Suzanna

by Stevie MacFarlane

  “And she will if she can get rid of you in some way,” Effie insisted. “Fine, you give her the benefit of the doubt if you want to. I won’t try to dissuade you anymore, but as far as Sam, I saw the way she threw herself at him even after Ma Ma told her he was going to marry me. Not to mention she called me ‘a skinny little northern tramp’ after she insulted you.”

  “I know, Effie, I know,” Amelia replied, rubbing her temple. “Suzanna is volatile. I wish you could forgive her, give her another chance, but I’ll understand if you can’t.”

  “That would, at the very least, require an apology from her, which I have not received. You and Grace are my best friends and always will be, but unless something happens to change my opinion of that conceited vixen, I would appreciate it if you would exclude me from any doings that include Suzanna Jefferies.” Sailing out of the room, Effie went down the stairs to search out her new husband. The wedding night couldn’t come soon enough for her.

  Chapter Two

  Hugh drove a wagon full of chattering women back to his home that night. The next week promised to be interesting if not frustrating as hell. His house had become home to a boat load of mail order brides. They’d all come west in response to his advertisement for a wife and it seemed he was stuck with them. Of course, that same advertisement had also given him the lovely Amelia as a bride, so he couldn’t be too angry. Now that she was in his life, he had to wonder how he’d gone all those years not knowing her, loving her.

  The child they were expecting was welcome even though he personally would have liked to have Amelia all to himself for a while longer. It was not to be. They were combustible in bed and could barely keep their hands off each other during the daylight hours. It stood to reason their love would produce a child sooner rather than later.

  For the first few months of their marriage, they had the exclusive use of Sam’s house and Sam graciously moved back into their parents’ home. Hugh’s home was much bigger and there were, after all, a lot of single women to provide for. Now Hugh and Amelia were returning to their own home with the ‘brides,’ allowing Sam and Effie some privacy. Eventually Sam and Effie, Hugh and Amelia and Grace and Jonah would reside together, leaving the biggest house for the single women. Now that would be interesting, he thought.

  From the beginning, he thought Amelia was trouble in a beautiful package. She was very independent, strong willed, and when it came to women’s rights and the suffragette movement, determined. Now that he’d met her very best friends from the east, Grace and Effie, he realized he’d managed to marry the most reasonable and level headed one of the lot and was grateful for it. Reaching out, he took his wife’s hand and gave it a squeeze. There was no point in trying to talk to her, the noise and giggling from the wagon bed was near deafening.

  “Didn’t Effie look beautiful?” Sarah sighed.

  “I think Sam looked wonderfully handsome,” Lydia added.

  “Yes, yes he did. He’s such an attractive man and so attentive to Effie,” Mary agreed.

  “But still, that dress she wore. I understand Mrs. Jordan wore it when she married. Isn’t that romantic?” Lucy gushed.

  “Many brides wear their mother’s dresses,” Jane pointed out.

  “Yes, but this was from Paris…”

  “And so was the dress Mrs. Jordon wore tonight. Wasn’t that blue silk just the loveliest thing you’ve ever seen? Martha, what are you going to wear when you wed Ethan?” Clara asked.

  “I haven’t decided yet,” Martha replied.

  “Well what are you waiting for?” Ellie demanded.

  “We’re not getting married for several months,” Martha insisted. “I have plenty of time.”

  “Really? I thought you were getting married right away,” Suzanna remarked thoughtfully.

  “He wants to, but I won’t be rushed.”

  “Why ever not?” Lucy inquired. “You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

  “Hush, Lucy,” Jane scolded. “That’s a very rude comment. Martha will marry when she’s ready.”

  “What about you, Jane?” Mary asked. “Are you going to marry Dr. Martin and send for your children?”

  “Not that it’s any of your concern,” Jane replied crisply, “but we haven’t discussed marriage yet. It’s a big step and I’ve only started working as his nurse. We’ll need to wait and see if we’re suited.”

  “Don’t wait too long, Jane,” Suzanna advised. “Someone may swoop in and steal the good doctor right out from under your nose.”

  “Well, that someone better not be one of you,” Jane warned. The lantern attached to the back of the wagon illuminated the faces surrounding her quite clearly.

  “None of us would ever do that,” Sarah insisted indignantly. “Besides, he’s old,” she added with a giggle.

  “Not so very old,” Jane stated softly, thinking about Dr. Martin’s rather fine physique. “What about you, Suzanna?” she asked, changing the subject. “When are you and Marshal Hadley tying the knot?”

  “I’m not sure,” Suzanna replied, looking away. “There’s an awful lot to do to make his house presentable. Why back home our servant quarters were in better shape.”

  “Maybe you should have stayed there,” Charlotte finally spoke up. “You don’t seem very happy here in the northwest.”

  “It’s cold and damp here. I’m used to the sunshine and warm weather of Georgia. My shoes and the hem of my dresses are always impossibly muddy. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with this place that money couldn’t fix,” she added, straightening her skirt.

  “Well, we love it here,” Lydia said, looking at Sarah and Lucy for confirmation. “New York City gets so hot and humid in the summer you can hardly draw a breath. We were packed into the mill we worked at like fish in a barrel.”

  “Yes,” Lucy agreed, “and it was the same where we slept. Not a breath of breeze, the air so close you could cut it with a knife. Never enough clean water to bathe, never enough to eat. I often wondered if we’d live long enough to get out of there. I’m glad to be here,” she finished softly with a shiver.

  Ellie reached over and squeezed her hand.

  “Well, we’re all here together now, so we’d best help each other,” she suggested.

  “What about you, Ellie? When are you going to wed your Charles?”

  Ellie blushed. “We want to get to know each other better,” she explained quietly.

  “Has he asked you yet?”

  “Not exactly, but he’s going to. I’m sure of it.” Her blonde head bent and she brushed at a spot on her dress.

  “Maybe he hasn’t asked because you’re tall enough to hunt geese with a rake?” Suzanna said nastily and laughed.

  “No, he said my height doesn’t bother him,” Ellie replied.

  “Suzanna, that’s quite enough,” Jane snapped. “None of us are perfect or we’d never have had to come this far to find a husband, not even you,” she continued, looking pointedly at the younger woman. “Pretty is as pretty does. It’s best you remember that. In fact, it might be best for you to marry the marshal right away before he finds out how truly cruel and sharp-tongued you can be.”

  “I’d have found a suitable husband easily if nearly all the good men back home weren’t either killed or maimed in the war,” she drawled, sticking her nose in the air.

  “You mean all the older men with money,” Charlotte said under her breath. “I can quite picture you as the grieving widow of some man old enough to be your father.”

  “What, no first cousins hanging around?” Lydia asked with a snug expression. “I hear southerners always marry their first cousins to keep their bloodline pure.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “Oh, you meant all the wealthy men were gone,” Sara added snidely, finally catching on.

  “Girls, please,” Martha cried. “Can’t we talk about something nice instead of all this bickering? I thought the wedding cake was divine.”

  “Oh it was, it surely was,” Mary put in. �
��Although I don’t ever recall seeing a wedding cake with chocolate icing before, it was simply stunning.”

  “And that kiss,” Clara said with a giggle. “I swear my heart nearly stopped. Herman was mopping his face with his handkerchief after that.”

  “Well, all I can say is that Euphemia Lane is one lucky woman,” Charlotte said as she sighed. “Goodness, I’m tired,” she continued with a yawn. “I believe I’m going straight to bed and sleep with my piece of cake under my pillow.”

  “Why ever for?” Lucy asked, frowning.

  “They say if you sleep with a slice of wedding cake under your pillow you’ll dream of the man you’re going to marry,” Charlotte explained.

  “Does it work? Is that true?”

  “I’ll let you know in the morning,” Charlotte said with a laugh, jumping from the back of the wagon as soon as it stopped.

  “I think I’ll save mine,” Sara said. “I’d hate to eat it tonight and find out it does work.”

  “Not me,” Lydia added, leaping off the wagon. “I’m eating it tonight before I go to sleep, every last bite.”

  “What about you, Lucy?” Jane asked as Hugh helped her from the wagon. “Are you going to sleep on your cake?”

  “No, ma’am,” Lucy replied sadly. “I ate mine on the ride home.”

  “Here, take mine, dear,” Jane offered smiling.

  “No, thank you. I don’t think I want to dream of Dr. Martin,” she called over her shoulder as she ran up the steps and into the house.

  “Good grief, Jane,” Hugh remarked as he lifted the last woman down who happened to be Suzanna. He ignored the fact that she clung to him a little longer than necessary and turned her toward the house. “How do you tolerate it?”

  “Tolerate what, Mr. Jordon?”

  “Their constant chattering and arguing. If I thought it would do any good, I’d have ripped my ears off.”

  Amelia, standing beside him, slipped her arm through his and laughed.

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” Jane began. “What are you going to do about Sara, Lucy and Lydia? They’re very young and not marriage material at all right now.”

  “Funny you should mention that, Jane,” he replied. “As it happens, my wife knows of a very good school back east. Miss Pettigrew’s I believe. Perhaps the girls would benefit from a year or two under her guidance.”

  “An excellent idea, Mr. Jordon. They say they’re eighteen but I don’t believe a one of them is over sixteen and, as you no doubt heard, they haven’t had an easy life.”

  “No, I can see that. Mrs. Jordon and I will discuss it and come to a decision in the next few days. Goodnight, and try not to get icing in your hair,” he teased as he led a laughing Amelia into the house.

  “I’ll do my best,” Jane promised with a grin. Slowly, Jane walked up the path to the house. She knew her chances of finding happiness at her age were slim, but she’d answered the ad anyway. Instead of a husband, she found herself in charge of a passel of young women looking for husbands. Thankfully, the man who replied to her letter was honorable. The doctor was widowed, as she was and had already agreed to send for her two young children whenever she was ready. In fact, she didn’t have to marry him at all. He would provide for her family and keep her on as a nurse/midwife if that’s what she chose. Unfortunately, she was no closer to making a decision now than she had been two months ago and the damn man still hadn’t kissed her.

  How was a woman supposed to make up her mind without at least a kiss or two?

  * * *

  Effie rode to her new home in the same carriage Sam had used to bring her back from the Payne Hotel the night she’d shot Horace Remington. That night she’d spent the entire trip sobbing against his chest as he held her with one arm and the reins with the other. Afterward, she’d been appalled at her weakness; tonight she was weak for a totally different reason.

  Seated sideways on Sam’s lap, he held the reins in his left hand while his right remained firmly beneath her dress, her mewling cries had no tears attached to them.

  “Sam, please,” she pleaded breathlessly.

  “What?”

  Effie snorted in a very unladylike manner and clamped her sharp white teeth down on his ear.

  “Ouch! I was wondering how long you were going to behave,” he laughed, tugging his ear away from her. “After all, I am your lord and master now.”

  “Lord and master, my ass,” she replied, wiggling as his long fingers stroked her cleft. “Oh.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Jordon, I now own you, lock, stock and barrel,” he crowed.

  “That’s what you think, Mr. Jordon,” she moaned breathlessly.

  “It’s what I know,” he repeated, obviously delighted with his bargain. “All it takes is one little finger, placed in exactly the right spot, like so,” he continued as he demonstrated, “and I can make you do anything I want.”

  “Sam,” she cried.

  “And if I use two,” he whispered, slipping a finger inside her, “you’ll follow me anywhere.”

  “Oh my God, Sam please let me…”

  “Not yet, my love,” he insisted, grinning.

  “You’re so mean to leave me like this. I hate you!”

  “You love me, and what’s more, you love everything I do to your delectable little body, no matter how wicked and deviant, at least so far. Besides, I have to punish you before I can let you come.”

  “For what?” she demanded, squirming to get his finger where she wanted it.

  “You bit me,” he reminded her as he dodged her clit each time she moved.

  “It’s going to be a long night, isn’t it?” she sighed, forcing herself to accept the inevitable.

  “You have no idea how long,” he growled, patting her pussy gently. Stopping the carriage, Sam kissed her passionately before scooting her off his lap and getting down. Scooping her into his arms, he strode to the house and over the threshold but, instead of carrying her upstairs to his bedroom, he turned toward the kitchen.

  “Don’t you move an inch,” he ordered after setting her on her feet.

  He wasn’t gone long, unhitching the horse in the barn and leading him to his stall, but still he was surprised to find her exactly where he’d left her.

  “Good girl,” he praised, kissing her sweetly. “Too bad you’ve already earned a spanking.”

  “And you’re so sorry you have to spank me,” she drawled sarcastically.

  “No, I admit it, I’m looking forward to it,” he grinned, spinning her around and undoing the multitude of buttons from her neck to the curve of her ass.

  “Aren’t you going to take me up to bed?” she asked as he slipped the dress over her head.

  “Eventually.”

  “Sam, it’s our wedding night. I want to go to bed,” she insisted, stomping her foot.

  “Perfect,” he laughed. “Throwing a little tantrum, another reason to redden those cheeks.”

  “But darling…” she cried as he untied her petticoat and let it drop.

  “Love the corset,” he purred, stepping up behind her and letting his hands encircle her to cup her breasts. Nuzzling her neck, he took hold of the thin chemise covering her breasts and pulled it down until it supported them from beneath. “But these have to go,” he continued, grasping her cobweb thin drawers and tearing them off with one tug. Effie gasped and shivered. Sam pressed against her bottom, hard, his own groan of pleasure escaping.

  Stepping back, his fingers sank into her hair, pulling out pins until it tumbled down her back in a blonde mass of curls.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured before moving away and pulling out a chair. Taking a seat, he called her name and patted his lap. “Come here, my naughty little bride, and take what’s coming to you,” he ordered with a wicked grin.

  Effie turned, biting her lower lip and eying him warily. She was magnificent. Blushing cheeks, bare breasts swelling over the top of her tightly cinched ivory corset, ivory stockings covering her legs and held up by pink garters trimmed in tiny
roses and she was walking slowly toward him in her ivory high-heeled button up shoes. He was a lucky man indeed. Her sweet pussy was completely bare, not a curly hair in sight and he’d almost come when he first delved under her dress in the carriage, it was so soft and warm. Too overcome at the time to ask her about it, he questioned her now.

  “Who told you you could shave that sweet pussy?” he demanded, forcing a harsh tone into his voice. “It belongs to me.”

  “Well, when I shaved it, it belonged to me,” she shot back as she glared at him. “I thought you’d like it.”

  “I do, but you could have injured yourself.”

  Effie snorted. “Not likely,” she sniffed just before he grabbed her hand and pulled her over his knees. “Oh.”

  “In the future you must ask your husband before you modify any part of your body. Is that understood?” he barked as he caressed her bottom.

  “Umm…”

  “Oh, you are a naughty girl,” he said almost sadly as his fingers slipped between her thighs and played in her creamy slit. “Imagine, newly married today, about to spend her first night as a wife and already so very wet. Tsk, tsk.”

  “And who’s fault is that?” she sassed, wiggling to get up.

  “It’s mine,” he admitted freely with a laugh as he lightly slapped both cheeks. “It would be my greatest delight to train you so well that all I would have to do is whisper ‘Euphemia, I want you, open’ and your body would instantly ready itself for my possession in any way I chose to take it.”

  “Don’t hold your breath,” she hissed over her shoulder.

  “And don’t hold yours in that tight corset,” he advised. “Your spanking is about to commence.”

  Chapter Three

  Apparently she thought he was kidding, for she laughed. It was premature.

  Sam did spank her, quite gently at first until her bottom was pink and warm and Effie was raising her bottom to meet each smack. He had given this much consideration throughout the day and came to the conclusion that there was no point in wasting this opportunity. As her husband, the job of reining her in when she got out of hand would fall to him. He would not make the same mistakes his father made. Love for her would not blind him to her faults and he would not excuse them and pray for peace in his home; he would ensure it with discipline when necessary.