Becoming Miss Becky

by Shannon Stacey

  “They sure would be shocked to find out folks are having sex in a whorehouse.”

  Somebody ran across the floor over their heads, the pounding followed by peals of laughter. Becky sighed. At least they weren’t crying.

  “I’m not letting you help me get dressed, so go visit with Will and Eliza Jane and finish your coffee. I’ll be a few minutes.”

  When she returned to the kitchen—dressed, powdered, primped and painted—she didn’t miss the flash of disappointment on Adam’s face. She smiled anyway.

  “How come you’re ready to go,” Will asked, “and they’re all still running around in their corsets?”

  “You know,” Eliza Jane said, “I’d squawk about you being in the company of corset-clad women, but seeing as you’re their doctor, it’s rather a moot point.”

  “I barely notice them, darlin’. Now, where are you two off to?”

  “Adam wants me to spend some time with his horse.”

  Will and Eliza Jane both turned to look at Adam, who only shrugged. “Guapo’s a good judge of character.”

  Will almost fell off his chair laughing. “Damnation, Adam, but it’s no wonder you ain’t found a wife yet. Taking romantic advice from old Gypsy women and a horse so ugly even gelded he makes mares cross their hind legs when he walks by.”

  Adam pointed a finger across the table. “Watch it, Doc. You may be my friend, but that horse has saved my life a number of times. You ain’t done that yet.”

  “You won’t shoot me. It’s my turn to pay for breakfast next.”

  “True. You about ready, Rebecca?”

  “Should I tell them I’m leaving?”

  “If you do,” Eliza Jane said, “you’ll have to tell them where you’re going, which means they’ll be able to find you.”

  Becky followed Adam out the back door and they circled around the building to the street. She tried not to take offense when he didn’t offer her his arm, since she didn’t know if it was due to her appearance or his general lack of social graces.

  They walked in silence to the livery, arriving without being accosted by panicking chickens or Lucy Barnes, much to her relief. They made their way down the row of stalls until they reached Guapo’s.

  Adam reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a lump of sugar which the horse took gingerly from his palm. With his other hand, Adam scratched the blurry dark smudge on Guapo’s forehead. Clearly man and beast had an affection for one another.

  “Guapo, this is Miss Rebecca Hamilton. Rebecca, this is my horse.”

  “I…it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, and was met with a baleful equine glare.

  “Now say goodbye,” Adam instructed, already pulling her toward an empty stall.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I wanted to get you alone. It’s been hours since I’ve had my hands on you.”

  He was already reaching for the pins in her hair, as she’d put it up for the occasion—though not nearly as tightly as she used to—but she slapped his hand away.

  “I’m not going to lie with you in a horse stall, Adam Caldwell!”

  “Why not?”

  She planted her fists on her hips, trying to keep her temper reined in. “First of all, I don’t care to show up for Sadie’s wedding with straw poking out of my hair and clothes. Second of all, it’s bad enough I have to sneak in and out of your bed, but at least I have enough respect for myself not to sneak around in a smelly horse barn.”

  She turned to walk away, but he caught her by the elbow. “What in blue blazes is bothering you today?”

  It was time to make her stand. “If you want to make love to me again, Adam, you’re going to do it in my bed for once.”

  “I told you that room wouldn’t do.”

  “No, you said you didn’t want my first time lying with a man to be in a whorehouse. It’s not my first time anymore. Not by a long shot.”

  Adam took off his hat, ran one hand through his hair, then shoved the hat back on his head. “And what if somebody needs me? It ain’t right to expect folks to have to go to a whorehouse to find the law.”

  “I’m told you wouldn’t be the first sheriff to spend time in a house of ill-repute, and it’s not like people are beating on your office door at that hour of night.”

  “Why do you have to go and change things now? We’ve been doing just fine as things are.”

  “No, you’ve been doing just fine, and why wouldn’t you be? I show up after dark, see to your needs, then leave you alone. It’s an arrangement any man would find desirable.”

  Adam’s expression turned stony. “This all started because of your needs, little mouse. If you recall, you damn near forced me into this arrangement, so don’t expect me to mind your feathers being ruffled now that it don’t suit you any longer.”

  Becky considered pointing out it wasn’t meant to be a long-term arrangement and perhaps a renegotiating of the terms was in order or that she was tired of always being the one who had to sneak around in the dark. But Adam’s pride was a prickly thing and she didn’t want to brush up against it.

  Instead she looked up at him through her eyelashes and let him get a glimpse of her dimples. “I’ve been wondering what it would be like to make love on those satin sheets in that big, soft bed. They’re so soft and slippery, and I bet they’d feel nice against my naked skin.”

  “I reckon I might like to see you like that,” he said, after swallowing hard, and she knew she’d won. “If I don’t die from imagining it all damn day.”

  With Will’s help, Adam managed to get the justice of the peace to the hotel not only on time, but sober. He’d even gone without his own calming shot of lunch so as not to rub it in the man’s face.

  Which had to explain why watching Sadie and Dan O’Brien swear their vows made his gut ache as though he had a bad case of the gripe. That and listening to the women sniffle into their handkerchiefs through the whole damn thing.

  He knew weddings tended to have that effect on womenfolk, but it vexed him to no end to look across the way and see Rebecca dabbing at her eyes with a dreamy expression on her face. And when her perfectly drawn red lips mouthed the words along with Sadie, it was all he could do not to take her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her.

  She didn’t have to pretend, goddammit. All she had to do was accept that the Chicken Coop wasn’t her only option. It was a choice between being Miss Becky and being Mrs. Adam Caldwell, plain and simple.

  Plain and simple to him, anyway.

  It was hot as hell in the hotel parlor—even Rebecca wasn’t brazen enough to suggest they hold the ceremony in the church—and Adam shifted in the hard dining chair they’d brought out. He knew, of course, that it wasn’t exactly right to demand a woman change to please a man, but he also knew that as things stood, it wouldn’t be long before he did serious harm to a person. It’d be a whole lot more difficult for him to change his nature than for her to change her clothes.

  Finally the justice of the peace got to the part where O’Brien got to kiss his bride and all the women in the room made sentimental little clucking noises. At least he knew there was food coming before the infernal dancing started.

  Rebecca, the chickens and a handful of other women in town who’d dared to come surrounded Sadie as soon as the justice declared them done, leaving the men standing around, clearing their throats and wishing for whiskey and a good cigar.

  “I reckon you’ll be next,” Will said, nodding toward the happy couple.

  Considering how much time he’d just spent dwelling on that very idea, he wasn’t of a mind to discuss it. “I reckon you’d be wrong, Doc.”

  His friend gave him a hard look. ‘‘Considering how many late night walks she’s been taking, you’d better give some thought to what you’re going to do when Becky finds herself in a family way.”

  Hellfire.

  If that happened, Rebecca was going to be a lady short on choices. No child of Adam’s would be born a bastard. And the thought of a
ny son or daughter of his being raised in a whorehouse…that simply wasn’t going to happen.

  “That wife of yours gave her an earful on how to prevent that.”

  Will snorted. “For one thing, there are no absolutes when it comes to that, and Eliza Jane had no idea you’d be going at it like rabbits.”

  With the post-ceremony fussing over, the men were herded toward the dining area—and ordered to carry the chairs in, as well—where the women scurried to set out the food.

  “Eliza Jane made the stew in that crock on the far left,” Will whispered as they grabbed plates.

  After heaping his plate with everything but the stew, Adam found a seat between Tom Dunbarton and Frank Seymour. They talked about the usual things while they ate—weather and stock prices and such—but Adam found his gaze drawn repeatedly to Rebecca.

  Even surrounded as she was by flamboyant chickens, Rebecca sparkled like a prize gem. Judging by how often she laughed that husky laugh that drew every man’s eye—but only for a second because he’d gone armed—she was having the time of her life.

  And that was the damn crux of the matter, he figured. Rebecca was happy. She was happy being who she was, and—as long as he took a few turns being the one who had to get up and sneak home—she was happy with their relationship the way it was.

  Adam didn’t really know what to do about the fact he wasn’t anymore.

  Chapter Ten

  With a satisfied sigh of exhaustion, Becky fell backwards onto her bed. There had never been another day in her life when she recalled having such glorious fun.

  She’d laughed and danced and laughed some more and, though her feet ached in protest, she was sorry the night had come to an end. Or almost to an end, anyway.

  She turned her head to watch at Adam, who leaned against the doorjamb, one eyebrow raised as he looked around the room she hadn’t redecorated yet. He smiled when he saw her watching him.

  “You looked like you enjoyed yourself today, little mouse.”

  “I had a wonderful time, even though you scowled at any man who tried to dance with me.”

  “It wasn’t deliberate. I just don’t like men touching you.”

  “Even the groom feared for his life,” she teased. In truth, she rather liked Adam’s reaction to other men in her vicinity. It wasn’t something he would mind if he didn’t care for her.

  She slid off the bed and went to the vanity. Taking off her grandmother’s jewelry awoke thoughts of Lucas Kilraine, as always, but tonight she pushed them aside. She wasn’t going to let worrying about her past ruin such a beautiful day.

  Adam stepped up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed the back of her neck. “I still can’t believe you got me to dance in front of people.”

  “It wasn’t so much dancing as spinning me around in circles until I couldn’t stand up straight, but it was the most wonderful day of my life.” She leaned back against him and met his gaze in the mirror. “I felt like the belle of the ball.”

  It was an experience unlike any she’d ever had before. In her former life a party meant a restrained dinner she was expected to manage efficiently and silently. The gaiety of Sadie’s wedding party—the boisterous laughter, the dancing and the loud voices vying to be heard over the music and each other—had nearly taken her breath away and left her dizzy.

  “There were other women there?” he said, sliding his hands up to her stomach to cup her breasts. “I never even noticed them.”

  “You’re becoming quite a charmer, Sheriff Caldwell.”

  “Charm doesn’t help with these damn buttons.”

  Becky set the eardrops down on the vanity and pushed his hands away before he lost patience and ripped the buttons free. “Patience is a virtue.”

  “Virtuous is something I ain’t never claimed to be, little mouse. And neither is patient.”

  He took a step back to remove his clothes, so Becky hurried to do the same. He was hard on buttons and lace, and had a tendency to end up so frustrated with her corset laces he’d yank on them, almost cutting off her breath. She’d just stepped out of her knickers when Adam pressed up against her again.

  His skin always felt hot, as though he’d been sunning himself on a rock, and his hands were rough. She watched in the mirror as he ran one hand up her neck, noting how dark and hardened it seemed compared to her own skin. But as different as their bodies were from one another, they fit together so perfectly it took her breath away.

  When Adam scooped her into his arms, she reached out and snagged a feather from the vanity top before he tossed her onto the bed. And as he lowered his body over hers, she ran the crimson tip lightly down his spine.

  The shudder that wracked his body made her laugh, and his scowl just made her laugh harder.

  “What the hell was that?”

  Becky showed him the feather, but when he made a move to take it away from her, she held it to her breast. Whether it was the softness tickling her nipple or the way his expression went from slightly annoyed to intensely lusting that made her shiver, she couldn’t say, but she flicked the feather to test it.

  Definitely a little of both. When Adam, who was watching her breast peeking through the feather, sucked in a breath, she smiled. “Oh, maybe I should put this away. I forgot you don’t like feathers.”

  “I like that one just fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Becky ran the tip of the feather around her nipples a few times, then trailed it idly down her stomach. She wasn’t sure, but she thought Adam might be holding his breath.

  He let it out when she lifted the feather to his chest and let it follow a similar path down his body. He sucked in his stomach and made a low growling sound in his throat that made her laugh again. “I had no idea you were so ticklish, Sheriff.”

  “I’ll show you ticklish, little mouse.”

  He reached down, but Becky scrambled out from under him, pushing her way up the bed. Unfortunately, the satin sheets felt good against the skin but didn’t offer much in the way of grip, so she didn’t get far. Reaching up, she grabbed the brass bedrails and tried to haul herself up onto her knees.

  Adam came up behind her and reached his hands under her to cup her breasts. The position made her gasp and her fingers tightened on the rails.

  “I’ve got you now, little mouse,” he said, and then he reached between their bodies and guided his erection into her.

  As he entered her, he took hold of her hips, pulling her back against him. She gasped when he thrust all the way into her, filling her in a way she hadn’t yet experienced.

  “I’ve been thinking about taking you like this,” Adam said in a husky voice. “But you shouldn’t tickle a man who’s about to make love to you.”

  The sting of his palm against her ass sent a shock through Becky and she would have turned around, but Adam buried a hand in her hair to keep her still and thrust harder.

  “You gonna tickle me again?”

  With the release her body was craving so close, Becky arched her back and pushed backwards. “Every chance I get.”

  Adam’s fingers dug into her hips as his pace quickened. She kept a tight grip on the bedrails, hoping he didn’t drive her head into the brass but not really caring if he did.

  He tugged on her hair, arching her back as he groaned her name. Becky’s muscles tightened and she gave herself over to the riot of sensations as he spilled himself into her.

  When the world returned to focus and she could breathe again, Becky loosened her grip on the rails and sank down to her pillow, taking Adam with her. He kissed between her shoulders before collapsing on top of her.

  Completely sated, Becky was content to lie under him, feeling his heartbeat against her back.

  She wasn’t sure if Adam’s lovemaking counted as having peculiar tastes or not, but it suited her just fine.

  Adam kissed the side of Rebecca’s neck and waited for the chattering to start. It was a habit she’d fallen into early on, and he figured it was her way of
putting off getting up and getting dressed. She either never realized he was always just far enough behind her to see she got home safe without being seen, or she’d chosen not to mention it.

  “Tell me more about the fortune teller,” she said after another minute or so.

  Adam snorted and rolled onto his back. “You don’t want to hear about that old woman. Hell, I was just a kid then.”

  “She must have made quite an impression for you to be the only unmarried man in Gardiner not chasing my chickens on a regular basis.”

  Something in the tone of her voice made his gut ache. Claiming the whores as her chickens and not just the chickens spoke not only of acceptance of her new circumstances, but commitment.

  Not that he hadn’t already known she cared for the women, but he’d hoped she saw her life at the Coop as a temporary arrangement. Now he wondered if Rebecca was beginning to see being the Coop’s madam not as where she was, but as who she was.

  When he didn’t answer, Rebecca propped herself on her elbow to look down at him. When her hair fell forward, tickling his chest, he reached up and twirled it around his fingers.

  “It ain’t just the fortune teller,” he said. “I’m the kind of man who likes to take the road less traveled, so to speak. I don’t share so well, so fallen women and I ain’t a real good fit.”

  “Do you ever wonder what she meant by a painted lady being your downfall?”

  A hell of a lot more than he intended to admit to anybody. “It was just foolishness, meant to separate a little boy from his pa’s money.”

  “And yet you not only haven’t ever paid for sex, but you wouldn’t even step foot in the Coop before I arrived in town, so it’s not foolishness to you. Do you think I’ll be your downfall?”

  “I don’t know about downfall, but if you keep doing that thing with the feather, you might be the death of me.”

  He wasn’t entirely comfortable with where the conversation seemed to be heading, so he kissed the top of her head and slid out of the bed. She watched him slip into his clothes with a sleepy little smile that made him want to crawl back into bed with her. Forever.