The Minister's Maid (8 page)

Then her jeans were unbuttoned, and she hurried to toe off her shoes and wriggle out of her pants as she struggled to release his zipper. His mouth never left her as he grabbed her ass and hoisted her up so she could wrap her legs around his hips. Finally he lowered her onto his waiting cock, sliding easily into her warm, moist heat. She whimpered with pleasure as he filled her completely, stretching her to a perfect fit.

Balanced between his chest and the wall, Betsy held him tight as his movements slowed. He kissed her neck, the hollow of her throat, her shoulder as she let her head fall back, opening herself completely to him. Then he drove deep, holding there until she raised her head to meet his warm gaze.

"Tell me you're mine, Betsy. Because I've been yours since we were kids, and I don't wanna fight it anymore."

Chapter 8

Betsy smiled, running the fingers of one hand down the side of Ian's neck. "Isn’t that what I've been telling you all along?" His cock twitched inside her, and she closed her eyes for a moment, reveling in the sensation. Opening them just part way, she clenched around him, rewarded with his sharp intake of breath. "Just promise me you won't forget we belong together again, okay? Now that I've got you, I'm not letting you go."

Ian nodded, then leaned in to capture her lips again, thrusting slow at first, and then building up steam. Betsy lost herself in the moment, closed her eyes and let her head fall back as he lay claim to her body. The pressure built rapidly, until she was practically screaming his name, but he did nothing to silence her like some men would have. His hand slid between their bodies and his thumb circled over her clit, one rotation all it took to make her world explode. Then he quickly lifted her off of him, and supported her with one arm while he pulled frantically on his cock with the other.

Still dazed, Betsy sank to her knees in the straw, not sure why he'd disengaged, but determined to make sure he got as good as he gave. Reaching for him, she ran her tongue over and around his smooth length before sucking him into her mouth. He grunted, trying to pull back but she looked up to meet his determined stare and winked.

Needing no more encouragement, his hips bucked against her face, and he thrust against the back of her throat, coming hard. She drank him down until he gently pulled her up and held her tight against his chest.

Her head against his heart, she listened to the beat even out as they breathed together. She started to draw back, not sure what to say but needing to see his expression when voices on the other side of the wall drew her attention.

"Get your clothes," Ian hissed, yanking his pants up over his hips. Betsy struggled into hers, not sure if they were right but knowing she didn't have time to care. She ran past Ian to the back of the barn, finding Dusty's stall and flinging herself into it, thankful that the horse wasn't there. Ian jogged in beside her, swinging the gate shut and crouching in the corner just as the main door to the building opened.

Rhythmic clopping signaled the entrance of horses, and Betsy hoped Dusty wasn't one of them. She let out a quiet sigh of relief when they stopped short of the last stall, and resigned herself to a long wait while the horses were taken care of. Letting her gaze roam over the comfortable space, she took in the sparse walls, her hope of finding the next coin fading with each stone. She wasn't sure what she'd expected, really - having tack in the stall seemed like it could be dangerous for the horse, but anything left here so long ago would surely have been cleaned out by now.

She jumped when long fingers intertwined with hers, then smiled when soft lips kissed her neck.

"Look up. The bottom of the hay rack," Ian whispered, his lips barely touching her ear. She tilted her head back to view the underside of a sturdy metal structure bolted into the wall above their heads.

She grinned at him, leaning in for another kiss.

Betsy reached up and tugged the clear plastic square free, careful not to make a sound. Ian held out his hand and she gave it to him, her heart racing as he popped the two halves apart. Wherever the next clue sent them would be the last stop on their half of the map, which meant Derek could be waiting at any of the hiding places after that. If he could decipher his half of the map without clues, anyway.

Ian handed her the coin, and she flipped it over once before putting it in her pocket with the others. He unfolded a small piece of paper and his eyebrows drew together as he read it before passing that over too. Betsy stared down at the scrawled text, barely legible in the dim stall light, and suddenly she understood.

The handwriting was different.

Glancing up, she met Ian's gaze, silently confirming her fears. If this wasn't her friend's note, which meant someone had already found this hiding spot, and maybe even the others. Why had they left the coin though, or bothered to replace the original note? She looked again, studying the flow of the text for any clues. It wasn't anyone she knew well, which helped ease her discontent. Derek's handwriting was looser, more haphazard, so unless he had someone else write the note, it wasn't him. She breathed just a little easier, but not much. Someone out there had the rest of the clues, which means they had the location of the chest.

Along with everything in it.

Toward the front of the barn, a stall door clanged shut, and another just a few seconds later. The voices receded, fading the farther they got from the barn, and Ian motioned for her to stay put as he got to his knees.

Peeking through the metal bars of the stall door, he waited a few extra seconds, then got to his feet and leaned out to look down the corridor. Betsy was beginning to think he'd froze there until finally he came back, holding out a hand to help her up.

"Looks like we're clear," he said, his voice scratchy to start. He nodded toward the note. "Is that Derek, do you think?"

She shook her head and leaned over to brush off her pants. "Nope - his writing is completely different, thank goodness. I wonder how long this one's been there?"

"No way to tell," he said, rubbing a hand over his face. "But I do think we'd better hurry. We're nearly done with our half of the map. Who knows what Derek's managed to find with his. Can you tell where we're going next?

Betsy read the clue aloud. "The next coin belongs to the kingdom. Are you brave enough to slay the dragon for it?"

Ian shrugged. "A dragon is the least of our worries." He grabbed her hand, bending gallantly to kiss it. "Shall we retire to the castle, milady?"

She laughed. "Indeed, good sir. We'll hope the beast is in a good mood today."

Her hand nestled in his, Betsy followed Ian back toward the main compound of the ranch. The castle was situated in the southeast corner, and they would have to pass several of the larger buildings to gain access. Unfortunately, that made run-ins with the group Harley and Monica were entertaining - if you could call it that. As they skirted the edge of a meadow, she wondered how her brother and his new bride were doing. Hopefully better than it had been when she'd had to leave. If Harley would just quit being so stubborn and admit that he loved Monica...

She looked thoughtfully at Ian, then laughed, shaking her head. He glanced over at her, his brows drawn in confusion.

"What's so funny?"

She shook her head, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "You and Harley," she said, letting Ian help her over a fallen tree-trunk in their path. "You seem so different, and yet in a lot of ways you're so much the same. Both running from the thing you want most because you're convinced it's the one thing you can't have."

Ian stopped, pulling her in a wide circle that ended right in his arms. "And just how do you propose to know what it is that your brother wants most? Or me, for that matter?"

"Isn't it obvious?" She leaned back against him, reveling in the warmth of his body against hers and the way the sunshine felt on her face. "Harley never would have married Monica without feeling a strong bond with her, no matter what he says. He doesn't want to be alone - he wants the family we never really had."

Ian nodded, his ear against hers. "And me? What is it that I'm convinced I can never have?" His voice was so soft, yet so full of nuance that her knees almost buckled as his hot breath caressed her ear.

"Me," she whispered, not daring to break the stillness around them. "Or at least it was, until you finally decided to give me a chance."

"How very touching. True love wins again and all that jazz. Tell me, Ian - when's the wedding?"

Derek stepped onto the path in front of them, his hands coming together in a slow golf-clap. Ian released his hold on her, but only long enough to gently push her behind him.

"Next summer, if she'll have me. But I think the more important questions are, how did you find us, and when are you leaving?"

Derek shrugged. "I'm not leaving until I get my money. And as for how I found you..." He pulled the second half of the map out of his pocket and unfolded it. "That barn is the first thing on my map - easy enough to decipher once I got a good look at the compound and where things are. The castle has a very nice view - pity you two won't be able to enjoy it from where I plan to leave the two of you."

* * *

Ian held Betsy's hand as they entered what appeared to be a cellar at the back of the dungeon with Derek close behind. Stepping carefully with only the dim light of Derek's flashlight to illuminate the stairs, Ian cringed every time he heard a creak caused by his weight. When he was finally standing on bare earth, he turned and grasped Betsy's waist, lifting her off the last few steps.

"Isn't that just frickin' adorable," Derek mocked as he joined them. Holding the flashlight beam straight ahead, he motioned with the gun. "Keep moving - take a left when you get to the wall."

Ian could feel Betsy open her mouth, and he squeezed her hand. The last thing they needed was to antagonize Derek. He pulled her behind him, moving quickly and following the stone wall as they turned. Just like all the other buildings in the compound, Harley and Betsy had done a spectacular job of making sure everything was as close to authentic as possible, right down to the sound of water dripping in the distance, and a damp chill that drifted through the passage.

"Turn right there," Derek said, and Ian turned, relieved that there were small barred windows around the edges of the main dungeon area. The small amount of light helped to make the space slightly less claustrophobic, though the chains and manacles bolted to the stone walls in several cells made his stomach twist.

"Get in that center cell. Away from the door."

Ian led Betsy into the small cube near the inner wall, three stone sides and floor-to-ceiling metal pipes on the fourth, with a large open door that Derek swung shut with a clang behind them.

"Now give me the last clue you found. I need to know where this half starts, and whoever was drawing this map can’t draw for shit." He balanced the gun on one of the flat supports, and stuck the other hand through the bars, palm up. "Either cooperate, or it will be my pleasure to strip-search you, Bets. And I doubt even your preacher here can save you with a bullet in his chest." He frowned, looking thoughtfully at the floor before he raised his face again. "On second thought, maybe I'll shoot him in the leg. Then you can watch him bleed to death after I'm gone."

"Bastard." Betsy pulled the map out of her pocket, and handed it over before Ian could stop her. "You're not going to get away with this, you know. Even if you do manage to figure out all the clues, it will be too late."

Derek backed away from the cell, his laughter echoing through the chamber. "I always like that about you," he said, stuffing the gun in his waistband and opening up the paper. "Feisty. When I'm done, I'll be back for you. Then you can see what it's like to be taken captive by a real pirate after he's looted the ship. Arrrg." He snapped his teeth at her, then turned on his heel and marched out of the dungeon, muttering to himself as he went.

"I think he's actually gone insane this time," Betsy commented, shaking her head. "I have no idea what I ever saw in that guy." She reached for one end of a wooden bench along the far wall, motioning for Ian to help.

He picked up the other end and followed her to the southwest corner of the cell, where she set her end down, and he settled his perpendicular to the wall. "What are we doing?"

She glanced over her shoulder, looking as far outside of the bars as she could. "Getting out of here," she whispered, then pointed up. Ian tipped his head back, and grinned.

"You knew that was there all along. Smart girl."

She shrugged. "I insisted in designing them that way when we first started. I figured with the real locks, it would be too easy to get stuck accidentally, so all of the cells have an escape hatch at the top. You can come back down here, or you can take one of a few hidden passageways to other parts of the castle. Like the tower room, where he's going now." She stood on the bench, stretching to pull the square wooden hatch down.

Ian stepped up beside her, putting his hands on her waist so he could lift her up. "Is that where we're going? That's where the next clue leads, right?"

She shook her head and winked. "That's right, but that's not where we're going. Because while we were walking here, I figured it out. I know where the treasure is, so we're going there instead."

Chapter 9

Betsy waited for Ian to join her in the narrow passage, then they closed the hatch, careful not to make any noise. A small amount of light from tall, narrow slats at either end of the stone hallway provided just enough light to move safely over the other hatches.

"This way," she said, leading him toward the back of the castle and passing the first opening, then the second. "We'll go out the back. He's less likely to see us that way from the tower." She led the way down a narrow stairway barely wide enough for one person, sliding her hand along the wall until she found the switch to activate the electric torches on the walls.