Forbidden Love

Forbidden Love

Aleksandr Voinov Anna O'Neill H.C. Brown Stormy Glenn

Price: $6.00


My Outlaw, by Stormy Glenn

Forbidden, by H.C. Brown

Poisoned Heart, by Anna O’Neill

Deliverance, by Aleksandr Voinov


PUBLISHED BY: Noble Romance Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-60592-053-5
CATEGORIES: Romantic Fiction, Historical, ManLove
KEYWORDS: M/M, historical, BDSM

EBOOKS BY Noble Romance Publishing

EBOOKS BY Stormy Glenn

COPYRIGHT Stormy Glenn/2009

 From Stormy Glenn's My Outlaw:

Texas, 1880

“Are you traveling far, sir?”

Daniel Branson glanced across the dusty stagecoach to the young woman sitting across from him. He smiled at her and shook his head. “No, ma’am, I’ll be getting off at Brownsville.”

“You have family in Brownsville?”

Daniel nodded. “You could say that, ma’am.”

The woman glanced at the older gentleman who seemed to be sleeping beside her. Daniel didn’t understand how anyone could sleep through such a rough ride. Every few minutes, the stage coach hit a rut or a pothole and lurched from side to side. His ass felt like it had been dragged through a pile of cactus brush.

“Do you know any outlaws?” she whispered as she glanced over at Daniel again.

He chuckled. “I haven’t met any personally but I hear Black Bart and his gang hole up out this way.”

“Black Bart?” The woman gasped, her eyes widening. “Is he an outlaw?”

“One of the worst, ma’am.” Daniel leaned forward a little. “Why, I hear he’d just as soon shoot you as look at you.”

“And he’s in Brownsville?” the woman asked, a hand covering her mouth and her eyes growing wide.
Daniel shrugged, sitting back in the seat. “I can’t rightly say, ma’am, but I’ve heard a lot of tales about Black Bart since I entered the territory.”

Daniel glanced out the small side window as the woman’s face paled. He could tell from her manners and dress that she had never set foot west of the Mississippi River. He’d wager she was from way back east, maybe even as far as Boston.

He wished the best for her. The west could be an unforgiving place for people not prepared for the rough, harsh realities of life in the uncivilized territories. Many didn’t make it through their first winter before high-tailing it back to civilization.

“You don’t think he’s around here now, do you?”

Daniel turned his attention back to the young woman. He felt a little bad that he had worried her but not enough to take back what he had said about Black Bart. Most of the people he had met on his travels west had no business being out here. He wished they would all just turn around and go back home.

The west was no longer built on dreams from the 1849 gold rush. It was made with the blood and sweat of cowboys and ranchers and settlers strong enough to fight tooth and nail for every inch of land they could dig out of the cold, hard earth.

“No, ma’am, I’m sure he’s moved on to some other area.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Brownsville isn’t a big place. It’s mostly ranchers, some townspeople, and a few outlying farms. I don’t imagine there’s a lot to keep any outlaw in the area for too long a spell.”

The woman seemed to regard Daniel for so long he began to grow uncomfortable. He tried not to fidget, clasping his hands together in his lap to keep from pulling at the collar of his white woolen shirt or the blue bandana tied around his neck.

“If there’s not much in Brownsville, why do you stay there?” the woman finally asked. Daniel could see the curiosity covering her pert little face. Underlying that was a spark of interest he would rather ignore.
“I live just outside of Brownsville, ma’am,” he replied. “I was point rider on a herd of cattle we drove up the Chisholm Trail to Abilene. My horse stepped in a prairie dog hole on the way back, just outside of town, and I had to put him down. I injured my ankle when my horse fell. Cattle boss told me to catch the stage back to the ranch.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the woman said quietly. Daniel could see the sympathy in her face, hear it in her voice. Even a woman from back east knew the heartache a cowboy felt when they lost a horse, especially a cattle cutting pony. It took years to train an animal to work cattle the way Stickler had. He’d missed that damn peg pony.

When the young woman glanced at the man beside her again then smiled over at him, Daniel’s stomach fell to his feet. He had seen that particular look on enough female faces to know that the flirting was about to begin.
Before he could dissuade her, a loud gunshot sounded outside and the stagecoach jerked to a stop. Daniel leaned out of the side window to see what was going on. His heart pounded frantically when he spotted the five masked men surrounding the stagecoach, their guns drawn.

“What is it?”

Daniel turned to see the young woman had gone as pale as Texas butter. The older man next to her still slept. Daniel held his fingers to his lips and glanced back out the window.

He grimaced as the shotgun rider tossed his rifle to the ground and climbed from his seat. The stagecoach driver followed behind him. They both immediately held their hands up in the air and moved off to one side of the stagecoach. This was not good.

“You in the wagon,” someone called out. “Step out with your hands in the air.”

“Oh my God,” the woman cried. “What do we do?”

Daniel glanced over at her. He smiled, trying to reassure her. “Just do what they say and don’t cause any problems. You should be fine.”

He reached for the door and opened it slowly. He cast a cautious look at the masked bandits as he stepped from the stagecoach. There was something about the largest of the masked men, something Daniel couldn’t quite place.

He held his hand out and helped the young woman from the stage, then waited as her companion stepped down beside her before shutting the door. Watching the armed riders carefully, he placed himself in front of the two terrified passengers.

“Keep your hands where we can see them and everything will be just fine,” one of the bandits ordered.
Daniel had no intention of doing anything else. One wrong move and he’d never make it home alive. He still might not.

“What’s your name, cowboy?”

Daniel glanced up at the biggest man in the group. His heart beat faster. His eyes widened as he took in the man’s impressive form. Damn, he was huge. Sitting astride his black horse he looked even bigger.

The black shirt, pants, boots, and cowboy hat he wore—not to mention the black mask covering his face—made his features seem more menacing. Daniel could only make out the deep, grass green eyes staring intently back at him. That powerful gaze sent a shivers of excitement blazing through him.

The man nudged Daniel’s shoulder with his horse. “You hear me, boy?”

“I heard you,” Daniel replied, mesmerized. The startling eyes seemed to be filled with an interest only a man like Daniel would understand. “My name is Daniel Branson.”

“What outfit do you ride with?”

Daniel’s lips thinned. “The Double B.”

The man raised one dark eyebrow. “The Branson ranch?”

“Yes,” he replied and all the pride he felt at being able to claim such an association sounded in his voice.

The owner of the Branson Ranch had one of the biggest cattle spreads in the area. He had built it up from just a few head of cattle into a herd numbering nearly ten thousand. Daniel had been there for most of it, working right alongside his boss.

Daniel’s family had been massacred during the war. He had drifted for a few years until finding the Double B ranch. Branson had taken him in and given him a home, taught him everything he knew. He had even given Daniel a name he could be proud of, making Daniel his heir. Daniel respected the ranch owner more than any man on earth.

“Well, boys, seems we have a notorious man in our midst.” The large man chuckled, sending a shiver down Daniel’s spine. “One of the Double B’s own ranch hands.”

Daniel didn’t like the way the man looked at him. Something in his powerful gaze told Daniel that his trip was about to take a detour, and the outcome would be unlike anything he had ever envisioned.

The man crossed his arms and rested them on the pommel of his saddle as he leaned down toward Daniel. “What should I do with you? I’d be willing to bet Branson would pay a pretty penny to get one of his drovers back, now wouldn’t he?”

Daniel gulped past the lump in his throat and shrugged. “Only Mr. Branson can answer that.”

The man gave Daniel a low chuckle. “Why don’t we see just how much you’re worth to your boss, cowboy?”

One of the bandits tossed a rope and Daniel grunted when it hit him in the chest. He caught it before it could hit the ground then looked up at the tall man in confusion. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

The man smirked. “If you work for the Double B you have to be a smart man. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Daniel frowned. He started tying the rope into a knot then looped it over his wrists. He grabbed the other end with his teeth and pulled it tight, wincing when the rough twine bit into his skin.

He glanced up at the man on the horse. “Happy?”

“I’m gonna be,” the man said. With one hand he reached down and grabbed Daniel by the collar and pulled him up to lie over the top of his saddle. Daniel wiggled in protest until a large hand came down on his ass.

“Stay still or this is gonna get a lot harder on you,” the man warned.

Daniel stilled. He felt ridiculous lying over the top of a horse, his butt in the air and the lower and upper halves of his body hanging down the sides. He probably looked ridiculous too.

“You get to Brownsville, little lady, and you tell the sheriff there that Black Bart has one of the Double B’s ranch hands. You tell him I’ll be in contact about a ransom. You tell him that if he sends a posse after us it’ll go bad for his cowboy.”

Before Daniel could protest again, Black Bart kicked his horse into a quick canter. Within moments they were out of sight of the stagecoach and moving off the road to a small trail cutting through the underbrush.

Daniel felt a hand move over his ass as they rode. He didn’t know whether to be intrigued by the touch or horrified. His cock certainly seemed to have no problem making up its mind. It hardened right up, causing Daniel to wince when the unforgiving leather of the saddle pressed against his aching flesh.

With his cock pressed between the saddle and his body, and Black Bart’s hand caressing his ass, Daniel was afraid he would embarrass himself and come right there and then. And wouldn’t that put him in a pickle?

He was being held captive by the infamous Black Bart and his gang of masked men. Daniel had no idea what plans the man had for him but none of it could be good. The horse he lay across came to a stop. Daniel tensed.

“You all go on ahead to the rendezvous point, boys,” Black Bart ordered, his hand firmly placed on Daniel’s ass. He gave it a slight squeeze every few seconds. “I’m gonna have me a little talk with Branson’s cowboy.”

Daniel tried to raise his head. He pushed his bound hands against the side of the horse beneath him. He kicked out with his feet. All his struggling earned him was a few more skillfully placed swats to his ass and the deep laughter of the other men as they rode off. Daniel felt like his ass was on fire.

“Now, I thought I told you not to struggle, boy.”

Daniel grunted. “Like I’m ever going to do anything you tell me to do.”

Black Bart chuckled above him. “You’ll be doing everything I tell you to do, cowboy, or you’ll feel the butt of my gun upside your head.”

To prove his point, Black Bart pressed the barrel of his Colt Six-Shooter against the back of Daniel’s head. Daniel stopped resisting.

“Do you think I can at least sit up?” he asked. “I’m going to get sick bouncing along like this.”

Daniel yelped when Black Bart grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him upright. Within seconds, he was sitting astride the horse.

“Better?” Black Bart asked.

Daniel wasn’t sure. The press of Black Bart’s muscular body against his back made him feel small, while the strong arms encircling his waist made him feel safe and protected.

And the hard cock pushing against his ass made him feel aroused.


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