Nobody's Darling

After a moment of respectful silence, Virgil slapped his hat back on and winked at Jasper. “Ah, who cares what Ma would say? I say it took him too dadburned long to get his picture in the family album.”

“Amen!” the others chorused, surrounding their prodigal brother for yet another round of hugs and backslapping.

When Esmerelda realized they were congratulating Billy for being wanted for murder, she was appalled by their bloodthirstiness. But she was even more appalled by the cocky grin Billy wore as he accepted their gruff accolades. It chilled her to realize how much trust she had placed in a man who was little more than a stranger to her. As he basked in his brothers’ fellowship, she recoiled without realizing it, taking several steps backward.

The motion caught Jasper’s eye. As his gaze traveled from her scuffed kid boots to her bound hands to her tousled hair, a smile slowly spread across his handsome face. “What’s this, Billy? You bring us a present?”

With his clean-shaven jaw and lanky grace, Jasper resembled Billy more than any of his brothers. His lips had been cut from the same sensual mold, but his crooked grin was a sinister shadow of Billy’s smile.

Esmerelda took another step backward, alarmed by the sadistic glint in his eyes. As her gaze traveled between the two men—so alike, yet so different—she realized that what she’d mistaken for cruelty in Billy’s eyes was nothing more than wariness. A wariness that deepened in their narrowed depths as he deliberately stepped in front of Jasper and swaggered over to her.

He snaked one arm around her waist and drew her against him. When she squirmed in protest, he snuggled the top of her head beneath his chin. “Sorry, boys, but this one’s all mine. I thought I’d have a little fun with her, then sell her to the Comancheros for a profit.”

An involuntary shudder coursed down Esmerelda’s spine. Even she had heard of the Comancheros—renegade bands of Comanches, Mexicans, and outlaws who traded guns, liquor, and women up and down the Mexican border. An unspeakable fate awaited any woman who fell into their brutal hands.

Billy must have felt her quiver, because he gave her waist a hard squeeze. She might have been more comforted if she’d known whether it was intended to restrain or reassure. His own muscles were as taut as a rope stretched to the point of fraying.

“Aw, hell, Billy, don’t be so selfish,” Jasper whined. His greedy gaze dropped to her bosom. Although her basque was hooked all the way to her chin, Esmerelda felt even more exposed than she had when Billy’s knuckles had grazed the swell of her naked breast. "She's a little mite, but there’s more than enough to go around.”

Virgil’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips. "Jasper's right. I ain’t had me a woman in nigh on a week.”

“She shore is a p-purty little thing,” Enos shyly added.

Sam nodded. “I bet she smells real nice.”

Billy kept his voice soft and amiable. “If you re inclined to scrap over a woman, Samuel, then we will. But I’d have thought you’d have grown attached to that ear I left you with the last time we scrapped.”

Ducking his head to hide a pout, Sam tugged his hat down over his ears. Or what was left of them. The gag smothered Esmerelda’s horrified gasp.

Virgil and Jasper weren’t so easily discouraged. They exchanged a sly glance, then began to ease away from each other, plainly intending to circle around and flank them.

Tension charged the air, making Esmerelda’s nape tingle with apprehension. Her stomach churned with dread at the thought of their foul breath in her face and their filthy hands on her body. Billy no longer had to restrain her. She pressed herself against his lean, muscular body, instinctively seeking refuge.

“Don’t pay him no mind, Sam,” Jasper said, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his chaps. “Billy’s just bein‘ stingy. He always was a mama’s boy.”

Billy’s good-natured laugh masked the sound of his pistol sliding out of its holster. When it appeared in his hand, all four of his brothers stumbled backward, their hands on the grips of their own pistols. But not one of them dared to draw.

A strange thrill of exhilaration shot through Esmerelda’s veins as she realized that Billy wasn’t afraid of his brothers. He never had been. He was only afraid for her.

Her discovery didn’t lessen the shock of his pistol barrel grazing her temple. Her breath caught in her throat as Billy dragged the weapon down her cheek, then used the muzzle to tenderly tip her chin up so he could caress the vulnerable skin beneath her jaw. The cool, hard metal provided a stark contrast to the tensile heat of his hips pressed against her backside.

He slid the barrel down her throat and between her breasts, marking his territory, branding her as his own before his brothers and all the world.

He waited until he had every ounce of their slack-jawed attention before gently drawling, “You’re right about one thing, Jasper. I never did like to share what was mine.”

Esmerelda shivered. With the smoky rasp of his voice in her ear and the barrel of his pistol cradled between her breasts, it was nearly impossible to remember that he was only bluffing. Wasn’t he?

Virgil was the first one to raise his hands in surrender. Sam and Enos immediately followed suit. Only Jasper kept his hand hovering near his holster.

Billy ignored him. “If you gentlemen will be kind enough to excuse us, I believe the lady and I will retire to the grove of mesquite on top of that bluff for a spell. We would appreciate a little privacy.” He accented his request by easing her hair aside and nuzzling her throat with his lips; the fresh shock of his warm, moist mouth against her skin made her knees buckle.

Taking advantage of her weakness, he began to waltz her backward, the pistol still gripped in his hand. “Oh, and Jasper, I’d be much obliged if you could fetch my mare. Your poor shooting gave her an awful fright.”

Jasper’s lips twitched in a feral snarl, but his hand remained frozen over his gun.

Virgil gave him a shove. “You heard the man, Jasper. Go fetch his horse.”

Jasper shook off his brother’s hand, then went plunging into the darkness, a vicious oath escaping his lips. Only then did Billy holster his gun. Enos and Sam slumped in relief.

As they passed the buckboard, Billy reached into the bed of the wagon with his free hand and snagged a bedroll.

Virgil rested his balled fists on his hips. “If you need a hand with her, just give a holler. We’d be more than obliged to help.”

“That’s a right kindly offer, but I do believe I can manage.”

As he dragged her up the rise toward the mesquite grove on top of the bluff, Billy’s grip was so implacable that Esmerelda couldn’t help kicking her feet and choking out a whimper of protest. Had he rescued her or betrayed her? Was he the same man who had caught her when she swooned and tenderly cradled her in his arms, or a ruthless stranger who had every intention of carrying out his implied threat?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Before they could reach the tenuous privacy of the mesquites, Billy had a hellcat in his arms. Even with her hands bound, Esmerelda managed to twist around and club him in the chest. Her feet beat a savage tattoo against his shins. He cast a frantic glance backward to make sure they were out of his brothers’ sight before hefting her over his shoulder where he hoped she could do less harm.

Her linked fists slammed into his kidney, making him bite off a heartfelt oath. He anchored her bottom with one hand, unfurled the bedroll with the other, then dumped her unceremoniously on top of the coarse woolen blanket.

Billy followed her down, thinking only to bury his laughter in the sweet-smelling spill of her hair. “That was quite a performance, honey. I doubt Sagebrush Sally down at the old Divine Theater in Santa Fe could have done any finer.”