Rocky Mountain Bride (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 2)

by Lee Savino

  “Don’t worry.” Lyle waved his hand and swung up on his mount, looking dashing and dangerous on the beautiful black stallion. “If Miles asks, I’ll tell him you were chaste. He has such a fascination with virtuous women.” His smile seemed bitter and twisted.

  “I’m sure Mr. Donovan won’t need a report from you,” she said, although she felt a pang of fear. What if her husband-to-be found out about her?

  Lyle’s jovial mood dropped away completely, and she knew she’d struck a blow. “No, he’s not likely to heed anything I say.” The stallion bucked a little, and Lyle guided it into a neat circle. Both horse and rider seemed filled with a nervous energy. As soon as Lyle faced her again, his mock friendliness was back. “I’m curious—how do you feel about him?”

  “Mr. Donovan and I are getting on quite well, thank you.”

  “He’s got you calling him Mr. Donovan. Stern, old fellow isn’t he?”

  “He isn’t much older than I am.”

  “Almost thirty.”

  Carrie gripped the rag she held to keep from tossing at the odious man. “That doesn’t matter. He’s kept quite well.”

  Lyle’s dark head went back, and he flashed his own pearly whites as he laughed.

  “All right. He’s not so old for you. I just thought a fine city lady like yourself would grow tired of leathery old Donovan.”

  “I assure you, Mr. Wilder, my husband-to-be and I like each other’s company.” It was the truth, she realized, and blushed hard.

  “I’m happy to hear it.” Mr. Wilder turned his stallion about again, and tipped his hat to her. “Well, do let me know if you need anything, neighbor, be it an egg or a cup of sugar.”

  The man made the word sugar sound lascivious. Carrie ignored his flirty wave, and stalked back in the cabin to take out her frustration on the remaining cobwebs.

  *****

  Sun passed its zenith and started to head towards the mountain range when Carrie sat down for a moment on the porch. She had the larder organized as she wished and her own small bag unpacked. Her bonnet sat on the shelf along with sewing shears and the unfinished sampler. The garden needed weeding, and there were a hundred other things to do, but she felt tired and dirty.

  Was this to be her life on the frontier—laboring for hours as her husband worked in the field? At least Miles Donovan seemed to be a hard worker. They may not eat like kings, but they’d never go hungry.

  Of course, she’d be more content with her lot if it weren’t for a certain pesky neighbor. For someone who hated her soon-to-be husband, Mr. Wilder seemed fascinated by her. She resolved to ask Mr. Donovan about it.

  In the midday sun the cabin was hot and stuffy, and the water pail was empty. She took it and headed for the river curving around the foot of the hill behind the homestead.

  The water sparkled, calling to her. She hesitated a moment before pulling off her dress and laying it out on a rock ledge. The hill garden offered a layer of privacy, so she undressed down to her chemise and slid into the water, yelping at the bracing cold.

  She splashed around, her legs striking out wildly as the current pulled at her. Her foot found purchase on a stone, but when she tried to stand, her foot slipped and jammed into the pinching rocks.

  Carrie fought the angry current for her balance, then lost. Frantic and flailing, she struggled to keep her head above water.

  “Carrie!”

  She heard a loud splash and then Mr. Donovan was at her side, grasping her under the arms and wrenching her towards the shore. She clung to him, gasping, until they reached the bank. He helped her up and followed, pulling her into his arms when they were safe. She sagged against him in relief.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, but when he tried to help her to her feet, she whimpered and staggered. “My foot—”

  Swinging her up into his arms, Miles carried her to the great rock overlooking the water.

  “Did I not tell you, Carrie? Did I not tell you to stay away from the river?”

  Unable to look at his angry face, she gripped him tighter and pressed her face to his skin, inhaling his wild scent, reassuring herself that she was alive.

  He set her gently on the rock, then leaned over, his hands roving over her, checking her body under her sodden chemise.

  “You’re bleeding.” He knelt in front of her and she saw her foot, dirt streaked and bruised, with watery red lines starting to run down her skin. Her foot looked very pale against his large, rugged hands. She turned her face away, shuddering as she remembered her foot slipping and the river coming at her like a monster, dragging her down.

  “There now, Carrie. You’re safe.”

  Miles tore a strip off her dry skirt, made a bandage and wrapped her foot. By the time he was done, Carrie sat shivering in her wet shift, teeth chattering more with fear than chill. Her husband-to-be still crouched in front of her, checking both her legs. When he finished, worry still creased his face, but all his anger had fled.

  “What were you thinking?” He touched her knee to get her to look at him. “I warned you of the current; it’s dangerous. People have gone in and been swept away.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  Miles got to his feet and loomed over her, turning towards the river with one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “What if I hadn’t gotten to you in time? You could’ve died.”

  “I know,” she cried out. “I said I was sorry.”

  “I don’t think you are.” He stopped pacing and sat down beside her, close enough for her to feel his heat. She wished he would cradle her in his arms again, and tell her it would be all right. “Up the way there’s a homestead of the family who abandoned their land after the river took their child.” His voice weary. “I saw you go into the river, and I thought…”

  “I didn’t know,” she burst out. “I wouldn’t have gone in…I just wanted to bathe.”

  “You didn’t remember when I told you it was dangerous?”

  “Yes, I remembered. I just thought…” She couldn’t look at him.

  “I see.” His hand was back at his neck, rubbing as he looked at the river. Then he seemed to come to a decision. “I know you’re trying your best, and learning. But when I tell you something’s dangerous, you must mind me.”

  She nodded.

  “You must, Carrie.”

  “I will,” she snapped.

  “You’re right,” he said slowly. “Now, I’m going to discipline you, so you understand.”

  His words didn’t register until he’d pulled her over his lap, wet and naked except for her small clothes.

  “What are you doing? Mr. Donovan, unhand me.”

  She tried to scramble over the rock, but he held her tighter. “I need to punish you now, Carrie. Out here, so every time you see this river you remember.”

  “What do you mean?” she cried, trying to keep her balance as he pulled her into position. Her wet hair hung down to the rock, and her bottom poked up over his knees.

  “Wait.” She started to kick, and he threw a leg over her calves, effectively trapping her. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m teaching you a lesson. You’re never to go into the river without leave. You’ll remember that, after this.” He started to peel down her wet drawers.

  “No,” she squawked, dangling helplessly over his knees. “You can’t do this.”

  “I can, and I must. I told you once and you didn’t listen, so it’s come to this.” He patted her bottom, and she felt the soft taps on her numbed skin.

  “Wait,” she gasped. “I nearly drowned. Don’t you think that was punishment enough?”

  Miles’s hand kneaded her flesh, getting it ready for the spanking. “That’s a consequence. This is punishment. After this, you’ll definitely remember.”

  Shrieking, she struggled, but with his arm and leg holding her, she couldn’t budge. All the fight left her when his palm came crashing down, and her breath rushed out of her.

  Miles swatted her bar
e skin, and her thoughts finally centered in on the rising sting. He was hitting her for what she’d done. He told her he’d take her in hand and correct her, and she’d agreed. Now she was cold and naked over her soon to be husband’s lap, being disciplined for all the world to see.

  This was madness.

  After the first couple of spanks, she got her breath back. “Mr. Donovan, Miles, stop.”

  He responded with a sharper smack. “Be still, Carrie. Take your punishment. The sooner you submit, the sooner it ends.”

  He got in a few more swats on her cold, wet cheeks before her lungs filled enough for her to cry out. As his hand continued to warm her bottom, she shouted her outrage to the hills.

  The punishment felt like it lasted forever, and Carrie screamed until her voice was hoarse. As the pain took over, she went from shouting her outrage to pleading, then sobbing. Miles’ hand kept a steady rhythm throughout, though the force lessened as she quieted.

  When it was over, Carrie still felt pain pulsing through her bottom. She was a limp, sodden mess dangling over his lap, her tears and wet hair covering her face.

  Miles replaced her drawers over her stinging backside, and she felt another jolt of shame at being outside and bared to the world. Even if they were in a godforsaken wilderness.

  Tipping her up so she sat again on the rock, Miles stroked both tears and chestnut strands away. “There now, that wasn’t so bad. You’ll have learned your lesson.”

  Jerking back, Carrie almost fell, then picked herself up quickly before she landed on her poor bottom.

  “You disgust me,” she hissed. “I know who you are now. A liar.”

  “Carrie.” He stood, and she blanched, realizing how much taller and larger he was.

  She snatched up her clothes and fled, not caring that she was scratching her already wounded feet.

  “Carrie, stop.” She could hear him stalking after her, and limped faster.

  “No, you stay away from me. You said you wouldn’t punish me until I was your wife. You lied. You’re nothing but a scoundrel. I hate you!”

  Her foot turned on the wet grass, and she slipped and fell, sobbing.

  A broad shadow fell over her, and then Miles was lifting her up in his arms. Too weak to fight, Carrie lay her head on his chest as his long strides easily carried them both to the homestead.

  Inside, he set her down on a stool near the fire, then turned to bank it up.

  Wet and filthy, Carrie sat sniffling. Her bottom stung, and she felt humiliated. Worse, all her good deeds for that day seemed wiped out by this stupid mistake that needed correction.

  Miles knelt in front of her and checked her foot, washing it and redoing the bandage. “Stay off this foot.” He went to the fire and returned with a clean rag to wipe her face.

  “There now, good as new,” he said. She refused to look at him, even when he helped her to the bed. “Strip off your wet things and wrap in a blanket.”

  The sternness in his tone left no room for protest.

  When she was done, she curled into a ball.

  This was a disaster. What was she thinking, coming to the wilderness to make a new start? She’d destroyed her chances on the very first day. He was sure to send her back, and then where would she go?

  The fire in her vision blurred, but she didn’t cry; she didn’t have any more tears, even as she knew all her hopes at a new life had drowned in the river.

  Swamped with misery, she didn’t notice Miles coming nearer until he was right next to the bed. He leaned over her, tucking another blanket around her. She shut her eyes.

  To her surprise, the pallet shifted and she felt a large hand stroking back her hair. She wanted to tell him to leave her alone, but it felt so good and she was too tired to fight. Maybe she could enjoy some comfort she didn’t deserve.

  “You’ve had a rough day, Carrie girl,” Miles spoke in a voice low and soothing. She recognized the tone as one he used with his horses. “But you’re learning. It’s tough out here. We’re one step between life and death all the time. Just one step.” His hand stilled in her hair. “Your stuck foot saved you. A little further and you’d have been swept away. I only had you a day, and I could’ve lost you.”

  If she had been totally awake, she would’ve been shocked at the frank fear in his voice. Even halfway to sleep, she recognized the weight in his words.

  She didn’t answer, but pressed her head into his hand until his fingers played with her hair again.

  “I know the discipline is hard to take, but you held up strong. And if it means you’ll obey me and keep safe, I’d do it again. You’re my responsibility now.”

  Swathed in blankets and the soft words of a strong man, Carrie surrendered. Even if she couldn’t process what he said, she felt their meaning in her very bones. The last thing she heard before she fell asleep carried her to sweeter dreams.

  “Don’t want you leaving me just yet. I like you enough to keep you, Carrie.”

  *****

  When she woke again, the fire had died low. Darkness hung outside the lonely window, and she realized she’d slept through the rest of the afternoon into night.

  Moving carefully, she took inventory. Her bottom still throbbed from her discipline, but it was easy to bear. A sharper pain was in her foot when she flexed it, but she suppressed the whimper when she noticed Miles sitting at the table, head bowed in thought.

  Too sore to move just yet, she studied his serious profile in the firelight. He certainly wasn’t what she’d expected. Stern and commanding, yet gentle. Even with her aching bottom, she couldn’t complain about his firm guidance. The spanking hadn’t been fun, but thinking on it now, she felt at peace. Here was a man who would do all he could to protect her, even from herself. That thought made her feel safe.

  Then she remembered how she’d yelled at him and wanted to hide.

  She lay still as long as she could before the scent of food made her stomach growl. Swinging her legs to the ground, she hesitated.

  “Easy now,” Miles said, coming to help her hobble to a stool. He knelt and checked her foot, wrapping his large hands around it and making sure she could move it in every direction without pain.

  “It shouldn’t be sprained. All the same, I want you to stay off of it.”

  She nodded, and accepted the plate of food he brought to her. When she was done, he helped her back into bed, and she eased down onto the mattress with a sigh. Miles took a blanket and tucked it around her. “If you need to rise at night, call for me,” he told her, and she felt a pang of guilt. She’d done nothing but make his life harder.

  He started to go when she caught the edge of his shirt.

  “Mr. Donovan. I have to say something.”

  He turned back and she cleared her throat, nervous at his solemn expression.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know I did wrong by going into the river. I should have listened to you the first time, and obeyed. I’ll do better next time.”

  “I hope so. I don’t like to see you in danger.”

  “Yes. I also must ask for forgiveness for the way I behaved. When you…disciplined me…I said some things.”

  “I remember.”

  “Yes, well, I spoke wrong.” She felt her cheeks heat under his intense gaze. “You’re not a liar, or a scoundrel. You were right to punish me. I acted like a child and I’m sorry.”

  “I forgive you.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, Carrie. You did wrong and I punished you. It’s over now. You’re forgiven.”

  She felt a weight lift off her.

  “Will that always be the way of it?”

  “Yes. Sometimes the discipline will be of a different nature, but always, when it’s over, you’re forgiven. It’s done.”

  She sighed, and something settled into Miles’ expression—a lightness, but not quite a smile.

  Her freshly dried hair wafted across her face and she pushed it back. “You’re not going to punish me then, for what I said?”

>   “Would it ease your guilt?”

  She started to feel relief that she wouldn’t be punished again, then realized she felt better because of the spanking. She’d done wrong and been punished, apologized, and now it was over.

  He read all this on her face. “Perhaps next time. Shout insults at me or anyone again, and I’ll wash your mouth out with soap.”

  Carrie thought of the large cake of lye in the larder, and shuddered.

  “I think you’ve had enough punishment for a few days.” His hand came up, hesitated, then stroked back the hair from her face, rough fingers catching on the fine curls. His palm felt warm and rough and Carrie leaned into it, smelling his scent of woodsmoke and hay. Then his fingers came around and lifted her chin, at the same time he angled his head down. For a moment she felt he would kiss her.

  Instead, he feathered his thumb across her lips, and then dropped his hand and headed for his sleeping place on the porch, leaving her feeling oddly bereft.

  *****

  The next morning, she woke before dawn, cold and cramped. The soreness in her bottom had faded, but her foot was mostly black and blue. She swung her feet around and started to stretch for the floor, when she heard someone clear his throat.

  Miles stood frowning at her in the doorway. “What did I tell you about standing on that foot?”

  She jerked her legs back as if the floor was made of hot coals. “I was just going test it.”

  He knelt in front of her and checked her leg again, his warm hands heavenly on her cold skin. “I don’t want you walking far on this today. I’ll do your chores.”

  “You want me to stay here all day?” Her annoyance died under his stern look. “Yes, sir.”

  Her meek response earned her a nod, and somehow she knew he was pleased with her.

  As Miles went to build up the fire, Carrie sighed and thought of her long list of chores. One hand went to pick at the mattress ticking, and a bug scuttled over her hand. At the sound of her shriek, Miles had whirled from the hearth with the iron poker in hand. He watched in disbelief as she limped away from the bed, running her hands over her body as if invisible bugs were covering her.