Authors: Sarah McCarty
Ace's Wild (32 page)
And so she was. Dressed in a pale blue dress with a fitted bodice and a voluminous skirt, a white veil covering the pale blond of her hair in a shimmering cloud, she walked beside her father, head high. Around her neck she wore his wedding gift. To others it looked like a gold necklace with an intricate clasp. Only they knew the significance of the collar. Only they needed to.
Luke elbowed him in the side. “Smile before you send her packing with all that glowering.”
Ace didn’t feel like smiling. He felt like...fetching his bride. Shoving the flask back at Luke, he did just that. Ignoring the murmur of the crowd, he met her halfway. Jarl frowned. Petunia smiled wider.
“Hi.”
The gold of the collar glowed through the mesh. “Hello, my Pet.”
“I detest that nickname,” Jarl snapped, his blue eyes so like his daughter’s flaring beneath the thick head of graying blond hair.
Ace didn’t spare Jarl a glance. “Then I won’t call you it.”
The man said something in his native tongue. Pews creaked as Tucker stepped free. Sallie Mae caught his arm. “Tucker!”
Ignoring the commotion with her usual calm, Petunia stood on tiptoe and tugged her father down so she could kiss his cheek. “Daddy?”
“What?”
She turned and faced Ace. Beneath the veil her fingers touched the choker. Love and confidence lit her smile as she said loud enough for everyone to hear. “This is my choice.”
Four words he hadn’t even known he needed to hear. Four words that shredded fear and replaced it with a bone-deep joy. With a crook of his finger he motioned her closer. With a cheeky smile, she took a small step. Terrance and Phillip alternately cheered and groaned. Hester just beamed.
He shook his head and pointed to the spot directly in front of him. Two more steps and she was there.
“Lift the veil.”
She did. She was so beautiful, her eyes bright and shining, her skin flushed and glowing. She was radiant. His wife. His lover. The soon-to-be mother of his child. His other half.
“Now, kiss me.”
“Right here?”
He nodded. “Right here. Before God, our family and friends. Pledge yourself to me, Petunia Wayfield.”
Her hands slid up the wool of his suit. Her legs pressed against his through the layers of clothing. The bliss of contact.
“Here, now?” the reverend protested. “But I haven’t performed the ceremony yet.”
“Looks like they’re doing their own,” Caine observed.
And they were. Hands linked behind his neck, Petunia tugged him down, breathing into his kiss as his mouth met hers. “I give myself to you, Ace Parker. All I am, all I ever will be, I give in to your care. You are my choice. For this lifetime and for all the ones to come, I’m yours.”
He inhaled the vow, taking it deep, feeling it sink into that hollow core that had only known wildness for so long. Feeling it expand, filling all the nooks and crannies until certainty ruled. The words when they came, came from there. Her gift magnified and reflected back. Slipping his hand under the bun at the nape of her neck, tilting her head back just a little more, he felt that quiver of pleasure that always went through her when he took control. And it was his turn to smile. The only time he’d bet on the wild card. And he’d won. Grabbing her around the waist, he spun her a quarter turn.
“I goddamn love you, Petunia Parker. With everything in me, I love you and always will.”
He kissed her then, hard and deep, letting his love, his passion, his everything, pile into that kiss. Stealing her balance and her breath in one smooth dip. It was hot. It was torrid. It was scandalous. He couldn’t imagine it ending. Fifty years from now he’d be kissing her just like this and she’d be taking it, begging for more, just like this, because she was who she was and he was who he was and together they were...
this
. Heat. Magic. Balance. Perfect. Around them he heard cheering, shocked exclamations, protests. He didn’t fucking care. He had his Pet. The world was right.
His smile faded. Seeing the question in her eyes, it was his turn to whisper. He only had one word. One word to convey his love. His guidance. His loyalty. His protection. His forever.
His thumb pressed the delicate gold collar against her throat. “Mine.”
All question disappeared.
It was enough.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from CADEN’S VOW by Sarah McCarty.
“Another mind-blowing installment of The Hell’s Eight…a remarkable story.”
—Fresh Fiction
on
Caden’s Vow
If you loved
Ace’s Wild
,
be sure to catch the rest of Hell’s Eight, the steamy Wild West series by
New York Times
bestselling author Sarah McCarty:
Caden’s Vow
Shadow’s Stand
Tracker’s Sin
Tucker’s Claim
Sam’s Creed
Caine’s Reckoning
Available wherever ebooks are sold.
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CHAPTER ONE
H
ELL
’
S
E
IGHT
WAS
doing
Tia proud. Caden Miller looked around at the normally peaceful garden Tia had
started and Tucker’s wife, Sally Mae, now helped maintain, at all the people
crammed into its well-tended confines to celebrate Tia and Ed’s wedding, and
couldn’t help a smile. Ten years ago he wouldn’t have given a snowball’s chance
in hell that Caine could pull off his dream. But like the others, where Caine
had led, Caden had followed. And Caine’s drive to succeed was evident in the
sturdy outbuildings, the assortment of equally sound houses and the contentment
reflected in the faces of those in attendance. The men of Hell’s Eight weren’t
just content; they were flourishing. They were settling down, marrying, having
children, sinking their roots deep into the east Texas soil. Of the original
eight, only he, Ace and Luke remained footloose and fancy-free. Something that
should have pleased him but instead had him feeling a pang of...envy?
Shit.
Since when did he feel envy for something he
didn’t even want? He wasn’t a settling man. He’d always been as restless as his
father before him. As all the Hell’s Eight used to be.
Glancing around the garden, at the tables laden with food, at
the couples standing side by side, the contented smiles where he was used to
seeing hardness and purpose, Caden again felt that strange tightness in his gut.
Hell’s Eight was changing. The reckless rage that had driven them for so many
years had smoothed into something just as durable but...calmer. Caden rolled his
shoulders. He didn’t like calm, but it seemed to be settling all right with
Hell’s Eight’s most notorious members. Shadow, Tracker and Tucker, three of the
most feared men in the territory, known for reckless deeds that were as dark as
their looks, were hovering over their wives, every bit the doting husbands.
Caine and Sam, wild men known for getting the job done no matter what, were
looking as confident as rich bankers—that is, if one discounted the subtle
tension in their muscles and the alertness in their gaze that spoke of men
accustomed to surviving by their wits. Not to mention the guns strapped to their
thighs and the knives tucked into their belts. Shit, they were all going soft,
and if he stayed here, so would he.
Caden sighed and took a drink of the fancy champagne Desi had
ordered all the way from Chicago for Tia and Ed’s wedding. It tasted like cat
piss to him, but what did he know of the finer things? He was the son of an
Irish nomad, a dreamer. A man who’d sworn his pot of gold was just over the next
horizon, around the next bend. Caden had a brief mental flash of his father’s
face. Rigid with determination as he’d told Caden to hide when the Mexican army
had raged into their town. He’d been seven going on eight, anticipating the gun
his father had promised him for his birthday two days hence. He hadn’t wanted to
hide. He’d wanted to fight, but his father hadn’t given him any choice. He’d
shoved him into the hidey-hole under the kitchen floor, and on a gruff “Remember
who you are, son,” he’d replaced the planks above him and left him in the dark.
Those were the last words his father had ever spoken to him. His mother he
hadn’t found until...after. She’d been at the mercantile when the army came.
Caden took another swallow of the champagne, wishing it were
something stronger. There were times when a man just needed something to drown
out the noise of the past, but champagne wasn’t whiskey, and the memories kept
coming. He’d lain beneath the floorboards for what seemed hours, listening to
the shouts and screams, wincing at the gunshots, straining to hear his father’s
voice, feeling helpless and scared until he couldn’t stand it anymore.
By the time he’d climbed out of the hole, the battle was over.
He’d never forget the smell that struck him as he’d stood—gunpowder, smoke
and...blood—nor the carnage that spread out beyond his front door. Bodies of
friends and neighbors littered the road like trash left by the wind, changing
the street from familiar to macabre. He’d found his father’s body lying in the
doorway of the still-burning mercantile, his head caved in on the right side,
blood pooled around his shoulders. His father’s legs had been on fire as Caden
had dragged his body into the street. The stench of burning flesh fused
indelibly into his memory that day as he’d beaten out the fire consuming his
father’s body with his bare hands. He hadn’t felt the pain, hadn’t felt
anything. And when he’d looked up and seen Sam, his expression had reflected the
blankness that Caden felt. And then he’d learned what Sam already knew.
Everything that had made up their lives was gone. The town. Their parents. Their
childhood.
The only survivors of the massacre were the eight friends. By
agreement, none had buried their own parents. They’d thought it would help. It
hadn’t. And, also by agreement, they’d vowed revenge. Extracting justice one by
one as they grew up, earning the label of Hell’s Eight along the way. Caden
didn’t know what would have become of them if Tia hadn’t caught them that day,
starving, stealing that pie, and taken them under her wing. They sure as shit
wouldn’t have become Texas Rangers. Tia was one in a million. Strength and
softness mixed in one. If he ever met another woman like her, he’d marry her in
a minute.
Fingers slid over his forearm. He didn’t need to look down to
know who it was who touched him with such compassion and gentleness. Maddie.
Poor abused Maddie. Born to a whore. Raised in a whorehouse. Used by men all her
life until Tracker had brought her home after one of his failed searches for
Ari. Maddie was as fleeting as sunshine, here one minute, gone the next,
retreating into fantasy as fast as she snapped out of it. Her fingers tightened
slightly on his arm. He smiled down at her automatically. Despite the harshness
of her past, there was something about Maddie that remained untouched, that drew
a man to smile. That enticing illusion of innocence probably had made her a damn
good whore.
Caden regretted the thought as soon as Maddie smiled back at
him with complete trust, her dark green eyes picking up the deeper green of
leaves of the pear tree, her wavy red hair dragging the sunlight with it as
tendrils escaped her bun and blew across her cheeks. Freckles sprinkled like
pale kisses across the bridge of her nose. And her smile...that sweet, gentle
smile that captured the hope of the world added to his guilt. So trusting when
she had no reason to trust anyone, least of all him. Fey, his da would have
called Maddie. One of the special ones that bridged the space between this world
and the magical one.
“Tia looks like a queen, doesn’t she?” Maddie said in a soft
voice that eased a man’s tension. For all her differences, Caden had always
found Maddie a very restful soul.
“Yeah, she does.” He was happy for Tia and Ed. It’d taken Ed
seven years to convince Tia he wasn’t going anywhere. And Tia, well, she
deserved the best of everything. Not just because she’d taken eight ragtag boys
and raised them into men, but because of who she was. She stood next to her
husband, petite and elegantly plump in her golden silk gown, her graying black
hair pulled back into a sedate bun, her white, gold and black lace mantilla
draped artfully around her face. He felt that familiar twinge of unease that
came with the thought of settling.
Voices rose and fell around him, taking on an unreal quality,
and the moment froze with sudden clarity. They were all settling down. Caine had
his Desi. Tucker had Sally Mae. Sam with his Bella. Tracker had Ari, and Shadow
had his Fei. The wild boys of the plains were becoming the builders of the
future. Hell’s Eight had been Caden’s focus for as long as he could remember,
but looking around the ranch he’d helped build, Caden had that ever-increasing
sense of “wrong.” His feet itched and his nerve endings crawled impatiently
beneath his skin. He’d been a part of Hell’s Eight for twenty-two years, but he
didn’t feel as if he belonged here anymore.
“Are you worried Tia won’t love you anymore now that she has
Ed?” Maddie teased, her fingers sliding between his and squeezing. It was a
totally inappropriate gesture. Yet it completely soothed his unease. Caden
tugged at his hand. Maddie didn’t let go.
Shit. The woman made it easy to take advantage of her. Her
sweet nature and the fact that more often than not she was in her make-believe
world where nothing bad could touch her made her an easy target. Everyone wished
she was stronger, but disappearing into her own mind was Maddie’s defense
against what’d happened to her in her life. Caden thought they should just let
her be. It was a hard world, harder if you were brought up in a whorehouse.
Harder still if you had the sweet personality of a child. Too many men had taken
advantage of the optimistic woman in Maddie. He didn’t want to be one of them.
This time he tugged his hand free. “I’m not worried, Maddie mine.”
The endearment just slipped out. She blinked up at him. “If I’m
yours, why do you need to lie to me?”
How was he supposed to answer that? Across the garden, he
smiled at Tia and Ed before lifting his glass in a silent toast. Tia smiled
back, but Caden could tell from the tension at the edge of her mouth that she
knew he was leaving. He hated to ruin her day, but he was who he was. A Miller
didn’t let grass grow under his feet. He pursued rather than settled. He took
another sip of the champagne, wishing even more that it was whiskey. “Habit, I
guess.”
“You don’t lie to anyone else.”
Everyone else could handle the truth. Maddie continued to stare
up at him, her fingertips resting on his forearm, as if the pressure took his
measure. The way she stared at him so steadily made him uneasy, as if she really
was fey and really did see more than others.
“I’m leaving, Maddie.”
She blinked slowly. He had the oddest impression she’d just
gasped.
“When will you be back?”
He traced his finger over the curl spilling down her temple. It
was always too easy to touch Maddie. “I don’t know.”
“Where will you go?”
“So many questions.”
“You don’t want to answer?”
Maddie could be surprisingly blunt.
With a sigh he admitted, “No.”
Cocking her head to the side, her gaze never leaving his, she
took another step in until the blue gingham skirts of her brand-new dress
brushed his boots. She frowned as her fingers trailed down to his wrist. “You’re
upset.”
From across the garden, he saw Tia note the familiarity with a
frown of her own. Caden shrugged. They could lecture Maddie all they wanted
about proper behavior, but it wouldn’t make a difference. She listened, she
truly did, but in the end Maddie was Maddie. Open sunshine and optimism covering
a lifetime of hurt. Her conduct was as volatile as her grasp on reality. While
he’d never seen Maddie actually proposition a man, she often gave the impression
she was propositional. And that was a shame, because she had a heart of gold and
deserved to be treasured.
Faint strains of music blended with the hum of conversation.
Four of Sam’s vaqueros strummed their guitars. The hum of conversation rose as
everyone wandered to the grassy center where ribbons and bunches of cut flowers
fluttered in the breeze, defining the dance area. Tia had declared May to be the
perfect month for a wedding, and Caden had to agree. The day was beautiful, the
weather perfect, and the bride and groom happy. There wasn’t a fly in the
ointment. As Caden watched, Ed took Tia’s hand and brought it to his lips with a
courtly bow Caden would have sworn the former cowhand could never have pulled
off. When Tia smiled at her husband, her expression full of love, the last of
Caden’s uncertainty slipped away. He could leave cleanly now. Tia was happy and
safe. The last of his debts were paid. The sense of excitement he’d expected
failed to come.
“Don’t be sad,” Maddie said, her fingertips smoothing over the
inside of his wrist.
“Millers don’t get sad.”
“I can feel—”
“I think there’s some cake left, Maddie,” Caine interrupted,
coming up beside them, a whiskey glass in each hand and a gentle tone to his
normally hard drawl. Everyone at Hell’s Eight used a gentle note with Maddie. A
body couldn’t help it. She had that way of wild things about her that made you
think one wrong move and she’d either dart to the right or leave looking for a
hiding spot. Plain and simple, harsh words shattered Maddie’s fragile hold on
reality. “You might want to think about getting some before Tucker’s sweet tooth
takes hold.”
Maddie let go of his arm and turned toward the cake table. Sure
enough, Tucker was moving toward it.
“He’s like a horde of locusts devouring all in their path,” she
muttered.
The comparison made Caden smile. Tucker was a deliberate man,
deadly when he chose to be, but he did like his sweets.
As if hearing his thoughts, Caine offered, “He does like his
cake.”
So did Maddie. Brought up as she had been, she’d never had a
sweet before fourteen and only that one which she’d stolen. Since she’d come to
Hell’s Eight, she’d been making up for lost time. Not content with just sampling
what Tia baked, she was learning to create her own confections. When he’d asked
her why, she’d said in a moment of total clarity that if she knew how to make
what she needed, she’d never be needing again. He didn’t like to think of her
being without. He’d asked Tia to up the monthly order of baking supplies. No one
had complained after Maddie proved she could turn anything she baked to bliss.
She never ate what she baked, though.
That
he
couldn’t figure out. And she wouldn’t say why. Which just deepened the puzzle of
what made the apparently simple Maddie so complex.
Maddie glared at Caine, her eyes snapping with the knowledge
that he was laughing at her. “That doesn’t mean it’s all his.”