“You mean other than being a bunch of prissy stuffed shirts, nothing I guess,” she groaned, trying to kick her way free.
“Stop it. If I decide to spank you, you can bet your sweet bottom you’ll get spanked,” he informed her, glad she couldn’t see his self-satisfied smile. “So you wanted a real man’s man, huh?” Cheerfully, he walloped her again.
“I wanted a man who would see me as his equal,” she cried. “Oh, oh, stop it. I wanted a man who wasn’t merely looking for an attractive hostess for his dinner parties; but someone who would value my ideas and opinions,” she huffed before giving up the struggle and going limp over his knees. “I guess I jumped from the frying pan into the fire,” she hissed.
“Not entirely,” he replied, setting the brush aside and rubbing the sting from her bottom. “I will value your opinions, and I have no issue with you campaigning for women’s rights. I will, however, insist on your obedience. You know nothing about this part of the country and I know a great deal. I expect you to value my opinions in return, but more than that, I expect you to listen to me when I tell you something for your own good. Amelia, we will not have a home full of tension and arguments. In certain instances, you will just have to trust that I know what’s best.”
“What’s best is that I return where I belong,” she snapped, “and kindly remove your hand from my derriere.”
Hugh laughed and did as she requested. “See, in this instance I will do as you asked,” he replied picking up the brush, and spanking her nicely rounded bottom with five hearty smacks. “It happens to be one of those times I feel your request suits both of our needs.”
Amelia screeched anew with each crack of the wooden brush against her stinging backside. When he released her, she scrambled off his lap, cupping her bottom as she glared at him and backed away.
Rising, Hugh walked across the room and placed the brush back on the bureau.
“Dry your tears and fix your hair, Amelia. I believe you mentioned you wanted some tea,” he drawled, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the four-poster bed.
“You’re a brut,” she sassed, making no move to obey him. “I’ll not go anywhere with you.”
Hugh eyed the brush meaningfully until Amelia scurried across the room. Picking it up, she began repairing her lopsided bun. He ignored her outburst.
“After you’ve had some refreshment, we’ll send a wire to your father informing him of your whereabouts and our upcoming marriage,” he said as he moved to stand behind her.
Amelia’s jaw dropped in shock as she met his eyes in the mirror.
“You can’t imagine I’d marry you now that you’ve beaten me!”
Hugh laughed loud and hearty. “A mild exaggeration, but still adorable,” he said, turning her to face him and pulling her to her toes with his hands on her shoulders. Lowering his head, he claimed her lips with his in a firm, yet gentle manner. After several seconds, the brush fell from her fingers and clattered to the floor as her arms crept around his neck.
He may have been more surprised than she as heat engulfed them. Pulling her closer, he released her lips and trailed kisses along her hairline, down her cheek until he felt the rapid beat of her heart in the pulse at her neck.
“Sweet, so sweet,” he murmured involuntarily.
“Mmm,” she moaned, offering him better access.
He crushed her to him, molding her to his large frame, but when his hand slipped to her tender bottom she stiffened. With a sigh he released her and stepped back.
“Best wait until after the ceremony for more of that,” he said with a grin.
“If there’s a ceremony,” she shot back, spinning around and plopping her hat on her head.
“Oh, there’s going to be a ceremony,” he said. He smiled as he held out his arm for her. “Let me put it this way, sweetheart. If there’s not, a certain stubborn young lady will be making the return trip east standing for several thousand miles.”
“Humph, and why would I want to do that?”
“Because sitting will be much too painful,” he promised, opening the door and escorting her from the room.
They by-passed the hotel dining room, and he took her to a little Chinese tea room where she indulged in so many exotic treats she was rubbing her tummy.
“You have the look of a little girl who’s had too many sweets,” he remarked, rising as she hurriedly finished the delicious tea served in a tiny cup with no handle. He bought her a beautiful fan delicately hand painted in shades of blue, gray and gold, which he said matched her eyes.
Amelia accepted the gift and snapped it open, batting her eyes over the top as he laughed.
They stopped at a jeweler where he pulled her inside and purchased a simple gold band, insisting she try it on. She argued the point until he gave her a stern look, his eyebrow rising to an alarming angle before she conceded, and he slipped the ring into an inner pocket on his coat. Leaving the shop, he kissed her forehead, obviously pleased to have gotten his way.
Amelia wanted to give him a slight kick in the shin, but restrained herself as her bottom was still a touch tender.
They walked along the wharf looking at ships of all kinds. The ocean breeze made her think of home.
“See that one there?” he asked, pointing to a sleek schooner. “That’s the Mystic Maiden. We’ll be sailing home in a day or two on her. You’ll love it; she glides through the waves like a fish.”
“Hugh, I…”
“Shh,” he whispered, holding a finger to her lips. “Trust me, Amelia.”
Squinting up at him, Amelia held her tongue. Hugh was so nice to look at that she found herself giving him a small nod. He’d been a charming and considerate companion all afternoon, indulging her at every turn. Despite the many men on the wharf, she felt completely safe with him by her side. Whenever they passed a rough and rowdy seaman who looked at her too intently, Hugh’s arm slipped around her waist as he made it clear to whom she belonged. Oh, she could have shrugged him off, stating she didn’t need his protection and could take care of herself, but she knew it wasn’t true. With him beside her, she felt brave and much protected.
By the time they arrived back at their hotel, there were two return cables from her father, one for each of them. Amelia flinched and stuffed hers into her reticule but Hugh opened his and immediately sent a reply.
Franklin Westcott.
1816 Dunham Street.
Somerville, Massachusetts
Rest assured Amelia is in good hands. Stop. I will be leaving SF soon and returning home to Seattle with Amelia as my bride. Stop. While I understand your desire to retrieve her I find I cannot let her go as she has already stolen my heart. Stop. Feel free to visit us in Seattle any time. Stop.
H. Jordon.
Hugh handed the cable to the clerk and told him to send it immediately. After escorting Amelia to her door, he handed her the key with a warning in his eyes that had her blushing as she lowered her gaze.
“What time would you like to go to dinner?” he asked.
“Oh, I thought I might have a light tray brought to my room,” she replied. “That is if I can eat anything at all after this afternoon.”
“Nonsense,” Hugh said as she unlocked and opened her door. “I see your trunks have arrived. Have you formalwear?”
“Yes, but…”
“Amelia, I have no idea how long it will be before I can bring you back to San Francisco. I want you to have fond memories of this trip. I’ll pick you up at 9:00 and we’ll have a late supper. Why don’t you have the maid draw you a nice hot bath and take a nap?”
Amelia sighed and gave in. “Are you always this bossy?” she asked suspiciously.
“Not always,” he said with a grin. “Just when it’s necessary, but I have a feeling it will be a requirement with you.” Kissing her forehead, he walked away before she could respond. “Lock the door,” he called over his shoulder.
Shutting the door harder than she needed to, she quickly turned the key.
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*
Several hours later, Amelia awoke refreshed from her nap. She had asked the maid to draw her a bath, and after soaking in the lavender scented water, it hadn’t taken her long to fall asleep. Laying in a real bed for the first time in over a week felt heavenly. The maid had taken her midnight blue evening gown to be pressed and it was hanging on the door of the armoire ready for her to dress.
Getting out of bed, she smoothed the covers back into place and took care of her needs before braiding her hair and wrapping it into a coronet on top of her head. Carefully, she pulled little wisps free at her temples and neck. Satisfied, she took the sapphire necklace from her traveling case and fastened it about her neck along with matching ear bobs.
Thankfully, her corset closed in the front and she managed fine on her own. The dress was more difficult to handle without a maid, but she did the best she could. Finally with a sigh she decided to ring for help just as a knock sounded at her door.
“Who is it?” she called dutifully.
“It’s Hugh.”
“Hugh who?” she said as she walked to the door and put her hand on the key.
“Very amusing, Amelia. Open the door,” he replied.
“How can I be sure you are who you say you are?” she asked, enjoying herself immensely. After all, San Francisco can be a very dangerous place for a woman alone. Maybe you’d better tell me something to convince me.”
“All right, how about this; I’m the man that took a hairbrush to your backside this afternoon and is contemplating an encore,” he called back quite loudly.
Amelia gasped, her face flaming lest someone in another room hear his words and quickly unlocked the door. Stepping back, she stared at him as he opened it.
“Are you always so difficult?” he asked, forcing himself not to smile.
“Huh?”
Hugh looked at her curiously and repeated his question as he entered and closed the door behind him.
Amelia was nearly speechless. In his black evening clothes, he was the most attractive man she’d ever encountered. Her hands began to perspire as her wide eyes took in every detail of his appearance.
“Are you going to answer me?”
“Oh, um, yes, I mean no, well, I guess sometimes,” she stammered, backing up as she tried to finish fastening her gown. “I was just going to ring for the maid,” she explained, her voice trailing off.
“Turn around,” he instructed, coming closer.
“Oh no, I couldn’t. It’s not proper,” she whispered, shaking her head as she continued to move away from him as though he were a tiger stalking his prey.
Hugh said nothing as he watched her back closer and closer to the bed, one hand holding up the bodice of her dress. When she backed into the bed she lost her balance and fell back, looking at him with wide wary eyes.
He stood over her, watching the rapid rise and fall of her breasts as they swelled over her bodice. She licked her lips, her expression a mix of curiosity and fear. He could see she expected him to fall on her and ravish her and it wasn’t a bad idea. His cock lengthened inside his trousers, ready to lead him astray, and it would certainly make the matter of marriage a moot point. She would never refuse him if he’d taken her virtue. However, he wasn’t an animal.
“Come on,” he said, reaching out a hand and pulling her from the bed. “I don’t eat sweet treats like you before dinner.” He laughed as he sat and spun her around so her back was to him.
“Although you do seem mighty tasty,” he continued, running a finger down her spine where the dress gaped open.
Amelia shivered and tried to step away, but he took her dress and pulled her back, nibbling on her naked exposed flesh. “Oh yes, so soft and sweet,” he teased. “I may save you for dessert.”
“Mr. Jordon,” she gasped. “This is highly inappropriate.”
“Yes, it is, isn’t it,” he said with a laugh as he closed the last fastener. Rising, he gave her a pat on the bottom. “Do you have a wrap?”
Hurrying across the room, she snatched up her shawl and handed it to him, turning her back as he draped it around her shoulders.
“You’re lovely, Miss Westcott,” he whispered, tipping her angry face up to his and brushing her lips. “Try to be a good girl tonight. I don’t know if I can have you across my lap again without putting my control at risk.”
“I am a good girl,” she insisted, marching to the door.
“Hugh who?” he drawled, throwing her words back at her with a raised brow.
“Oh, that,” she sighed. “I was only teasing.” Amelia lowered her eyes.
“I know, sweetie,” he said softly as he opened the door. “That’s one of the things that makes you so appealing.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really and don’t think I’m going to stand here in the hall and start listing all your charms. I’m hungry.”
“You think I have charms?” she asked as he placed a hand at the small of her back and moved her along.
Hugh laughed. Life was suddenly much more interesting.
Chapter Five
Clarence Henderson paced his front room until it occurred to him he might well wear a path in the new carpet he bought when he knew for sure Alice and Delia were coming. Everything that could be done to make his home welcoming had been done. There was a new porch swing, window boxes ready for a variety of spring seedlings, and a tiny rocking chair for Delia.
He started buying things for the inside until it dawned on him maybe Alice would want to do that, and make it a reflection of her taste. The only things he purchased were the carpet and a new big bed to replace the small one he’d slept in ever since he bought the house.
For him, things were working out exactly as he’d hoped, and he prayed they went well for the others with whom he had shared the letters.
Dr. Martin wrote to Jane and she agreed to come on a trial basis. Clarence knew he could use the help in his office even if things didn’t work out for them on a personal level.
Angus McGuire jumped at the chance to wed Molly, the little Irish lass who swore she was a good cook. Angus had his own cabin at Camp 5 and did most of the cooking for the men.
Those were the only matches he was sure about. The rest of the letters he’d handed out at a secret meeting and let the men decide amongst themselves. He hoped it was the right decision and sadly there were still letters straggling in. There was no point in passing them on to Mr. Jordon knowing he was in San Francisco to fetch his bride.
He’d just have to wait and see what happened. He pushed away all the visions of the many things that could go wrong. The only rule he gave the men was that they had to write their own letters to the ladies and no mention was to be made of how the letter had fallen into their hands. Each man had to win his bride on his own merits, not because they were somehow associated with the vast Jordon timber holdings.
Samuel was in the office daily while Hugh was away and remarked several times that Clarence was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
“You’d better see the doctor, Clarence,” Sam said as Clarence jumped when he came up behind him and put his hand on his shoulder. “I think you’re getting a nervous tick or something.”
“Maybe I will,” Clarence replied, but he knew exactly what was bothering him. He was full of anxiety. What if Alice wasn’t attracted to him? What if she felt she’d made a mistake? Would she call off the wedding and find herself a big lumberjack?
Clarence wasn’t a man who worked with his back. It was his mind that provided a roof over his head and food on the table. He made wise investments, saved his money and spent most of his evenings reading or working on a project at home. At 5‘9” and about 160 lbs. he wasn’t nearly as big and strong as most of the other employees, but he was kind and loyal. He had good friends and people generally liked him. While he’d courted a girl or two back in Minnesota, it hadn’t been serious. He knew he wasn’t especially handsome, but he wasn’t repulsive either. His most ferv
ent prayer was that Alice would see past his average looks and find the good in him.
Looking at the clock on the mantle as it chimed seven times, he decided to take a walk. At this point there was nothing to be gained by second-guessing his decisions. The wheels were already in motion. Soon Hugh and his bride would be arriving by ship and so would Alice and her daughter.
Alice had never seen a photograph of Hugh, but she was sure to recognize the name. On the other hand, he doubted Hugh would notice she was one of the women who’d replied to his advertisement. Once he’d made up his mind to reply to Miss Westcott, he seemed to dismiss the others easily. Should they all end up on the same ship, things could get sticky. Hopefully, the other brides were not in as big of a hurry as Alice and would straggle in over several weeks. Of course, any attractive unmarried woman was bound to draw attention when there was such a shortage of females, but as long as they didn’t arrive in mass it might be all right. At least that’s what he prayed for as he walked along. Pulling his collar up against the wind that blew off the water, a shiver passed through him as he turned toward home.
It was well after dark when Sam let himself into the office, intent on finding the papers he’d forgotten earlier. On top of the desk was a stack of mail that must have come after Clarence left for the day. That man sure was acting strangely lately. Coming in late, leaving early, it wasn’t like him. Sam wondered if he was truly ailing.
Quickly he shuffled through them to see if there was anything of importance. Most were bills and statements of accounts, but as he got to the bottom he noticed a letter in an unfamiliar feminine script. Probably another response to the ridiculous ad his brother had placed. Taking it from the pile, he inspected it closely. Addressed simply to Mr. Jordon, he turned it over in his hands before slipping his finger under the seal and sitting down in the big chair behind the desk. Soon he was smiling as he scanned the letter and then read it again slowly.
Dear Mr. Jordon,
My name is Effie Lane and the woman who is on her way to you as I write this letter is one of my dearest friends. It was no small task helping Amelia leave town undetected and I put myself at great personal risk to accomplish it. You have no idea how long my father has been known to carry on regarding what he refers to as ‘one of my escapades’. Believe me, he can go on for weeks and it’s likely I’ll miss the biggest ball of the season. Mother will take to her bed with the vapors when she learns what I have done, but that is by far preferable and much quieter.
Amelia (The Marriage Market Book 1) Page 4
