Taming Talia Read online

  “That feels good, does it?” he murmured.

  “Ever so good.”

  “What about this?” He brought one of her breasts to his mouth and sucked the nipple into a tight nub, then rolled it back and forth over his teeth. Her inner walls contracted with the exquisite burst of sensation that centered in her lower belly. Grasping his thick cock firmly, she positioned her body over it and slid just the head inside her pussy. Gripping his shoulders, she eased down onto his hard shaft.

  She gasped as the length and breadth of it filled her. While she remained tender from their earlier lovemaking, her body quickly adjusted to his size. Slowly, she began to move, rocking back and forth as if he were a newly purchased mount. Straightening her back, she cupped her breasts and tweaked her nipples. Jared smiled up at her, grasped her waist with his large hands while he bucked upward, matching her rhythm. Each stroke took him deeper and deeper into her core and into her soul.

  Her body warmed with their efforts, and perspiration began to bead on her forehead. He pulled her forward until her breasts rested softly against his chest, and increased the pace. Their bellies slapped together wetly. Her breathing grew ragged, and she felt as if she were on fire. Dios, she was desperate to come. “Faster. Faster,” she gasped. Jared thrust into her as if his hips were driven by pistons, his breathing as labored as hers.

  “Come for me, Talia. Come for me.” He gave a last mighty stroke and groaned. The world around her disappeared, and they flew over the crest together, her body melding around and holding his until they could move no more.

  Calling his name, she collapsed on his chest with a moan.

  He kissed her neck, then her mouth, sweet, deep soul kisses. Kisses she would never forget. Never, as long as she lived.

  She licked the sweat from his brow while he brushed back her hair, damp with perspiration. If she could lick him from head to foot, she would never need another bite to eat.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he said. “So full of passion and life.” He ran his hands down her bottom, then gave her a playful slap. “I could—”

  Staring down at him, she frowned, then levered onto her elbows. “You could what?”

  Jared shook his head. “Oh—uh, I could make love to you all day and night.”

  “Really?” Somehow, she knew that wasn’t what he’d meant to say. He wasn’t the kind of man who stammered and stuttered around. What was really on his mind? It was bad enough she was beginning to wonder what the future could be with him at her side. But no, Jared was a man with wanderlust. Whether he knew beans about financial dealings remained to be seen. Could a man like him be happy spending the rest of his life on a cattle ranch? Would he even want to?

  No. Get those romantic ideas out of your head. He’s a wanderer at the least and some kind of a confidence man at the worst. Either way, he’ll leave you alone and heartbroken.

  Jared felt Talia’s body go rigid. What? “You’re pulling away from me. What is it? Did I hurt you?”

  “Of course not. It’s nothing. I’m just suddenly very tired.” She rolled over on her side, presenting him her back. “We both deserve a good night’s rest,” she said, her voice muffled.

  “As you wish.” He turned to spoon her in his arms. Her body stiffened, then relaxed bit by bit. After another minute or two, she allowed him to cup her breast. Finally, her regular breathing told him she had truly gone to sleep.

  Something had changed. One minute she was wild and passionate, and the next as icy cold as one of the snow drifts outside. What was going on in the woman’s head he had not a single clue. Perhaps she did have it in her to order her husband’s death.

  Only time would tell.

  Jared eased from the bed early the next morning, setting his feet on the cold tile floor. He shivered and quickly dressed in the clothes he’d discarded so quickly last night. Talia was still asleep, her body’s lush curves outlined by the quilt which was pulled up to her neck. He knelt in front of the fireplace and added more wood to the glowing embers, then lit a candle from the mantel. Getting to his feet, he checked again. Still asleep.

  Time for some nosing around. After all, he was here for a reason, and making love to the subject of his inquiry wasn’t it. However, a Pinkerton didn’t care how he accomplished his goal, only that he did.

  With another glance over his shoulder to ensure he hadn’t disturbed her, he opened the door to her bedchamber and closed it softly behind him. Using the candle to light his way, it didn’t take long to find where the ranch’s business was done. A small room located off the pantry contained a large roll-top, oak desk with a pile of ledgers. Would one of those ledgers list a payment to Juan Ojeda, the man who stabbed Reginald Montrose?

  Would she be that careless? Assuming, of course, she was responsible for her husband’s murder as Montrose’s father believed.

  He opened the top ledger and traced down the line of neat entries. The dates went back years in the same precise feminine handwriting. Apparently, Talia had kept the books for her husband long before he was killed. Not what he would have expected from someone like Montrose, a man convinced of his superiority. Perhaps he considered her as little more than an employee or servant.

  Not surprising, there wasn’t any record of a payment to Ojeda. While having a payment recorded would be proof positive, the absence of payment didn’t prove the opposite. He closed the ledger and turned, nearly dropping the candle.

  Damn.

  “What are you doing?” Wrapped in the counterpane from the bed they’d shared, Talia stood in the office doorway, her brow furrowed.

  He shot her his most disarming smile. “Just looking at your books. I’m a financial adviser—remember? I couldn’t resist.”

  As regal as a queen, Talia straightened her back and lifted her chin. “Don’t you usually wait for your client’s permission before invading their privacy?”

  “Always have.” He closed the distance between them and gently slipped a silken lock of hair behind her ear. “But we don’t exactly have a typical adviser-and-client relationship, now do we?”

  Dark eyes blazing, she shook her head. “You presume because I shared my bed with you that I would open my books as easily as I did my legs?” Her tone matched her haughty posture, and she was clearly in no mood for his particular brand of charm.

  Damn, he should have been more careful. Now to mend those fences before she tossed his ass out in the snow.

  He inclined his head in the briefest of nods. “My presumption was an unforgiveable breach of conduct. Please accept my sincerest apologies.”

  Talia averted her gaze, staring into the distance, as if considering whether or not to accept his apology. Abruptly, her gaze snapped back at him. “This once, I will overlook your breach of manners and accept your apology, but do not be so rash as to believe I will do so a second time.”

  Wrapped in the quilt, she delivered her warning with all the dignity of a queen adorned in an ermine-trimmed robe while addressing one of her errant subjects. God. What a magnificent creature. He clenched his jaw to keep from smiling. Best keep his response humble and polite. Next time, he’d be more careful.

  “Thank you.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded. “I’ll leave as soon as the weather allows.”

  Her eyes widened. “No!” Her cheeks darkened as if she were embarrassed by her agitated response. “I mean, we should establish some ground rules. It may be that I still require your financial advice, but only when and if I say so.”

  “Agreed.” So she didn’t want him to leave. “From what I saw—um, briefly, you have a good head for figures.”

  “My father taught me. Since he had no son and I was his only child, he felt it a necessary part of my education. While he didn’t send me abroad to study as he would have a son, I had excellent tutors.”

  “You were very fortunate.”

  “In some ways, I was.”

  “And in other ways…?”

  “My father was a volatile man. At times he was harsh.
”

  Talia lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. “Doesn’t matter now, as I am my own mistress. I have the family land and cattle, as well as the responsibility that goes with them. My father lives on Reginald’s gold and doesn’t have a care in the world.”

  “Being in control is important to you, isn’t it?” The real question was whether her need for control was motive enough for her to have Montrose murdered. And he still wasn’t any closer to knowing the answer.

  “Sí.”

  Have to handle her carefully, since she needed to feel in control, and that need was never more evident than in bed. A passionate woman who reveled in her sensuality added a heightened factor to his enjoyment.

  “What’s so amusing?”

  He shook his head. “What? Nothing.”

  “You were smiling—just a bit, but I saw it.”

  “I confess I was remembering how successful you are at control”—with a grin, he paused—“in other situations.”

  Talia flushed again, but she nodded her agreement, gazing at him with a spark of mischief lighting her ebony eyes. “Sí, but I don’t mind relinquishing control…on occasion.”

  “We’ll see about that…if I’m not being presumptuous again.”

  “Never fear. I shall let you know if you overstep.”

  “If Your Majesty would deign to get dressed, your subjects in the stable require our attention.”

  Talia’s hand went to her mouth. “Right. I’ll join you as soon as I’ve changed.”

  Next time, he would choose a better time for his snooping. He was damned fortunate she’d forgiven him so quickly. Either Lady Luck was on his side, or the ease with which Talia had forgiven him might mean she remained suspicious and would keep an eye on his movements.

  He nodded and headed back to the kitchen. “Want me to start the fire in the cookstove?”

  She shook her head. “I can manage that; then I’ll join you in the stable. The stove should be just right for cooking breakfast by the time we finish feeding my subjects.”

  “All right.” Jared concealed what he knew. In spite of Talia’s light-hearted tone, she didn’t quite trust him. She was making sure he left the ranch house before she did. Not that he blamed her. There might still be some incriminating correspondence hidden in the desk. Maybe she kept a journal.

  He grabbed the heavy coat from the hook. “Might as well get out there.” He stepped out into the cold. The sky was beginning to lighten, but the morning sun had yet to breach the horizon. The wind blasted from the northeast. Some of the trench had filled in, but not enough to impede his quick progress to the stable.

  Standing at the door, he heard the nickering of the two horses and the lowing of the cow. He kicked the small drift away from the stable door and wrenched it open. The pungent smell of manure reached his wrinkled nose. He’d have to muck the stalls today. But first he’d feed the two horses.

  Natalia waited until Jared left, then locked the office door and slipped the key into her pocket. “Now for the cookstove,” she muttered while she laid the fire in the stove. Dios. What was Jared really up to, going through her accounts in such a decidedly secretive manner? The nerve of him. Perhaps she should return the favor and rummage through his suit pockets.

  Better hurry, because he expected her to follow him to the stable. She scrambled to her feet and ran to Reginald’s bedroom. There. Jared’s black jacket and waistcoat, made from very fine, light wool, were folded neatly over the back of a chair.

  Picking the jacket up with one hand, she felt for the inside pockets with her other. Slender cigarillos were in that pocket, along with some safety matches. Nothing else of interest. She set the jacket back in its original position, then checked his waistcoat pockets. Another fruitless search. But in the bottom of an inner vest pocket, she discovered a folded telegram. Opening the telegram, she read the cryptic message, dated the same day Jared had arrived unannounced at her door.

  Progress report needed [stop] Montrose anxious for result [stop]

  While the message could’ve meant just about anything, the signer’s name made her heart almost cease to beat. She grabbed the chair to steady herself.

  Harvey Jasper, Pinkerton Agency

  Jared was a Pinkerton agent. Dios mío. She’d heard of the Pinkertons. They were ruthless thugs for hire. Was Jared investigating her? Of course he was. Why else would he be here?

  Reginald’s family must have hired him. But why? Surely they didn’t suspect her of killing him. Everyone knew Juan Ojeda and Reginald had argued over a card game, then, after Reginald went upstairs to visit one of the whores, Ojeda slipped into her room and stabbed Reginald while he was still on top of the woman.

  Her heart pounded. The Montrose family believed she’d hired Ojeda to commit murder. Jared had to be looking for proof in her office. Bastard. Her hands trembled as she took great care to refold the telegram along the original creases, then replaced it in his waistcoat pocket. Taking a deep breath, she draped the garment as it was before. He must not know she’d discovered his identity.

  Financial adviser—hah!

  She took another deep breath. Somehow she must calm down before she saw him again, or he’d know from her behavior she was on to him. If ever she wanted to kill someone, Jared Fields was the one…if that was even his name.

  All right. Get the rest of your clothes on and get to the stable.

  Jared shoveled the last load of manure into the wheelbarrow and wiped his brow with his forearm. The physical labor of mucking out the stable had warmed his muscles. All he had left to do was spread fresh straw in the stalls. The horses were restless and in need of exercise, but at least they had grain and water. The cow hadn’t been milked yet and was beginning to complain. Where was Talia? Maybe she decided to stay inside after all and cook breakfast.

  The door opened. “’Bout time your majesty showed up,” he teased. “Bossie over there has been complaining.”

  “Sorry. The stove didn’t want to light this morning.” She smiled up, shyly fluttering her dark lashes. “Besides her name is Daisy, not Bossie.”

  “I stand corrected.” He stretched his shoulders. “I’ll dump the wheelbarrow around back and pick up more wood while I’m at it.”

  Talia nodded, and without another word, she grabbed the milking stool and bucket, then set about relieving the cow’s distress.

  He watched until he heard the milk spurting against the metal bucket, then picked up the barrow’s handles and started rolling it outside.

  The air was still brisk and thankfully fresh after the close confines of the stable. Talia seemed reserved. Still put out by about his snooping around, no doubt. If she didn’t get over it, matters between them could grow uncomfortable. He needed her trust if he was going to root out the truth of Montrose’s death. His superior at the agency was anxious to wrap up the case.

  Around back, he dumped the manure and picked up a load of firewood. As he was heading back to the front of the stable, he heard a crack, looked up and dodged. A long shard of ice fell, barely missing his shoulder.

  Whew! Close call. But on the good side, if ice was starting to fall, the temperature must be warming up.

  He met a frowning Talia at the stable door. “I hate to discard all the fresh milk, but it’s more than we can use,” she said.

  “I’ll take care of it.” He held out his hand for the bucket. “I still have to throw down fresh straw in the stalls.”

  She responded with a quick nod. “I’ll start breakfast, then.”

  Jared watched her trudge back to the ranch house. Even bundled with heavy clothing and hampered by snow, her natural grace was evident. Something about her manner worried him. And the edge to her voice. Businesslike but with an underlying current of…what—anger?

  Yes. Had to be anger. His careless snooping. Couldn’t undo it. He’d have to seduce her out of her bad mood. He smiled at the thought of bedding her again. Given the weather conditions, what else was there to occupy their time?

 
His stomach growled, reminding him it was time to finish his morning chores and get back inside. Spreading fresh straw around the stalls, he spoke softly to the two horses. Talia’s dappled mare was a gentle creature and not nearly as restless as Midnight. “Sorry, fella. You wouldn’t like it out there. Maybe the snow will end soon.” The stallion nickered and tossed his head as if he actually understood.

  “Okay, Daisy, here’s some fresh straw.” Standing between the milk cow and the rear stable wall, he shook an armful of straw onto the floor. He bent over to even it out a bit, when he heard another cracking sound. More ice falling from the stable roof.

  But, startled by the unexpected noise, the cow bellowed and whipped her hindquarters into Jared, knocking him off his feet and into the wall. He crashed to the floor. Gingerly testing his limbs, he found he had a bruised hip but was otherwise okay. “Easy girl. Easy,” he said, intending to get to his feet and out of her way.

  But fate—the bitch—had something else in mind.

  Before he could scramble to his feet, the cow backed up and stepped on his lower leg, a grazing step, yet a stunning burst of pain shot through his leg as at least one bone splintered. He groaned and nearly passed out. Damned cow had broken his damned leg!

  Holy fucking shit! Now the bitch of a cow was going to trample him to death before he could crawl out of her way. Using his forearms and his one good leg, he scooted as fast as he could out of range of her hindquarters and hooves.

  He’d crawled only a few feet when the pain forced him to stop. Gasping from the agony of a broken bone, he waited until the pain eased a fraction. He inched into a sitting position with his back against a post, then tried to take stock of his injury. He felt along his calf. Felt the swelling, especially along the outside. As far as he could tell, the big bone in the lower leg was intact. And thank God, the bone wasn’t protruding through the skin. That could mean an amputation at the least…or a death sentence at the worst. Still, he’d heard something snap. Must’ve been the smaller bone. All the same, it hurt like hell.