Deed to Damnation

Unscrupulous

"I don't understand why you're obsessing over helping that woman."
Gwen Drake sat across from her husband, scowling as she picked at her ham steak that was growing cold. She had been imploring him to stop investigating the death of a man whose own daughter didn't seem to care about it.
Tim looked up from his dinner to find his wife staring at him sullenly.
"It's not just Devereaux's murder." Tim stated. "It's the corruption and the extortion of the good people in this town and others. He burned the damn church down, Gwen! Not to mention the brutalization of your sister. Certainly, you care about that."
Gwen did care about that. She'd never stopped caring but Liza had left and ran to New Orleans to escape that memory and had abandoned her to care for their ailing parents. And she figured if her own sister could leave what happened behind, she could do it too. Besides, now that Delarue had Ireland, his presence had been scarce and that's exactly the way she liked it.
"You start bothering with her and he'll likely stay here full time. I, for one, am happy he and his gang aren't around as much." She retorted.
"The only thing I can nail him for is murder and if I can get proof, he'll swing for it." He told her. "That rifle is the only way."
It was a sad truth that in the unsettled territories that men rarely faced consequences for illegal actions. The only things that could get a man hanged were bank robbing, horse and cattle theft and murder and sometimes not even then depending on the town. Gwen's sister's attack went unreported to him and underplayed. It had been spread through vile rumors . Many of the townspeople even blamed Liza herself, wondering how she had found herself alone with Henry Delarue.
"Well, it appears that you're not going to get your hands on it." Gwen said. "And you're not going to wherever Delarue is to retrieve it. It'll be over my dead body that you get shot with that very same weapon."
Tim had hoped Ireland would come to her senses once he gave her at least a chance to get out. So it was astounding that she had refused to help him. Had she really come to love someone as cruel as Delarue? It certainly seemed that way as she was more upset about his tricking her than she was with what she had become. He had even hoped that by kissing her it would ignite a spark in her that would remind her that the life she had now didn't have to be, that there would be others that could love her in the way she craved to be loved. But his attentions were met with uncomfortable, stunned silence and their time had been interrupted suddenly, forcing him to retreat. Honestly, he didn't know how to make her see that she had trapped herself.

It was mid April when winter finally released its icy grip on the plains and Ireland was preparing the saloon and tearoom for the influx of people that would be traveling through again. It also meant that all the things she ordered from the mercantile would finally start appearing. The warmer weather also brought Henry back much more often and each time she expected him to tell her to pack up and move to the ranch. But he never did. Instead, he stayed with her for days instead of just one night, sometimes keeping her in bed and showering her with so much lustful attention, it exhausted her.
On the first comfortably warm day, he had left her to sleep in, only rousing her when he returned after saddling the horses. Slowly he pulled the soft sheet down her sleeping form. He had missed her and although he would never tell her as much, she knew by his urgent touch and insatiable need to possess her.
"Wake up, Ire." He growled softly.
He leaned over the foot of the bed, gently kissing her delicate ankle and slowly traced his tongue up the soft curve of her calf. She gave a small sigh at the tickling warmth of his mouth.
"What time is it?" She asked, arching her back in a long stretch.
"It's past noon." He answered softly, his mouth traveling up her smooth inner thigh. "I want to go riding with you today after I'm done devouring you, wife."
"Perhaps I'll return the favor, husband." She purred.
He smiled against her softness at her teasing words before exploring her ravenously with an eager tongue. It was hard to believe this was the same woman that he had to force to pleasure him that way, devising a devious little device to hold her jaws apart the very first time he enjoyed her mouth. Now, she desired to please him, taking joy in the power that act held over him. She was still adorably nervous when she did it although she didn't need to be anymore. She pleasured him in a way he had never experienced before. Sure, others had brought him ecstasy in that way but Ireland's earnest willingness, knowing that she wanted to bring him to his knees was by far the most satisfying he ever had. It was more than two bodies satisfying a need. It was much more than that. And to Henry it was foreign, frightening and more over exhilarating. He never thought it would be this way, especially with a beautiful woman who had started out as an unwilling possession. And incredibly, she was his wife!