Southern Seduction [Bride Train 8] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  Bride Train 8

  Southern Seduction

  Disguised as a twelve-year-old boy, Casey Wright’s options are limited. Winter is coming and she’ll die without a job. Her brother, Willy, gets her hired as winter cook for the Sweetwater Ranch. She’s lusted after Cole, Byron, and Marshall all summer, but what will happen when they discover she’s a twenty-one-year-old woman?

  Cole Taylor weds the backwoods mountain gal to keep his reputation as a gentleman and to enjoy the cook-housekeeper for the winter. He insists it’s a paper wedding, that she’ll still be a virgin in the spring. He’ll then have the marriage annulled and find a better wife.

  But Casey demands some of the hot multiple sex she’s heard about. She easily seduces Marshall Stevens and Byron Ashcroft, who show her how much fun two men and a woman can have.

  As their feelings grow, so does her desire to stay. What will it take for Cole to join his cousins in pleasuring his hot-blooded wife?

  Note: There is no sexual relationship or touching for titillation between or among cousins.

  Genre: Historical, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Western/Cowboys

  Length: 93,099 words

  SOUTHERN SEDUCTION

  Bride Train 8

  Reece Butler

  MENAGE EVERLASTING

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting

  SOUTHERN SEDUCTION

  Copyright © 2012 by Reece Butler

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-069-8

  First E-book Publication: December 2012

  Cover design by Les Byerley

  All art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Southern Seduction by Reece Butler from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Reece Butler’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Butler’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  DEDICATION

  This, my tenth book, is for my loyal readers, old and new. You have inspired me to continually improve my work. Thank you for believing in me and in Tanner’s Ford. You keep me on my toes, and I listen to your suggestions. A special thank-you to a woman who insists on being nameless for her suggestion about Grace’s future.

  I’d also like to thank my family for supporting me, especially my dear husband, who sends me back to the keyboard while he takes over the mundane, but necessary, part of life. Not only does he listen to my disjointed mutters and complaints, he is my rock, giving me wings to fly.

  SOUTHERN SEDUCTION

  Bride Train 8

  REECE BUTLER

  Copyright © 2012

  Chapter 1

  Tanner’s Ford, mid-September, 1872

  Tears streamed down Cassandra Wright’s face. She wiped them with the back of her left hand but still couldn’t see any better.

  “Casey, give those onions another couple of minutes before you add the garlic.” Sophie McLeod’s voice drifted down the hotel’s back staircase.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Wrinkling her nose, she pulled her head back to avoid the steam as she stirred. The peach pies she’d made first thing that morning had smelled a whole lot better than a pound of chopped onions. She looked over her shoulder to the far side of the kitchen. Steam still rose from the last batch of pies, so it was too early to cut them.

  “Where the heck did you go, Willy? There’s work to do.”

  She muttered the words, not expecting an answer. Having been alone most every day since Mama died she had a habit of talking to herself. She didn’t mind. It was a lot safer than the company Pappy brought home. She wiped suddenly damp hands on her apron. It was one of Sophie’s old ones and she’d had to wrap the strings around her waist twice to do it up.

  “Pappy’s far away and you’re safe,” she reminded herself. Or as safe as a woman hiding as a twelve-year-old boy could be in a place with far too few women.

  She automatically took a quick glance around. Sophie wouldn’t let her wear her coat while she worked. It usually hid the fact she had a waist, hips, and a curving bottom. A bottom that had grown in size since Sophie offered them jobs working in the hotel kitchen in return for leftovers and a place to sleep in the hotel’s storage shed.

  The thought of sleep made her think of what else could be done in a bed. Not that she’d ever slept in a real bed, or even kissed a man. She’d wanted nothing to do with the lot of them until she arrived in Tanner’s Ford and saw Byron Ashcroft bending over the back of the Sweetwater Ranch wagon.

  Just like he’d been doing that morning. The front of the mercantile could be easily seen from between Sarah’s Bakery and Jennet’s bank. While she watched, the three Southerners climbed off the wagon and went into the mercantile. Cole Taylor went first as he was the ramrod. Byron was next, then Marshall Stevens who’d stopped to pat the Tanner’s old dog. She’d waited, heart pounding, to see them again. That made her dizzy, which had a lot to do with her ribs being tightly bound to hide her breasts.

  They didn’t know she spied on them every time they came to town. Nor did anyone know what she hid under her hat, loose pants, and long coat. Even when they did see her, they paid no attention. She was just the boy who’d shot and killed Mayor Orville Rivers as he tried to kill either the banker or the Pink
erton agent. Nobody knew who he was aiming at, or why. Since the banker had pulled the derringer to shoot Rivers himself, bets were on Jennet being the target.

  She’d fidgeted while she waited in the chilly morning to see Byron or his cousins. She only had a short break because Sophie was feeding the whole valley dinner and there was so much to do. Thinking of them had warmed her from the inside out. It also made a heavy ache throb between her legs.

  She shifted her bare feet as she stirred, rubbing her thighs together. The ache started when Byron came out of the mercantile carrying a cask. She knew it was heavy, but he carried it easily on one broad shoulder. He’d set it on the wagon with a loud thump and then leaned over to shove it forward. With his coat off she could see his pants tighten over curve of his arse. He stood up, stretched his arms, and—

  “Casey!”

  She jumped at the shout behind her. She hauled her knife out as she whirled around, ready to attack.

  “Dang it, Willy!” She panted, unable to take the deep breaths she needed. Her brother strode forward, grinning like a jackass. He lifted her in the air and spun her around. “Put me down!” She pounded his shoulder with the fist that didn’t hold her knife. Though they hugged in private, brothers didn’t act this way with each other.

  “See, Casey, I said I’d take care of ya!”

  She heard Sophie’s feet coming down the stairs so she kicked his leg with her bare foot. He set her on the wood floor, but didn’t let go.

  “I got you a cook job fer the winter so ye won’t freeze ta death!”

  The tightness in her shoulders relaxed enough to let her return his smile. Sophie told her they could stay in the shed once the dining room closed but there’d be no leftover food to eat. Of course the shed had no heat. Casey’d replied that she and Willy would find somewhere else. Sophie had suggested Casey look for work at one of the ranches. The wives were all having babies and perhaps could use a chore boy.

  “Dang it, Willy, why didn’t you say that instead of grabbin’ me?” She pushed but couldn’t budge him. While her bottom had spread from the regular food, Willy’d put on muscle. “Didja get me a job on one of them Elliott ranches?”

  Willy’s grin changed from eager to sly as he slowly shook his head. He was taller and stronger than Casey now, but she was five years older and had raised him from a baby. He used to follow her orders, but he’d acted like he was the boss of her since they left home. She did not like that look of his.

  “Got ya a job on the Sweetwater Ranch.” He waggled his eyebrows knowingly. “With Cole Taylor, Byron Ashcroft, and Marshall Stevens.”

  “No,” she whispered. Desire collided with fear in her stomach, making her tremble. Her body flashed hot, then cold. Dizzy, she clenched her fists in Willy’s shirt.

  Willy couldn’t know that thoughts of the three partners filled her dreams. She’d imagined them touching the breasts she kept bound tight, the bottom covered by her loose pants and long coat, and everything in between. Sometimes she even imagined them doing the wicked things she’d overheard the valley wives whispering about.

  Willy’s knowing snicker pulled her back into the room. “They’ll give ya that home and babies yer pinin’ fer,” he whispered in her ear. “They’d be good to ye, Casey. Real good. They’d not beat ya or git drunk like Pappy.” He gave her a gentle squeeze. “I knows ye want ’em, Casey.”

  She leaned her forehead on Willy’s chest. He’d grown so much that it touched his breastbone now. She inhaled as deeply as she could, which wasn’t much.

  “Cole might want to use me as a man would any woman, but never as a wife,” she whispered back.

  “He might if ye practice talkin’ like Mama and use some of them fancy manners she taught ye. Yer a good cook, kin work hard, and ye ain’t ugly.” He shrugged as if nothing else mattered. “Everybody knows they’se plumb desperate fer a wife. Might as well be you.”

  Casey rubbed her forehead against her little brother. The ache between her legs grew to a throb. Oh, God. What would they do when they found out? She let go of Willy and straightened up. She was a survivor, just like Mama. She’d find a way to live through the winter in a cabin with three men.

  Sophie’s voice came in from the dining room. Casey thumped Willy’s chest with the flat of her hand and stepped back. He smirked, giving her a look that was both I-told-you-so and I-know-better-than-you. She ground her teeth. At least she’d have a couple of weeks to get used to the idea. Sophie wouldn’t want her to leave until the season was over.

  “Casey, Cole Taylor would like to speak with you.”

  She looked at Sophie McLeod. After catching Sophie’s shrewd glances one time too many, she’d wondered if the older woman had guessed her secret. A light tinge of pink on Sophie’s cheeks suggested the woman was up to something.

  “I gave him a piece of your peach pie. That convinced him,” said Sophie briskly. “You’re both hard workers. You know I can’t give you a place for the winter, but Cole and his partners can. A hungry man doesn’t care if his cook is a boy as long as his belly gets filled.”

  “He’s lookin’ for a wife,” replied Casey sullenly. She dropped her head, tracing a path with her toe through some dropped flour. “A wife won’t want no boy in her kitchen.” Or another woman, but she couldn’t say that.

  “Nonsense,” said Sophie loud enough to be heard in the dining room. “Cole promised to keep you for the whole winter, and his word is good.” She pursed her lips and dropped her voice. “The fool says he’ll only marry a high-class lady. Someone like that would be too delicate to do the hard work of running a home.”

  Casey swallowed hard. Cole was proud of being a Southern gentleman. That meant he’d not touch a virgin, no matter how eager, without first standing in front of a preacher. She’d been fourteen when Pappy first promised her in marriage to one of her cousins. Two more times in the last seven years she’d prepared herself to marry a man who made her skin crawl. The third time that her fiancé died before the preacher arrived, the clan had labeled her a Death Bride. That meant no man could marry her and survive.

  She didn’t believe it, not really. It was the feud and stupidity that got her cousins killed, not planning to marry her. But being a Death Bride kept her from being forcibly married to a brute like her father. She and Willy had encouraged the rumor.

  Her gut clenched. She had no choice but to accept this job if she wanted to live until spring. She made her decision, choosing to live. This was her choice, and she’d give it everything she had.

  After putting her coat on she checked that her knife was in place, pulled the ragged brim of her hat low to hide her face, and followed Willy into the dining room. Their bare feet made little noise, but Cole noticed them right away. He might look relaxed, leaning back in his chair with his feet out, but she could read a man faster than a rabbit could bolt.

  Every time she saw him, his muscles were tight, and it was no different now. The cords in his neck showed his tension, as did the way his fingers twitched. The look in his eye, judging her and finding her wanting, made her want to lash out. But she’d learned to hide her feelings behind a mask before she was old enough to walk. No matter that her body tingled in response to him, she knew he was a dangerous man to those who crossed him. She wouldn’t make that mistake.

  “You make a tasty peach pie.”

  Cole’s deep voice rumbled through her like thunder.

  “Thankee.”

  She kept her chin high and eyes down, staring at his boots. They were old, but clean. The knees of his pants were patched, but also clean. She’d be doing that cleaning and patching if she got the job. No, not if. When. She wiped damp hands on the sides of her thighs.

  “If you work for the Flying X brand you’ll put the Sweetwater Ranch first, doing what’s needed to earn your keep. I’ll give you bed and board. Not that it’ll take much to keep a pup like you in grub.” The last words were said in a dry tone that might have been his version of a joke.

  “Yessir,” she wh
ispered when he paused. Her heart was thumping too fast for her to speak any louder.

  “You’ll hunt, cook, clean, and anything else that needs doing. Don’t ask, just get the job done. Come spring, you’re free to go. Understand?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Then we’re done.” He stood, his boots stepping close to her bare feet. The hair at the back of her neck stood up at the danger he posed. She waited, feeling like a mouse quivering before a fox. He cleared his throat. “I don’t hire a man, or boy, before I look him in the eye and shake his hand.”

  Cole’s cold, soft words slid to the base of her spine. She wasn’t afraid of him, not really. She tried to inhale but her bindings made it impossible. Her heart pounded like she was staring down one of Pappy’s drunk friends and was armed only with a knife.

  “Casey?” Willy nudged her with his elbow.

  She pushed back her shoulders and slowly raised her head. Long, sturdy legs led to a broad chest. She was only a bit over five feet, but Cole topped Willy’s five foot ten by a few inches. He was clean shaven, lips firmly shut above his broad jaw. His nose had been busted a few times. Did he like to fight, or was it from scrapping with his cousins? His face was stern, his brown eyes hard.

  She already knew his back and chest were hard with muscle. She was watching him one time when a wasp or something got into his shirt. He’d whipped it off his head, inside out, and shook it. She’d seen lots of men without shirts, but none had made her burn like the sight of his broad back and lightly furred chest. He looked nothing like Pappy, who was a soft from lying around drinking ’shine while young’uns and womenfolk worked. She’d dreamed that one day Cole would hold her against that chest, his arms tight around her. Dreamed that he’d whisper she was safe, that no one would ever hurt her again. Silly girlish dreams. She swallowed hard.