“I cannot go with him,” Amelia whispered.
“What? Why not? He is innocent.”
“Yes, but I’m not. I was more than willing to believe the worst of him. This marriage was ill fated from the start. I must return to my home and put this behind me. Hugh will find a more worthy wife in time,” she whispered as a tear slid down her cheek.
“Ah, such nonsense from one so young,” Tempest declared as she took Amelia’s limp arm and pulled her up. “Do you not know true love always wins, my angel? Let us wait and see how things unfold before we make any rash decision, oui?”
*
Just as Tempest predicted, men were turned away from the door one after the other all afternoon. After being told the truth, the women were furious, not only because they’d been deceived, but because a very nice man had been wronged. The Jordon family had been nothing but kind to them. Hugh and Amelia’s marriage was in tatters and a young woman who had become their friend was planning to go back east.
“Well, what shall we do now?” Ellie asked. “I don’t think any of us have the funds to return home and I, for one, have nothing to go back too.”
“I could open another dress shop, I suppose,” Martha sighed. “I still have the money from the sale of my Philadelphia shop.”
“Lucy, Lydia and I all worked in a knitting mill back in New York,” Sara said. “I don’t suppose there’s anything like that around here?”
Amelia looked helplessly at her mother-in-law.
“Ah, mademoiselles,” Tempest said. “There is no reason for such distress. You came to Seattle to find husbands, did you not?” she demanded, looking around the room as heads nodded in agreement. “Bon, then we will figure something out. You must not judge all the men by a few foolish ones. There are many men in Seattle who would not treat you so shabbily.”
“But where will we stay?” Suzanne asked.
“Here, of course,” Tempest replied smoothly. “I will assist you all in making wonderful matches.”
“But Madam, we cannot stay here indefinitely. You have put your husband out of his home,” Suzanne pointed out.
“Ah, we have, how you say…a marriage of convenience,” Tempest replied airily. “He does not mind.”
“Yes, he does, very much,” Duncan said, entering the room.
All eyes turned to the large man as Tempest spun in his direction.
“Duncan, they are all jeunes filles,” she insisted. “I cannot put them out. What would become of them?”
“Ladies, rest assured, suitable arrangements will be made. If I turned you loose in Seattle, I would be hard pressed to find one lumberjack at work the next morning,” he teased. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’ll have a word with my wife.”
“Amelia, ma petit, take the ladies upstairs while your pa pa and I discuss this.”
Sensing the tension and having already been privy to one discussion between Mr. and Mrs. Jordon, the girls scattered like leaves in a strong wind. Just before Amelia made her escape, Duncan stopped her with a hand on her arm
“Amelia, Hugh will be here soon. He’s asked that you be ready.”
Amelia said nothing as she hurried from the room.
Twenty minutes later when Hugh arrived, he found his parents in a heated discussion.
“Ah, finally a reasonable man,” Tempest cried when he entered the room. “Your pa pa would have me toss the poor Mademoiselles out on the street,” she informed her son, sending her husband a scathing look.
“That’s not what I said at all. I merely said other arrangements would have to be made.”
“What happened to all the happy bridegrooms?” Hugh asked.
“They have been refused,” Tempest crowed. “My girls will not marry liars and sneaks.”
“They are not your girls,” Duncan insisted. “You’ve only known them two days. Surely a boarding house would be a proper place for them to stay temporarily.”
“Bah, temporarily,” she sniffed. “And what boarding house would you suggest?” She planted her hands on her hips. “There are only two that could be considered habitable and they both take in male boarders. If you wish to return home, you must build me a new house!”
“What?” both men demanded at the same time.
“Oui, I would like a new home, made to my specifications,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Then and only then may your return here. I will stay with the jeunes filles until they find acceptable husbands.”
Hugh watched his father’s face darken with anger, saw the light of challenge in his mother’s eyes and cleared his throat. He’d been down this road many times and had no wish to take the journey again. “Yvette,” he called.
“Mon cher, tell your pa pa he is wrong to act this way,” Tempest insisted. “Or perhaps we can go to your house. You have, after all, eight bedrooms, oui? Yes, that would be perfect.” She smiled, clapping her hands. “You and Amelia can live here until I find husbands. There it is, all settled.”
“Yes, sir,” Yvette said softly as she hovered at the doorway.
“Go and tell my wife I’m here. I’ll send for her trunks later,” Hugh instructed.
“Yes, sir,” Yvette said, running toward the stairs, clearly happy to be away from the scene unfolding on the lower floor.
“No, it is not settled,” Duncan replied. “Hugh and Amelia are newly wed. They need privacy.”
“Then give them privacy,” she smiled coyly. “You can go and stay with Sam, or in one of the seedy boarding houses in town.”
“Monsieur Hugh,” Yvette said, looking at the floor. “Madam Amelia is indisposed. She said to tell you she has a headache and perhaps you could call another day.”
“Oh, she has a headache, does she?” Hugh said, slipping off his coat. “And she doesn’t want to be disturbed? How very unfortunate for Madam Amelia, yes, Yvette?” He rolled up his sleeves as he started toward the stairs.
“Oui, Monsieur,” Yvette gasped, her eyes wide as she backed up.
“What room is she in, Mother?” he called over his shoulder.
“Yours, but what are you going to do?” she demanded as she followed him.
Hugh didn’t answer. He took the stairs two at a time.
“Hugh, mon dieu. Come back here immediatement!” Picking up her skirts, Tempest dashed toward the stairs only to have her husband catch her with an arm around her waist.
“Release me,” she screamed, trying to pry his hands off her as he carried her to the parlor. “Amelia needs me.”
“Amelia needs her husband,” he replied, dropping her on the settee.
Instantly Tempest bounded to her feet and tried to dodge around him.
“Sit down, Tempest,” he ordered, “while you still can.”
“But I fear he is going to strike her,” she cried, struggling when he planted her back on her seat.
“It’s no our affair,” he insisted, crossing his arms and glowering down at her.
“What has come over you, Duncan?” she spat angrily. “You will allow our son to be a brute, a monster? In all these years you’ve never raised a hand to me!”
“I know,” he sighed as he walked to the window and looked out. “More’s the pity.”
Tempest looked at him, her mouth falling open in shock. Seconds later she realized she had a clear path to the door and took it. She had one foot on the stairs when her husband grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the study, slamming the door shut behind them.
“Bastard!” she screamed. “Can you not hear my angel crying out?”
“That is between Hugh and his wife.” Dragging her to a wide sofa, he sat and pulled her onto his lap. He had half a mind to turn her over his knee as she continued to struggle, digging her nails into the hands that held her prisoner, but that had to be the absolute last resort. Knowing his strength, and her fragility, he let her carry on until she collapsed back against his chest.
“I will never forgive you,” she insisted, raising her chin.
“That may b
e,” he sighed, resting his chin on the top of her head, “but I canna stand by and watch you turn our daughter-in-law into a shrew.”
“A shrew?” she screeched, kicking her legs and nailing him in the shin.
“Aye, that’s what I said,” Duncan replied, turning her on his lap until she lay in his arms like a baby.
“I will never speak to you again,” she insisted, clamping her lips tight.
Duncan chuckled. “Then I guess there are blessings to be found in every situation.”
Chapter Thirteen
At the sound of wood splintering, Amelia scrambled off the four-poster bed. Nervously she watched as Hugh used his fist to pound the door casing back into place enough to close the door.
“What are you doing in here? I told Yvette I have a headache.”
“I know,” he replied, walking further into the room. “I thought maybe I could be of some assistance,” he drawled.
“Well, you can’t. I want to be left alone.”
Hugh smiled. “It’s amazing. Barely twenty-four hours under my mother’s influence and I can see the change already.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said haughtily. “Nothing you told me about her is true. She’s lovely and someday I hope to be more like her.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” he sighed. “Come. Let’s get this over with and go home.”
“Get what over with?” she asked, backing up a step.
“Amelia, you must know I intend to spank you.”
“You’re mad!” she spat.
“No, not mad, just disappointed,” he said sadly, shaking his head. “Now come here.”
“I will not. In fact, I don’t believe I’ll be in Seattle much longer either.”
“Oh really, just where do you think you’re going?” Hugh inched closer, watching her retreat.
“I’m going home.”
“Yes, you are,” he agreed with a crooked smile.
“No, I’m going to my home, not yours. I’m not the right wife for you, obviously.”
“You’re the perfect wife for me, or you will be once you learn your place,” he informed her as he made a quick lunge for her hand.
Amelia launched herself onto the bed and rolled off the other side. Her hands clutched the cover as she leaned forward.
“And what place is that, husband? Kneeling at your feet or perhaps flat on my back in your bed,” she hissed.
Hugh laughed. “Hmm, both are appealing at the moment,” he agreed with an unholy light in his eyes. “However, the place I was talking about was by my side.”
“Why? I’ve disappointed you, maligned you. In your neediest hour, I failed to support you. I stayed silent while people said horrible things about you and I never defended you, not once,” she cried.
“I know.”
“Then why? Why do you still want me? Our marriage is cursed,” she insisted as a tear ran down her cheek.
“Sweetheart, a few days ago I promised to take care of you for the rest of your life. I was not playing and I will not release you from this marriage,” he said firmly. “You are my wife. When you need love, I will give it to you. When you are sick or frightened I will care for you, and when you need to be punished I will do that also, but I will never let you go.”
Amelia’s shoulders slumped as her head hung down, tears falling from her eyes. She never heard her husband move and it wasn’t until he took her arm that she realized the danger. Looking up into his blue eyes she saw both her fate and his determination. Despite knowing that fighting him was useless, she found she could not go willingly over his lap. Hugh sat sideways on the bed and easily pulled her over one knee, trapping her with his other leg.
“Black is such a dreary color,” he said conversationally as he lifted her skirts over her head and yanked down her pantalets. “I find I much prefer red, although the creamy color of your bottom is appealing, too. Let’s try for a vivid pink, shall we?” he suggested, rubbing her bottom briskly.
“Hugh, please, don’t do this,” she cried, her voice muffled by her skirt and petticoat.
Hugh took a moment to uncover her head.
“Can you breathe, my love?”
“Yes,” she snapped back, clenching her fists in the covers.
“Good. I want to make sure you have plenty of air.”
“Are you going to choke me also?”
“No, but I want to hear every mournful cry as you apologize profusely,” he said, giving her a smack on her ass. “Besides, it will go with your dress.”
“If it’s an apology you want, I give it freely, gladly.”
“Oh, sweetheart, that’s nice to hear. It will not get you out of the spanking you so richly deserve, but still I appreciate the effort,” he said, patting her gently.
“You are a bastard,” she screamed, repeating the word that floated up the stairs moments ago.
Five rapid swats immediately burned her cheeks. Amelia had no time to draw a breath to scream before she was crying.
“Disrespect is not something I will tolerate, Amelia. I am the much loved son of a hard-working Scotsman and a slightly crazy Frenchwoman who have been married for many years.”
“I’m sorry,” she sniffed, wishing she dared to reach back and soothe her hot bottom.
“You are free to do all the things women do when they are getting their bottoms blistered, but you will not call me names,” he informed her, “or we will be repeating this when we get home.”
Amelia nodded miserably. “Can we please just get it over with!”
Hugh didn’t answer, but he did as she requested.
Swat after swat fell on her poor unprotected bottom, each one more painful than the last. At first, it seemed very methodical as he moved from one side to the other and she tried to brace herself. When he realized what she was doing, he changed his pattern so she never knew where his hand was going to land. She quickly realized what he’d done to her in her hotel room was nothing compared to this. It had been a minor occurrence that seemed almost funny at this point in time. This, this was not remotely funny. It was horrendous and embarrassing and she bit her lip to keep from informing the entire household what was taking place in her bedroom.
Hugh watched her lovely cheeks go from cream to pink in a very short time. Her moans and cries were muffled to a certain extent in the bedclothes. Pausing, he reached up to brush the hair away from her cheeks.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she sniffed, looking at him over her shoulder, her eyes watering. “Are you done?”
Hugh laughed. His little bride was tougher than he’d given her credit for, but he was not leaving this room until she begged his forgiveness or her ass burst into flames, which ever came first. This was not a lesson he planned to repeat on a regular basis, at least he hoped not. There were many more pleasurable things he wanted to do with her body. If need be, he would not hesitate to spank her, but currently his cock was painfully erect, stroked by each lurch of her hips. Resuming her spanking, he moved his hand to the tops of her thighs, cupping upward to catch the lower curve of each cheek.
“Please, please, stop,” she begged, beseeching him with her eyes.
“Now? When we’re finally getting somewhere? No, I don’t think so.”
Five minutes later she was sobbing, begging his forgiveness, blubbering promises he could not decipher. It seemed she no longer cared who heard her pleas and he breathed a sigh of relief. After giving her ten more very painful smacks, he stopped, rubbing her bottom. Not the kindest thing to do at the moment, but very well deserved in his opinion. He saw he’d moved beyond vivid pink and her sweet ass was bordering on fuchsia, but whatever it took, he would provide.
Sliding her off his knee, he stood and picked her up in his arms before sitting back down.
Her tears quickly soaked his shirt as he cooed nonsensical words of love in her ear. “Shh, it’s all over, my love,” he said, kissing her hair as he cradled her in his strong arms.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she sobbed into his chest.
“I know. In time you will learn to have more faith in me,” he whispered, nuzzling her ear.
About one more wiggle of her bottom and he would be flipping her skirts back up, bringing about a different type of cry from her lips. Carefully, he disengaged her arms from his neck and placed her on the bed, trying unsuccessfully not to enjoy her hiss.
“I’m going downstairs to speak with my parents. I would not be a bit surprised to find my father has my mother hog-tied to prevent her from coming to your aid,” he said, leaning over her and kissing her nose. “When you have composed yourself, come down and we will go home.”
“That may be in a few days,” she quipped with a groan.
Hugh shook his head. “Twenty minutes,” he warned. “I’m told a cold cloth on your eyes will help.”
As soon as Hugh entered the study, his mother insisted Duncan set her free. Hugh shook his head no and poured a drink. Rolling down his sleeves, he fastened the cuffs, smiling while his mother glared at him.
“You are evil, the both of you,” she said fiercely. “Let me go to her, she needs me.”
“Kindly give my wife a few minutes to pull herself together,” Hugh said, sitting down. Crossing his long legs, he rested his ankle on his knee.
“What have you done to her, you brute?” Tempest gasped.
“Nothing she didn’t deserve. You’ve been a terrible influence on her, Mother,” he said with a smile.
“Moi? Do you think I did not hear her cries? It is you who are terrible. Let me go at once, Duncan. I want to slap your son. If she has even one bruise on her, I swear I will take a whip to you, Hugh.”
“I don’t think she does, but I must admit her bottom was most colorful when I got done.”
“Mon Dieu, please let me comfort her, Duncan,” she pleaded, resting her hand on her husband’s cheek.
Duncan looked over her head at his son, releasing her when Hugh nodded his assent.
Amelia (The Marriage Market Book 1) Page 12