by Patty Devlin
St. James called his name and he turned to the desk where the lawyer was holding a check out to him. Jackson stood there for a moment, trying to decide whether he wanted to accept the no-good wastrel’s money. He wasn’t hurting for it. He had a monthly salary and so did Celia. Before he could decide anything, his sweet little wife sprinted forward and snatched the check and pulled him toward the door.
“Cecelia, I’m going to blister your—” She had released his hand and rushed over to the parked carriage, climbing in on her own. Jackson was sure she hadn’t listened to a word he said. He didn’t care. He loved her anyway. “Woman, what are you thinking?”
“I had to get out of there. I thought I might be ill right there in front of everyone; the smell of cigars overwhelmed me. Oh, dear. I think I need to lie down.” She tried to fan herself with the thin check, and when that didn’t seem to work, she handed it to him and reached into her reticule and pulled out her fan.
He wondered if her distress might be a ploy to get her out of the discomfort she knew she’d soon be feeling on her backside. But no, she looked rather pale. Dear God, he hoped she wasn’t coming down with the fever.
He tucked her into his side and hurried her home, refusing to let her walk in even though she said she felt better with the ride and the fresh air. Jackson carried her in and laid her on their bed, making her stay there and rest.
*****
“Jackson, I’m fine, really. It was just really warm in there and then the smell… I’m all right.” She sat up and tried to get out of the bed. She wondered whether she should tell him what she thought it really might be.
“You’ve been overworking yourself. It’s all the stuff you’ve been doing around the boarding house for Mother now that school is out. That canning and stuff, you shouldn’t be working so hard.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing, Jackson,” she sighed. Oh dear, if she really was in the family way, he’d never let her out of the bed again! He was just too much. Oh, but she wouldn’t trade it. She sighed again, thinking about her father.
“What is it? Are you in pain?” He paced around her bed. It was a little ridiculous, and all because she said she didn’t feel well one time? “I’m going to get the doctor. You better not move. You hear me?”
“Yes, you worry-wart. He’s going to think you are silly, but if it will make you feel better…” She laughed and then bit her cheeks to break her smile when he gave her a very serious warning look.
If the doctor came, she could find out whether she was indeed with child—and she could have him tell Jackson that she didn’t need to be cosseted so. It would be a very, very long pregnancy if he acted like that all the way until the baby was born.
*****
“We have news to share,” Mrs. Owens announced at Sunday dinner. Celia thought perhaps she and Mr. Farley would be announcing their intentions to marry as it seemed a romance had been blossoming. That was until she looked up and saw the woman’s face. She recalled thinking her a beautiful Viking woman and smiled at how close she was; Johanna Owens’s family had emigrated from Norway to Chicago in the 1840’s.
Today, the woman looked like a courageous leader trying to be brave in the face of an enemy. “I was going to do this privately, but our guests will be affected by this as much as our family. Four years ago, I had to take out a bank note on the business, and then last year you’ll all remember when that vagabond was here. Well, he stole the savings I had in the crock, and then it was a really hard winter. Mr. Edwards was kind enough to help me acquire an extension, but as the weeks have counted down, I’ve not accumulated enough to cover the note. The boarding house is to be foreclosed.”
It was as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her. Her shoulders rose, and she seemed to be at peace. Mr. Farley placed his hand over hers. He’d moved his boys back out to his land in the shell of the cabin they’d been able to rebuild, but had continued to come for Sunday dinner.
“Mama, why didn’t you say anything?” Susanna asked. “We could have helped.” She looked to Byron for agreement.
Celia, Byron and Jackson all spoke at the same time. “How much?”
Mrs. Owens shook her head slowly. “Twenty-three hundred dollars. But, it’s all right. I’m prepared to let it go. I’ve done everything I can and don’t want to burden you with this. Hugh and I have talked and he asked me to marry him. I’m going to move in with him and the boys.” A smile of pure happiness lit up her face and eyes.
“No, Mama—” Susanna tried, but was cut off by her brother.
“We have it and more,” Jackson explained, “I didn’t want the money from Johnny Hastings, and if anyone should have it—it’s you. We’ll pay off the note, so you don’t have to leave.”
“But I want to go. I’ve never wanted to be a slave to this place. I only did what was necessary. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve loved all the people I’ve met over the years, but I’m looking forward to a slower pace.” She wrapped an arm around Donnie’s shoulders and pulled him close.
“We want it. We will pay off the note. I’ve always loved the boarding house and don’t want to let it go.” Susanna smiled up at Byron. Celia assumed the man had just made his wife the happiest woman alive, well, no Mrs. Owens seemed pretty happy. Celia patted her tummy, thinking she’d never been happier either.
“Susanna, you can have the boarding house, but I insist on paying off the note. And Hugh, likewise, I insist on paying for the rest of the materials to finish your house. I want the money from Johnny Hastings to go for something worthwhile. It might as well be the people I love. Now, before anyone else says or does anything, we had an announcement to share today, too. And if Just Celia doesn’t tell you soon, I’m afraid she might burst.” Jackson winked down at her and then kissed her temple.
Celia was sure she didn’t have to tell them anything, the women could probably guess, but she blurted it out anyway. “We’re going to have a baby!”
Epilogue
“Well, I’m waiting.” Celia called back to him and took another step deeper into the cold river water. The rocks hurt her feet, but they couldn’t dissuade her from her favorite summer pastime.
He chuckled. “You sure are a stern teacher. I hope you aren’t that mean to the kids.” He leaned against the old maple tree and flipped the piece of paper over again.
“No, they actually listen to me and do what I ask the first time.”
“All right, all right. But first, what is this word? D-I-S-C-I-P-L-I-N-E.” He spelled out the word slowly and waited for her response.
Celia watched his face, waiting for some hint that he was teasing her. When it didn’t come, she asked, “Why is that in there?” She slowly made her way over the rocks and up the bank to where Jackson and their son were.
“I don’t know, you could just read it to me; that’s worked for me for years.” He grinned at her and they both knew he was teasing. He’d worked really hard to get to a point where he could read most correspondence or posters on his own now. “Fine, I’ll just read it ‘till I get to that word.
“Dear Jackson,
“I can’t tell you how happy we both are about the visit. It will be so good to get to know your family better. Con-grat-u-lat,” he stopped, looking to Celia in confusion.
“Congratulations, remember the ‘tions’?” She sat down next to him and looked down at their precious baby boy.
“Congratulations on the birth of your son. We are in the family way too. I have to apologize in advance for my wife’s behavior. I am afraid she will be a brat, as she has been unruly lately. Discipline has been lacking since we found out.” Jackson laughed. “I guess his doctor didn’t tell him he could use a switch or a belt? I’ll have to set him straight, poor man.” He found his place with his finger and continued reading.
Celia smiled softly at little Erik, named after his Norwegian great-grandfather. He was such a good baby. She only listened to the letter half-heartedly. She was thrilled to get to know his brothers better, but her though
ts were on her son and the huge ways the past year had changed her. What if she hadn’t sent that first letter, signing it C.G. Whitman? What if she’d married Hugh?
“Mrs. Owens, you are not paying attention to your pupil. Come here and pay me some attention, Just Celia.”
Patty Devlin
“I have always loved to write, and daydream, of course. It just comes naturally to me. I love to read. I devour books. Sadly, I had a hard time finding the good books, the ones that had sexy, dominant men in them. The ones where the men weren't afraid to spank a girl if she deserved a few well earned swats. The books that had those scenes were very few and far between.
My books are romance- and they are fun and naughty but you won't find any full sex scenes. (Just enough teasers). However, there are plenty of spankings all the way through and tons of plot to keep you turning the pages.”
Visit her blog here:
http://www.pattydevlin.com
Don’t miss these exciting titles by Patty Devlin and Blushing Books!
The Chicagoan Switch
Mail Order Switch
Tyler's Wife
Tyler's Resolution
No Choices Left
Harder Choices
Tough Choice
Christmas Joy
The Naughty List (Christmas Box Set)
Lovely Little Liar
The Lawman’s Lessons
The Blacksmith’s Bride
(The Sons of Johnny Hastings)
By
Patricia Green
©2014 by Blushing Books® and Patricia Green
All rights reserved.
No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Blushing Books®,
a subsidiary of
ABCD Graphics and Design
977 Seminole Trail #233
Charlottesville, VA 22901
The trademark Blushing Books®
is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.
Green, Patricia
The Blacksmith’s Bride
eBook ISBN: 978-1-62750-4409
Cover Art by ABCD Graphics and Design
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
Chapter 1
Licentious Behavior
“Yes, Mother.”
“And don’t let me catch you fussing with your gloves. A lady’s hands should sit calmly in her lap.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Be quiet. None of that giggling you’re wont to do. It’s quite annoying.”
“Yes, Mother.” Sunny sighed quietly, wondering when things had gotten so out of hand. They’d been at Aunt Elizabeth’s house for less than an hour. All of these strictures had been drilled into Sunny’s head over and over again, and then repeated a dozen more times on the train, coach, and wagon rides to Aunt Elizabeth’s farm outside Carrollton. Who did Mother think she would be fooling? Pretentiousness wasn’t going to make them any friends in their new home.
“You may speak when spoken to, of course.”
A little temper began to show. “Of course, Mother.”
“Don’t use that tone of voice with me, young lady.”
Sunny thought better about answering. She was not going to say she was sorry. Her mother was a harridan, and Sunny resented it through and through. If only her father hadn’t been in that hunting accident. She missed Daddy so much! There was no one like him. How they used to laugh together.
Something had died in Sunny when she lost her father. But, she reminded herself, Mother had lost her husband. That had to be taken into account.
Softening toward her parent, Sunny reached out and squeezed the older woman’s hand as they unpacked their trunk in the small room they were to share. She got a squeeze back, but nothing was said, and eventually her mother left the room.
The house was full of laughter, noise, squabbles. Sunny soaked it up as she put away her things. Having six other young people around was going to take some getting used to. Being an only child made for a lot of quiet afternoons reading or whispering gossip with friends during afternoon tea.
“Sunny!” her mother called. “You’ll be late to supper. Hurry up!”
“Yes, Mother.” Sighing deeply, Sunny hurried out to the big dining room that held a large, finely finished table. There were giant platters of food set about and a sideboard with more. A family of eight sure ate a lot, and now, of course, there were Sunny and her mother to feed as well.
Raymond Taggart, Sunny’s uncle by marriage, reached out to take the hands of his children to the left and right of him, and all joined hands around the table.
“Lord,” he prayed, “bless this food that our hands have brought to table by your grace. Give us strength and patience. And help us welcome Lila and Sunny to our home with love. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
The Taggart family immediately went to town on the food, passing bowls and dishes, chattering away, while Sunny and her mother sat, a little dumbstruck, at the commotion and lack of decorum.
“Eat,” Aunt Elizabeth told them, as she passed a platter of fried chicken. “You’re both too skinny. What do they feed you in Kansas City?”
With a sniff, Sunny’s mother took the platter and genteelly helped herself. Although Sunny’s parents hadn’t been rich with servants galore, they had had Deborah, the middle-aged housekeeper. She did the cooking and much of the cleaning, leaving Sunny and her mother time to go a-calling and get involved with church activities and charitable causes. But now, of course, that had all changed. Sunny’s mother had moved them away from Kansas City to the Taggarts in Carrollton where Mother’s sister, Aunt Elizabeth, lived. The Taggart family would house them decently and give them respectability in the community. It was a fresh start.
Sunny smiled inwardly, watching her mother resist any temptation to let down her guard for even a moment. For herself, though, she was ready to dive into the melee, despite her mother’s dirty looks.
“Pass the biscuits, Ray-Jon,” she told her cousin on the left. “Why, I might even have two!”
Across the table, her mother choked.
* * *
Church services were over. The sermon had been on licentiousness. Abel wondered if it was licentious of him to be interested in the young women who came to the church and engaged in the after-church potluck. Unmarried women with eagle-eyed mothers brought all their best cooking creations to tempt the unmarried men and get them interested in courting. It was basically the same dance every week, and Abel, at age forty, was more an observer these days. Over the past two years, after a long time being relegated to the rubbish heap, Abel was seen as an acceptable potential suitor. The attention was flattering, but he didn’t want to take on a project. He’d done that when he’d married Lorelei, for all the good it had done him. She’d run off with some actor in Dallas after cursing Abel for being unexciting. He’d had to do the unthinkable and divorce her. That got him ostracized in Carrollton for more than eight years, though it had eventually blown over. But the divorce had been necessary. Once Lorelei was installed in the acting troupe, and it became clear that the troupe was loose and unsavory, she was irredeemable in Abel’s eyes. Lorelei had been pretty, though not a virgin, when he married her. She wouldn’t say who her prior lover had been, but they were married, so Abel, though disappointed and a bit jealous, accepted her the way she was. Abel had cared for her, but he’d never been in love with her. He’d wanted to, had tried to, but, in the end, he was too conservative, and she was unwilling to compromise. When and if he got married again, it would be to someone who was ready to settle down and be a wife and partner.
The young women of his acquaintance were flighty and undisciplined. That wasn’t the kind of girl for him.
These days, flirtations involved widows, mostly with children of their own. Abel didn’t much mind that, but he’d yet to find one he could fall in love with. The chemistry just wasn’t right. He kept giving it time, but his time was running out.
As he put on his hat against the afternoon sun, he observed a game of blind-man’s-bluff a group of young women, somewhere between seventeen and twenty-one years old, were playing. They were laughing and giggling, flitting around each other and trying to confuse the one with the blindfold over her eyes. She was laughing as hard as the others and her attempts to tag one of them were vigorous but fruitless. Her hair was dark blonde with sunlit streaks, and her mouth was a rosebud, pink and tender. The girl’s laugh trilled in the air like the crystal bells the ladies played at church concerts. She had a fine figure, too, petite and perfectly proportioned. A woman that size would make Abel feel like a giant among men.
Eventually, the woman tagged someone, and then fell to the ground with breathless giggles, pulling off her blindfold as she fell. Her eyes were as blue as cornflowers, glowing with youth and vitality. Abel pegged her age at nineteen or twenty. And, best of all, she was new around here. He’d never seen her before. It seemed unlikely that anyone was already courting her…unless she was maybe already married. It was common enough for women of such an age to be married, some with children already. She probably wouldn’t know about his societal scar.
He tried to make out if she had a ring on her finger, but he couldn’t quite tell.
His friend Bruce sauntered up, offering him a glass of lemonade, which Abel took and absentmindedly sipped at. “Now that’s a pretty sight,” Bruce said with a smile, as they watched the girls playing.
“Yes, indeed.”