Wild West Hauntings, page 5
Warmth spread through her cheeks. Feminine awareness and want tugged at her in all the right places. She shifted on the bench and glanced up at him. He hadn’t seemed to notice her unease.
“I have been ready at your hand,” he continued to sing the poem from the sixteenth century, “to grant whatever you would crave. I have both wagered life and land, your love and goodwill for to have.”
How fitting, she thought, to hear this now, especially after their conversation and his declarations earlier in the day. She finished out the song, letting the last chord hang in the air before releasing the keys and pedal.
Dalton smiled, held out his hand. “Come, sugar. Time to settle in for the night.”
She grasped his offered fingers and stood. He lightly brushed his other hand on her lower back. Tingles raced up her spine. No ordinary man had ever made her body crackle with just a touch to her low back. Her breath quickened. Her breasts tightened in anticipation of what was to come when they made it upstairs.
With a nod, she turned, meeting Cassie and Marianne’s pale-faced, wide-eyed stares. In the background, a baritone singer belted out a classic Christmas song about being home for the holiday.
“What?” Rachel inquired, taking a step toward the seemingly spooked women and attempting not to be petrified by her own waking-dream, specter-interaction incident. Act normal. “You guys look like you’ve seen a ghost. What gives?”
Marianne gulped. “I think we did. And when did you learn to play the piano?”
Rachel’s gaze flitted around the room. Bristol, who still sat in the rocker, had gone white again. Even the men seemed out of sorts, staring at her like she’d grown two heads.
“Excuse me? I was just sitting by the fire.” She went to point down at the hearth, which wasn’t there, but several feet away. Spinning to look behind her to gain her bearings, she almost whacked her knee on the piano bench. A chill scuttled through her body. She turned back to the women. How?
“Yeah.” Cassie bobbed her head as if agreeing with her thought. “You were totally zoned out. Didn’t hear us at all. When you got up and went to the piano, I thought Marianne was going to totally lose it. At first there was a haze to the left of you.” Cassie held up her smartphone. “See? We caught pictures. Then after you stopped playing.” Cassie moved her finger around on the device then showed it. “The orb at your lower back is particularly interesting.”
Rachel snatched the phone away from her, quickly flipped through the pictures on the small screen. Fingering the photos back and forth, her heart rate beat a frantic staccato. They were right. In the images, she looked zoned out, like the flickering of the fire had put her in a state of self-hypnosis. Just as Cassie had said, a translucent, milky white shimmer floated in the air near her in most of the photos, while a red haze clung to her form. A few toward the end showed bright fluffy looking spheres amassing next to the piano. Then a huge one drifted toward her back in the last picture.
The same area Dalton touched me. She swallowed hard. Tamping down the rush of panic zooming through her brain and the flux of bile rising in her throat, she put on a brave, hopefully unruffled, face. “These are…” Hating the way her voice and hand shook as she handed back the phone, she took a deep breath, then continued, “Quite interesting. Sure your lens isn’t dirty?”
Cassie shrugged. “It could be, but then why didn’t the smudges stay in one place? The haze moved around. Don’t you think it’s a bit freaky?”
Yes, it was, but she wasn’t about to admit to it. There had to be logical explanations for the occurrences in the photos. Her sister and the woman stared at her expectantly. She had to reply with something normal and intelligent sounding, before they determined she’d been affected by the pictures, even though she was. “Coincidental, yes. Freaky, not really. It could have been a play of the light. Dust in the air. A number or things.” She shrugged a shoulder, forcing herself to act sane and not run from the room like a lunatic. Rachel looked to her sister. “It’s been a long day. I think it’s finally time for me to call it a night. Shopping tomorrow, yes?”
Marianne embraced her. “Yeah, we’re still on to go into the city. We all need to get our outfits for Bristol’s wedding.” She stepped back and rubbed Rachel’s arms. “Are you sure you’re all right? Really?”
“I’m fine.” If she kept telling herself that, then maybe it’d turn out to be true. She offered a weak smile. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Finally released from the conversation and concerned stares, Rachel spun on her heel and hurried for the stairs, attempting to out run her thoughts.
Dalton’s only a figment of my imagination. He can’t be a ghost, because, if my dream man’s a spirit, then at one point in time he was alive.
The implication of the last part of the sentence stopped her cold. She couldn’t be time traveling in her dreams and loving a real man, could she? On the one hand, dealing with a ghost would mean she wasn’t crazy after all. On the other hand, time travel had its own set of problems. Plus, if he once was a living, breathing man, then how’d he die? Why hadn’t his spirit been set free?
In her room, she shucked out of her clothes, yanked on a t-shirt and pair of sweat pants and belly flopped onto the bed. She didn’t want to create rifts or distortions in space or time. She didn’t want to be in love with a ghost, whether real or imagined. Most of all, she didn’t want to have another bout of insomnia followed by dreams of a man named Dalton, regardless of how much he stirred her senses.
Chapter Five
What a strange evening this has been. Bristol rose and moved to the couch to try and get more comfortable. She touched her open palm against her swollen stomach. Baby Dougan decided to give her a nice front kick. Just one of the many he’d been bestowing on her as of late. “Ouch.” She moaned.
Damon stood in the doorway chatting away with Dakota. Seemed her soon to be brother-in-law and Cassie, her best bud in the whole world, were having problems. The pair had barely said a word to each other all night and spent the time in the lodge in separate areas. Every time her friend glanced in Dakota’s direction it wasn’t with a gaze filled with love but a stare of daggers. She wanted to find out what was going on, but Cassie became involved in the paranormal stuff so she sent Damon over to his brother. Hopefully, he wasn’t doing the guy thing and just shooting the breeze when he had information to gather.
Hushing the conversation, Damon gave her a pointed stare. He silently mouthed the words, “You okay?”
She nodded. Sure. She was fine as long as little boy Dougan didn’t use her as a kicking bag. And as of late, that was his favorite form of contact with her. A second kick to her abdomen came just as Damon slid into the space next to her on the sofa.
He positioned his hand against her belly. “Our little one is in rare form tonight.”
“Understatement.” She placed her hand over his and couldn’t help but smile at her handsome little one’s daddy. Snarky mood and all. With their wedding a few days away, Bristol only hoped their bundle of joy could wait to make his entrance.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Damon’s deep voice whispered in her ear.
“Not sure my thoughts should be said out loud.”
The gorgeous specimen of a man beside her chuckled. “And why is that? Are you thinking about offing me for putting you in this delicate state?”
She raised an amused brow. “Of course not. Well … on second thought.”
It was his turn to do the eyebrow-raising thing.
“Oh Damon, stick a fork in me, I’m done!” She scrunched her face in pretend frustration and grasped her belly.
Damon smirked and suppressed what she was sure was a laugh.
She let out a huff. “I’m serious. I feel like a Thanksgiving turkey. My belly button is even popping up to say I’m finished cooking.” She smoothed her shirt over the area to highlight the protrusion hidden beneath. “See? It’s like my stomach has a huge zit.”
“Darlin’, you are a beautiful Thanksgiving turkey.” He kissed her ear then whispered, “One that I’d love to take a big healthy bite from.”
Even eight months pregnant and feeling like a blimp, Damon’s words ignited warmth through her veins. It had been a month since she and Damon had had sex, and if the truth be told, it was killing her not having him on the regular basis to which she’d grown accustomed.
Cassie had assured her just last week that sex during pregnancy was perfectly normal. But the visions she’d been having of the baby’s head in the canal getting ready for the birth, and then Damon’s well-endowed member poking up there was just too much for her to handle. What if Damon’s huge penis hit the baby’s head? Or worse yet, gave the baby brain damage from repeated bumping?
She’d made the mistake of sharing her fear of Damon physically maiming the baby to Cassie who’d just about busted a gut laughing.
“Darlin’?” Damon’s voice shook her from her thoughts.
She turned quickly toward her husband.
His blue-eyed gaze studied her. “Let’s go to bed, darlin’.”
The sexual heat they’d shared since the moment they met grew between them, and lustful desire called loud and clear to her.
She gazed at the clock above the stone fireplace, glanced around at the group of people still hanging out and drinking and eating the leftovers from dinner Kent had laid out. “Are we going to sleep this early?”
“I don’t remember saying anything about sleep.”
“But…” She looked toward Cassie and Marianne for some help, an excuse not to go up so soon, but they were occupied with the pictures they’d taken of Rachel.
“No buts. There are other ways I can love you, Bristol.”
No doubt. He’d done that on many occasions, loved her in so many different and exciting ways. Thoughts of that night in the cave, or what he referred to as the Dougan tree house, came to mind. The ropes binding her tightly, and the way his body moved inside of her, setting free all the desires she’d kept hidden for so long.
“Okay.” Thinking she had to stop being such a drama queen in regard to the pregnancy and sex, she swallowed the saliva built up from the anticipation of wanting him and wondering what he had planned. “Do you think you can help me remove myself from this sofa?”
“Most certainly … soon to be Mrs. Dougan.”
With that, Damon stood, extended both hands, pulled her up, and into his arms.
Once they’d reached their bedroom on the third floor, Damon prepared her a bath, loaded it with bubbles, and helped her submerge into the relaxing tub. She’d stayed in the water for at least an hour before he’d tapped lightly against the door and beckoned her return to him. After she’d dried off and stepped into her nightshirt, she joined him in the four-poster king sized mahogany bed. Patiently waiting for him to make a move, she glanced at her reflection in the full-length brass mirror that stood against the wall at the foot of the bed. Of course, she didn’t look as sexy as she’d like to look, but pregnant and all, she didn’t look that bad.
He’d just pulled the sheet over them when his cell phone rang. Annoyed, he grabbed it from the nightstand and flipped it open.
“Damon, here.”
There was silence for a few minutes. Damon listened intently to the person on the other end of the line. “Are you sure?” He gave her an incredulous roll of his eyes followed by a sexy wink. “Actually, I’m kind of busy at the moment. Can you call Dakota?”
Wondering about the speaker, she cocked her head and twirled a finger in the air to indicate he should get off the phone. Another punch hit the inside of her abdomen. She ran a palm over little Dougan. Stop beating me up, Baby D. Damon caught her hand mid-stomach and rested his open palm against hers. Both of them twitched when the baby rolled.
“All right, Kane. I know him and Cassie are at each other’s throats again, but call Dakota anyway. If he doesn’t call back, I’ll take care of it. Later.”
He flipped the phone shut and tossed it on the nightstand. “Looks like something spooked the horses.”
Bristol repositioned herself onto her side. “Why? What happened?” She adjusted again so that her back was flush against the headboard.
Damon swung one leg over her thighs. “Don’t know. Kane just said the horses are acting up. A little bit of aggression in their moods.”
Kane. Embarrassment at their last encounter flashed through her mind quickly heating her cheeks. Oh, she remembered the Native American cattle rancher quite vividly. Their last meeting, although she’d like to forget it, had sparked a friendship.
She grimaced at the re-wind in her mind of that day not long ago in the woods. It really had been an innocent walk. It wasn’t bad enough that she’d been squatting behind a tree with her pants around her ankles at almost eight months pregnant. Nope, that wasn’t the height of embarrassment. It was her lack of ability to control her potty movements. What she thought was only a pee break ended up so much more.
And, if the shock of bowels unleashed wasn’t sufficient, the sight of a tall man with long, straight black hair peeking around the bush pushed her into an accelerated panic. He hadn’t said a word. He’d just reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief and tossed it her way. Then like a ghost, he’d disappeared into the thick foliage.
“Earth to Bristol.” Damon’s deep voice pulled her from her walk down the not so fond memory lane.
“I seem to be doing that a lot lately,” she acknowledged. “Drifting in and out of thoughts.”
He gave her a little snort. “I’ll chalk it up to the pregnancy.” His tone was sweet and understanding.
God, she loved her man. Even when she’d told him about the incident with Kane, he’d only smiled and replied, “Shit happens, darlin’.” She’d gaped at his choice of vocabulary, and he’d replied, “No pun intended.”
A barrage of emotions gripped her, making it hard for her to breathe calmly. She stared at the man beside her. In a few days she’d be his wife, and in a few weeks, they’d welcome their first child, a son. A boy they’d yet to decide what to name. But that was an entirely different story.
She glanced at Damon. His eyes were closed, and his head rested against the oak headboard. Admiring him, she gazed down his perfect body. His sun-kissed hair had the unruly thing going. It barely touched the nape of his neck. She wanted to reach out and run her fingers down the plunging V in his white t-shirt, but instead drank in the tanned, hairless center of his chest. When her gaze finally settled on the waistband of his jeans, her breath hitched at the sight of the undone top snap. A little further down and her lips slightly parted, giving an approving gesture at the bulge between his legs. His bare feet were crossed.
Damn, what a fine man.
She’d re-adjusted her body again when a slow moan escaped his lips. “You’re staring, darlin’.” He opened one eye. “I’d like to stare at you, now.”
“Why? I’m as big as a house.”
He opened both eyes. “You’re beautiful. Pregnant or not, you’re the most beautiful women in the world to me. Now, stop complaining and get naked.”
Seriously? Insanity was shrinking his brain. “I’m not feeling all that sexy tonight, Damon. Would you mind if we just talked?”
Surprised, he raised a brow. “Yes, I mind. Get naked before I step in and do it myself.”
He had her in his arms before the next statement—actually pleading and begging—left her lips. “Damon, I don’t want us to hurt the baby. Sex might damage him.”
“We don’t have to have intercourse, darlin’. There are other things we can do.”
Contemplating her next move, she didn’t answer.
“By the way, you know the doctor, Cassie and Dakota said we can have sex. The doc even added that the act could help you go into labor.”
Yes, she remembered Dr. Caras mentioning that, but still what if the good doctor, Cassie and Dakota were wrong?
“Enough talking.” Damon cupped her chin. “I have a present for you.” Excited, he produced a brown, unmarked box.
“What’s this for?” She couldn’t help the smile that stretched across her face. After all, presents from her man always made her feel special. After another bout of repositioning her swollen body, she pulled the sizable box beside her and surveyed what would be the best plan of attack.
“Here darlin’.” Her sexy man produced his pocketknife and cut open the tape holding together the flaps at the top.
Bristol chuckled with excitement just like a kid in a candy store. As soon as he’d flipped opened the lid, and cleared the debris, she jammed her hand into the box.
Wow. There were so many objects of different shapes and sizes. She latched on to one and pulled it from the box. Her eyes fixed on it, silencing her completely. Hot pink vibrating underwear. Oh boy.
“Sexy, huh?” Damon’s eyes darkened, the desire in them warming her pussy.
“Yeah,” she whispered.
“Look at the rest.”
Bristol’s breath hitched as Damon’s expression morphed into something unreadable. He wasn’t smiling, only looking at her with such intensity that everything south of her belly button went from simmering to boil.
Lust. Love. Desire. Need. All those emotions snowballed into one look, which was plastered all over her man’s face. Wanting desperately to throw herself at Damon and rip his clothes from his body was her true desire, but with the extra pounds she carried launching herself at him probably would ruin the moment.
Instead, she went fishing in the box retrieving a second item.
A light blue butt stimulator, the package claimed.
Shocked at her recent retrieval, she shot Damon a quick glance, and of course he was as quiet as a mouse, only kept watching her with those intense, hard-to-read, blue eyes. “And the rest?”
At this point, his wish was her command. She produced the surprises, one after the other. Next, a pink battery operated nine-inch realistic cock. She laid the toy on the bed and reached into the carton of goodies pulling out two black metal bars. They resembled pipes about thirty-six inches in length and six inches in diameter. A set of handcuffs dangled from each bar. The signage read ‘spreader.’
