by Alix West
He gave her ten and rubbed her with soft lazy strokes. The gesture would have been soothing if it hadn’t made her want to part her thighs and invite his touch lower. She gritted her teeth to steel her lascivious impulses.
“No trousers, Charlotte.”
“Yes, Will.”
He chuckled and lifted her to his lap.
“That was too easy, Charlotte. I was hoping you’d disagree and wear them again one day.”
She squirmed. Sitting on her freshly spanked bottom hurt, yet sitting on his lap felt like heaven. She hated the pleasure that overwhelmed her senses.
“I won’t wear them if you don’t want me to.” Before she added a sassy comment, she got to her feet and retreated a few steps. “Trousers might be dangerous. Am I right?”
“On you they are. I should have spanked you thirty times for making me wait thirty days.”
“You don’t even like me, Will.”
He scoffed. “I like your ass.”
She shook her head and backed to the door. When she grasped the handle, she lifted her chin for her parting shot. “I guess that’s a start.”
Chapter Four
Will
Will sat in the pew next to Charlotte as the priest poured the baptismal water over the baby’s head. He grimaced as the baby, who had been crying for the entire service, began yelling with renewed vigor. The child, red-faced and squirming, didn’t appreciate the solemnity of the occasion and his cries echoed in the church.
Charlotte looked on with an expression of sympathy. Will tried not to steal glances at her, but could hardly help himself. She wore a rose-colored gown, one that showed off her creamy skin and blue, blue eyes. When she caught him looking, she lifted her brows and leaned closer.
“Poor little thing. I can’t help but feel sorry for him.”
“He’ll take a good nap after this.”
Her lips curved into a smile and his heart felt light inside his chest. After he’d cornered her in the bathroom, he wasn’t sure if she’d forgive him. And he still wasn’t sure, but at least she was talking to him now. He was leaving for Fort Worth in the morning and didn’t want to part from her without some semblance of harmony between them.
After he’d turned her over on his lap, she’d made her displeasure clear. She’d barely spoken to him since then and often, when she addressed him, it was with an icy Mr. Travis. It was as if she wanted to suggest that the relationship was moving backwards instead of forwards. He growled softly with frustration.
Once the Mass had ended, the party returned to the ranch to enjoy a dinner served as the sun set. The group gathered to eat, flocking to tables on a stone terrace. She sat beside him, quiet as he talked to his brother, Seth. When it was time to serve the cake, she left with a quiet comment about helping Mary. Seth watched her leave and then regarded him with a wry grin.
“I didn’t think mail-order brides could be so pretty.”
Will nodded. “She is that. I didn’t expect that either. She’s a lot of things I never expected. Smart. Willful. Sweet, sometimes. I thought I’d get an older woman who could learn the ranch and help out.”
Seth nodded. “They call that a foreman.”
“Right. I guess I expected a woman who would be a little tougher around the edges. Like our mother. She could play Mozart on the piano and then go out to the yard and wring a chicken’s neck.”
“Maybe you should have put that in the announcement you listed in the paper. Wanted: wife who can play the piano and butcher a chicken. That’s just what every man wants.”
Charlotte came back the table with a tray and offered them each a slice of cake.
“Did you make this cake?” Seth asked.
Charlotte smiled at Will’s brother as she set a plate down in front of him. “No. Lucky for you Caroline made it. If I’d baked the cake it would have been lop-sided and inedible.”
Seth grinned. “I don’t believe that.”
“It’s true. Sadly. I never learned. Fortunately, your brother didn’t ask about my cooking skills, so I didn’t have to prevaricate.”
She set Will’s plate down in front of him and gave him a sassy look before leaving with her tray.
Seth dug his fork into his cake. “I don’t even know what that means, but I think she’s cute as hell.”
“You better watch it.”
“What I mean is that I’d like one just like that. I might need to send off for a sweet, little wife. Lord knows there aren’t any women in Colter Canyon.”
“Charlotte’s an orphan. She said that a lot of the girls at the orphanage can’t find good marriages because they have some sort of a black mark against their name.”
Seth stared at him and stopped chewing. After a moment, he shook his head and resumed eating.
Will found himself looking for Charlotte, seeking her out in the crowd. Torches ringed the terrace. Off to the side of the party, a few of his cowboys gathered and warmed up their fiddles. Music floated on the evening breeze and Silas, the oldest man there, drew Charlotte out to show her how to dance. He took Mary in his arms and instructed, talking to Charlotte over his shoulder. She shook her head and laughed.
“Shouldn’t you be the one showing your wife how to dance?” Seth muttered.
“No one would dare invite her to dance.”
“Still. It should be you.”
Will nodded. “She might turn me down. We had a bit of an argument the other day.”
He didn’t wait for Seth’s response. Without giving it any more thought he got to his feet and crossed the terrace. Charlotte’s eyes widened as he approached, and she smiled when he took her hand in his.
“Come, Mrs. Travis. Let me show you how it’s done. Silas doesn’t know the first thing about how to two-step.”
“Hey!” Silas protested. “Don’t let Mary hear.”
Those nearby laughed. Will drew Charlotte into his arms and led her into the dance. She followed his lead and almost immediately they moved together as if they’d danced for a lifetime. Her body felt supple and fluid in his arms. Almost immediately he imagined what it would feel like to take her to bed. Would she follow his lead? Would she submit?
“I didn’t imagine you would ask me to dance, Will.”
He dipped his head on the pretense of whispering in her ear, but he wanted to inhale the feminine scent clinging to her. It was delicate and sweet. As always, being near her made him want her with a feral hunger. He wanted to carry her off like some sort of ravening animal.
“Last night I re-read some of your letters, Charlotte.”
She stumbled, and he tightened his hold. When she lifted her eyes, his heart squeezed. She looked vulnerable, almost fearful, as if she expected he might say something disparaging.
He went on. “I do that sometimes. Read them and think about you writing those words to a man you didn’t know.”
She looked away and kept her gaze averted. Tension crept into her shoulders. She stepped on his foot and drew a sharp breath. “I’m sorry, Will.”
“I don’t mind,” he drawled. “I might even deserve that. I’d forgotten that you want to learn to ride a horse. You told me that in your second letter.”
When she lifted her gaze, the look in her eyes was filled with longing. In that moment, he wished he was doing anything other than leaving in the morning with a bunch of foul-mouthed cowboys. Her eyes shone, and he felt himself falling. He didn’t want to tell her that he’d found a couple of unopened letters, envelopes he’d somehow overlooked. That oversight would wound her. He wanted to shield her from his rough and uncaring ways.
Clearing his throat, he went on. “Nick trains horses. He has a gift, really. He can take any old, incorrigible nag and turn it around, and he can take a young, untried horse and render it into the finest, most dependable horse a cowboy could ever want. He has a sweet, little mare. A dapple gray. I’ve asked him to keep her for you. When I get back, we can start with a few lessons.”
She kept her gaze fixed on him. “I’d li
ke that, Will. I really would. Thank you.”
He drew her closer, pressing her against his chest, and closed his eyes. She seemed so small when he held her in his arms. So perfect. The falling sensation passed. He let the music carry them both. She was light, and so easy to lead in the dance that he was certain he could have danced half the night with this tiny angel in his arms.
Later, when the party dwindled, he sought her out. She sat with Mary and some of the other wives. When she saw him, she smiled. The warmth of her smile made him wish he’d had a horse waiting for her when she came to Colter Canyon. Why hadn’t he? Clearly it made her happy and she’d spelled it out in her letter. At least he would have that to offer her when he got home.
She took his arm and they started the walk back to the house. Stars filled the moonless sky. He noticed she lifted her gaze to take in the show.
“We don’t have skies like this where I come from,” she murmured.
“No?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never seen so many stars. It takes my breath away.”
Her small hands grasping his arm stirred a primitive need inside him. A desperate hope had burned all night. Would she invite him to her room before he left? Or would she agree to come to his room tonight?
“I’ll be gone for a few days,” he said.
“Mm, to Fort Worth.”
“Will you miss me?”
She squeezed his arm. “I will miss you terribly.”
They walked in silence.
“I’ll miss you too,” he said as they neared the house.
She laughed softly. “If you’re going to miss me, you should take me along.”
He stopped. She stopped too.
“I will not take you along, Charlotte. You can get that out of your head.”
“And why is that? Your father took your mother on a trip to Fort Worth a month after they were married. So why won’t you take me?”
His blood boiled. This again. He wanted to throw something. Punch something. Charlotte was tiny and yet she sassed and argued and defied him at every turn. He had cowboys who were twice her size that shook in their boots when he got angry. Not Charlotte. When he got angry, she got angry too. Impossible woman. Stubborn. Contrary. Ornery.
He tried to think of all the words he’d use to describe her, but it was impossible.
“My mother was a head taller than you. She’d grown up on a ranch and might have been tougher than my father.”
Charlotte shrugged. “Fine. Just don’t try to tell me you’ll miss me when you avoid me every chance you get. Also, don’t bother with diamonds or pearls. They don’t mean anything from a man who won’t share himself.”
She spun on her heel and marched back to the house. “Goodbye, Will. I hope you have a marvelous trip to Fort Worth. Don’t wake me in the morning.”
“I won’t,” he growled. “I’m leaving at five in the morning, you impossible woman. Why would I wake you?”
She didn’t answer, but disappeared into the house, her skirts flouncing behind her. He snarled in anger. The evening had gone so well. He’d seen such sweet yearning in her eyes and hoped that she might give him what he wanted. He’d been married well over a week now and still hadn’t kissed that mouth. And he wanted to, but he’d probably need to bring a whip and chair. The thought made him laugh inside.
An owl hooted in the night. He stood there in the darkness. Tomorrow he’d be sleeping out under the stars, in a cold and uncomfortable bedroll. He’d always loved cattle drives. The grand scale of ranching. Moving an enormous herd across rugged terrain. He didn’t care much for Fort Worth, but he could always count on a good steak dinner. He’d eat alone. And go back to his room alone. Nothing in Fort Worth appealed to him very much, but he liked the trip there and back.
Not this time. Charlotte had changed everything. He trudged to the house, seething with irritation and lust. Opening his door, he eyed her door. A lantern flickered. He heard a bump and a muttered curse. Moving quietly, he stopped in front of her door and listened. Unable to resist the urge, he knocked.
A gasp was followed by a soft voice. “Yes?”
He pushed the door open. She sat on the edge of the bed and regarded him with wide eyes.
“What are you doing?”
She hiccupped and lifted a hand to her mouth.
“Are you packing? To go back to Boston?
She dropped her hand to her lap. “No. I wouldn’t do that, Will.”
He nodded. She wore a nightgown. Lacy and floral but it covered at least as much of her as the dress she’d worn to church. Her hair was loose, tumbling down her back. He’d like to buy her something a little more feminine in Fort Worth. His imagination flooded his mind with images of her in a gown that was delicate and clung to her. He shook the thoughts from his mind.
“Good. Because if you did, I’d find you. And I’d bring you right back.”
His words were crude and rough, but for some reason they brought a smile to her lips.
“No need. I’m not going anywhere. I mean, I’m not going back to Boston.”
He nodded. “Good night, Charlotte.”
Her smile widened into a grin. The response made his blood boil.
“Good night, Mr. Travis.”
Chapter Five
Charlotte
As a child, she’d been the naughty one, the girl the nuns always suspected when something went wrong. Most of the time, they’d been right, sadly. If the other girls needed to scale a wall to put a frog in the Mother Superior’s house slipper, it was Charlotte that got the job. When the newest girl arrived at the orphanage the day of her seventeenth birthday, the rest of the older girls nominated Charlotte to secure a bottle of Communion wine.
She was stealthy and careful.
Skills that came in handy, even years after she’d left St. Mathews. One skill she’d never developed, though, was how to ignore a full bladder. She winced as the buckboard hit an especially deep rut.
“I do feel terrible,” Will told someone.
She’d dozed off and woken to the sound of his voice. Suddenly she felt wide awake. More than anything, she wished she could yank the tarp down and see Will. For the time being she’d have to content herself with listening. Why did he feel terrible? She held her breath.
“I should have read every one of her letters. I only opened a few and it seems I missed a few things.”
“Mr. Travis, that’s terrible,” Mary said.
“Perfectly understandable,” Silas defended. “Mr. Travis is a busy man. Maybe Mrs. Travis went on and on like some ladies do.”
Both Will and Silas laughed. Mary was silent.
Beneath the tarp, Charlotte fumed. He hadn’t even read all her letters? In Boston, she’d burn candle after candle writing and rewriting each letter. All she wanted was to get the words right. The next day, she would walk to the post office, hands shaking, and pay the postage to mail her letter. She imagined him opening it and reading her words. In her mind’s eye, he read her words with his hand to his heart. Perhaps a tear to two rolling down his face.
“Her letters are sweet,” Will said. “I’ve read them all. Some of them twice.”
Charlotte gritted her teeth.
“Thing is, I want to make it up to her,” he continued. “I want to do something special.”
That might happen a little sooner than you realize…
“Like what?” Mary asked, her voice tight with what sounded to Charlotte like resentment. “Buy her something pretty in Fort Worth?”
“I offered to buy her jewels, anything she wanted, really.”
They rode in silence, the only sound the clip-clop of the horses.
“So, what did she say?” Mary demanded. “I hope she asked for something expensive.”
“Nah, she won’t let me buy her anything. I think I might get her a saddle. A fancy, lady’s saddle with a brass nameplate. That’s what I want to get her. And then I’m going to teach her to ride.”
Mary snorted. “Mr. Travis
, can we go back to the diamond idea?”
Charlotte smiled. She could hear the loyalty and generous spirit in Mary’s voice.
“A saddle’s not a bad idea at all,” Silas offered. “Mrs. Travis will get a lot more use from a saddle than a bunch of diamonds.”
“I don’t know why you’re saying anything,” Mary grumbled. “You never bought me either.”
A voice in the distance called Will and he excused himself. Charlotte listened as his horse’s hoof beats faded. She remained still. If she moved, and they were close enough to Colter Canyon, Will would simply have one of his men take her home. She didn’t want that, not only because she yearned to travel with him, but the notion of being sent home like a misbehaving child was too much for her pride.
So she waited.
A few times she dozed off. Lying on the buckboard was unpleasant and boring. The buckboard was forever rolling over a rock or a dip or a rut and she got banged around constantly. Despite that, she fell asleep frequently. A scream woke her. She blinked in the light of blinding sunshine. Mary stood at the end of the buckboard, staring, pale-faced.
“Mrs. Travis, you are wicked. I almost died when I saw someone lying under the tarp.”
“Hush, Mary. You’re going to get me into trouble.” She sat up and looked around. Will galloped across the flat prairie land directly at the buckboard. He pulled his gelding up and trotted the last few yards.
His eyes were hard and his mouth was set in a thin line. “Charlotte.” He snarled and gripped his reins in a massive, clenched fist.
A laugh escaped her lips and she feigned a yawn. “What am I doing here?”
Mary stared, her eyes wide as saucers. “I have to talk to Silas about starting the campfire.”
With that she vanished, leaving Charlotte alone with Will.
“You disobeyed me,” Will spat.
“You didn’t read my letters?”