Chapter Forty-Six - Diane

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

DIANE

We announce we're engaged a few weeks after Keira and Sovereign's wedding. I invite them over for dinner and make a roast for everyone. Over dessert, coffee, and whiskey, Westin tells them he'd like to have a big wedding on the ranch.

"I never thought you were the big wedding type," Sovereign says.

I stare, confused by the ghost of a smirk on his face. Westin gives him a look and pours more whiskey.

Afterwards, Keira and I clear the table, and the men disappear abruptly into the office at the front of the gatehouse. I rarely go in there; it's where Westin works on business contracts for the ranch. Still, I'm curious, so I crane my neck as they disappear behind the door.

"Sometimes, it's better not to know," Keira says quietly.

I frown. "Does Sovereign talk to you about business?"

She nods. "He tries to. When my first husband left the farm to me, I had to run everything, and it soured me on it. Sovereign gave me equal ownership of his shares of Sovereign Mountain and wants me involved, though, so I try to listen to him about it."

That strikes me as unexpectedly sweet. I didn't expect that of Sovereign; he's so gruff and cold .

Keira tucks her hair behind her ear. "Honestly, I have other things to worry about this year."

Her cheeks go pink, and she shuts the dishwasher. I put the teakettle on.

"What's going on?" I ask.

She leans against the table, squirming slightly. It's interesting to me that Kiera's incredibly shy about anything sex related but wears a submissive's collar. She must not be very shy in other circumstances.

"We're going to try for a baby," she says.

"Really?"

She nods. "Not yet, but soon."

I think about her and Sovereign—how rough and dangerous he looks and how sweet Keira is.

"Does he ever scare you?" I ask.

Her blush recedes. It takes her a moment, but she shakes her head. "Not anymore, but he did. Why?"

I shrug, struggling for words. "I just… Sometimes, I feel like I should be afraid of Westin, but I'm not. And I wonder what's wrong with me for that. I was terrified of Avery and Thomas. What makes him different?"

I've never said that aloud, and I regret it right away.

"I didn't mean it like that," I rush.

She smiles, shaking her head. "I know what you mean. I guess if you think about it, you and I are a lot alike on paper, but we're so different in person."

I nod slowly. Maybe on paper, Westin is just as frightening as the Garrison brothers, but…I've seen him on his knees, promising to give me everything.

It is so different.

"You know Sovereign best," I whisper.

She smiles, nodding. "I do. And I don't mind a little roughness around the edges. I don't think you do either."

There's a twinkle in her eye and a dimple on her cheek.

"It's kept me safe," I admit, trying not to blush. I wonder how much she knows about Westin and me .

The kettle whistles, and Keira pours two cups of chamomile. I accept one and sink down at the table.

"Westin is a good person," Keira says. "He's always helped me when I needed it, and he saved Sovereign over and over again. If he's decided he's in your corner…well, too bad for anyone who does you wrong."

"Sort of like a guard dog," I say, meaning for it to be a joke.

Keira shrugs, taking leftover cake from the fridge and unwrapping the wax paper. She cuts a slice for me and sets it on the table.

"You don't question the morality of a guard dog," she says. "You just let it do what it does."

That drives past all my anxiety and hits me deep inside. Keira and I don't talk much after that; we have our tea and cake. Then, Sovereign appears and takes her back to the ranch house. Westin stays in the office for a while longer, and I go upstairs and get ready for bed.

I'm in the bathroom, rubbing cream into my face, when he walks in and starts stripping.

"Everything okay?" I ask lightly.

He kisses the top of my head. "Everything's good, darling."

Tonight is a free use night; they come every Tuesday and Thursday now that I'm on the pill. I put the little silver anklet on and curl up in the bed. He's in the bathroom for a while, the shower running. My lids flutter, soothed by the rush of water.

What Keira said hits home.

He promised to save my farm. He's already saved me. I don't care anymore to question his methods. He's going to do what he does best regardless of what I want.

My eyes slip closed.

It's late in the morning when I wake, feeling rested for the first time in a while. I turn, and the little anklet is laying on the bedside table. My heart skips a beat, my face flushing. I slide my fingers down to my pussy and part myself, dipping the tip of one inside me.

He was there last night .

I clench, and his cum leaks down my thigh and stains the bed. My muscles are so relaxed, I know he made me finish in my sleep. I wonder what it was like for him, if I'm quiet when it happens.

I stretch.

Every day, little by little, he's building me back up. I never thought I could trust a man enough to let him have my body while I sleep.

As I'm braiding my hair after my shower, my ring catches the light, and I can't wipe the smile off my face for the rest of the morning.

Keira and I convince Jensen to take us into town. He shows up to drop off some wire, and we hitch a ride with him to South Platte to get some shopping done for the wedding.

I'm glad we decided to have a big wedding. I don't like the idea of all that attention, but I love the excitement. I've never had anything that feels so untainted. Everyone is happy for us, wanting to help. It's so pure after the last few years of misery.

In South Platte, I pick out white satin fabric. That night, back at the gatehouse, Keira and Maddie measure me and start making a pattern for my wedding dress. Part of me feels like this can't be real. I'll pinch myself and wake up, curled up in that little room off Thomas Garrison's kitchen again.

After Keira leaves, Westin returns. He was up at the ranch house, banned from our kitchen while Keira and I worked on my dress. My stomach flips as he steps through the door and sets his hat aside.

His eyes are sober.

"Come here, darling," he says.

I go to him, standing on my tiptoes so he can kiss me. His hand rests in my hair, his thumb on my cheek.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

He shakes his head once. "Nothing."

He's holding something back, but I don't push him yet. Instead, we eat dinner, and he asks about wedding preparations.

"Do you want any groomsmen?" I ask as I clear away the plates.

"Sovereign will be the best man and walk you up. Deacon will stand up with me. "

I frown. It's a little strange he picked Deacon. It's my understanding they're on good terms when it comes to business but not close friends.

"Will Keira stand up with you?" he asks.

It's a touchy subject. Other than Keira and Maddie, I don't have any friends. I've started making casual conversation with some of the women who live in the employee housing, but they're all too busy for more than that.

I nod. "She said she'd like to."

"Good," he says.

I start boiling water for coffee. It's part of our ritual on Wednesdays. He sits at the table, and we talk about our week. At the end, he reviews where we are with each other, and we talk about what needs improvement. But first, I make coffee the way he likes it: fresh ground, patted into a pour over filter, set in the glass funnel.

Hot water swirls. Foam rises to the surface. I fill his thick, stoneware cup and place it on the table before him. For a second, I see his hands just as they were that first day: scarred from wire, big, capable.

"Good girl," he says. "Go undress and come sit on my lap."

He doesn't have to give specific instructions anymore. I go upstairs, wash quickly, and put on his favorite slip. Then, I come back downstairs and balance on his knee, enjoying the feel on his hand on my waist.

"I want to talk about something first," he said.

There's a sober note to his voice. I nod.

"My mother is still alive; she lives in town," he says. "I'd like her at the wedding."

My brows rise. "I had no idea."

"I saw her a while back, told her you exist," he says. "But I've been putting off bringing you to meet her for a couple of reasons."

I wonder if I did something wrong, but when I look into his eyes, I know it's something else. He's a million miles away.

"My father was a lot older than my mother," he says, voice gruff. "He wasn't a violent man. He loved her, but he got her pregnant when she was too young and…maybe her life could have been different. I worry sometimes that…I'm too much like him."

My stomach sinks.

"How old was he?" I whisper.

"When they married? Early fifties."

It's obvious that Westin and I are not the same as his parents, but he won't even look at me. I can tell it's taking everything he has to be this vulnerable. I can't dismiss his feelings. Gently, I take his hands in mine.

"We're different. I chose you, Westin."

"My father wasn't abusive," he says. "I idolized him. I thought he was everything a man should be. When I was old enough to know better, the damage was already done."

I think his voice cracks, but maybe that's just the sound of my heart breaking for him.

"I thought if I gave you a contract, it would make it better. That way, I can see your consent written out." His voice is flat, like he's had some time to think this through. "It felt more real. I can take it out, look at it."

I turn on his knee and lift his head, his beard prickly beneath my fingers.

"I love you, Westin," I whisper.

His grip intensifies. "I'll give you everything, darling," he says. "Anything you want."

I believe him; I'm just wondering how scorched the earth will be in his wake. He doesn't give me time to overthink. He turns me so I'm straddling him and brushes a flyaway curl back. His forehead presses to mine, his eyes close.

"Love me," he says.

His grip is tight. Hands steady, I unfasten his shirt until his chest and stomach are bare. His belt clinks as I pull it open and push his pants aside. He's hot and hard when I wrap my hand around him and guide his cock between my legs.

We both gasp. Our eyes connect. He's like magic. One touch, and my body is wide awake .

I wrap my arms around his neck. He buries his face in my shoulder. Our hips rise and fall together, not chasing anything, just trying our best to fix all the broken pieces that surround us. After a while, he carries me upstairs with his cock still inside me, my arms and legs wrapped around him. We fall into bed, and our eyes lock in the dark.

"Whatever I do," his voice is gruff, sitting deep in his chest, "whoever I become, love me still, darling."

Deep inside, I know he's planning to do something terrible. My nails rake gently up his back, touching the scar tissue of his brand, tracing it with my fingertips.

He's not a good man, but he's the one I want.