Libby Learns Her Lesson (Swift Justice Book 3)

by Dinah McLeod

  “The Bible tells us not to revel in others’ pain,” she reminded him.

  “It also says, ‘Confess your faults to one another’ and it says we should rebuke one another in love so that we can part from sinful ways. That’s what you’ll be doin’ and I intend to help you.”

  She scowled at him, unimpressed. “I hear my service on Sunday, thank you.”

  Wesley grinned for the first time, and she was shocked by the way that it changed him. His eyes lit up, livening his otherwise stern expression. “Was that an invitation to sit with you that I heard?”

  “I should think not.”

  “Thought I ought to check.”

  They were almost to the door now. Libby could feel herself begin to sweat. She was horrified—she always took care to keep from perspiring, but in this instance there was nothing to be done. She was worn out from her struggle with Wesley, but more than that was knowing that there were many pairs of hungry eyes waiting, eager to see her taken to task.

  “Wesley… please.”

  He stopped short, giving her his full attention. “Y’know, those are two words I don’t believe I’ve ever heard from you, and all in one day to boot.”

  “What? Your name? Surely…”

  “No. Not once, in all the time I’ve known you, which has been considerable.”

  For some reason she couldn’t name, his words made her take a closer look. She’d thought his face expressionless—fierce, at best. Yet, as she scrutinized him, she saw a depth of emotion she could only guess at. Why should he feel anything for her but ire? She was fighting him tooth and nail, after all.

  “I… I’m sorry if I’ve ever caused offense.”

  “There’s that word again,” he said with a short chuckle. “And you’ve never done anythin’ to me. Not directly, anyhow.”

  Ah. So he spoke of his sister. There was nothing to be done for that, and she wouldn’t apologize for it, either. She was quickly discovering that she didn’t like the way apologies tasted on her lips.

  “Now then, I take it you have somethin’ to ask me?”

  “Don’t… chastise me in front of them.” She found that word felt quite strange, too.

  Both of his brows shot up at once. “But you will submit?”

  They both knew that she didn’t truly have a choice in the matter. His mind was made up: if he wanted to spank her, he’d do it and unless her father came back in time, there would be no one coming to her rescue. “Yes.” Though her lips trembled, she held her head high as she gave her agreement.

  “All right. But you should know that they’ll still hear you, most like.”

  She bit down on her lip, hard, and nodded. Better hearing than seeing, she supposed. Most folks would be too polite to come outside and watch, after all. It wasn’t something she normally considered—being polite. But in this particular case, she depended on others’ penchant for it.

  “There’s a stool up there by the door. Run and get it for me.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “But… someone might see me!”

  “Someone might,” he replied, without a care in the world.

  Libby pursed her lips and glared at him. But knowing that glaring would have no effect, after a moment she turned on her heel and made her way up to the mercantile. Though she kept her eyes straight ahead, she felt the stares of those peeping outside. She snatched the stool up as hurriedly as she could manage and scampered back to him, not daring to check to see if onlookers were indeed taking in the show. It had crossed her mind to do so, to take a mental list of names so that she could make them pay for it later, but fear of further humiliation at seeing someone actually looking back at her outweighed the desire.

  She dropped the stool in front of him without preamble. For a moment, Libby suspected he might tell her to set it right, but he didn’t. Instead, he bent over and picked it up himself, setting it down on the soft dirt road.

  “Since I know you’ve never been whipped before, I aim to take it easy on you.”

  At his pronouncement, she let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. But his next words made her tense up again.

  “Don’t think that you won’t be mighty remorseful by the time we’re through though.”

  Though he seemed to be waiting for her to say something, she found that with the prospect of a spanking looming, her tongue lay quite flat in her mouth. That, too, was an unusual occurrence. If he was going to do this dreadful thing, he’d best get on with it before her courage fled and she ran away along with it.

  Seeming to sense that he was waiting for an answer that would not come, Wesley sat down on the stool, spreading his thighs just so and patting his knee. When she only stared back at him blankly, he said, “Lie over my lap.”

  “Over your…” Her heart jumped into her throat and lodged there as her pulse picked up speed once more. “Surely not.” It was more than fear for impropriety that halted her, but fear that she might enjoy being held captive over his lap a mite too much.

  “’Course, I could always pick myself a switch and have you bend over, if you’d rather.”

  “What a delightful offer, but I’m afraid I must decline,” Libby replied in her frostiest voice.

  Wesley, damn him, had the nerve to laugh!

  That was more than the headstrong, proud girl could take. It was one thing for him to be preparing to spank her, but to poke fun at her as well? How rude! Who did he think he was? Libby turned on her heel with every intention of running as fast as her feet would carry her when she felt his hand boldly take hold of hers. The feel of his skin against her own had the immediate, shocking effect of taking her breath away. Her flesh tingled against his and when she snatched her hand back, it trembled in his sudden cold absence.

  “I wasn’t pokin’ fun at you.”

  “It certainly sounded like it,” she replied, with much less rancor than she would have liked. She was lucky her lips could form words at all, after what she’d just experienced.

  “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am. It’s just… well, I ‘spect I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

  She eyed him suspiciously, but found nothing but sincerity in his strong-boned, handsome face. Not only that, but he didn’t make it sound like an insult. In fact, it very nearly sounded like a compliment, which was even more peculiar.

  “Now, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that you made me a promise.”

  “No,” she replied, matching the softness in her reply to that in his own voice. “You don’t.”

  “Good. Then what’s say we get this over with.” This time, rather than gesturing to her, he offered her his hand.

  Yet, Libby hesitated. Something told her that extended physical contact with this hard-voiced, fine-faced cowboy was not a good idea. But she’d never been one to shy away from danger, so with her belly churning with a mixture of nervousness and excitement, she put her hand in his.

  For a moment, he smiled at her, and seeing his face soften and his eyes twinkle at her made her tummy flip.

  “I get the feeling you don’t want to spank me, Wesley Swift.”

  His grin grew, revealing that he had a dimple in his left cheek. “Oh, I want it very much. Just maybe not for the reasons I should.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Never you mind. It’s time for your reckonin’, little girl.”

  She “hmmphed” at him calling her little girl again, but before she could say anything more on the subject, he’d pulled her face down over his lap. It wasn’t a position she was accustomed to, certainly, which made the butterflies in her tummy turn frantic. She would have said anything to stay him, but she had the sinking suspicion that nothing she could say would be enough to deter him.

  “Now, seein’ as how we aren’t courtin’, it wouldn’t be proper to spank you over your drawers.”

  The idea that they would ever be courting was ridiculous. Her mama would positively drop dead at the very thought, her hopes for her daughter’s future sha
ttered. Still, Libby couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever actually court her, and wonder what it would feel like if he did.

  But the moment that he laid the first hard smack over her skirts, his hard palm somehow managing to sting her bottom despite the layers of fabric that protected it, she made the quick decision that she was no longer curious. If it could burn so fiercely to be spanked over her skirts, she had positively no desire to see what it would feel like with them raised!

  The spanks kept raining down, one after another, stunning her with the force and the subsequent fire in her buttocks. She gasped, sucking in her breath even as she tried to think of something else—anything else!—save the growing pain in her posterior. Come now, Libby, she coached herself, you’ll see this through to the end and hold your head high afterward. Just don’t think about it.

  But as she bucked over his lap, how could she think of anything else but the punishment she was receiving at the hands of this firm, no-nonsense man? Her rear smarted despite the protection of her petticoats and drawers, making her squirm humiliatingly over his knees. She didn’t want him to know how he was affecting her—indeed, she’d much prefer to lie still and, when it was over, turn to him with her patented blithe smile that would tell him that no matter how hard he struck, he hadn’t touched her. But it was quickly apparent that that wouldn’t be the case.

  In fact, with each and every swat the smacks seemed to grow harder. Before she knew it, Libby found herself gasping with each swat to her skirted buttocks. Gasps soon turned to little cries of pain. She didn’t think she’d ever been so embarrassed, but as the swats came faster together still, tears stung her eyes. And while she did all that she could to blink them away, they nonetheless managed to find their way coursing down her milky cheeks.

  “Stop,” she demanded, the words coming out sounding like a hoarse, jagged version of her true voice.

  “I don’t answer demands, Libby,” Wesley replied without stopping his formidable hand from connecting with her tender backside.

  Libby swallowed hard, past all the sobs that longed to break free. “Please stop. I’ve learned my lesson, I swear it.”

  “I have your word that you’re not goin’ to be rude in the future?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’ll be apologizin’ to Justine?”

  “Yes.” She spoke the hated word through gritted teeth.

  “No arguments, no matter who’s watchin’?”

  “I promise.” She didn’t relish the prospect—far from it—but she would have said anything to get him to stop.

  “Well, I’m mighty pleased to hear it. But we’re not finished yet.”

  She turned her head back to gape at him, but his face was as indecipherable as ever. “You… you can’t mean…”

  “I don’t believe in quittin’ a job until it’s done.”

  “But I gave you my word!”

  He didn’t laugh, or ask what the word of a spoiled merchant’s daughter was worth. Not that she could have entirely blamed him if he had. Instead, he gave her bottom a gentle pat. “That you did and I thank you. But you should know I intend to hold you to it.”

  Before she could reply, he shocked them both by flipping her skirts up. It was no simple task, and with them lying over her back she felt uncomfortably bare and vulnerable. “What are you doing?”

  “I told you, Miss Libby. I’m seein’ to it that this job is finished properly.”

  “You… you can’t do this!” she protested, her voice rising in an alarming, unladylike squawk.

  Wesley didn’t bother to reply before his hard board of a hand came smacking down on her drawers.

  “Ow!” she yelped in protest.

  “Not only were you rude, but you also stamped on my foot, which I didn’t take kindly to,” he lectured as his hand came down again.

  “I’m sorry!” she squealed, feeling the stoked heat of her bottom more than ever. “Truly, I am!”

  “Glad to hear it.” But rather than stopping, he instead swatted her again and again.

  If she’d thought she’d been in pain before, Libby came to realize that it had been a gentle caress in comparison. But no matter how much she begged and cried—and cry she certainly did; there was no stopping the tears once his hand was unrelentingly punishing the seat of her drawers—he didn’t let up. She’d long since stopped caring about anyone overhearing and had gone from crying out to darn-near screaming. The poor, previously unpunished Libby had never known such pain in her entire life and the only thing she could think about was how to make it stop. But with her skirts over her back, there was little moving around she could do, other than kicking up her legs, which didn’t seem to hinder him in the slightest.

  As time went on, she couldn’t help but feel the heaviness of her skirts, the sun bearing down on her bare legs, her continual fear that she was screeching and kicking her feet for the townsfolk who, rightfully so, would probably enjoy nothing more than to see her getting her chastisement. But as time went on and spank after firm, stern spank landed on her upturned bottom, she forgot even those things. She didn’t think he was ever going to stop, and yet, her screeches turned to piteous moans as she went still over his lap. She’d long since lost count of the swats, but Wesley finally stopped—when he was good and ready to and not a moment before.

  “Are you ever going to step on my foot again?” he demanded.

  “No,” she answered, knowing as soon as the word passed her lips that she spoke the truth. She’d silently vowed to never even think of crossing this man again.

  “No, what?”

  Her brow furrowed as she strove to catch his meaning. “No, I promise.”

  “‘No, Sir,’” he instructed.

  Oh. So that was what he wanted. She could feel her cheeks warming at the firm order. Of all the things she had to be embarrassed about, yet, this was what got her blushing.

  “Libby?” he prompted, his voice full of warning.

  “N-no, Sir.”

  “There’s a good girl.” He helped her to stand and gave her a look that was close to a smile.

  She knew that she should have been furious that he seemed to be so pleased with himself, but after what she’d just endured, she didn’t have the energy for it. She was certainly fatigued from all the crying, but more than that, she felt somehow different. Lighter. Freer than she’d ever felt in… well, in her entire life.

  “You took that very well, for your first time.”

  She surprised herself by flushing warmer at his praise. Had that been a compliment? It wasn’t a very fine one, not by a genteel lady’s standards, and yet she found herself liking it far better than many others she’d heard. “First and last.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” This time, there could be no doubt about it: he was amused at her expense. Libby found that she didn’t mind it nearly as much as she normally would. Perhaps she’d used up her allotted anger for the week. “Maybe you’ll find the right man, someone who can master that strong will of yours.”

  “While I thank you kindly for your concern, I can assure you that’s not at the top of my list when I consider a suitor.” Yet, despite her protest he had her smiling back at him.

  “Are you ready to go back in?”

  His question caused her to go still and the smile slowly began to fade from her lips. She’d nearly forgotten her promise—not that Wesley would allow her to. She knew that without even having to ask—her bottom tingled at the mere thought. As her eyes were drawn back to the mercantile, she felt a little ball of dread begin to form in the pit of her stomach. But she had promised, after all, and she couldn’t go back on her word now, certainly not with her bottom so freshly tanned and the administrator of said tanning so close at hand.

  “Yes,” she replied with as much dignity as she could muster. Her hands set to the task of smoothing out her dress, after which she drew a deep breath and set her shoulders back. She gave a little nod, and Wesley offered his arm. She hesitated for an instant before she too
k it. Normally, she would have laughed at the mere suggestion, but given the circumstances Libby thought it might be nice to have someone to lean on as she made her apologies.

  The horror of what she was about to be made to do—or, rather, what she’d agreed to do—grew with every step that brought the two of them closer to the door. She would have turned tail and tried to run, if that tactic hadn’t failed once already. Besides, with Wesley standing so close and holding her arm, she wouldn’t have gotten very far. Maybe just far enough to land herself face down over his lap again.

  As she neared the door, what she saw made her halt in her step and her heart lurch.

  “Howdy.” There was her pa, watching them with an indecipherable expression. “I thought I’d step out and get some fresh air. Wanna take a guess at what I got instead?”

  Libby had only thought she’d been embarrassed before. Knowing that her father had been watching her get punished, had most likely heard her squealing like a stuck pig, made her flush crimson as she dropped her eyes and wrenched her arm away from Wesley as though she’d been stung.

  Wesley, however, didn’t seem to have any such qualms. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him step forward and offer his hand for her father to shake.

  Mr. Park hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking his hand. “Young man, I believe we need to have ourselves a talk.”

  “Yes, sir, I reckon we do.”

  “Why don’t you take Libby here inside and see to it that she sets things right, then join me in my study.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll see to it.” Then he was turning back to her, offering the same arm she’d dropped moments earlier. “Libby?”

  There were a thousand things she wanted to do, none of them more than to have a hole open in the ground and swallow her whole. She’d rather spend the rest of her life surrounded by dirt and bugs—the thought made her shudder—than talk to her pa about what had just happened. She’d expected him to be fit to be tied by what he’d witnessed, but he hadn’t even intervened when the man was spanking her! He’d sat in the rocker by the door and listened, cool as you please! She just didn’t understand it. Her mother certainly would never have let such a thing happen. In fact, when she heard about it, there would no doubt be hell to pay.