He patted his lap. “Come, darling, you know that you will feel better afterward. A spanking will help you to release all that pent-up emotion over the child.”
Her chest heaving, she took a deep, shaky breath and almost flung herself across his lap.
John flipped up her heavy skirt and thick flannel petticoat, baring her curvaceous bottom. He rubbed the soft peachy flesh, kneading and stroking. He began by peppering her with small smacks, landing the swats ever faster and closer together as he set a cadence, covering the whole area of her bottom. She squirmed and gasped but did not throw back her hands to protect her rear. He slowly turned her cheeks from blushing pink to crimson red.
He knew that she was determined to stay proudly silent throughout her ordeal but as the spanking progressed and he landed more and more heavy spanks on the tender spots at the tops of her thighs, she gave into her grief. Weeping loudly, she wailed her regret.
Up until now, she had been just too damned wilful. She needed to learn that there would be consequences each and every time she disobeyed him. He had to remain consistent if she were to learn to mind him, even though in disobeying him on this occasion, she may well have saved a small child’s life. She needed to understand it could have gone horribly wrong. If those natives had decided to see things differently, they might have attacked. They could be lying dead right now. Linnet needed to understand that. He halted the spanking in order to explain what might have been. She simply sniffled, listening but making no reply to his explanation. He continued to slap her pink, quivering cheeks.
He surmised she needed the release a spanking would give her to help with coming to terms with handing the child back to his tribe. He did not intend for this to be a long punishment, just a short, sharp reminder of what she could expect when she disobeyed him, regardless of the circumstances. He was delighted that she’d come willingly across his lap. Perhaps this might be a turning point for them both; maybe she would be more inclined to obedience from here on in? He sincerely hoped so.
Her wails turned into earnest sobs and he tipped her upright, cradling her in his loving arms, smoothing her tangled hair back from her hot, tear-drenched face, wiping her wet cheeks with his thumbs. “It looks as though I shall just have to give you a baby of your own to love. Would you like to make a child with me, dearest girl?”
Her mouth curved into a sweet smile, “Oh, I should adore a baby, Joh—I expect you would want a son?”
His eyes twinkled. “I would love either, but what I shall most enjoy is conceiving one with its very beautiful mother!”
He lowered his head to kiss her with all the passion of a man who has abstained for a number of days. She clung to him and they tipped sideways onto the bed, entwined together. He prayed that their lovemaking would bear fruit.
The days passed by in a whirl of activity, there were so many preparations to make before the snows came. Both of them were exhausted when they fell into bed at night, all thoughts of making babies were forgotten.
The day came when they awoke to a white covering of powdery snow. Linnet was thrilled with how pretty everything looked. The air had a scent to it that only a fall of snow can produce: sharp, clean, brittle and bright.
They fed the animals and set off for a stroll. “We won’t be able to walk through the snow soon, not once it falls heavily,” John told her. “It will be far too deep; it will turn very, very cold.”
Linnet skipped ahead of him and gathered up a handful of the soft snow, throwing it at his head. John charged after her and there followed a fierce snowball fight which left Linnet gasping for breath from giggling. They trudged home, wet, tired, but blissfully happy.
During the next few weeks, the temperature dropped, the weather froze and a thick snowfall covered the ground. As John had predicted, the snow was so deep it was difficult to walk at all, even over to the barn to tend the animals. John struggled daily to see to their needs and kept clearing the never-ending falls of snow from the path he had dug to the barn and outbuildings. Despite the struggles, Linnet was enjoying the closeness brought about by the harsh weather, and the covered landscape was stunning in its cloak of dazzling white.
Inside the cabin, it was always cosy, and the aromatic smell of Linnet’s daily baking wafted through the warm indoor air. The fire was constantly in, giving a cheerful glow to their small abode. Thick snow on the roof insulated the cabin from the worst of the cold. The evenings were spent happily in front of the fire. John would read aloud to Linnet or he would continue her lessons in the game of chess. He had started to teach her aboard the ship, but it had been some time since their last lesson and Linnet had forgotten many of the moves he’d taught her. John had to begin again and teach her from scratch.
He watched her as she frowned in concentration, her pearly teeth catching her bottom lip. Her lovely thick, red gold hair swung forward as she made her move and placed her bishop in jeopardy. Her hair caught the light from the fire, burnishing her locks to liquid gold. John’s eyes travelled downward over the swell of his wife’s breasts. All at once, he wanted the game over. He moved his queen and took her bishop.
Linnet flung up her hands with a sigh, shaking her head. “I swear; I’ll never understand the moves that each piece can make!”
John moved the board aside and stood behind her. “You will, given time. You already know most of the pieces. I am very impressed with how quickly you’ve mastered the game, my love.”
He bent forward, kissing her neck, running his hands through the soft skein of her hair. He slipped his palms lower until he cupped her breasts through the fabric of her dress. She turned her head and her lips met his in a lingering kiss. He stood and pulled her to her feet, sat down upon the chair and attempted to pull her onto his lap but instead, she slid to the floor before him. She placed her hand over the swelling in his groin. “Hmm, I have another sort of game in mind,” she purred.
“Certainly, my love. I think you need tutoring in the art of pleasing your husband.”
She cocked her head to one side. “Oh, really?” Her hand slid boldly downward, massaging the hardened bulge inside his breeks. Stilling her hand, he loosened his breeches, releasing his throbbing organ. Coiling a hand in her hair, he guided her downward toward his cockstand.
It seemed that Linnet understood what it was he desired from her because without hesitation she took his firm shaft into her mouth. He cradled her head in his hands, groaning in pleasure as he wondered how long he could withstand the exquisite waves of pleasure that the suction of her mouth created. Jerking suddenly, he almost reached release. He yanked Linnet away before it was too late. She gave a soft, throaty chuckle.
He turned her swiftly, pushing up her skirts, uncovering her long slender legs and creamy bottom. Fondling her between her divide, he parted her legs and his fingers readied her, fluttering over her folds and tapping her ridged pearl, reducing her to a quivering wetness. With a sharp tug towards him, he pulled her down onto his lap, impaling her with a quick upward thrust. She gasped as she sat back and he sank deep into her soft flesh.
Holding her firmly, with both his hands either side of her waist, he lifted her up and lowered her again onto his thrusting shaft. He pushed himself deep up inside her slippery mound. Linnet moaned, writhing as her sheath convulsed around his manhood.
He made quick work of the fastenings at the neck of her gown, unlacing the front of her dress so her breasts spilled into his waiting palms. He teased and tormented her burgeoning nipples as she began to gyrate over his lap, abandoning herself to the enjoyment of his embedded shaft.
John lifted her up and held her high in the air, turning her about so that she faced him. He lowered her slowly back over him, allowing his erect length to slip sensuously into her wetness. She shuddered as he filled her deeply, lowering his face to her bosom, suckling first one breast and then the other, biting and nipping each budded nub in turn.
She wound her arms around his neck. He raised his head to kiss her, stifling the little cry she
made as he snapped his hips demandingly. His tongue flicked in and out of her mouth, matching the rhythm of his internal onslaught. She threw back her head, arching back as he increased his tempo.
Suddenly, they were both thrown to the floor as the chair gave way beneath them. They clutched one another as they were spilled from the chair, Linnet giggling helplessly.
He rolled them over until she lay on top of him. He gently smoothed the snarled mop of hair away from her smiling face.
Becoming serious, she stared deep into his eyes then lowered her mouth to his. His thumbs caressed her cheeks as they kissed languorously. Their passion rekindled, Linnet slid down the length of his hard body, astride him. Raising herself above his swollen staff, she lowered herself onto him, sliding down his length. He filled her completely.
She rode him hard. John held his hands on either side of her waist, holding her steady as he ground himself upward into her yielding warmth. The exquisite sensations building within him flooded through him, finally exploding into a kaleidoscope of fathomless delight. He gave one almighty thrust, convulsed with a shout, and relaxed into a shuddering release. He watched her face as she came apart, her spent cries a thing of beauty to his loving ear.
He pulled her down to lie beside him, his arm circling her, a hand cradling the back of her head. Gently, he stroked his wife’s hair, letting the burnished curls slip through his open fingers. When he felt he could speak again, he whispered into her ear, “Your secret is out: you are a wicked hussy but I love you!”
She gave a throaty chuckle and, turning her head into his shoulder, she nipped him. “I am your hussy, ‘tis true. I love you too.”
He wrapped his arms tightly about her as she gave a shiver. “Oooh, it’s turned so cold!”
John lifted her onto the bed. “Tuck your hands under my arms.” She did as he bid and pushed her hands deep under his armpits, where he was cosily warm. He wrapped the covers around them in a tight cocoon. Gradually, she grew warm and they lay together, savouring the delicious heat, gazing into the hypnotic flames of the fire before drifting into sleep.
Chapter 17
One night a few days later, Linnet awoke in the dark. She lay still, listening to the familiar sounds of John’s breathing. As she snuggled drowsily into the warmth of the bed, she heard a scraping noise at the cabin door. Alert now, she listened but heard nothing. Then she heard it again, an odd, scrabbling sound. Could it be the natives back again?
She patted John on the back.
“Mm, huh?” John mumbled, half asleep.
“Wake up!” she hissed urgently. “Listen!”
There was the scraping noise again. They lay still, both listening intently.
“Wait here,” John finally whispered.
“No, if you’re getting up then so am I!” She hastily scrambled after him.
He went to the stove first, throwing more wood on, then he lit a taper for the lantern, which he handed to Linnet.
“All right, you hold that for me. I intend going outside.”
She trembled. “No, don’t open the door; there is no need to go outside.” She gripped him fearfully.
“We have livestock, I need to make certain are safe. They are vitally important to our survival and our way out of here come spring. Be a good girl and follow my instructions even if I am still outside. If I order you to bolt the door, do as I say without argument. All shall be well, calm down!” He reached out and traced his knuckle down the side of her anxious face, his voice softening. “I am just being cautious. The noise is probably only a wolf scratching his back on our cabin wall.” He pulled on his boots and reached for his coat and muffler.
He took down the musket and shot, priming the gun. She stood and watched him uneasily, shaking with cold and fright. “Be careful. Perhaps we should just wait until it is light?”
He shook his head. “No, I would rather take a quick look and ascertain that all is well with the livestock.”
At the door he put his ear to it, listening, but the sound outside had stopped. Cautiously, he opened the cabin door and stepped out. Linnet stood in the doorway and held the lantern high, the flickering light turning the white snow to gold. John walked a little way from the cabin, where he stood still and glanced both ways along the walls. “I can’t see anything here… ah…”
He hunkered down on one knee, studying the snow.
“What have you found?” she called anxiously.
He straightened up with a look of terror on his face then immediately began to run towards the door of the cabin. “Cougar! Be ready to shut the door!” he bawled.
There was a terrible snarling roar as a huge dark object flew through the air from around the corner of the cabin. John was already halfway inside the doorway when the mountain lion slashed at him, knocking his legs out from under him. He fell to the floor with a thump and gave a terrible shriek. Linnet leapt to the stove where she grabbed hold of the iron skillet and swung the pan at the terrifying sight of the big cat’s snarling face, catching a blow to the end of the creature’s nose. The animal roared with pain and reared back, which gave her the moment she needed to drag John. Desperately, she attempted to pull him into the safety of their cabin, sobbing with fright; the cougar was so close that she could smell its fetid breath. The creature raised a huge paw and slashed at John’s leg once again. He screamed in agony.
Galvanised by his terrible cry, she rolled John inside the cabin, fighting the cat for her husband’s life. The feline lunged forward with a lash, the vicious claws of its paw fully extended. Linnet reacted instinctively, smashing the animal hard on the head with the skillet once more, scoring a direct hit. There was a split second where the cougar dropped to its haunches and appeared stunned, whereupon Linnet slammed the door shut and threw down the heavy wooden cross bar.
For a terrifying minute or two, the large cat battered at their door, raging with growls and roars of impotent rage. Finding that this achieved nothing, finally it gave up, slinking off into the darkness. John lay writhing in agony on the floor. His leg was a bloody mess, his breeches in tatters.
Linnet, shaking, ripped a blanket off the bed and tossed it about his shoulders. “Can you move?” she asked.
John shook his head, his eyes held tight shut, his face white. “Water…” he whispered.
She spun away, quickly returning with a ladle of water which she held to his lips. “I will make you as comfortable as I can but then I must tend that wound.” She remembered Ned telling her that bear scratches were poisonous and the best cure was to wash them in alcohol. She assumed cat gouges should be treated in the same way. She placed a pillow under John’s head and left him on the floor where he lay.
She heated water, gathered clean cloth and picked up the bottle of whisky that John had bought from Mr. Penman’s shop. She poured an equal measure of whisky into a pan of boiled water, hoping it was enough—she had never seen anything like this wound before. Swallowing the bile that rose in her throat, she cut away what was left of John’s breeches.
He was floating in and out of consciousness, obviously in a fog of pain. Linnet tore up a sheet ready to use as bandages then, when she was ready, she began to swab out the dreadful wound. John gave an agonized yell then, thankfully, blacked out. She worked quickly before he could regain consciousness. Whole lengths of flesh hung loose from his leg. She cut the smaller shreds of flesh away while moving the larger pieces back into place as best she could.
Finally satisfied that the wound was thoroughly clean, she bound his leg up firmly with the strips of clean sheet. She scrubbed the blood from the floor and from her hands. Stripping off her nightgown, which was also covered in blood, she replaced it with a day dress. She tucked quilts about her patient then put the pail full of its gory water and rags in the corner of the room. She felt nauseous at the sight of it but knew she daren’t venture outside to dispose of the contents, not with a lion in the vicinity. She fought against the faintness and lay down upon the bed, shivering violently with shock.
Only an hour ago they had lain in this very bed, safe and warm lovingly together. If only John had listened to her and not stepped outside. She had trusted his judgement but look what had happened. She had believed that John had known what he was doing when he’d ventured out. Oh, why had she put such trust in him and not insisted that he remain safe inside with her?
Round and around in her head this jumble of confusing thoughts churned until, eventually, unbelievably, she must have slept, for she awoke late to the bright light of day and a reedy voice calling her name. John was awake but in agony. She checked his swathed wound, it was seeping blood.
“John, do you think you could make it up onto the bed?” she asked.
“I can but try,” he returned bravely.
She hooked her arms beneath his and pulled him into a sitting position. His face ran with perspiration, his teeth gritted with effort. “Are you sure you can do this? Would you prefer to lie back down on the floor?” She worried it was too much for him but he shook his head.
“No to both. I cannot stay on the floor—for one thing, my back is hurting like the very devil and for another, I am blocking the route to the door. Let’s just get this over with.”
She nodded. Tucking her hands under his arms, she struggled to get him on his feet but finally, he stood, although he swayed alarmingly, leaning heavily on her. They made slow progress even though it was only a step or two to the bed. When they reached the bedside, John sank onto it gratefully. She let him rest for a second or two before lifting his legs up onto the bed. She was anxious. John lay gasping, perspiration peppering his forehead. His eyes were closed, the pallor of his face matched the sheet he lay on.
Gently she placed a pillow beneath his head and drew the covers over him. “Would you like a drink?” she asked as she smoothed the mass of dark hair away from his clammy forehead.
With a slight movement, he shook his head. “No, need sleep,” he mumbled.
Her Match, Her Mate, Her Master Page 23