Maia's Magickal Mates [The Double R 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (33 page)

Prentice went back to the chant with these two things in mind, preparing a ritual among spell components within three days before the full moon, feeling like an abject fool. At this point, however, he was willing to try the ways of Aura, Brielle, and devoted Wiccans like them since his powers alone weren’t doing the trick.

This time as he recited the chant, Prentice tuned into that moment in time when he’d reached out and grabbed Thayne’s shirt. He flashed back in his mind, reaching for the man’s thoughts and passions, visualizing and holding on to them.

Despite this ceremony and his determination to make the spell work, no one could have been more surprised when it finally did.

Prentice landed just outside Elk Creek several days ago, disoriented but quickly assimilating and preparing for the next phase of his plans.

He staked out the town and its denizens for forty-eight hours before making his move.

Prentice started with one of the four saloons, lucky enough to hitch his wagon, as it were, to some lowlife cowboy who appeared to have a bone to pick with Prentice’s escapees.

Perfect!

It hadn’t taken the Malloys and their woman long to make an enemy, not that Prentice put much credence into Cody Paxton’s vendetta. He knew a small-minded bigot when he saw one, and other than the information he could get from the man, he had no real use for Cody’s kind.

Prentice had yet to see or meet the Malloy brothers or their woman, but this was okay. He was in no great hurry now that he was where he needed to be.

He considered all his options, biding his time. He didn’t think a full-frontal attack was his wisest alternative at this juncture. For one thing, the same way he felt the other psychics, he was sure they felt him, too, on some level. Also, the trio had been together for an extended period—both in the past and the future—and had probably bonded and engaged in sex magick to pool and augment their meager gifts. Prentice knew it was what he would do in their place, and he knew that the three for which he searched were not unintelligent—weak, maybe, but not stupid. He knew this as surely as he knew that their energy would be stronger with them working as a unit.

They would need that strength and more to deal with what Prentice was bringing to the table, because he was well and truly pissed after that little stunt they’d pulled in the twenty-first century.

From everything that Prentice had learned in the last few days since he had arrived, the trio had ensconced themselves within the fabric of the town, becoming good little citizens of Elk Creek and familiar within the quaint community. Half the town was enamored of the new arrivals and the other half remained distrustful. It was the perfect balance for Prentice to do his work and begin planting the seeds of doubt. With the information he’d learned in the last few days from Cody Paxton and Rance Peyton, owner of one of the town’s several saloons, he decided he could persuade the enamored townspeople into the distrustful camp in no time.

“Dammit, girl! Can’t you do anything right!”

Prentice came out of his reverie to see Lucy Peyton crouched on the floor in front of him as she retrieved the pieces of several broken glasses from the wet wooden floor. He fought the urge to go to her aid, unaccustomed to the chivalrous and tender feelings that had been flooding him ever since he’d first laid eyes on the waiflike woman.

Instead, he focused his eyes on the owner of the bar, Lucy’s husband, Rance.

No one had to tell Prentice about the dynamics of the couple’s relationship. He caught it all from the moment he’d entered the bar and seen the interaction between the big older man and his much smaller child bride. “Child” might have been an overstatement, especially considering his awareness of how much faster people in this time grew up than they did in his time. Still, Prentice figured if Lucy was twenty-five she was a day.

Regardless, he’d sensed the young woman’s fear from their first meeting, and for once it didn’t make his heart pound with enthusiasm. Instead his heart pounded in sympathy and dread at what her husband did to her to instill that fear.

What was wrong with him? He wasn’t here to play anyone’s knight in shining armor. He was here to get what belonged to him.

Prentice had had his share of experience with bullies like Rance Peyton, however. He remembered every insult, kick, and punch. He knew exactly what Lucy went through living under Rance’s thumb and couldn’t help but feel empathy for her. Nevertheless, it was an alien sensation for him, one he fought tooth and nail
not
to feel. Softness at this point in his mission would just hinder all his well-laid plans.

Still, it was hard to ignore his emerging tenderness for Lucy. He recognized something of himself, his much younger and smaller self, in Lucy’s fretful, forlorn expression. Grudgingly, he remembered what it felt like to be in her position. He remembered what it felt like to be helpless. He didn’t want to remember, but he couldn’t help it. Men like Lucy’s husband brought on the nostalgia every time.

Prentice hated bullies. That Rance was an oppressor of the highest order and needed putting down as expeditiously as possible was a foregone conclusion, but not before he finished serving his purpose. It had nothing to do with helping Lucy or getting the man out of Lucy’s life. It had everything to do with Prentice’s own agenda—using Rance or rather using the information he could glean from Rance’s mind until he didn’t need the man anymore.

“Sorry about the mess, Prentice. Lucy’ll get it up right quick and be out of your way.”

“She’s not in my way,” Prentice said, pensively running his finger around the rim of his bourbon-filled glass. He raised his eyes, leveling his gaze at Rance as the saloon owner stood behind the bar across the room wiping the outside of a glass with a cleaning cloth.

The man gave him an obsequious smile as he put the glass he held down on a shelf at the back of the bar. He came from behind it to make his way across the floor to Prentice.

Prentice just barely held back a sneer as Rance sidled beside him and pulled up a chair. He sat his bulk down on the seat and leaned in as if they were the best of friends, when in truth Prentice could hardly stand to breathe the same air as Rance.

The thought of the man burying Lucy beneath his obscene heft made it difficult for Prentice to swallow. He wondered how the woman could stand the man but realized she didn’t really have a choice.

And of course I would be a far better choice for her, wouldn’t I?

Prentice smiled at the thought.

He could give Lucy everything that her husband couldn’t, everything that a lot of men couldn’t—in this time or his. He had class, intelligence, wealth, and good looks. Not to mention he was impeccably groomed. The woman deserved someone without bad breath, rotten teeth, and obvious body hair. Really, Rance Peyton was no more than a beast in human clothing.

“Say, Prentice, I think you and I have an understanding, huh?”

Prentice smiled and turned to face Rance full. He eased into the man’s mind, employing stealth for no other reason than he chose not to make what he was doing obvious. He knew all of Rance’s secrets already, the most important being what the man liked to do with little boys when he wasn’t busy pimping his wife to his saloon’s best customers.

Pig
. “I believe I understand you quite well, Rance.” Prentice lifted his glass to his lips and took a sip of his drink, schooling his features to not wince. The liquor in this time was horrid and something he really didn’t want to get used to if he didn’t have to.

“See, I knew it from the moment Cody introduced us. You and me, we’re businessmen. We know a prime opportunity when we see it.”

Prentice grinned. He knew what was coming. He had heard the sales pitch numerous times since he’d become a regular visitor to Rance’s saloon. The pitch just hadn’t been directed at him until now. Rance had wisely been feeling him out these past several days to see how far he could go with Prentice, to gauge the level of his moral turpitude. The man was no better than a snake oil salesman, except the product in question wasn’t snake oil but his wife.

Prentice told himself not to be surprised and steeled himself against the disgust festering in his gut. What Rance was about to offer him was a common enough practice in this time. Men, women, and couples did what they had to in order to make a living out here in the Wild West. It was a harsh time and a harsh place. Although Prentice knew the saloon owner wasn’t exactly hurting for money. He recognized greed, as opposed to desperation, when he saw it.

The man just didn’t have too many redeeming qualities about him at all, did he?

Prentice looked forward to killing him when the time came.

“Let’s cut to the chase, Rance. What do you want for her?”

“Oh, you mean my girl, Lucy?”

“Yes. How much?” Prentice didn’t need to be psychic to sense Lucy’s tension, to hear her breath hitch in her chest at his and Rance’s discussion as she paused in her task.

“Stop eavesdropping and finish cleaning up that mess.” Rance lifted his foot and kicked Lucy’s bottom firm enough to make her lose her balance and tumble forward.

Prentice gripped his glass so hard in his hand it broke, one of the shards slicing into his palm.

“Oh, hey, let me get something for that cut, pardner!” Rance jumped out of his seat at the sight of Prentice’s blood.

“Don’t bother.” Prentice pulled the immaculate and neatly folded handkerchief out of his breast pocket and pressed it against the palm of his hand to staunch the blood. “I believe you were about to name your price.”

“Now, you understand this is only for the night. Lucy’s my girl, and I love her. I wouldn’t give up my sugarplum for the world.”

The sugarplum you just kicked in the derriere?
“I understand perfectly.” Prentice had been at the tail end of that kind of love before. He’d heard the we’re-only-doing-this-for-your-own-good logic. He’d experienced the this-hurts-me-as-much-as-it-does-you type of love when his parents had deigned to pay any attention to him at all.

Prentice waited patiently. He watched Rance’s beady eyes glow with the promise of a tidy payoff and listened to the man’s brain working out the justifications for his actions, like there could be any excuses for selling one’s wife to another man, much less a relative stranger.

Rance had it all mapped out, how he was going to spend the next couple of hours free of Lucy, free to pursue his other favorite pastime next to exploiting and browbeating his wife.

If anyone deserved to have his brain turned to mush more than the Malloy brothers and their woman, Rance was the perfect candidate.

“You ain’t done picking up that glass yet, girl?”

“Almost,” Lucy whispered.

“Well hurry up and get your fat ass back here as soon as you’re done,” Rance said.

“Yes, Rance.”

Prentice watched the young woman hop to do her husband’s bidding, admiring her far-from-fat ass as it swayed back and forth. The nicely rounded shape was especially noticeable beneath the gathered waist of the dress she wore. Though comparably modest next to the fancy frills and colorful petticoats of Rance’s various saloon girls’ dresses, Lucy’s garb was no less fetching and sexy. Her generous, sweet curves made the square neckline and lace trim of the burgundy floral garb look positively sinful.

Dammit, he had no time for these sorts of distractions! This was not what he had traveled back in time for. He had more important things to worry about than his libido.

Prentice had never been indecisive in his life, not even as a little boy. He’d always known what he’d wanted, even if he didn’t know what it was called or how he was going to get it. The fact that he had let Rance put him on the spot pissed him off to no end.

When Lucy returned to stand before him with her head demurely bowed and her hands folded in front of her, it was all Prentice could do not to growl.

He didn’t even wait for Rance to haggle with him, just threw down a liberal wad of cash, part of what he’d earned at the gaming tables earlier, and grabbed Lucy by the hand none too gently.

Prentice listened to her heavy breathing beside him as he dragged her up the stairs behind him but refused to look her way. He didn’t want her shimmering, wavy russet hair or luminous color-change eyes to deter him from what he needed to do, and that was get off as promptly as humanly possible without being too rude.

Once they arrived at the dedicated room for which Rance had earlier given him the key, Prentice unlocked and opened the door before propelling Lucy into the room in front of him. He paused as he closed the door behind him, tossing his hat onto the coat-tree beside him.

“You don’t have to be so rough. I’m here to service you in any way you desire.”

She hadn’t raised her head from her deceptively submissive pose, nor had she raised her dulcet tone, but her words came out loud and clear.

So little Lucy does have some backbone.

Where had she learned that line, though? Prentice wondered. She had sounded well schooled in the timeless art of seduction, but when he looked at her, all he saw was the browbeaten wife from downstairs. That alone should have tipped him off that it would be a mistake to underestimate Lucy. People out here weren’t always as timid and weak or as big and tough as they appeared.