"And me," Priscilla said, in an eager voice. "But I'm unable to curb it as you bring out a beast that dwells inside me that I had not known existed before you awakened it."
Adam loved the way she met things head-on, no beating around the bush. But there was one issue that troubled him deeply. The matter of her virginity. She was ready to give it to him, and he was certain she'd come to regret it because he didn't see marriage in his future. Once out of the marriage contract with Mary Kate Burns, he'd decided he needed a nanny for the children, not a mother. And definitely not a wife. His one experience with that honorable estate was enough to sour him on it permanently. Nor could he see Priscilla filling the role of wife and mother, when clearly The Town Tattler was her focus.
He took her by the shoulders, looked into her eyes, and said, "About my taking your virtue, it's not something you should—"
"Don't preach to me about my virtue, Adam. I'm in no frame of mind to hear yet another sermon today. If you don't wish to finish the job we started in the buggy I'll understand and say no more about it. But if you are so inclined, but feel reluctant to do what some might consider a dastardly deed by taking an unmarried woman's virginity, then I want to assure you that if you do, I'll treasure the memory of it for the rest of my life. I only hope that if it's to be my first and last experience, you'll make it worth my while. And I'll try to do the same for you, inexperienced as I am. But I have a rather vivid imagination, and I can think of several things I'd do that I believe you'd thoroughly enjoy."
Adam attempted to set aside what those things might be, but the lustful images emerging in his mind, accompanied by the uncomfortable straining in his trousers, made it difficult, if not impossible, to stay on course. But he could not allow Priscilla to think that whatever intimacy they shared would lead to marriage. "If you give up your virginity to me, it must be with the understanding that marriage would not necessarily follow."
"Of course it would be with that understanding," Priscilla clipped. "Just because I absconded with your bride does not mean I expect to step into her shoes and take her place. I'm reconciled to being a spinster, but I'm not reconciled to never taking pleasure in the marital act. It must be the ultimate gratification that a man and a woman can share. In the buggy, when we were flesh to flesh, you gave me an idea of what to expect, but it was cut short, and now the fulfillment of that expectation is foremost on my mind." Her voice rose as she pressed her point.
Adam looked around, wondering if anyone was in hearing distance of their bizarre conversation. Priscilla was not the kind of woman to seduce men, and he didn't want anyone forming such an opinion. She was simply a woman eager to experience the physical union of a man and a woman. Oddly, most women viewed the marital act as a duty, not a pleasure, but she looked toward it with eagerness. And it was her eagerness that found him considering marriage again, even after rejecting it only moments before. It was a sobering thought. But to have a woman rush into his arms out of pure joy and kiss him like the end of the world was coming, and be eager to warm his bed so she could do imaginative things for his gratification, and challenge him with her wit, and her cleverness, and her ingenuity... Life would never be lackluster...
Odd that the term lackluster came to mind. Some might look at Priscilla and see just that, when in fact, she was like a bright star shining just for him...
"Whatever are you finding so amusing?" Priscilla asked.
Adam realized he was smiling. "You," he replied. "You remind me of everything I ever heard about the queen. The resolute way you looked when you confronted me about taking your virginity. The commanding way you presented it. The determination with which you intend to get your way. You are beautiful and regal, Priscilla. Don't ever let anyone convince you otherwise, least of all yourself." He took her by the arms and pulled her toward him. "I'm going to kiss you now, then we're going back to join the others before they come looking for us."
Adam locked his knees in anticipation of Priscilla throwing her arms around him, and was surprised when she resisted the pull of his hands, and instead, lifted a stubborn chin, looked at him with uncompromising eyes, and said, "But, are you going to kiss me because you know that's what I want, or because you want to?"
Adam eyed her with wry amusement. She was the most enchanting and exasperating women he'd ever met. "My kissing you has nothing to do with what you want, pretty lady. I'm going to kiss you because if I don't, I'll go mad from wanting to." Without waiting for her response, he kissed her thoroughly. And she returned the kiss, utterly and completely, her passionate response accompanied by little plaintive moans of pleasure that brought Adam to the brink of lowering her to the ground and lifting her skirts, and doing precisely what she wanted him to do, because heaven forbid, he wanted that too, more than he'd ever wanted it with any other woman.
When they finally broke the kiss for air, Adam tucked several stray curls back into the collection on top of Priscilla's head, looked at her radiant face, and said, "You have a blush now, and it's very flattering."
"But it's not permanent," Priscilla contended, pressing her lips into an uncompromising line that had Adam eager to change with another long, passionate kiss.
"It will be in the very near future," he said. "In fact, I guarantee it."
She lifted her chin. "I sincerely hope you're right," she replied, "because if you are not, I'm apt to go mad." She turned and sashayed toward the gathering.
Adam followed close behind, wondering how this captivating fireball of a woman, who'd crawled under his skin like a wood tick, had managed to bore her way into his heart, and was on the verge of breaching his soul. Something no woman had ever done.
***
While Edith, Mary Kate, Libby and Abigail set up the chairs for the Town Tattler meeting, Priscilla read over her notes about the importance of voting, and prepared for the barrage of questions that would follow her presentation. She had invited women to submit poems and recipes and short stories for possible publication in The Town Tattler, and she expected to answer questions about those as well. Although she tried to focus on how best to present the topics for discussion, it was almost impossible to do so. All she could think of was Adam, and the way his arms felt around her, with his mouth covering hers, and the taste of his kiss lingering. But what held her mind captive was the vivid image he'd painted by his last words, just before he left for the ranch, four days before. Those words had kept her in a state of restless longing.
He'd pulled her into his arms, kissed her soundly, and said, "When I return, I intend to put that permanent blush on your face, but it won't take place in a buggy, or on the church grounds, or on a mattress pad in your building. It will be in a bedroom suite with a bathtub where I will peel off all your clothes, and mine, and immerse your beautiful naked body in warm water so I can wash every inch of you, concentrating on those places that make you sigh, and moan, and cry out with pleasure. And when you're in a state of ecstasy, I'll wrap you in a towel and carry your warm, naked body to bed, and we'll pick up where we left off in the buggy. But we will proceed very slowly, applying a little ointment to each other so you will be subjected to only the greatest of pleasures when I penetrate your maidenhead, after which you'll experience a state of pure rapture unlike anything you could possibly conceive, even with your vivid imagination. And after I have put that permanent blush on your face, I'll stretch out on the bed, naked as a jaybird, so you can do to me, or with me, all the naughty things your wicked mind has concocted."
With that, he kissed her, shoved his Stetson on his head, launched himself onto his horse, and galloped off. And Priscilla was certain she wore a permanent blush already, even though the deflowering had not yet taken place. But it would, tonight. Adam was to return this afternoon, but before he'd left for the ranch, four days before, he'd made arrangements for the family to go to the theater tonight, the servants to have the night off, and the house to be theirs, alone. By tomorrow morning her blush would be permanent and she would no longer be a virgin. It se
emed that anticipated state would never come...
"Miss Priscilla?" Trudy's voice coming from behind made her jump with a start. She turned to find Trudy standing in the doorway. Trudy's eyes brightened. "The women are all gathering outside," she said. "There must be thirty or more."
Priscilla looked at Trudy, stunned. She had expected, at best, a dozen. She went to the window and peered out at the gathering. It only took a glance to see that they were the wives of homesteaders. She recognized many from the wagon train, but saw none that looked like cattlemen's wives—the ones with the money to purchase subscriptions. But there was time. And once the homesteaders saw the first issue of The Town Tattler, they'd be eager to subscribe, even if it meant pooling their money.
"I guess we're ready," she said to Trudy. "After I finish my presentation and open the floor to questions, you can stand up and talk about your father and hand out your leaflets."
Trudy's lips spread in a confident smile. "You didn't say anything to Father about this before he left, did you?" she asked. "I want it to be a surprise."
Priscilla shook her head. "No, I didn't say anything." She felt her face grow hot. Her conversation with Adam before he left was far removed from women's issues. At least women's issues of a suffrage nature. The bathtub scene emerged in her mind, and between her thighs odd things started happening again. She fanned her flaming hot face.
"Are you alright?" Trudy asked. "You're red as a beet."
"Just nerves," she assured Trudy, then forced her thoughts away from bathtubs filled with warm water, and large male hands soaping private places, and Adam stretched out naked on the bed, and her touching him and doing the naughty, indecent things she'd fashioned in her mind...
"Miss Priscilla?"
Priscilla realized her eyes were closed and her hands were pressed to her cheeks. "Oh, yes, the women," she said, wondering what on earth Trudy must be thinking. But it was almost impossible to keep her mind from straying to the titillating realm Adam had described. Determined to stay focused on issues pertaining to the meeting, she swept open the door, and said to the ladies gathered just beyond, "Welcome, ladies. Please come in and have a seat, or at least find a place to stand. I had not expected such an enthusiastic group. But I'm very pleased."
After the women filed in and took their places, Priscilla addressed them with welcoming words, then gave a recap of what The Town Tattler was all about. Holding up the first issue as an example, she asked for anyone who had brought poems or essays to step forward and give them to her. Several women offered contributions, which Priscilla accepted with the promise that she would read them and determine if they were right for publication. When that idea was exhausted, a slender, pretty young woman wearing a faded gingham dress stood. When the chatter died, the young woman said, "Miss Phipps, I'm Josephine Hoffman. Me and my husband James own Hoffman Groceries and Provisions over on Eddy Street. James said to tell you that he wants to place an ad in your paper."
Elated, Priscilla grinned at the young woman, and replied, "Please tell your husband that I'm very pleased, and that he can come here anytime and talk to me about what he has in mind." She waited to see if others would want to follow Josephine's cue, and when no one did, she began her presentation on suffrage.
The women sat listening, eyes focused on her as she gave a summary of the efforts of Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan Anthony. When she'd finished her presentation, she looked around at the staid faces, and said, "Mrs. Stanton and Miss Anthony are not the only women fighting for our rights. How many of you have heard of a woman from right here in Wyoming Territory named Esther Hobart Morris?" Priscilla was met with blank stares.
Trudy raised her hand. "Miss Phipps?"
"Yes Trudy?"
"Wasn't she the woman who organized tea parties to promote the idea of giving women the right to vote?"
"Yes," Priscilla replied. "I'm glad to see you're interested in the suffrage movement. Can you tell these women anything more about Mrs. Morris?"
Trudy smiled brightly. "Yes ma'am. Mrs. Morris was the reason women have the right to vote here in Wyoming Territory. Governor Campbell signed it into law in 1869, making Wyoming Territory's government the first in the country to give women these rights."
Although Trudy was not Priscilla's daughter, Priscilla felt a little ripple of pride. After Trudy sat down, Priscilla said, "Sadly, the women here are not exercising that right, and it's hurting the suffrage movement all around the country. For example, just last year, a letter from a Wyoming woman named Mrs. Coggswell was read in the Massachusetts House of Representatives as an example of why enfranchising women was pointless."
A woman standing off to the side stepped forward, and said, "I thought you were for women voting. Now you're telling us it's pointless."
"Oh no, no, no. I'm only using it as an example to show how important it is for us all to exercise out right." Priscilla picked up a copy of the women's letter. "Mrs. Coggswell's letter is long, so I'll just read these lines, in which she wrote: 'I have talked to many women with regard as to whether they wished to vote, and without exception, they unanimously voted it a bore and dread election time.' Anyone interested can read the letter in its entirety, which is in the first issue of The Town Tattler. The point is, because women here are not voting, other state governments are using it as an excuse to keep from enfranchising women elsewhere."
She passed the letter around the room. "It's not only important to exercise our right to vote, but to also vote our minds. There's an election for mayor of Cheyenne coming up, and that will be a perfect time for all of us to get out and cast our votes."
A few claps started, with more picking up.
Priscilla invited questions, which brought many, but when those seemed to be exhausted, she motioned to Trudy, and said," I'd like to introduce Trudy Whittington, who has recently become interested in suffrage. She'd like to tell you a little bit about her father, who will be running for mayor in the upcoming election. Go ahead, Trudy."
Trudy stepped forward, and with an air of confidence, said to the women, "My father is Lord Adam Whittington, and he's a good man who has lived in Cheyenne for many years, and he wants to make Cheyenne a better place for all of us to live—"
"Young woman," a voice rose from the back of the room. "Is Lord Whittington not a cattleman who owns one of the mansions on 17th Street?"
"Well, yes ma'am," Trudy said.
"Then he's no better than the rest. He and his kind send out their agents and range cowboys to threaten and intimidate those of us who are trying to make a living off the land. But we got our land fair and square from the government, and they have no claim to it."
"My father would never threaten or intimidate anyone," Trudy said, her voice growing high with emotion. "He's a God-fearing man."
"He's a cattleman," the women shot back. "The lot of 'em don't fear nothing."
Another woman called out, "Mabel's right. Three weeks ago a bunch of those cowboys came ridin' in and tore down our fence and ran their cattle over our fields, and the law turned a blind eye on them because the lawmen are on their side."
"Ladies, ladies," Priscilla tried to interject, but the women were too caught up in the furor to hear her. When the voices finally died down, the woman who'd been addressed as Mabel stood, and said in a voice intended to be heard, "The Homestead Act says we have to live on our places five years to get title, so the cattlemen aim to drive us off before then so our land will go back to the government and it'll be open rangeland again."
"She's right," another woman called out. "Our barn burned to the ground a couple of months back and we know it was the dirty work of cattlemen because we're raisin' sheep and they want us out of here. But we have just as much right, more so, in fact than them, because we hold title to our land, whereas they're squatters with no claim to the land they're runnin' their cattle on 'cause it's government land."
The room burst with grumbles and guffaws and angry words.
Mabel raised her hands to get the
floor. "Miss Phipps is right," she said. "We better get out and vote this time around or we'll have a cattleman for mayor and it won't be long before the whole bunch will be runnin' us out of the territory."
A leather-faced woman stood. "They won't be able to run us off much longer," she said, "because I heard the menfolk saying there's a law passed early this year that says nobody can interfere with settlers, and President Cleveland's ready to sign an enforcement proclamation starting next year to protect settlers moving west across public land."
Trudy hoisted herself on top of the copy table and stood. "You don't understand," she said, trying to talk over the heated voices. "My father won't let anyone run you off. He's a member of the Cheyenne Club and he knows all the cattlemen around here and he'll make sure they don't do any of the things you said. Because he's a law abiding man, he'll also see that no one bothers any of you. That's why he should be elected mayor."
A wiry woman with a ruddy complexion called out, "He's not one of us, girl, he's one of them, and don't you forget it. I'm sorry he's your pa, but that's the way it is. All I have to say is, our votes mean something, so it's up to us to get out and vote. We won't be going against out husbands either, because they're the ones fighting off the cattlemen."
"Please! You just don't understand!" Trudy hollered. "You're all wrong!"
"We understand alright," a short plump woman with a round face said. "You and your pa and all the rest of them cattle people are the ones who don't understand. We're hard working folks who gave up everything we owned to come west and claim our land, and we did it by crossing the plains in wagon trains in the heat of summer with barely enough food and water to survive. We ate dust the whole way, and around every bend we didn't know if Indians were waiting to kill us. Some of us got sick on the way. Others died. But we didn't know then that our worse enemies were not the heat, or the Indians, or the lack of food and water. They was the cattlemen who aim to run us off our land. Go home, girl. Go back to your mansion on 17th Street. You don't belong here among us."
Wicked Temptations Page 9
