The sight that met his eyes stunned him. His new wife was standing in the corner, her nose to the wall.
Charlotte was wearing a long white nightdress that allowed the light to outline her curves. Her dark hair fell loosely to her waist, curling above her sweet bottom. On the bed was her wooden hairbrush and he could hear her sniffling.
“What is it, honey?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.
“I want you to spank me, Cole,” she croaked out, her head dropping.
“Why?”
“I’ve done wrong,” she sniffed, “and I don’t want our marriage to start out this way.”
“I see,” he replied thoughtfully. “Is this because of what I said at Hugh and Amelia’s?”
“Partly, but mostly because you were right, I did lie to you. And I would have let you marry Suzanna even though it would have broken my heart.”
“I forgive you,” Cole insisted softly as he went to her and turned her around to face him. Tipping her chin up, he gave her a gentle kiss before pulling her against him.
“Would you have forgiven me if we’d made a child?” she asked looking up at him with tear filled eyes. “If I’d been forced to marry a logger and you never knew you had a son or a daughter?”
Cole stiffened. The answer to that was no. He’d never have forgiven her for that. Never.
“It’s our wedding night, honey. I don’t want to spank you. I see your point, but it didn’t happen that way,” he whispered.
“Because of you, Cole; only because of you, don’t you see? You did the right thing. I didn’t,” she cried.
Suddenly he understood. Charlotte needed this. Guilt and remorse were not enough; she needed to be held accountable by him, her husband. She needed his forgiveness, but not until she’d paid the price for her foolishness. How in hell had he ended up with such a remarkable woman?
Taking her hand, Cole nodded and pulled her to the bed. Sitting down he gently guided her over his lap arranging her so she had the comfort of the bed beneath her upper body. Slowly, he pulled up her nightdress until it rested above her waist.
She was already crying and he rubbed her pretty bottom for a few moments to soothe her.
“You’ve been very naughty, little wife,” he scolded firmly, smacking both cheeks with one huge hand. He watched in fascination as the pink handprint appeared immediately. “Keeping secrets from me is not something I’ll tolerate,” he continued, smacking her again, “and it’s not the way our marriage is going to go.”
“Yes, Cole,” she whimpered.
“You need to understand that lying to me hurts me, sweetie, and it will land you in this position each and every time,” he informed her, smacking her three times in quick succession.
“Oh, I know, I’m so sorry,” Charlotte cried, kicking her feet.
“I love what you did to the house, baby,” he cooed, rubbing her cheeks, “but not what you almost did to us.” His hand fell several times after he’d given her a few moments to absorb his words.
“I wanted you to have a nice place,” she sobbed. “I never intended for… the other to happen.”
“That,” he snapped, spanking her bottom quite briskly, “was the best night of my life, up until tonight.”
“It was?” she asked, looking at him over her shoulder as tears flowed down her cheeks.
“Yes, it was,” he assured her. “Now tonight may well be taking first place.”
“Why? I mean other than it’s our wedding night. You already took the only thing I had to give.”
“You’re wrong, sweetheart. Tonight you’ve given me something even more precious than your virgin body; you’ve given me your trust. You’ve come to me asking for forgiveness and surrendered to my guidance, my judgment. Have you any idea what that does to a man?”
“No,” she whispered. “I just wanted to do the right thing, sort of put this behind us.”
“And you have. Never again will we discuss this after tonight. It will be as though we’ve loved each other all along and were meant to be together, but I will always treasure your submission to me and love you all the more for it. Now is this hairbrush here for any particular reason?” he asked.
“I thought you might want it,” she admitted, resting her head on the bed.
He could see her small hands gripping the covers and smiled. There was no need for anything so harsh tonight; however, he had a job to finish. It was for her that he raised his hand and spanked her until she was openly weeping. There was no anger in his heart, but he knew instinctively that she needed to be punished in order to forgive herself, so he continued until her heartbreaking cries were more than he could stand.
After, he held her for a long time soothing and stroking her until she quieted. Then he loved her as he intended using his mouth and his body to change her cries of pain and remorse into pleas for a release of a different kind. The sound of his name on her lips as she surrendered to him body and soul were the sweetest he’d ever heard.
Chapter Eleven
It had been three days since she arrived in Portland and Suzanna had yet to lay eyes on Mr. Ferguson despite having strolled up and down the streets until her soles were worn thin. Even the empty hatboxes she toted with her so she could claim she was in Portland on a shopping expedition seemed to weigh more each day. Broke and disheartened, she moved from the hotel into a boarding house run by a large Norwegian woman she could barely understand and she was only paid up until the end of the week. If something didn’t happen soon, she would be forced to find employment and there weren’t many prospects for a girl like her.
She’d already sold her stolen treasures at Bennett’s, a store that bragged, “We Sell, We Buy, We Trade” when, in fact, what the old man really did was swindle. It was appalling how little she’d gotten for those sapphire hair combs, she thought dismally as she trudged on.
Her feet hurt and the stylish traveling suit was no longer light mint green, but more of a dusty drab color somewhere between mold and olive with a hem that showed many mud stains. The jaunty feather on her new bonnet was now drooping nearly to her chin and the more she tried to straighten it, the worse it looked.
It wasn’t difficult to find out where Mr. Ferguson lived. Most of the townspeople were only too happy to point out his splendid home, high upon a rise over looking Portland. There was a steep drive leading to the impressive structure making it highly unlikely she would happen by so she kept to the area where the Ferguson Timber Office was located hoping to run into him entering or leaving the premises.
Several times she’d run into that Dalton man. He seemed to be nearby no matter where she went. She noticed him coming and going from the sheriff’s office, the telegraph office, the hotel and the day she went to Bennett’s, he was coming in just as she was leaving. He always tipped his hat and spoke, enquiring how she was enjoying her time in Portland and asking after her fiancé.
It was a little unnerving to say the least, but not nearly as unsettling as failing to renew her acquaintance with Mr. Ferguson, such as it was.
Finally, in desperation on the day before she was to vacate the boarding house, she took it upon herself to seek out Mr. Ferguson at his place of business. She’d cleaned and pressed her suit to the best of her ability and freshened up her bonnet by taking the forlorn feather off and replacing it with a band of ribbon she filched from the mercantile when no one was looking. Funny, it seemed Dalton was there that day too.
“I’d like to speak with Mr. Ferguson,” she said, smiling sweetly at the head clerk.
“I’m sorry miss, I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” the man replied, peering at her over his spectacles. “Mr. Ferguson is not available.”
“I’m sure he’ll be available to me,” she drawled, smoothing her skirt and causing it to swing like a bell. “Tell him Miss Suzanna Jefferies of Seattle is here requesting a moment of his time,” she simpered.
“I said he’s not available to see anyone,” the clerk repeated.
“Nonsense
, now you go right on in there and do as I ask,” she insisted, pointing at the door with Mr. Ferguson’s name in big gold letters.
“Nope, won’t do any good. He’s not here.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Suzanna snapped indignantly. “Where is he?”
“I did say so,” he grunted shaking his head. “As far as where he is, I don’t see that’s any of your business, but I’ve seen your kind afore and I’ve a feeling you won’t be easy to get rid of, so I’ll tell you. He’s gone off chasing some young thing he met at a party in Seattle a week or so ago, and I don’t reckon he’ll be back any time soon.”
“That’s me, you fool,” Suzanna screeched, whacking him with her parasol. “He’s gone off chasing me. Good heavens, what am I going to do now?”
“Is your name Elinor?”
“No, I already told you it’s Suzanna, Miss Suzanna Jefferies.”
“Now see here, young woman, it’s none of my business who he’s chasing, but I don’t take kindly to females who don’t know their place and swat at innocent men. Now you take yourself on out of here before I call…”
“Oh, never mind,” Suzanna cried, spinning on her heel. “He’ll be back and he’ll find me. Have no doubt, you odious little man, that when he does I will inform him of how I was treated in this establishment and you will be dismissed,” she hissed furiously before slamming the door behind her.
The clerk snorted.
“You think you’re the first hussy who has sailed in here trying to catch herself a rich husband? In my day women weren’t so forward.” Rolling his eyes, he returned to his work.
Suzanna paced the boardwalk in front of the building before stomping off and running smack dab into the broad chest of Dalton.
“Miss Suzanna,” he cried, grasping her shoulders in his hands lest she fall. “Is everything all right?”
“Kindly remove your hands from my person. I’m fine, and of course everything is all right,” she hissed, patting her hair. “What are you doing? Are you following me?” she accused, her brown eyes flashing.
“No, ma’am, it was you who plowed into me if you recall. I merely meant to keep you from falling on your sweet little bustle,” he replied with a grin as he released her shoulders. “Allow me to escort you to your destination in the absence of your fiancé.” Taking her arm in a firm grip, she had little choice but to allow it.
“Where is Marshal Hadley?” he inquired casually as they walked along.
“Who?”
“Marshal Hadley, your fiancé? It was my understanding that you came here to meet him.”
“Oh, yes, Marshal Hadley. Unfortunately, he’s been delayed. A big case he’s working on or something so I’ve been left here to fend for myself, but I guess that’s to be expected when you’re to wed a lawman,” she sighed. “They are always off somewhere fighting criminals.”
“I expect so,” he replied.
They walked along quietly for a spell until Suzanna realized they were standing in front of the boarding house and looked at him suspiciously.
“Miss Suzanna, since we’re both here in town, on our own so to speak, perhaps you would care to have dinner with me tonight?” he asked, looking down at her but not releasing her arm.
“Well, I don’t know,” she murmured, lowering her eyes. “I am engaged after all.” But oh, a meal in a real restaurant sounded so heavenly compared to the potato pancakes that accompanied nearly each dinner at the boarding house. “Where did you have in mind for dinner?” she asked, weighing her options.
“I thought we could go to that new restaurant that just opened. I hear they have an orchestra.”
“So it would be formal attire?” she drawled thoughtfully, thinking of how nice it would be to wear something other than her green suit. “Have you formal attire?”
Dalton laughed.
“Don’t you worry about me, ma’am.”
“Very well, Mr. Dalton,” she finally said. “What time will you call for me?”
“Eight o’clock, ma’am and it’s Dalton, just Dalton.”
“That’s absurd,” she sighed in frustration. “Everyone has a last name.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, tipping his hat before walking away.
Suzanna hurried up the steps and into the house. She didn’t care if his name was Crabapple McGee; she was going to get to wear her new dress and eat a thick, juicy steak or a slab of roast beef. Hopefully, Mr. Ferguson would show up in Portland soon. Surely once he realized she was no longer in Seattle, he would return home.
The words of the clerk popped into her head and stopped her as she walked into the kitchen. Elinor? No, it simply wasn’t possible, she laughed.
“I won’t be here for dinner, Mrs. Gunderson. I’m going out tonight,” she informed her landlady.
“Ya that’s fine. Yust remember your rent is due day after tomorrow.”
Suzanna nodded and went up to her room.
Dalton walked down the boardwalk with a grim expression on his face. He’d learned quite a bit about Miss Suzanna Jefferies in the last few days, none of it good. It was hard for him to reconcile the golden haired angel of his dreams to the bratty little miscreant she apparently was. How could that lovely bundle of southern charm be a thief, liar and a cheat? Over the last few days, he’d tried to make up excuses for her behavior. Maybe she was desperate, often people acted out during trying times. He believed every word she said when he boarded the stagecoach thinking Cole must have been called away to Portland and she was going to meet him.
The telegraphs in his pocket confirmed her story had been nothing but horseshit. She hadn’t been running to Cole, but running from him. All right, maybe she didn’t want to get married any more than Cole did, but no one was holding a gun to her head.
After informing Cole of Suzanna’s whereabouts, Cole asked him to remain in Portland. He wanted to know what Suzanna was up to as she’d been accused of taking several pieces of jewelry when she left the Jordon’s house as well as getting money out of Hugh Jordon under false pretenses.
Dalton agreed but in his heart he really didn’t believe Suzanna was capable of such deception. When Suzanna left Bennett’s he found out just how wrong he’d been. Mr. Bennett was not particularly inclined to discuss his business dealings with the young lady until Dalton flashed the star under his vest. Knowing he had no time to hide the items in question, he surrendered them to the deputy marshal who paid him the small amount of money he was out.
As the week wore on, Dalton watched her walk up and down the main streets carrying some packages. To other’s it would appear she’d been doing quite a bit of shopping, but he knew better and it galled him that he couldn’t figure out what she was up to. She did not look for employment as far as he could tell. When she went into a restaurant, she sat by the windows and ordered tea. It appeared she was either waiting for someone or looking for someone.
It didn’t become clear until today when she’d marched into the Ferguson Timber office and demanded to see the owner. Standing just outside the door, Dalton heard the entire conversation. How could he not? Half the town probably heard her screeching, he thought shaking his head as he crossed the street to the hotel.
So it was Ferguson she was after. He’d seen her flirting with him at the Jordon wedding when he went to ask for Marshal Hadley’s help. Dalton hadn’t stayed long at the wedding, but it was long enough. Suzanna set her cap for the man then and there realizing he was wealthy. The elaborate charade she’d played since then was impressive. Most likely she thought she could run back to Cole if things didn’t work out. Dalton wondered how she’d take being disabused of that notion tonight.
Yes, the little lady’s options were limited and becoming more so by the minute. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to paddle her ass and wash his hands of her or cart her back to Seattle to clean up the mess she left behind. At the very least she should be forced to return the things she’d stolen and apologize to the Jordon’s for abusing their hospitality.
Dalton kicked off his boots and unbuckled his gun belt once he got in his room. Laying his long frame on the bed, he put his hands behind his head and considered his options. Suzanna Jefferies was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever laid eyes on. Hell, he wanted her, and he could have her too. It would be as simple as securing a letter from the bank showing her how much he was worth.
Now that his name was cleared he could settle anywhere he chose, building a fancy home that would far surpass anything he’d seen so far in the northwest. If he wanted to, he could go east. His grandfather would love nothing more than to add Dalton’s name in bright gold letters to the businesses he owned in New York, Boston, Philadelphia or Chicago.
When Suzanna asked if he had formal attire, he’d almost laughed. If only she knew, but no, that would be a big mistake. He didn’t want a woman he could buy, he wanted a woman who loved him and, at this point, he was no longer sure Suzanna was capable of loving anyone, at least not as much as she loved herself. It would take time to figure out what made that woman tick besides money. What a shame it would be if there was nothing more to Suzanna than a pretty face and figure, he sighed. Closing his eyes, he drifted off to sleep, plagued by the dream of her walking down the aisle in a beautiful white dress.
At six o’clock he requested a bath, folded his long frame into the copper tub and lit a cigar. On a stool next to the tub sat a glass of bourbon; he sipped as he washed. Uncertainty gnawed at his belly. Some people, including women were just genuinely corrupt. He’d learned that during the short time he’d been in the employee of Horace Remington.
There was no redemption for some people, no saving grace, and no spark of human kindness. All there was was greed; a single-minded determination to win at any cost. Was Suzanna that type of woman? Was she a naughty girl who could be straightened out, or just plain selfish and wicked? It bothered him. He’d made mistakes, poor choices in the past, accepted others at face value. Now he didn’t trust his own judgment. It didn’t sit well with him.
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