by Lee Savino
“Good.” She heard the relief in his voice. He tugged her hand, pulling her in for a kiss, and when it was done he let her go serve herself. Throughout breakfast, he hummed happily, not noticing her silence.
“Miles?” she asked at last. “Do you remember what happened last night?”
“Aye,” he said with smug satisfaction. “You lost control and bit me. Twice.”
He smiled at her horrified expression. “Don’t worry, little wife. I enjoyed it.” He tapped her nose before clapping on his hat and heading for the door. “I think I’ll keep you.”
*****
By the time he returned for dinner, he noticed her subdued manner.
“Still aching?”
She mumbled something like assent, and scurried to her place at the fire. He was so handsome. She never thought his rawboned face would bring her such pleasure to look at it. But now, in the tiny cabin, his presence seemed to fill the place to every corner.
“We’ll not be together tonight, then,” he told her, and she felt her heart sink, even though she had gained what she wanted.
She did not escape total intimacy with him, however, for after dinner, he asked permission to brush her hair.
“Yes, husband,” she allowed. He settled onto the bed and she followed, sitting in front of him, pulling a blanket over her nightgown. Slowly, reverently, he spread her chestnut waves over her shoulders, then started to stroke her hair.
At first she sat straight and stiff in front of him, but eventually his touches wore her down. She basked in the sensation of his fingers and the pull of the hairbrush through her thick tresses. Sitting in a shining pool of her hair, she glowed, feeling pretty and cared for. Her husband’s hands were so strong, yet gentle. Her thoughts turned to the memory of their lovemaking, and she flushed.
“When I was young, I thought the way a woman got with child was when God touched her. Like Mary the mother of Jesus. First a visit from an angel, then God touched you and gave you a baby.” She heard Miles chuckle behind her, and she continued talking to take her mind off the pleasing sensations. “Then I heard the gossips at church speaking of a girl who became pregnant at fourteen, and they muttered about it.” She fell silent, feeling a pang of memory. Miles’ smooth strokes never faltered, and she felt grateful he couldn’t see her face.
“Anyway, I didn’t understand. I thought if she’d been visited by an angel, and then God touched her and gave her a child, how could anyone blame her?”
“Children are a gift from heaven, but I’m glad I have a part in making them. The good Lord knew what He was doing when he invented coupling between a man and woman,” he said from behind her, and she almost gasped at his matter fact tone.
She cleared her throat. “I’m glad you are satisfied, Mr. Donovan.”
“Call me, Miles.” He tugged her hair. “And yes, it was magnificent. You were especially delicious, wife. I have no complaints.”
Her blush deepened until her cheeks felt like hot coals. Then she had a thought and twisted around, pulling her hair out of his hands. “I never had a man touch me that way before, Miles,” she said. “You are my first.”
“I know, sweetheart,” he said, seeing her stricken face. “You were a virgin. I could tell.”
She remembered the twinge of pain and blood at their first coupling, and turned her back to him again. “Oh, yes. Of course.”
The hairbrush resumed its patient strokes.
“I’m not a harlot,” she whispered, too low for him to hear—or so she thought.
The brushing stopped, and then Miles had his hand on her shoulders, turning her shamed face to his.
“You are not, nor could you ever be, a harlot,” he told her. His voice was mild, but her body stiffened. Pain shot through her, an old wound reopening.
“Sweet Carrie, how could you even think that?”
“I only wanted to please you.”
“You did. It was very good.” He palmed her cheek, turning her face to his. His eyes were warm and gentle. “I’d never believe you were untrue to me, much less a harlot. Carrie, why would you say that?”
“The church I attended back home…they were very strict. They once had the young women meet all together, and told us never to wear ribbons in our hair. They said that if a man lusted after us, it was our fault.”
“And you believed this?” Miles sounded amused.
“They told us ribbons were forbidden. That if we wore them we were…”
“Harlots,” Miles finished for her. He didn’t sound amused anymore.
She nodded, eyes downcast.
“And the leaders condoned this ridiculousness? This lecture on the evils of hair ribbon?”
“Not all. My brother Thomas laughed at this, but he was newly working for the church, and could not speak out against the senior leadership.”
“I cannot believe this.”
Trembling, she finished. “The deacons even called a girl up in front of the church who’d been accused of seducing a man, and cast her out.” She prayed the tears would not fall.
“Look at me.” Miles sounded so angry, she bit her lip as she obeyed.
“Your brother was right. That’s not the act of good Christians, but judgmental fools. Speaking out against hair ribbons! And if a man lusts after a woman, it is not her fault. Carrie,” he gripped her chin, “it is not her fault.”
His voice softened as he saw her lips trembling, heralding tears.
“Oh, sweetheart.” He drew her fully into his arms. “You are good, and pure. You’re my bride. Anything between us is right.”
“Miles,” she cried, and her tears broke then.
His strong arms tightened around her shaking body.
“It’s all right,” he repeated over and over, murmuring into her ear. Eventually her tears died down and she relaxed against him.
“Carrie.” His hand stroked up and down her arm. “Did someone hurt you?”
She froze. Had he guessed the truth? For a minute she couldn’t bring herself to speak. “Hurt me?”
“Yes. Did a man do you harm?”
Her thoughts raced. Could he had found out another way? Perhaps a letter from Thomas? Surely her sin wasn’t written on her face.
“Even if one had, it’s of no consequence,” she said, grateful he couldn’t see her face.
“It is to me.” His head rested on her shoulder, and his whispers tickled her ear. “You can tell me.”
But the minutes passed and, even feeling totally protected in the warm cocoon of his arms, she could not. Finally, he leaned back and let her go. Taking up the hairbrush, he resumed his duty.
“Do you like it when I touch you?” he asked, his tone light. He seemed to know how to make it easy for her to talk to him. The long strokes in her hair were so soothing, she felt she could tell him anything.
Almost.
“Yes, I enjoy it,” she answered carefully. “But sometimes I feel…”
“Wild?”
“Yes.”
“That is very, very good.” The brushing stopped and he lifted the hair off her neck, kissing it softly. “I like it when you respond to me.” His lips continued to play over the skin of her neck and shoulders, until she relaxed like she didn’t have a bone in her body.
“Miles,” she said, her throat suddenly clogged.
He lifted his head. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No. Please, don’t stop.”
His mouth lowered again and she sighed.
The next time he spoke she barely understood him.
“I’m going to remove your nightgown. Is that all right?”
She let her head bob.
“Is that a yes? Because if not, I can keep convincing you…”
“Yes.” She lifted her arms and he pulled the thin shift clean off, then lay her down on her back and knelt between her legs.
For a moment he did nothing but gaze down at her, until she came out of her blissful fog.
“What?”
“Shhh.” He
laid a finger against her lips. “I want to see you.” And he smiled.
After a while, his fingers started a journey. Large hands sliding down her sides, gripping her bottom and kneading it, then continuing on to her legs, lifting and massaging them. Turning his head, he kissed her ankle. His stubble tickled her.
“I’m going to know every part of you. The way you feel, the way you taste.”
She giggled, then gasped as his teeth nipped at her skin. He nibbled up her calf, pausing to torment the sensitive place behind her knee.
When she squirmed, he paused. “Stay still, Carrie. Or else, I’ll tie you down.”
The thought of being bound, helpless at the mercy of his questing mouth, caused a part of her to clench.
“Perhaps you’d like that.”
She shook her head, unable to speak.
“Then lie quiet for me.” His broad hand splayed across her chest, then slid down between her breasts, coming to rest with the heel of his palm pressed against the needy spot between her legs. “I intend to find every spot on your body that gives you pleasure. And test them all.”
She whimpered.
“I’ll leave you in no doubt how beautiful our lovemaking is, and how right.” His tawny eyes seemed to glow, and her secret parts clenched again.
He took his time, but he fulfilled his promise to her. At last she lay on her back underneath him, feeling liquid and languid, as Miles continued to lick and nibble on her breasts.
At one point he lifted his head. “If after tonight, you still don’t understand how God gives us babies—once Belle has weaned her foal and is healthy enough to bear again, I’ll put her in a field with a stallion, and let you watch.” His grin split his face. “You should learn something from it.”
Stretching out her arm, she reached a pillow and hit him with it.
His tawny eyes flashed, and he bent his head and blew a raspberry between her breasts until she shrieked with laughter.
“Or I could just teach you now,” Miles growled, and drew her legs open wide before settling his weight between them. His pelvis ground against hers, rubbing her already overstimulated nub until she was taut with pleasure and ready. Then, and only then, did Miles let his long, hard length slip inside and fill her to the hilt.
She gasped, but his mouth fell on hers and silenced her squeals, before turning them to moans.
*****
The next night, Carrie had dinner ready long before dusk, and her bible on the table for another reading session. She hoped the night would end the same way as the last. Scolding herself for her wantonness, she still couldn’t help feeling excited when the shadow stretched longer over the hill. Every few minutes she went out onto the porch and checked for his return.
When finally he arrived, she rushed to her place.
“Wife.” He kissed her, a tired but happy look on his face. “You’re the loveliest sight I’ve seen today.”
“You’ve been with the cows all day,” she observed, wrinkling her nose at the strong smell. “I should hope so.”
“Yes, and I’m not done yet. The horses in the pasture still need feeding.”
“You must leave again?”
He saw her face and chuckled. “Miss me, wife?”
Flushing, she glanced down, even as the familiar clench deep inside her gave the true answer.
“Do not be too disappointed.” He chucked her under the chin. “I’ll be back before you know it, and will even take a dip in the stream to wash off the worst of my grime.”
“Can I help?” she asked, then blushed again. “With the horses, I mean.”
“I’d rather you stay here, safe. If anything ever happens, you’ll come find me in the morning, and be healthy enough to ride for help.”
All happiness fled out of her, replaced with alarm.
“Do not be worried, Carrie. It’s unlikely anything will happen. I only tell you in case we need a plan.”
“We’re so alone out here,” she whispered. ”Wouldn’t it be better to live in town?”
“I love the wild, Carrie. I cannot give it up. Though,” he admitted, digging into his potatoes. “It would make me feel better if we had a friendly neighbor.”
“What about your business partner?”
His expression darkened. “What about him?”
“Couldn’t he live nearby?”
“No.” He finished his meal and stood, dropping his plate into an empty pail with a clatter.
When he left, she paced, wishing she’d never spoken. Still, she would enjoy having a friend living nearby. Determining to stay up and apologize, she settled in to wait up for him, trying to read by the low firelight.
After a few tiresome minutes, she went and checked the lamp. It still had a little oil; he must have gotten more from the store, and surely it wouldn’t hurt to use a bit of it. Surely, he’d understand her desire to stay awake for him.
With a secret grin, she pulled the trunk over and set the lamp on it, then curled up in the big bed with all the pillows behind her. She felt like a fine lady, reading with the words dancing in the lamplight.
The next thing she knew, Miles was shaking her awake.
“Carrie.”
“What?” she muttered, burrowing into the pillow, wishing he’d let her sleep.
“Get up, Carrie.” His voice sounded almost angry, and she quickly came awake. “What were you thinking, putting the lamp on and getting into bed?”
“I was waiting for you.” She looked around the cabin, filled with the lamp’s dimming light, and realized her mistake. “I must have fallen asleep reading.”
“I told you the lamp oil was precious and we needed to make it last.”
Gulping down her upset, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice.
He shook his head. “You could have burned the house down with you in it.”
“I was only waiting up for you,” she said. “If you had come home at a proper time…” She trailed off when she saw the stern set of his face.
“So then this is my fault?” Miles seemed to tower over her, casting a huge shadow.
“No, sir,” she said.
“I asked you to use the lamp sparingly, Carrie. It’s a luxury we must wait on until I sell a horse or a steer. And even if we had oil enough for the winter, it’s dangerous to leave the lamp lit and fall asleep. Do you understand how easily it could fall and catch fire?”
“Yes, sir,” she said as meek as she could be.
“I’m going to make sure you understand.” He took a step back and started to undo his strap. “Turn around and lean over the bed.”
“No, please,” she begged. “I’ll never do it again.”
“Carrie,” he caught her chin, “do you trust me?”
Her eyes slid to the strap he already had in his other hand, its mean black length doubled and twice as scary.
But she knew he’d never hurt her beyond what she could endure. “I trust you.”
“Good. Then submit to your punishment, like a good girl.” He let go of her chin. “Up and over the bed.”
With a mewling little cry, she obeyed. “Please, sir, I won’t do it again.”
He caressed her bottom through the nightgown, starting with a few soft strikes to warm her up. “I know you won’t, Carrie. You’ll get twenty with my hand and the rest with my strap.”
“No,” she groaned.
After a few more warming slaps, he pulled her nightgown up to her waist. She heard the telltale swish of his strap as he shook it out and lay it on the bed beside her. She didn’t know what was worse, the sharp smacks he gave her with his hand, echoing around the cabin, or the sight of the strap waiting to strap her bottom next.
When her cheeks were hot and throbbing, Miles took up the lean, black strip of leather. Carrie pressed her face into the blankets and tensed.
“This punishment is meant to teach you never to be so careless again. If you ever leave the lamp on again while sleeping, I’ll give you t
en times as many to make sure you learn.”
He stood to the side; she felt her knees weaken in anticipation. But nothing could prepare her for the harsh slap of the leather against her bare skin.
“Oh, no,” she screamed out. The second lash came down hard after the first, and she started thrashing and brought her hands around to cover her bottom.
“Carrie,” Miles said, then repeated her name when she continued crying. “Put your hands back by your head.”
“Miles, please. Please,” she sobbed. Slowly, she took her hands away and forced them up.
“Next time you do that, I’ll add to the total.”
Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the bed cover, but when the next strike came her arms didn’t move.
“Good girl. You must learn this lesson tonight. What you did was far too dangerous.”
“I know, I know,” she wailed. “I’ll never do it again as long as I live.”
“Good.” He readied himself, then let the strap fall again.
Carrie felt it bite her skin, stinging like mad. She focused on breathing through the pain. She could do this.
Then the strap hit a spot it had already marked, and she couldn’t help it; her arms jerked down and covered her bottom before she knew what she was doing.
“I’ll help you,” Miles said, and gathered her wrists, holding them in the small of her back. She pulled a little to test them, and her arms didn’t budge.
“Thank you,” she said, voice muffled in the blankets. As the strap rained fire down onto her heated flesh, she wriggled her hips and yowled into the bed, but Miles’ grip held fast.
“Carrie.”
She lifted her head, realizing her husband was calling her.
“Yes, sir?”
“Repeat after me: I will never sleep with the lamp on again.”
She obeyed, her voice quavering. Miles let the strap punctuate the end of the sentence, then asked her to repeat it.
She kicked a little at the last blow, but her hands stayed in his wrists.
“It’s over now.”
Carrie let her body sag into the bed, sobbing and wondering if she could ever move again. Then her husband lifted her, helping her onto the bed and setting her on her side. He gave her water, and stroked back her hair while she drank.