His Errant Educator (Willamette Wives Book 3)

by Maggie Ryan

  "That, my dear, was the scariest damn thing I've done in my life!"

  "Are you all right?" Looking up, Wyatt saw Richard standing over him, his dark head shaking as he reached down to offer his hand. "Is that how you were supposed to dismount?"

  Allowing himself to be hauled to his feet, and shaking his head to rid it of as much snow as possible, gasping as some slid down the back of his collar, Wyatt answered, "I don't think so, but it seems to be the only way I've found. For a moment there I thought we'd be plowing into you."

  "Believe me, we all had the same thought," Richard said.

  Wyatt glanced back towards the ice where the others had been skating before pulling his wife to her feet, drawing her close in order to run his hands over her arms and legs. "I can't imagine your pa thinking that was a safe thing for a little girl to do, young lady. What was he thinking?"

  "Don't be silly, you had as much fun as I did," Agatha said.

  "I'm just glad you two aren't hurt. We really don't need any more injuries today."

  Agatha's expression changed as her eyes widened in concern. "Injuries? Who's hurt?"

  "Not hurt, exactly," James said as he and the others joined the group. "It seems Teresa is as stubborn as some other little ladies we know. She ignored Roger's caution to stay inside the area we'd marked out and skated out onto thin ice."

  "Oh, no! Is she all right?" Agatha asked. "Did she fall through the ice?"

  "Not completely. Roger was able to get to her before she slid in all the way."

  "That's awful! Poor Teresa! Where are they?"

  "Roger took her to your house, since it's closest," Anna said, moving to stand beside her husband. "I said he could borrow some clothing… I didn't think you'd mind."

  "Of course I don't mind," Agatha said. "Come on, honey, let's get back so I can help—"

  "When did they go?" Wyatt asked, interrupting his wife.

  "A little while ago. We were about to go as well, but heard ya'll yelling as you careened down the mountain," Richard volunteered.

  "We should go check on them," Agatha said, giving her skirts one more swish to remove clumps of snow before beginning to move towards their cabin.

  "Hold up, Aggy," Wyatt said, reaching out to snag her around her waist.

  "Wyatt, we need to make sure Teresa is all right. Poor girl must have been so scared and is probably freezing. I can make some hot…"

  "No, we need to give Roger time to take care of warming his gal up himself," Wyatt countered.

  "Don't be ridiculous," Agatha said. "I'm sure he'd like some hot coffee as well…"

  "Um, Agatha, I think Wyatt means something else," Anna suggested.

  "What? Do you think he prefers tea?"

  "I think he'd prefer some privacy," Richard answered for his wife.

  Wyatt saw that his wife remained clueless about the thinly veiled subject of their discussion. Since he had definite plans on warming his own wife, he decided to be blunt. "What they mean is that if Roger is anything like his partners, he'll be warming his gal's backside before allowing her to drink either tea or coffee." He almost chuckled when Agatha's mouth dropped open, white vapor showing that her breathing was growing more rapid as understanding dawned.

  "You mean… you think… he can't be thinking of spanking her!"

  "Why not?" James asked. "After all, we all heard Roger warn her repeatedly, and she ignored him."

  "But she has to be so scared!" Agatha insisted, looking towards Anna and Charity for support.

  Charity's cheeks were as flushed as Anna's as she shrugged. "Well, I'm not sure that matters. After all, we all heard him tell her not to skate on that part of the pond." She adjusted Grace in her arms as she looked down to where Hope was tugging on her skirts. "We'll be going in just a moment, sweetie."

  "But she might get upset. They've only been courting for a few months."

  Charity shook her head. "Courting or not, James didn't hesitate to tan my behind when I deserved it. How about you, Anna?"

  "The moment I agreed to become Richard's wife, he smacked my bottom," Anna said, giving a short yelp when her husband managed to reach out and connect with her backside despite the fact he was now holding their son.

  "Only because a certain redhead decided to test my resolve," Richard said, hearing the other men chuckle in obvious agreement.

  "Still, how does Roger know that she won't scream bloody murder?" Agatha asked.

  "If you ask me, she'd be better off screaming her apologies for disobeying with every swat he gives her. You are so concerned about Teresa that you didn't even consider the fact that Roger must have gotten wet himself, and most likely lost ten years off his life when that ice cracked," Wyatt said. He made sure his wife's eyes were focused on his before continuing. "Sort of like I'll expect you to be making your sincere apologies in just a bit."

  "What is that supposed to mean?"

  "It means, young lady, that you will be telling me exactly what you meant earlier when you said that you always wondered what sledding down a big hill would be like. That definitely tells me that your pa did not allow you on such dangerous slopes before."

  He watched as her eyes widened and her gaze slid away, both definite signs that his little wife had told a fib. One she'd be paying for as soon as they had their cabin to themselves. Hearing her soft moan, he was satisfied that they had reached an understanding, and reached down to grab the rope of the sled, sliding his other arm around her waist.

  "Privacy or not, I could use a cup of hot coffee and some food myself," Wyatt said and the others nodded. The men carried the ice-skates and Wyatt pulled the sled behind him as the group of friends tromped through the snow towards the Wilcoxs' cabin. Wyatt grinned as the women made a point of speaking loudly, stomping their boots on the porch as if to give warning that they were about to enter… possibly interrupting an intimate scene that each and every one of them had experienced themselves… several times.

  Chapter Three

  "For goodness' sake, how long are you going to be mad?" Teresa asked, stomping her foot after Roger swung her down from the saddle.

  "Perhaps until I actually believe you understand that what you did was dangerous," Roger said, tying the reins around the hitching post before leading her up the steps of the porch. "So far, all I've heard is a bunch of excuses as to why it is anyone else's fault but your own."

  "You act like I meant to fall through the ice."

  "Honey, I know you didn't mean to, but what I'm saying is that if you had only listened to me, we wouldn't even be having this conversation." He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "Look, I understand you were scared, and I am so thankful you are all right. But, Teresa, you need to acknowledge your part…"

  "I said I was sorry and if you don't believe me, then that's your problem, not mine!" Jerking her arm from his hold, she stomped across the porch, yanked open the door, and then squealed when her rather dramatic entrance was spoiled as she tripped over the hem of the borrowed dress. She would have fallen except for Roger's quick reaction as he grabbed her around the waist and hauled her back to her feet.

  "Settle down, Teresa, before you do break a leg. This stubbornness of yours almost got you killed and now…"

  "Don't be so melodramatic," she said, jerking away yet again. "It's this stupid dress. It's too long."

  "I'd think you'd be grateful," Roger said. "If not for Agatha's generosity in sharing her dress, you'd be an icicle, or as naked as a blue jay and—"

  "It was only a silly accident," Teresa interrupted.

  "An accident that not only could have been prevented if you'd only heeded my warning, but one that almost cost you your life!"

  Her blue eyes rolled as she tossed her hair. Not only didn't he appreciate the obvious disrespect she continued to demonstrate, his patience had grown as thin as the ice that had cracked beneath her weight.

  "Teresa, I'm serious. If I had been further away or if I hadn't heard the ice crack, you could have slipped beneath the surface
and drowned."

  "Well, you are acting as if you wish I had drowned!"

  He had absolutely no response to such a ridiculous statement. It seemed she didn't particularly care as she began to climb the stairs that led to the family's home located above the restaurant. Stumbling again, she cursed beneath her breath.

  "Teresa Goldman! What did you say?"

  "Nothing. I'm going to change."

  "Don't think this discussion is over," Roger said to her back as she yanked her skirts up in order to stomp up the stairs without tripping again.

  "It's over as far as I'm concerned," she snapped back, turning her head to glare down at him. "I'm quite tired of listening to you lecture me like a silly child…"

  "A naughty child!" he countered.

  She rolled her eyes. "I'm not naugh—a child!"

  "You most certainly could have fooled me. I'm sure your pa would not only agree, he'd already be deciding on how many strokes he needed to give you to teach you that such naughty behavior and vulgar language is totally unacceptable!"

  "See, you don't know what you are talking about. Pa stopped spank… I mean, never mind. I don't appreciate being threatened!"

  "Oh, I assure you I'm not threatening you, young lady. I might not be your pa, but I am the man who almost lost you today," Roger said, his voice low and even. "What I am doing is making you a promise that if you continue to act like a little brat, I won't hesitate to turn you over my—"

  "I won't stand here and be lectured, Roger Morrison! It's boring and I'm growing quite tired of listening to you repeating yourself. If I had my way, you'd just be glad that I'm alive!"

  The very audacity of that statement caused his fingers to twitch, almost releasing their hold on the bundle of her sodden clothing, where ice crystals had already formed.

  "Boring? You find my concern for you boring?" He honestly couldn't believe she'd just uttered those words as if nothing he'd said had mattered one little whit. He took a deep breath before continuing. "I suggest you listen to this, as I'll make it perfectly clear. If I had my way, I would have turned your bottom crimson the moment I helped you out of your clothes. Perhaps having a well-spanked, hot little ass would teach you what happens to little girls who continue to be naughty! Are you bored now, Miss Goldman?"

  Her blue eyes flashed and her cheeks flushed. Though her mouth opened and closed like a little fish gasping for air, no words came out, just a little squeal as she fled up the stairs. His hopes that he'd finally gotten through to her were dashed when a voice bellowed from directly behind him.

  "What in the hell is going on out here?"

  Turning, he saw Benjamin standing in the open doorway that led to the dining room. He could also see several diners looking towards him as well, and realized that perhaps the conversation hadn't been quite as private as he'd thought.

  "It's not what you think, sir."

  "It damn well better not be, because I trusted you with my daughter," Benjamin said, his own tone as hard as steel. "I never once thought that I'd regret that decision."

  Sighing wearily, Roger gave one last glance up the stairs, hoping to see the girl he'd fallen head over heels in love with coming back down to stand at his side and take responsibility for her part in today's debacle. Unfortunately, there was no sign of her. Turning again, he shook his head. "I can explain… or at least I'll try, but I believe it best if we go someplace a bit more private."

  "Upstairs, my study," Benjamin barked before turning to speak to Catherine who had materialized beside him. "Please assure our customers that I'm sure it is a simple misunderstanding," he requested before giving the room's occupants a glance. "If not, I'll be sure to send them all an invitation to a wedding, even if there is a shotgun involved."

  Chapter Four

  Wyatt and Agatha had just said goodbye to their friends after sharing a meal consisting of a thick venison stew, freshly baked bread, and plenty of hot coffee. Once he shut the door, she scurried towards the kitchen, intending to clean up the dishes.

  "Those can wait," he said, again grabbing her around the waist before she'd taken two steps. "We've got a discussion to finish."

  "I thought we all decided that Roger must have taken Teresa home."

  "I'm sure he did but I'm not talking about Roger or Teresa," Wyatt said. "I'm talking about you, young lady."

  Her heart thudded rapidly as the skin on her bottom began to crawl. "I'm not sure what you mean. What about me?" He ignored her question as he drew her towards the kitchen table.

  It was funny how one never really considered the use of a chair until seeing a large, obviously determined husband pulling one away from its place and taking a seat, she thought, only to feel her tummy flip as he pulled her between his spread knees.

  "What did you mean?" he said.

  "Mean? About what?"

  "You said that you never knew it could be like that… that you always wondered. What exactly did you mean?"

  "Oh, um, I just meant that… well, that it was even more fun than I imagined," she said, giving him a smile. "It was fun, wasn't it?"

  "Agatha, I'll not remind you again what happens when you aren't honest. We aren't talking about how much fun it was. We are discussing what you meant when you said you wondered what it would be like," he said, "like you've never done that before. Did your pa really take you sledding?"

  "Oh, yes, of course he did," she said, grateful that she could answer truthfully.

  "I see," he said, his gaze so intense that she had to struggle not to look away. When she realized she was nibbling on her bottom lip, she instantly stopped, hoping he hadn't noticed. Evidently he had.

  "You know, we can always continue to get to the truth afterward, if you'd prefer."

  She had absolutely no doubt what he meant. Experience had taught her that though he was the most wonderful husband a woman could have, he was also one who didn't allow naughtiness to go unpunished, even if that naughtiness hadn't been intended.

  "Um, I-I meant that… um, Pa did take me sledding but, um, not on big hills."

  "How big? How tall were those hills?"

  "Tall? Um, I don't know exactly. I mean, I was a little girl… everything looks bigger when you are little…"

  "Were they as tall as the mountain?"

  "That wasn't a mountain, it was a… a hill." When his eyebrow lifted and his lips compressed, she knew he didn't appreciate her rather feeble attempt at distinguishing between the two. "No, sir, not that tall," she said, grateful to see his nod at her second answer.

  "I see, so, as tall as our barn?"

  Glancing towards the window as if trying to picture two-story structure that sat on the other side of their house, she again had to shake her head. "Um, no, more like the hay bales…"

  "Hay bales? In the loft?"

  "Um… not exactly. More like those in Anna's barn that day."

  "Oh no, you did not," Wyatt said. "Are you saying your pa took you down slopes as small as those bales you hid behind?"

  "No, I mean, I don't know. It seemed really tall when I was five…"

  He shook his head as he tightened his hold at her waist with one arm while reaching around to swat at her bottom with his free hand. "Agatha Mae Wilcox, I can't believe you had me practically killing us both!"

  "You said it was fun! You were laughing, too!" She squealed when another swat landed.

  "You know what they say, laugh before you cry."

  It was time to remind him of his earlier words. "Wait! What about the game you wanted to show me? Don't you want to play?"

  His grin had her tummy doing rapid somersaults. "Agatha, I have already begun," he said as he began to rake her clothing up. "Good grief," he murmured, his action pausing once her skirt was at her waist. "I forgot that you are far more knowledgeable about dressing for cold weather than I am. How much clothing are you wearing?"

  This time, her giggle wasn't stifled. "A lot," she admitted. "Unlike Teresa, I do listen to my dear husband," she said, "at least you can't fault
me for making sure I don't catch cold."

  Shaking his head, he smiled. "The only people participating in this game are you and me. The rules are as follows: you've got about two minutes to get yourself into the bedroom and get out of those ridiculous trousers, and another second to bend over our bed with your little arse up in the air waiting to be warmed."

  Seeing his smile and the look in his eyes, she said, "I assure you, dear husband, that beneath all these layers, my arse is quite warm already."

  "I assure you, dear wife, that it is nowhere near as warm as I intend to make it," he said without missing a beat.

  "You aren't really going to sp-spank me… I mean, not really spank me, are you?" she asked, suddenly a bit unsure as to where this so called game was leading.

  "My game, my rules. Now, go!" Patting her backside rather sharply, he released her and chuckled as she immediately turned to dash away.

  ***

  Standing up, he followed, making sure to stomp across the floor so that she would be well aware that her husband was coming. He was rewarded by her squeal. His cock hardened as he walked towards their bedroom door. Leaning against the frame, he grinned at the sight of his wife, struggling to peel out of not only a pair of his old trousers she'd altered, but first one and then a second pair of the red flannel drawers she'd made.

  "Oh, look, time is up," he drawled, pushing off the door frame and moving towards her.

  "What does that mean?" she asked, dropping the last set of bloomers and stepping out of them, her skirts dropping to conceal her nudity.

  "That, my dear, means you have to pay a penalty."

  "On top of a spanking? What sort of game is this?"

  "My kind. Let's see, you've lost this," he said, grabbing her and causing her to squeal louder as he began to unbutton her skirt, allowing it to drop to her feet. "Oh, and this," he said, unbuttoning her blouse and slowly removing it. As he bared her, her breath came faster and her cheeks pinkened beautifully. Cupping the heavy weight of her breasts in his palms, he stroked his thumbs across nipples that pushed against the fabric of her chemise and were already rock hard pebbles.