Free Training Ivy [How The West Was Done 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by Karen Mercury

have been hitting me lately,” Neil protested feebly.
    “I think it’s remarkable,” said Ivy. She had now taken up the book and read, “‘I have only you now. Let’s go together. I’ve come to you. We’re both damned, so let’s go together!’” She sighed in apparent amazement. “Why, it’s obvious what this means.”
    It was the height of irritation when Ivy shared low, heated glances of understanding with Harley. Not wanting to appear ignorant, Neil asked mildly, “Yes? What do you think the meaning is?”
    Ivy replied, “It says it right here! ‘We’ve only one goal before us.’ And here. ‘I need you, and that’s why I’ve come to you.’ It obviously means the three of us!”
    Harley was now attaching a camera to the tripod, its lens aimed directly at Neil and Ivy. “The Hay Market is where people gathered to sell things in St. Petersburg in Russia. The girl in the book, Sonia, was an egg seller, if I recall correctly. He wants to save her from a life of poverty.”
    Neil played along. “All right. If I’m this narrator, and Ivy is obviously Sonia, then where do you fit into the picture?”
    Harley shrugged. “I don’t. Unless I’m the detective who captures the narrator.”
    “For doing what?”
    “Murder. Neil, can you gather more lamps?”
    Ivy asked brightly, “Are you going to take our photograph? Oh, how fun.”
    “I’m going to try, if we can get more light in here. I’d like both of you on that settee.”
    So with a raging erection, Neil stormed down the hall to Zeke’s office. He angrily grabbed his two lamps and returned to Hudson’s study.
    Harley passed him in the hallway. “I’m going to coat a plate. Get prepared.”
    Ivy was over at the sideboard pouring herself some ruby-colored liquor. “Would you like some claret?”
    “No thank you. I’m not much of a drinking man. I’ve seen drink turn men into cyclone hurricanes.”
    Neil sat next to Ivy on the settee as close as propriety would allow, wondering if he should allow his bulging erection to be displayed in the photograph. Since he hadn’t had time to return to his office to collect his frock coat, he still only wore the waistcoat, and it could barely cover his full crotch, depending on how he chose to sit.
    He squirmed uncomfortably. He’d never been photographed before. He looked at Ivy sideways. “May I ask. Would you be amenable to courting? I know it’s recently that you lost your fiancé, so I hope it’s not untoward—”
    He heard the laughter in her voice. “But I didn’t care for that man anyway. So it should make no difference if I left him yesterday or six months ago.”
    Neil hoped this was an affirmative response, but they continued to just sit there in silence, side by side, staring straight ahead as though mummies.
    Finally Ivy said in a low, seductive voice, “I should like that, Neil.”
    A warm, syrupy feeling flowed outward from the pit of his stomach. Neil had not felt such a happy sensation in months, if not years. Or ever. But this flood of emotions surged once more into his cock, lengthening it against his thigh, and he tugged on his waistcoat in a futile attempt to hide it. “That’s good,” he said feebly.
    “How do you suppose,” Ivy continued, “the imprint got on Gentry’s forehead? It was much smaller than a cattle brand.”
    Neil was relieved they had something else to discuss. “I was thinking on that. Men out here, I’ve noticed, have been known to make rings in the shape of their ranch brands. I’ve never noticed Shortridge wear one, but maybe that’s because he’s usually floored at some saloon.”
    “Yes.” Ivy giggled. “Difficult to tell when he’s facedown in the dirt.”
    “Yes,” Harley agreed, emerging into the study holding a square plate gingerly between the fingers of both hands. He fiddled around with the camera, sliding out a drawer of some kind where he placed the plate. “I was wondering. Does this Shortridge fellow sound like the type