The Most Unsuitable Wife

by Caroline Clemmons

  "Being such a good cook yourself, you'd have no need for a place to dine out."

  His answer pleased her. "Thank you. Still and all, everyone likes to have someone else cook sometimes."

  "And does anyone cook for you?” He closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose as if to pinch off a headache.

  "Yes, Sarah often does. Even Storm cooks once in a while, though he prefers a campfire to a stove. Cooking's a skill everyone needs at some time."

  He laughed. "Yes, but I only cook when I'm so hungry my stomach isn't too particular."

  The carriage stopped at The Excelsior Hotel. A uniformed porter rushed to help them. Drake handed over their bags then turned to help Pearl. The niggling doubts of the past few days rushed to ball in her stomach. She felt ready to cling to the man beside her one minute then run away in the next.

  The desk clerk produced a key and they followed the porter. The clicking of her heels against the polished marble of the lobby floor ceased on the carpet-lined halls and stairs. Trying not to gawk like the bumpkin she felt, Pearl studied the reflection she and Drake made as they passed a long mirror. What a handsome couple, she thought.

  When she stepped into the room, she stopped. She stood in a sitting room lovelier than any she could have imagined. Through a door to her right she saw a large bed. To her left another bedroom opened.

  "Goodness. It's like a house, isn't it?” She peered around.

  “Don't worry, there's no kitchen.” He chuckled.

  The porter lit the gaslight on the wall before he put their bags in the larger bedroom.

  Not in all her lifetime could she have envisioned a place this grand. She walked to heavy gold brocade draperies tied back to reveal lace curtains at the windows. Pearl parted the panels to look at the street below.

  She jumped when Drake placed his hand on her arm. "Would you like to freshen up or something before we go down for dinner?"

  "No, I'm ready now.”

  Later, seated beside Drake in the dining room, Pearl looked at the line of silverware spread on the crisp damask cloth. She saw waiters hurrying by with foods she did not recognize. From a well deep inside her mind she recalled what Mrs. Cummins told her years ago. "When you don't know what to do in a social situation, watch those around you."

  She smiled. Pearl Cummins never meant her to mimic the men at a table in the corner. One smoked a cigar and the other picked his teeth with the blade of his pocketknife. Her gaze sought other diners and found a family seated nearby. The mother moved gracefully and with certainty. Pearl watched how the woman handled each fork, each dish and glass.

  She picked up the same fork as the other woman. "I never knew it was so much work just to eat. I'm glad I don't have to wash the dishes here."

  They passed the meal with a few comments about the upcoming trip, the wedding guests, and other general topics. Too soon the meal was over and it was time to return to their rooms. With each step, she grew more nervous.

  How would she know what to do? Would he want to touch her before they got into bed? What if she hated their coming together? Dear heavens, she wished this night were over.

  Drake must have sensed her fear. When they stepped inside their rooms, he turned her to him.

  "Don't be nervous. It will be all right. You go in and get ready for bed. I'll sit out here for a while."

  Grateful for his understanding, she hurried into the bedroom and closed the door. From her bag she took her new gown and laid it out on the bed. Mary Alice told her not to wear anything under it, not even her drawers.

  My word. In the store the nightie hadn't looked nearly so thin. Fabric almost as transparent as the lace trim mocked her. She slid her hand under the fine lawn of the gown.

  As she suspected, she plainly saw her hand, picked out the gold band on her finger. She felt her eyes widen in alarm. Why, he'd be able to see... no, better not think about it, just get on with her preparations. What could she do now but wear the blasted thing?

  With precise movements, she turned down the covers the same amount on each side of the bed. She plumped up the pillows and replaced them side by side. The heat of a flush spread across her face as she thought of her and Drake between the sheets, heads resting side by side on the pillows.

  Next she took out the gray traveling suit for tomorrow, shook it and hung it in the wardrobe. She laid the reticule, hat and gloves on the table near the window. When everything was ready for morning, she stripped off her clothes.

  What a relief to be out of that horrid corset. She couldn't bear thinking about putting it on again. Very carefully, she folded her dress and put it into the bag. She bathed with her lilac soap before she slipped into the sinfully thin gown.

  Fumbling fingers unpinned her hair and brushed it. She would never be able to duplicate the style Mary Alice managed, but she would make a stab at something similar in the morning. Pausing to gaze in the mirror, she pinched her cheeks and rubbed a rose petal along her lips.

  Drake paced the sitting room, as nervous as a green kid. He wished he was visiting Abby or Lulu at Dalton's Saloon back home. Those women knew all about sex and then some. No need for care or caution there. A couple of drinks, a quick tumble, relief, and he was on his way back to the ranch.

  With a woman like Pearl... well, hell, he'd never been with a woman like Pearl. He liked women who knew what to do and expected nothing from him but a good ride and a few dollars. Now, though, he would have to lead the way, go slow, teach a trembling spinster the way to pleasure.

  Anger overwhelmed him. Once again he railed against his parents and grandfather for forcing this upon him. Because of the ridiculous will he acquired not only a wife he did not want, but a whole damn family. That they seemed nice enough people was beside the point and made little difference.

  Marrying her now ruled out any future marriage should he find a woman as right for him as Grandma had been for Grandpa. There'd be no happy ever after for him now. All he could do was make the best of a bad situation. Fury swept over him, setting off a myriad of protests.

  He wanted no one, needed no one in his personal life. Dammit, all he wanted was to be left alone to build his ranch. He needed no interruptions, no outside obligations, no woman wheedling him to do this or that. Well, at least that part of his life was secure now. The ranch would remain his.

  Right now he wished this night was over, that they were home. And home meant him at the ranch, her and her kin in town with his grandfather. Damn, he might as well get this over with. He tossed his jacket and tie on the sofa and strode to the bedroom. Rapping twice, he opened the door. He stepped through the opening and stopped.

  The world halted with him.

  Pearl sat at the dressing table brushing her hair. It fell to her waist in thick waves of dark gold. Candlelight danced across her ivory skin. Brush in hand, she half-turned to meet his gaze. As she did, the thin fabric pulled across perfect breasts, outlining the aureoles and nipples.

  Anger melted into something else entirely. Pounding heat pumped to his groin. Just like that he was harder than a flagpole.

  She laid the brush on the table and rose as he crossed to her. Her hand reached out to him and he took it in his. Eyes wide with apprehension met his gaze.

  Softly, her voice hesitant, she said, "You know I've helped birth babies. I pretty much understand the... the way babies get planted. Mary Alice told me some of what might come. It's just that, you see, I don't know what you expect of me or exactly how this coming together really works.”

  "We start with this.” He pulled her to him and kissed her. As at the wedding, her soft lips welcomed him. Her arms hung at her side. She raised her hands to rest lightly on his arms as if for balance.

  His mouth guided hers. Teasing, coaxing, his mouth sucked her bottom lip, nipped at it. Her arms slid around his neck and she leaned into him. He ran his tongue across her lips and broke the kiss. Looking into her eyes, he smiled at her. Raw hunger swam in those violet pools.

  "Open your lips
for me.”

  She obeyed and he renewed the assault of her mouth. His tongue thrust between her teeth, tasting and probing. A quick learner, she soon followed his lead. Low moans came from her throat or his.

  He no longer cared who made the sounds, only that they increased his desire. His hands sought her hips and pulled her into his arousal. Rocking against her pelvis, he rubbed himself against her.

  His lips moved to her cheek then trailed to her neck. Her skin was soft as a babe's. When he was near her ear he whispered, "Can you feel what you do to me?"

  "Yes.” She nodded slightly and held him close.

  "Do you want me to stop?” Lord, he hoped not.

  She shook her head. "No. I like the kissing. It's different than I imagined, though."

  "How?"

  "I thought... I didn't know it would make my toes tingle and my stomach feel all warm and funny."

  He almost lost any reserve he had right then. Trying to rein in his lust, he took a deep breath.

  Forgetting he had ever been reluctant to perform his marital duties, he pulled her to him. She smelled like the spring lilacs in his grandmother's garden at the ranch. She smelled like home. "There's more.”

  "I know. I'm not afraid of you... at least, not very much.” She burrowed against his chest. "It's just all so new and, well, awkward.”

  He took her soft face in his hands. "If I frighten you, will you tell me?”

  "Yes.” She closed her eyes and swayed into him. "More. Now.” As she sought his lips, she thrust her pelvis against his arousal.

  He almost exploded with the need to be inside her. His hand found the tie of her gown and released it. At his bidding the fabric slid from her and pooled at her feet. His lips trailed along her neck to her shoulders. When his mouth found her peaked nipple, she gasped. Her skin tasted as sweet as the honey her hair resembled.

  Fingers raked through his hair as she held him to her breast. When he moved to the other orb and held the first in his hand, a moan escaped her lips and her breath came in quickening rasps. She arched back as if to give him better access to her breasts.

  It almost defeated his intention to proceed slowly. He stepped away from her and fumbled with his shirt studs. In a fervor, he ripped open the shirt and sent studs flying. When he tossed the garment aside, he scooped her up as if she weighed no more than a child. He laid her across the bed and looked at her.

  How could he have ever found her plain?

  She patted the bed beside her hip. "Aren't you supposed to be here with me?”

  He laughed as he sat on the edge of the mattress and tugged off his boots. "Damn, you are the bossiest woman I ever met."

  She sent an innocent smile his way. "It was only a question."

  He stretched out beside her. "Like hell it was.” He nuzzled her neck and his hand found her breast.

  She moaned with pleasure then asked, "Why am I the only one with no clothes on?”

  "Another question?” He raised his head and smiled at her. His fingers twirled a strand of her silken blond hair.

  A twinkle sparked in her passion-filled eyes. "Yes, just a question."

  "In answer to your question, I'll strip off the rest."

  He eased off the bed and pulled the top covers from beneath her. A flick of his wrist sent them to the foot of the bed before he unfastened his britches. Her gaze remained on him as he rid himself of clothing.

  When he lay beside her, he leaned on his elbow to let his eyes feast on her body. She looked at his manhood and he saw panic on her face. He rolled against her and nuzzled her neck.

  "Don't worry. Everything will fit together very well."

  "That's what Mary Alice said. It seems unbelievable.”

  He kissed her, and she opened her mouth with no urging. Her hands slid up his chest to caress his shoulders. The need surging through his body drove him to hurry. His hand slid between them to touch the nub of her femininity as his mouth possessed her breast. She moaned with pleasure and thrashed against the pillow. He slid his finger into her and discovered wet heat.

  Although he planned to take more time, give her more pleasure, he could wait no longer to possess this unexpected treasure. He parted her legs with his own and slid a little ways into her. She sheathed him with moist velvet. He took her mouth with his as he began the first strokes, pumping against her. The resistance of her maidenhead broke and he paused for her pain to subside.

  She thrust herself at him, her head twisting on the pillow, her eyes squeezed shut. He pushed into her again and again, driving himself to an ecstasy he could not have dreamed. She cried out as he burst with fulfillment. Never could he have believed such rapture possible. How could he have thought he preferred saloon women to this?

  Rolling off her, he cradled her head to his chest. He stilled the trembling of his hands and stroked her body, reveling in the satin of her skin.

  She pushed her hair from her eyes and sighed.

  Sorry for any pain, he consoled her. "I know it hurt this time, but it gets better. I promise.” Would it? To his mind nothing could be better than the rapture he just experienced.

  In echo, she asked, "Better? That's hard to believe.” She moved to her back and folded her hands across her stomach.

  After seeing her that first day—walking barefoot on the dusty road, in a baggy drab dress and pushing that handcart—h e had trouble reconciling that woman with the beauty who now rested beside him. He smiled to himself and drew a finger down her chest, between the valleys of her breasts.

  "Are you laughing at me? Did I do it wrong?"

  "You were perfect.” He kissed her chin. "I think you're probably the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. But I was remembering that first day I saw you. Where did you get that dress you wore?"

  "It was Granny's.” When he waited, she sighed and continued. "When I was twelve and had a good start on, um, filling out, Mama told me I had to be careful not to attract men. She warned me since I was born out of wedlock, men would assume I had no morals.” She rolled her eyes. "It was something I'd already noticed."

  He frowned. "Men made advances to you? Because your parents weren't married?"

  "Yes, men of all ages, even then. I got my height and figure early, so I looked a lot older. More than Sarah, although she looks a lot like I did at her age. Only she's softer, sweeter."

  He doubted that but offered no argument. "So you disguised yourself?"

  "About then Mama died, so I took her clothes to wear. They were too large, but I soon grew into them. Then I started wearing Granny's dresses. I also put grease on my hair and kind of frizzed it out around my face. I bound my breasts so they wouldn't show so much."

  "That's incredible. Weren't you uncomfortable?"

  "Phfft. Not half as much as in that corset I wore today, I can tell you."

  "Then don't wear it."

  She leaned on her elbow to look him in the eye. "You truly wouldn't mind?"

  "Of course not.” He took her breasts in his hands. "That corset does push these beauties into a nice shape, though.” He lowered her to her back and demonstrated his admiration.

  Pearl thought nothing could feel as wonderful as making love with Drake. The pain was less than she’d expected, the pleasure far greater. When his arousal grew against her thigh, she gasped. At once heat spread from her stomach to the moist juncture of her thighs.

  Belle told her to expect him to want more than one time. Pearl would never let Drake learn Belle knew so much, but she was grateful for the other woman's instruction. In the short time Belle worked at Roxie's, she learned things that surprised even Mary Alice after her ten years of marriage.

  Drake moved from one breast to the other. She slid her arms across his shoulders and massaged his back, urging him onward.

  She thought she would explode. The need overwhelmed her. The power of her desire astonished her. She clawed at his back to urge him to her. "More. Oh, hurry. Can't you hurry?"

  Just before he lowered his head, he looked at her and s
aid, "Darlin', we have all night."

  Chapter Eight

  As the landscape whizzed past the train window, Pearl savored the delights of her wedding night. Neither she nor Drake had gotten much sleep. Yet she felt truly alive.

  At first she feared she had been too brazen last night in their lovemaking. With a smile she remembered her husband's reaction when she voiced her concern. He reassured her with some fairly brazen suggestions of his own and demonstrated their application.

  But now her muscles complained of unaccustomed activities and lack of sleep numbed her mind. The steady thrumming of the wheels against the track coupled with the rhythmic sway of the train soon had her nodding. Fighting to stay awake lest she miss some interesting part of the trip, she soon lost her battle.

  Later, she started awake to find Drake missing and the engine lagging. The train continued to climb and she felt the further slowing of the engine as it labored up a steep incline. Through the window she looked down into a beautiful green valley.

  In the seats in front of hers, Sarah and Belle talked quietly. Lex dozed across the aisle. No matter, she had the little gun Drake gave her. To reassure herself she patted her thigh where the derringer was strapped in the garter holster Belle provided.

  She rose and made her way to the privy at the end of the car. Afterward, she splashed a bit of water on her face to chase the drowsiness. The speed of the train increased with the downward slope of the track and she balanced herself against the sway.

  When she stepped into the narrow hallway outside the toilet, a scratchy bag dropped over her head and some sort of closure drew tight against her throat. Cloth muffled her screech of surprise. Someone with long arms and the strength of an ox imprisoned her flailing arms. She struggled only to feel herself dragged to the vestibule at the end of the car.

  Rushing wind tugged at her skirts. Dear Lord, would she be thrown from the train? She kicked furiously but her only reward was a grunt of pain from her assailant.

  From close to her ear she recognized a familiar voice, "You won’t get away this time, pig girl."