This is a hot happily ever after, fictional, historical romantic western. Where a Native American Indian; a man of his age, finds love with an English-speaking rose.
Filled with some very tantalising hot sex and a strong dominant man. It’s a sweeping saga of one woman’s struggle to live and love in the American West of the 1890’s. It holds temptations and passions. Conflicts and torment dealing with the struggles of their time. Often dealing with harsh realities. And through it all, a story of hope in the most desperate of times. Love blossoms, to raise your own passions and bring them alive. If you’re looking for something to tempt your days and nights, you just found it. Enjoy!
Written mainly in British English, with American language and words and slang from both languages.
****
He'd been the brutal man he had to be to survive.
Half Native American, half English trapper. Not wanted by either side, he'd had to make his own way taking the jobs no one else wanted.
Not that he minded. If it paid, it was his.
If he had to fight for it, so be it.
He held no loyalty to anyone, using their trappings to fit in.
His reputation told anyone who hired him just what they were getting.
Mess with that, and you'd be very sorry.
****
Alighting from the train, Maddison Clarke looked at the letter again.
She'd come a long way to marry her groom. An army Captain, introduced through her aunt's friends, his family. Starting with letter correspondence encouraged by his picture and pressure by her aunt, over time t had naturally turned into something more pulled along by the romance of it all. For a while anyway.
They'd corresponded for over a year. But his words changed became darker, less frequent, unruly and rambling. Talking of things that didn't seem appropriate for her to hear. Talking of women, drinking, fighting. His commission in jeopardy. His thoughts did not seem his own. In fact, by the end, it didn't sound like him at all. His family concerned, fearing for the worst, they told her she needed to go to him and wait no longer. That he was clearly in need of his wife.
And although not so sure, she was committed, engaged, and with no choice boarded the coach, then train, made the connections by stage and train again and here she was. Wherever here was. She wasn't even sure where she was in this part of the world. It was all alien to her.
Doubts and fears hit her. She knew no one here and Clarance was nowhere to be seen. He'd promised her he would, that she would be staying with the Captain and his wife until their marriage. So where was he?
A hush crept across the platform. People up ahead staring and parting ways at something coming in her direction. A man, walked through the crowd. Not wishing to draw attention she went back to her bags. Only looking up again when a pair of large boots and what looked like leather on his legs stopped by her
Slowly looking up, he was naked but for a waistcoat, the man carrying the air of ruthlessness about him as he boldly stared at her. Then slowly looked her over from her head to her feet.
"You won't need all the bags. Where we going, you won't be dressed for long." Shocked she took a step back. "You are clearly mistaken sir." He held out a picture, the one she'd sent Clarence. "No mistake. You're my cargo." People were staring, others had heard, her fears riding her. He touched her hair. Slapping it away, she stepped back. "I am no one's cargo sir. I don't know how you got that picture but I'm to meet my future husband."
This is a hot happily ever after, fictional, historical romantic western. Where a Native American Indian; a man of his age, finds love with an English-speaking rose.
Filled with some very tantalising hot sex and a strong dominant man. It’s a sweeping saga of one woman’s struggle to live and love in the American West of the 1890’s. It holds temptations and passions. Conflicts and torment dealing with the struggles of their time. Often dealing with harsh realities. And through it all, a story of hope in the most desperate of times. Love blossoms, to raise your own passions and bring them alive. If you’re looking for something to tempt your days and nights, you just found it. Enjoy!
Written mainly in British English, with American language and words and slang from both languages.
****
He'd been the brutal man he had to be to survive.
Half Native American, half English trapper. Not wanted by either side, he'd had to make his own way taking the jobs no one else wanted.
Not that he minded. If it paid, it was his.
If he had to fight for it, so be it.
He held no loyalty to anyone, using their trappings to fit in.
His reputation told anyone who hired him just what they were getting.
Mess with that, and you'd be very sorry.
****
Alighting from the train, Maddison Clarke looked at the letter again.
She'd come a long way to marry her groom. An army Captain, introduced through her aunt's friends, his family. Starting with letter correspondence encouraged by his picture and pressure by her aunt, over time t had naturally turned into something more pulled along by the romance of it all. For a while anyway.
They'd corresponded for over a year. But his words changed became darker, less frequent, unruly and rambling. Talking of things that didn't seem appropriate for her to hear. Talking of women, drinking, fighting. His commission in jeopardy. His thoughts did not seem his own. In fact, by the end, it didn't sound like him at all. His family concerned, fearing for the worst, they told her she needed to go to him and wait no longer. That he was clearly in need of his wife.
And although not so sure, she was committed, engaged, and with no choice boarded the coach, then train, made the connections by stage and train again and here she was. Wherever here was. She wasn't even sure where she was in this part of the world. It was all alien to her.
Doubts and fears hit her. She knew no one here and Clarance was nowhere to be seen. He'd promised her he would, that she would be staying with the Captain and his wife until their marriage. So where was he?
A hush crept across the platform. People up ahead staring and parting ways at something coming in her direction. A man, walked through the crowd. Not wishing to draw attention she went back to her bags. Only looking up again when a pair of large boots and what looked like leather on his legs stopped by her
Slowly looking up, he was naked but for a waistcoat, the man carrying the air of ruthlessness about him as he boldly stared at her. Then slowly looked her over from her head to her feet.
"You won't need all the bags. Where we going, you won't be dressed for long." Shocked she took a step back. "You are clearly mistaken sir." He held out a picture, the one she'd sent Clarence. "No mistake. You're my cargo." People were staring, others had heard, her fears riding her. He touched her hair. Slapping it away, she stepped back. "I am no one's cargo sir. I don't know how you got that picture but I'm to meet my future husband."