Much Ado About Madams

by Jacquie Rogers

  * * * * *

  Reese ached, too, and not just from clearing the damned landslide off the road. The bath helped his muscles, but not his need. Miss Lucinda Sharpe, schoolmarm, had gotten to him good and proper. Proper being the main word. The aggravating word. But maybe part of her intrigue.

  He dressed and waited. His stomach growled, hungry for the forthcoming hot meal. Soon, someone knocked on Lucinda’s door. Undoubtedly the maid delivering supper. Another knock. Then a knock on his door.

  A girl not more than fourteen held a tray with food piled high and smelling of roast beef. “Your meal, sir.”

  He relieved her of the tray, and it was heavy as it looked. “Quite a load for a young lady.”

  “Yes, sir, half of it is for the room next to you, but she doesn’t answer the door.”

  He gave her a generous tip. “We’re traveling together. I’ll see that she gets it.”

  “I’ll send someone up to fetch the tub.” The maid left and the room filled with the mouth-watering aroma. Reese hadn’t heard a thing from Lucinda’s room since the first splash when she must have stepped into the tub. He went to the hall and knocked on her door.

  “Quit the racket!” yelled a man from a room across the hall. Reese tried the door but it was locked. Lucinda had probably fallen asleep in the tub, and if she didn’t get out, she’d catch her death once the water turned cold, which it probably already was. He went back to his room, thinking he should see the clerk for another key, but then the clerk already thought she was one of the whores, so Reese rejected that idea.

  Then he tried the door connecting their rooms. Unlocked! But then, Lucinda would probably pitch a fit if he entered her room while she was in the tub. Naked. Wet naked. And needing someone to warm her up.

  He opened the door and saw her head resting on the rim of the tub. She was sound asleep. “Lucinda!” he called, but she didn’t stir.

  Waking her would be tricky, but honorable as he tried to be, he couldn’t resist one look. Her breasts were submerged but he could still see their luscious form, and he ached to touch them.

  Not wanting her to know he’d been gawking at her like a schoolboy, he turned around.

  “Lucinda!” Still no sound.

  He felt around for her hair and patted her head. “Lucinda, wake up.”

  “What!” she shrieked and splashed.

  “Ssshhh, you’ll wake the dead. You fell asleep in your bath and the water’s cold. And your supper’s here.” He picked up her towel and passed it behind him. “I’ll go back in my room now.”

  He heard the rush of water from her body when she stood. “How’d you get in here?”

  “The door between our rooms.”

  “Oh. I should have checked it.”

  “Good thing you didn’t.”

  “You can leave now.”

  Oh, but he didn’t want to leave.

  * * * * *

  Lucinda dressed, which was no easy task. She wished she could just put on her nightdress and go to bed, but her stomach told her otherwise. Besides, for some reason, she couldn’t resist being with Reese. He pulled her like a magnet.

  “I’m so sore, I can barely move.”

  He scooted a chair toward her. “Need help?”

  Not really, although her legs wobbled like a kitten’s, but she needed him to hold her once more. She took a deep breath, willing strength to fill her wet-dishcloth muscles. “Please.”

  Reese didn’t need to know she wanted his touch and to hear his gentle words. He grasped her waist firmly and to help her sit, but instead, she turned to him. For a moment they locked gazes, and she ran her hands over his shoulders.

  “It’s time to eat.” His voice was gruff.

  But she was right where she wanted to be. “No. Just hold still a minute.” She rested her head on his chest and listened to his heart beating. The steady rhythm lent comfort. And more. It told her life held promise.

  His heartbeat quickened. Suddenly, he pushed her away and held her at arm’s length. “Let’s get you on a chair,” he said, his voice more husky than before.

  She was tired. And confused—was this how women felt when a man courted her? Not always, because she’d been courted and had none of these strange tingles. He guided her to the plush chair and lowered her carefully. How could she make him understand?

  Only she didn’t understand herself. She wanted to maintain her respectability, but at the same time, she wanted Reese to show her what loving was all about. She wanted him to touch her.

  And it had to be Reese—only him. She needed to know that what goes on between men and women transcended the humiliation she’d seen her mother endure, and to believe that romance really did exist—she’d read stories in the Waverly Library and she wanted them to be based on truth.

  Lucinda studied him as he stood by the small table, scooping food on a plate for her. She smiled at him and he smiled back.

  Reese had given her that kiss—sweet, powerful, and definitely memorable. Her body quivered at the thought of it.

  First they ate potato soup, which tasted wonderful. Her stomach warmed and so did her heart. She’d had strong feelings, maybe even love, for Reese the last few weeks even though she hadn’t wanted to admit it.

  But he would never want her. He didn’t dally with whores, or so Fannie had said. Really, Lucinda knew she was no different than her mother or any of the women at the Comfort Palace, all of whom had been beaten and touched in indecent ways.

  But Lucinda was different, because she intended to do something about it. First, she wanted to find out if this thing men and women did was even half as wonderful as Reese’s kiss.

  “You like it?” Reese asked, jarring her from her disheartening thoughts.

  Oh, she liked his kiss all right. She gazed at him and licked a tiny bit of soup from her lower lip. “Like what?”

  “The soup.” He raised one eyebrow and smiled, nearly melting her heart all over again. “Do you like the soup?”

  She looked him right in the eye, pleading with him to understand her. “It’s very tasty.” So was he. She wanted him to show her love, but he probably wanted to get supper out of the way so he could go to bed. He’d worked a lot harder than she had.

  He nodded. “There’s roast beef, gravy, and biscuits if you’re ready.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, not taking her gaze from his. “Tell me about the war—you, the twins. What did you do?”

  “We’d have given our right arms for food like this, but what happened isn’t a topic for supper conversation.”

  “I heard it was dreadful for everyone. It most certainly must have been rough in the wilderness, never knowing if you’d be scalped.”

  “It was hard on both sides. The Indians were protecting their land and families, just the same as we were protecting the settlers.”

  His blue eyes held sorrow, and deepened to cobalt. His face had a slight scar along the right side. She’d never noticed that before. It certainly didn’t detract from his masculine appeal, though. Never had she met a man who even approached his manliness—how he used the strength in his arms, and the way he strode, not walked. The way others looked to him for help, and the way he had kissed her with such passion.

  “Is that why you’re in Idaho Territory?”

  He shook his head. “I’m here for the same reason most anyone’s out here, to start a new life.”

  She looked away. She’d come here to prove to herself that she could be an honorable woman who upheld her ideals against all odds. That was no secret—to her, at least. It hadn’t turned out like that. She’d learned that ideals took second place to the heart.

  She stood slowly, trying not to spill the remains of her soup.

  He hurried over to her. “Please, let me help you.”

  She placed the bowl on the table and slid her hands around his waist. “Kiss me.”

  * * * * *

  Reese had never been so astonished in all his born days.

  She stood before him,
more beautiful than Aphrodite. She wanted him to kiss her, and Lordy, he needed to, but it was all he could do to keep his hands off her. What he really wanted to do was pull her into his arms, kiss her senseless, and not just on her lips. He should never have kissed her on the road.

  “I can’t.” Those were the hardest words he’d ever had to say.

  She placed her hands on his chest and slid them over his shirt to his sides. He didn’t know if he could tolerate much more of her touch without embarrassing himself.

  Pressing her cheek against his chest, she moved her hands down to his waist, and to the buttons on his britches. He sucked in about five gallons of air, and it still wasn’t enough. With one finger, she outlined each button, then traced the bulge his erection. Nearly undone, he pulled her beautiful body hard against him and pressed his mouth on hers. Hungry for her, he slid his tongue over the crease in her lips. She opened eagerly and leaned against him.

  Reese had a hazy notion that he should stop, but weeks of pent-up longing demanded satisfaction. He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her sweet, slender neck. His britches strained and he pushed hard against her. He backed her against the bed and gently pressed her down. She pulled him with her, rubbing his biceps and his back.

  “Don’t you have to remove your clothing to do whatever we’re going to do?”

  A bucket of cold water couldn’t have brought him back to sanity any quicker. He’d vowed to protect her, and now he was sorely tempted to take the innocence from an honest woman. His father had done the same to his mother, leaving her with a son and a lifetime of misery, banished from the Boston society she so loved. But he wasn’t his father. He couldn’t do this to Lucinda no matter how much she might think she wanted it.

  He rolled away and stood. “I’m so sorry,” he groaned. “There’s no excuse for me to take unfair advantage.”

  She bit her lower lip and tear trickled down one cheek. “I’m not attractive to you?”

  Reese stood speechless. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted any woman, and he wanted her now, but he couldn’t take unfair advantage of a woman.

  She caressed his shoulders. “Aren’t I woman enough?”

  His throat went dry and his nether area reverted to its former uncomfortable state in a second. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he rasped, barely able to make the words come out.

  “Then kiss me again.”

  Their gazes locked, she unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, then the rest. He couldn’t swallow. She slid her hands over his bared chest to his shoulders and down his arms, removing his shirt.

  She unbuttoned his britches. He couldn’t breathe. All he could think of was burying himself in all her innocent sweetness.

  “I don’t know what to do now,” she whispered, her breath flowing warm on his chest.

  No man with a pulse could resist her. He unbuttoned her dress an untied her corset, then shrugged off his clothes. Damn!

  He pulled her close and nuzzled her breast with his mouth, then sucked on her nipple, gently pulling on the other nipple with his fingers. She sucked in her breath and ran her fingers through his hair. He moved his mouth to the other nipple and teased it. Her hips moved, and he knew her body wanted him inside her.

  He laid her down and rubbed his hand on her abdomen, while laving her nipple with his tongue. He slipped his hand lower to the inviting mound of curls that hid buried treasure and ultimate pleasure. Her hips jerked when his finger slipped inside her as his thumb teased her.

  She was creamy and hot. He rubbed the moisture all around, then paid special attention to the pleasure spot. Her hips moved and she gasped for air. He sucked a little harder on her nipple and sped up the pace of his finger. She began a low moan, nearly his undoing. The moan grew louder.

  “Reese!”

  “We can stop now. You don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes, we do.”

  He couldn’t argue with that. She squirmed beneath him, driving him mad. He moved himself over her and separated her knees with his own. With patience and gentle pressure, he slowly buried himself in her. She gasped, but said nothing as one tear slid down her cheek.

  “You’re so beautiful.” He kissed her neck and nuzzled her ear. “I’m sorry to hurt you,” he whispered.

  Her muscles undulated against him, and he nearly lost it right then and there. Her trusting gaze pierced his heart.

  He kissed her gently. “Just don’t move for a minute and I’ll make you feel good. I promise.” He stilled himself and counted to ten backward from twenty. She felt so damned good to him, he wanted her to feel the same gift. He had to slow himself down and give her body time to understand what was happening.

  “Your hair is beautiful.” He kissed her forehead, slowly moving himself a little deeper inside her. She felt hot and welcoming—made for loving. He kissed her cheek and then her lips. She slipped her tongue into his mouth and he shoved the rest of the way into her.

  His body wanted to plunge into her—fast and furious—but he closed his eyes and willed himself not to move until she did. He squeezed her nipple rhythmically. After a few moments, she moved her tongue in his mouth in symphony to the squeeze of her breast, then she raised her hips to take the rest of him.

  Ever so slowly, he moved in and out, waiting for her body to adjust to his.

  “Are you all right?” And then it killed him, but he had to ask, “Shall I stop?”

  “Please, don’t stop.”

  The dam holding back his desire burst. He drove into her with a fever. He saw nothing, heard nothing. . .

  Until her ultimate release, when he heard his name ring out from the most sensuous woman he’d ever known. She thrashed under him. He kept up the pace for her. When she dug her nails into his back, he shot into her, hot and hard.

  Lifting himself so he wouldn’t crush her, he brushed kisses on her temple and stroked her hair. He wanted to take care of her forever. She belonged to him. He loved her. Truly.

  Chapter 14

  Lucinda couldn’t begin to describe the miracle of pleasure when she woke up next to Reese. She ran her hands over the powerful muscles in his back and he groaned, then reached over and tucked her next to him. But the dawn had broken into full light and it was past time to gather with the suffragists.

  “Reese, we have to get up. The meeting!”

  “Mmmm.”

  “I mean it, you big oaf!” She lifted his arms off her and rolled away, immediately missing his warmth. After a good stretch, she padded into her own room and, for good measure, messed up the bed. She sure didn’t want the maids to notice that she hadn’t slept there. Walking felt a little strange, and stirred a gush of warmth to both her cheeks and nether regions, bringing memories of exquisite pleasure, and longing for more.

  After flexing her sore shoulders, Lucinda resolved to tend to business at hand and opened the trunk. She had packed two dresses, the blue dress that Trinket had made was for the meeting and she’d ride home in the gray calico. Lucinda retrieved the blue dress, a clean chemise, corset, and petticoats. It took her longer to dress than normal, but she got the job done.

  Then a moment of panic set in. What had she done? What if she were with child? Why had she been so weak? There were those who said a woman’s body was her own and if sexual activity was acceptable for men, the so be it for women. Mrs. Woodhull’s free love movement hadn’t gone far, though, and Susan B. Anthony was vehemently opposed. Then again, Miss Anthony didn’t know Reese McAdams.

  Still, the repercussions from her irrational decision could be formidable, both for her and a possible unborn child. Marriage wasn’t even in question—Reese owned a brothel and she’d never, ever condone that, no matter how good a man he was otherwise.

  He hadn’t proposed and she doubted he would, so there was no need fretting about how to turn him down.

  A suffragist could meet any challenge. She’d figure this out. With dignity. Her first decision—not to mention the previous night’s activities to Rees
e. Not that it had meant as much to him as it had to her.

  She went back into Reese’s room. “I’m leaving for the meeting.”

  He rolled over and groaned. “What meeting?”

  “The suffragist meeting. Get up—you have errands to do.”

  “Part of me is up already.”

  “Goodbye, Mr. McAdams.” Lucinda went back in her room to fetch her bonnet and jacket.

  “Wait!” He swung his feet over the side of the bed and pulled on his trousers. “Where’s the meeting?”

  “I don’t know but I’m sure the hotel clerk does, and if he doesn’t the editor of The Owyhee Avalanche certainly would.”

  “Are you sure you want to go cavorting around a mining town unescorted?”

  “I’m quite sure.”

  He pulled on his socks and boots, then grabbed his shirt. “And I’m quite sure I’m going with you, at least to across the street from the meeting. You don’t know how these miners can get. Someone sees color, and there’s an instant party no matter what time of the day.”

  “Fine.” She did want to be independent, but not stupid, and in this matter, he was probably correct. “I’ll be back here for supper unless I dine with the suffragists. We often did so after our meetings in St. Jo.”

  She buttoned her jacket and pinned on her bonnet. “How long until you’re ready?”

  “Now. I’ll come back and wash up after I get you delivered.”

  The hotel clerk couldn’t be found and the maids hadn’t heard of a suffragist meeting.

  “Where’s the newspaper office?” she asked the older maid.

  “Down the street, right next to the undertaker’s.”

  Reese escorted Lucinda to the newspaper office. The editor, his ink-stained fingers and visor, greeted them from behind the press as Lucinda and Reese came in and stood at the counter.

  “Need an announcement written up? Wedding? Birth?” He grabbed a rag and wiped his hands as he approached them.

  “No, sir.” She gulped. “We’re not...um, I was wondering if you could tell me where the suffragist meeting is being held.”

  “Suffragists!” He broke out into a smile and grabbed a notebook. “In Silver City?”