she said. “She didn’t tell me where she was going.”

  “And wherever Celia is, Mr. Garnet will be close by,” Emma said grimly.

  Victoria wondered how Garnet attended to his job when he seemed to spend so much of his day lurking around Celia. He hadn’t made any untoward moves, but his constant hovering made Victoria uneasy. If she found him near Celia again, she would inform the Major of his foreman’s behavior, although she grimly suspected he was fully aware of it.

  “Shall I come with you?” Emma asked.

  It was tempting to accept her offer. Victoria often felt as if she needed support, and she knew Emma would stand unflinchingly by her side to face anything. But Emma, for all her willingness, was sensitive enough that conflict could upset her to the point of nausea. So Victoria smiled and shook her head. “No. She’ll be in the stable, as usual. I’ll just tell her we need help with the mending.”

  “If only she understood,” Emma said.

  “If she did, she wouldn’t be Celia.”

  Rather than go through the house, Victoria left the courtyard by the rear gate. The ranch buildings were spread in a semicircle about the house, with the smithy to the right, the springhouse far in the rear, a couple of storage buildings, and two bunkhouses, the stable, an enormous barn, and various corrals extending to the left. It was almost a hundred yards to the stable; by the time she reached it, she wished she had put on a bonnet. The sun was deceptively hot on her bare head.

  The stable, in contrast, was cool and dark, and redolent with the earthy scents of horses, oiled leather, and hay. Temporarily blind, she stood for a moment just inside the door, letting her eyes readjust to the dim light. When she could see again she quickly spied Celia at the far end of the barn. Celia had climbed halfway up the door of a huge corner stall and was leaning over it with her hand outheld.

  Victoria recognized the horse. It was Rubio, the Major’s prize stallion. He had boasted about the horse at length, taking delight in the tales of its kicks and bites as if they were admirable. The stallion had killed the Mexican who had been taking care of him the year before. Seeing Celia like that, so close to the big animal, made Victoria’s heart stop. She took a step forward but didn’t call