The Minister's Maid (14 page)

He walked with Harley to the elevators and let himself out, but instead of heading straight for the chapel, he veered off into the trees. The sun was slipping away, leaving the forest cool and dim as he moved farther away from the main compound. There was a trail, if he recalled correctly, but Betsy would probably be on it, and he didn't want to bother her anymore than he already had. He just wanted to make sure she was safe. Then he'd go back.

By the time he reached the clearing, there was a light on in the single window at the front of the little cabin. Peering out from behind a thick tree, Ian watched as Betsy opened the door and went to the wood pile a few feet away, gathering logs and carrying them back into the small structure. Soon enough, smoke came out of the rock chimney, and he could imagine her sitting by the fire, staring into the flames.

He wished he could be there with her, holding her. He'd spent most of his life telling himself it would never happen, that he wasn't the right man for her - and maybe it was still true. But after being inside her the other night, seeing the look in her eyes, feeling the tension that connected them in a way he'd never felt with anyone else...he couldn't just let her go without a fight.

Turning away, he forced himself to go back to the chapel, the walk feeling far longer than it had before. He let himself into his rooms and locked the doors, glancing at the walls as if he'd never seen them before. The whole building was decorated for a proper minister, a man of God who lived a pure life. It was all for show, of course - he'd never attended a seminary, and he wasn't even particularly religious, though he did believe in some sort of higher power. But the ranch was built on fantasy, and he was part of that. Given his introverted nature and quiet personality, it was easy to see why Betsy had fallen for his fictional persona.

The question was, did she want the man, or the fantasy? Over the past few days, she'd gotten to know the man, instead of the character he'd used for so many years to keep a wall between them. Maybe the man just wasn't enough.

* * *

"You might as well come out," Betsy called, rubbing her hands together in the cool evening air. "You never were very good at hide and seek."

It had been a week, and though she hated to admit it, she was tired of her own company. She'd cried, yelled, and spent a lot of time just reflecting on her life - wondering how it had gotten so far off track. It was obvious, of course, once she stopped to really think about it, but as hard as she tried she couldn't say she would have done anything differently. Her decisions had all come down to where she was at that point in her life, and choosing any other path just...wouldn't have been her.

As she watched Ian emerge from a thicket of brambles, trying in vain to brush off the stickers, she knew that all she could do now is what she'd always done. In order to move forward, she had to make decisions based on who she was now, nothing else. It was the only way to be true to herself.

"I was...um...just out for a walk," Ian started, abandoning the lie when she shook her head. His lips curved up in a half-grin as he came closer, stopping just out of reach.

"You've been watching me all week." Betsy noted his surprise with satisfaction. "You break twigs, you crunch leaves, and you really don't blend in with the scenery. But thank you for at least respecting my space enough to keep your distance."

He nodded, dropping his gaze to the ground as he scuffed the toe of one hiking boot in the dirt.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he said, that rich, low voice doing lovely things to her insides. "I wanted to be close. In case you needed me."

When he looked up, she nearly melted at the sincerity and concern in those gorgeous eyes of his. She searched for the expected pity or obligation, but there was none. She'd kept telling herself that the concerns the night she ran off were unfounded, and that she'd overreacted out of fear of how strong her feelings for him were. But to be able to see how much he cared as he took a step closer to the small porch made it that much easier to believe.

"I told you if you didn't stay away, I'd leave the ranch."

His eyes narrowed, ever so slightly. "Like you said, I've been around all week. So why are you still here?"

Betsy shrugged, looking down at her hands. "I'm not sure, exactly." She turned, pacing the small wooden decking. "A week ago, I would have said fear. Two days ago, I might have said laziness. And today..." The board behind her creaked, and she turned to find Ian standing there, his broad chest enticing her to lean in just a little more.

"Today?" he repeated softly, his hands reaching out to caress her arms. It took every bit of strength she had to refrain from touching him back.

"Choices," she murmured, looking up at him and making the choice she wished she'd been strong enough to make years ago. "Today is about choices."

Betsy reached for Ian, burying her fingers in the front of his shirt as she went up on tiptoe to press her lips to his. His arms slid around her back as he pulled her up tight against his body, practically devouring her mouth as he took control of the kiss. Her body throbbed in welcome desire, and she eagerly gave him as much as he would take, overwhelmed by the sheer power enveloping her.

His pelvis rocked against hers, the hard bulge unmistakable as he showed her what he wanted. The ache between her legs grew stronger, and her nipples begged for release as they pressed into the hard muscles of his torso.

"Too many clothes, Bets..." he murmured against her lips just before he pulled away and spun her toward the door. "I need you naked. Now."

She giggled. "Now Ian, is that any way for a preacher to talk?" She darted inside the cabin and ran for the bedroom, hearing his footsteps as he followed close behind. She slowed as she approached the small bed, turning just in time to see his grin as he tackled her down to the quilt. Taking her hand, he pressed it against his groin and she curled her fingers around his thick cock, teasing him through his jeans.

"God wouldn't have given me this if he didn't want me to use it, darlin'. I don't intend to let it get dusty with you around."

She found his zipper and pulled it down, the low groan he let out going straight to her core. "You've got nothing to worry about there, mister. I'm a very good maid, though I can't say I take orders very well." She reached up and pushed hard at his shoulder, knocking him to his back and then straddling his thighs. A flick of her hands opened the button on his jeans and she retrieved his cock, slowly stroking him up and down in her palm. His eyes closed and his head fell back as she moved back and then bent to run her tongue over the tip of his rod.

"Honey, you can do whatever you want as long as you keep touching me."

She swirled around and over, tracing the hard lines and veins as his legs moved restlessly beneath her. One hard thigh pushed between her knees to press against her center, and she nearly came right then from the pressure as she sucked him deep into her mouth.

Ian's hands framed her face, gently tugging her up for a kiss as she sprawled on top of his body. Rolling her under him, he kissed her chin, her jaw, her neck, and then down the front of her chest as he undid each button, one by one. Bracing himself on his elbows, he spread her shirt with one hand, kissing each breast where it peeked over her bra before he opened the center clasp and freed her to his view.

"Beautiful," he whispered, laving one nipple, then the other with his tongue. Moving back and forth, he suckled and nipped and lavished attention until she couldn't have formed a coherent thought to save her life. When he moved lower, placing soft, moist kisses along her ribcage, her stomach, and coaxing her pants past her hips and down her legs, she wasn't sure she could handle much more. It was...he was too much, and at the same time, she needed more.

"Please," she breathed, moving restlessly as he discarded his clothes. "I need--"

"I know, baby." He licked and nipped his way up the inside of her thigh, then repeated the process on her other leg, finishing with one smooth stroke over her full, inner lips. Betsy bucked up off the bed and he covered her mound with his lips, his tongue teasing and probing at her clit. She was already so close...

The intensity of the tremors surprised her when they hit just a few seconds later. Radiating out from where Ian's skillful mouth was still busy, the quick pulses spread throughout her body light lightening, leaving complete bliss in their wake.

"Ian?" She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so good, so relaxed. The man responsible moved up her body, his fingers sliding up her skin inch by glorious inch until he covered her with his hard warmth.

"Yes Betsy?" His cock probed at her entrance, teasing as she looked up into his eyes. The emotions she saw there mirrored her own, giving her the courage for what she needed to say. She raised a hand to his chiseled face and smiled.

"I love you, Ian. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it, but I do."

He slid home smooth and easy, then leaned down for a kiss. "I love you too. Always have, always will." Holding her gaze, he set a slow rhythm with his hips that stoked the fire with every thrust. His gaze was mesmerizing, and she couldn't look away as he brought her higher with him. The heat between them built to a fever pitch, and just when she thought she couldn't take anymore it exploded into an indescribable array of light.

Chapter 15

Betsy focused on breathing as she slowly came back to earth. Ian rolled to the side and she wanted to protest, but didn't have the strength. Still, when he pulled her toward him and tucked her next to his side with her head on his chest, she was relieved that it wasn't all a dream.

The haze lifted, and reluctantly she acknowledged that one of them would eventually have to say something. She ran her fingers over Ian's chest, tracing slow patterns over and around his muscles as she searched for the right words. There were none, though. Everything she could possibly think of was just stupid or cheesy, even in her own mind. The silence stretched on, past the point of comfort, and her insecurities started crowding out her better judgment.

Why hadn't he said anything? Was he trying to figure out how to let her down easy? Had he only said he loved her in the heat of passion, and now regretted it? There was a tiny little voice telling her she was being an idiot, but the other voices were louder. What if he thought she was having second thoughts? Shouldn't she say...something? But why did she have to be first?

No. She loved him. And he loved her, and she wasn't going to accept anything less. Not this time. Not with Ian.

Pushing up on one elbow, so she could look at him when she set him straight about how they felt, she froze when he smiled up at her. His eyes spoke volumes, and suddenly all her panic drained away.

"Marry me, Betsy."

It wasn't really a question, nor was it a command. It was more like a statement of fact. Their destiny.

She didn't mind at all.

"Of course I will."

He reached up and pulled her head down for a kiss, his lips moving slow and gentle against hers as she snuggled close.

Right where she belonged.

* * *

Six months later...

"You may kiss the bride."

Ian raised the gauzy veil from Betsy's face, only vaguely aware of the cheers and shouts from the crowd behind them. Bending down, he cupped her cheek in his hand and placed a long, slow kiss on her carefully colored lips. Her arms slid around his neck, and he pulled her tight to his chest as her tongue mated with his. The din grew louder, and reluctantly he pulled back.

"What do you say we skip the reception and just go straight to the honeymoon?" he whispered, earning a giggle and a slap on the arm. Seeing her so happy, the lines of worry erased from around her eyes made his heart swell with love. He still couldn't believe this gorgeous, outgoing creature was his now. It was both exhilarating and scary.

"Not a chance, stud," she said, pulling him down the stairs. "These people came to celebrate with us, and we aren't going to let them down." She leaned in closer. "Don't you worry, Ian. I promised to take good care of you, and I will. Later."

He rolled his eyes, earning another laugh before they took their place in the receiving line and began to greet their guests as people filed out of the castle's great hall. It took forever, it seemed, but finally they were free to join everyone in the courtyard for a modified medieval feast. They'd decided not to go as far as costumes, but the castle wedding seemed like a perfect compromise between formality and a casual feel. Or that's what Betsy and the other women had said. Ian had stayed out of most of the plans, content to let Betsy run the show. As long as they were married in the end, he hadn't been too concerned with how it happened.

Ian didn't care. He stood off to the side sipping hard cider out of a silver goblet as he watched his bride happily flit from table to table. They'd already started learning to live with each others differences - she was so outgoing, and seemed to feed off interacting with others, while he found it exhausting, and needed time to himself. But somehow, it worked, and she waved at him from across the courtyard as he smiled and raised his glass in return.

"Excuse me, sir? Do you know where I might find Monica...um...Majors?"

Ian looked down to find a petite woman at his side, her hair pulled back in a simple clasp and her features unmistakable, even with the extra lines of age.

He smiled, offering his arm. "You must be her mother. I'm really glad you could make it - I know she's looking forward to seeing you." Monica had been sold as a child, her mother blackmailed to give her up. She'd only found out several months ago when her father tried to take over the ranch from Harley for daring to help Monica escape his plans for her. It had been a rough road, and she deserved some peace about her past.