by Lee Savino
It was her arousal that undid her. She was sure he could see every edge of her lady parts, creaming with humiliation, and the thought of him knowing how hot she was at his touch was too much to bear.
Letting her head fall in a gesture of submission, she turned her face to the side, allowing herself to sniffle softly.
Almost immediately, Lyle’s blows lightened. The smacks still landed on stinging skin, but they were fewer and further between. He even let go of her wrists, and she was able to pull them around her head, burying her face in shame.
He spanked lower, on the backs of her thighs, and she felt the pain jolt right through her lady parts.
She let herself whimper, then hoped he would stop before he realized how wet she was.
With a final few swats, he gripped her bottom. She cried out, feeling the throbbing heat beat against his hand. He let her go and returned her drawers and skirts to their rightful place.
“It’s over, Rose,” he said, and when she didn’t move, he drew her up into his lap.
She refused to look at him, sniffling, eyes burning with unshed tears. He took her chin and tipped it to look at her. Gentle blue eyes almost undid her, but not quite.
“I don’t want to fight with you, Rose. At some point, you need to learn to trust.”
She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she gave a small nod.
“Oh, Rose.” He folded her into his arms, bringing her down onto his lap on the couch, tucking her onto her side against him.
She pressed her face into his shirt, feeling his warmth, his strong chest, his presence so comforting.
His hand played in her hair. “You’re strong and beautiful,” he murmured, and she caught her breath at the sweet tone of his voice. “You’ve been fighting your whole life. Can you rest for a while, and let me fight for you?”
Taking a deep breath, she raised herself up until she could look him full in the face. As before, the spanking broke down her barriers; she found herself without a shield. “I don’t know how,” she told him honestly.
He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, a little movement that set her heart fluttering. “I’ll help you.”
She couldn’t take it anymore. His body was too close, his face too sweet after being so stern, his words too loving, like balm to her aching heart. Pressing herself forward, she closed her eyes and took his lips, kissing him with the passion pent up from the two and a half longest days of her life.
Almost immediately, he took the lead. His hand fisted in her hair, holding her still as he returned her kiss. His lips were gentle, then insistent, pulling at her mouth until she yielded. Her own hand slid up to his cheek, then curled around his neck, hanging on as he took over and plundered her mouth. He kissed her like a man about to die, determined to suck out all her sweetness. The world fell away until Rose felt they were the last two people on earth, who’d wandered for years in the darkness, and finally found in each other the light.
When it was done, she was panting a little. Lyle let her recover. After a moment, she dropped her eyes, unable to meet his gaze. His expression held an emotion stronger than kindness or pity. She could be struck blind at that moment, and the memory of that look would sustain her for the rest of her life.
It frightened her to death.
She tried to jerk away, but he pulled her forehead to his, holding her with a hand to the back of her head. His thumb feathered along the back of her neck, sending shivers through her. He seemed to recognize her need to retreat and released her. Immediately she shifted back in his lap, ignoring the screaming ache in her bottom. He let her, still holding her with his eyes.
“I’m thirsty,” she croaked, and she was, but not enough to demand it at that very moment.
He smiled, as if he knew she was retreating, but only said, “I’ll get you some water.” Lifting her, he set her down on the couch. She winced and shifted onto her hip, but otherwise sat quietly while he brought her water. For a moment, she let herself imagine what it would be like to love a man like Lyle and have him move about their home, caring for her.
Lyle knelt by her as she sipped from the cup. “Can I trust you to stay put?”
She frowned into her drink, but nodded.
“I’ll just be a minute. I’ll arrange for dinner to be brought up here.”
The door closed behind him and all her breath left her. She rose on shaky legs and made her way to the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes seemed large and liquid. She touched her face with trembling fingers, but her usual proud and stony expression was gone. The queen of the stage had disappeared, leaving a girl in all the bloom of youth. A few moments with Lyle, and all her innocence returned in force.
She backed away from the frightening image, her hand going to her neck. What was happening to her? Three spankings and she was losing herself. Lyle’s strength in handling her, his easy dominance, even his plundering kiss all told Rose’s body who was her master. And yet, she’d give all of her eighteen years up for a few seconds in Lyle’s arms. For a moment, she had a corner in the world all to herself, a shelter where no one could harm her.
What was it about a spanking that turned her to mush?
She pulled up her skirts and grimaced at the angry looking skin. Her bottom was almost glowing.
The door creaked open and she heard a chuckle.
“I wish you would mind me, but I can’t say I dislike turning my pale Rose red.”
Flushing bright as her bum, she jerked down her skirts and flounced off with her most haughty expression. Faced with his teasing, she could call on her queenly airs again. She stretched full out on the chaise, expecting him to take the chair near her. Instead, he picked up her legs and sat on the chaise end, propping her boots in his lap.
She glared at him, but he just grinned and plucked at her boot laces.
“What are you doing?” She tried to draw her legs back, and he caught them.
“Helping you relax. It’s been a long day, and you’re not going anywhere.” Gripping her calf, he eased one boot off, and then the other. “Trust me, darlin’. This will feel good.”
She tensed to fight him, but before she knew it, he was easing down her stockings with nimble fingers. Then his thumb slid across the bottom of her right foot, the pressure smooth and just deep enough to send pleasure tingling up her spine.
“That feels amazing,” she whispered.
“Told you.” His fingers continued working up and down her foot, paying special attention to each toe. Then his hands moved up her legs, massaging her ankles and calves until she sighed in ecstasy.
By the time he was done, her body was barely solid. “Thank you.”
“Welcome, darlin’.” He rose to wash his hands. Rose stayed on the chaise, floating in her own world. A knock on the door didn’t even register with her until Lyle came to squat near her head.
“Hate to break the mood, but we’re about to get a visitor,” Lyle said. “Sheriff’s here and been asking for you.”
She blinked. “For me?”
“Telling all who will listen that the dancer Rosie May shot a Boone and is wanted for questioning.”
Pushing herself up, she gnawed on her lip. “Should we run?”
His hand went to her shoulder, easing her back. “Too late for that. We’ll face him and be done with it.”
He didn’t seem to be worried, so she let herself relax.
“Anyway,” he continued, “there’s not many places we can run to in the next few minutes. With your red hair, it’s easy for them to point you out. Maybe I should make you wear a veil,” Lyle said and tugged on a lock of her hair, in what was becoming an annoying habit.
She fended him off and tucked her hair behind her ear. “You wouldn’t dare.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I might.” His dimple winked at her, and she rolled her eyes, realizing he was jesting.
“I’m not going about in black funeral weeds. Why not tuck me into a coffin and be done with it?”
“Now
there’s an idea.” He laughed, and she swatted him lightly.
Quick as a flash, he caught her hand and his mood changed. “I mean it, Rose,” he said, and her heart dropped, wondering if he was upset that she hit him. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. If I have to carry you in a sack out of here, so be it.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” She almost smiled then resumed her queenly mask. “Will they arrest me?”
“Sheriff is Doyle’s man; anything the law does around here is only for show. And what use would Doyle have for you in a jail? No, I think the sheriff has come to do his duty for his master, and make sure we’re on the run out of town.”
“Can I never escape that spider?” she muttered.
Lyle put his hand on her hip, and even this casual gesture sent heat flaring through her entire body. “Tomorrow we’ll put even more miles between us and him.” His other hand came up to cup her cheek, and she stiffened at the intimacy. “I’m curious, what made you come so close to him in the first place?”
She swallowed hard, trying to focus while his touch burned pleasantly. “When Sam and I left the show, we thought it best to keep to towns they would not go. I didn’t forget Doyle; I just hoped he would let us be.” She grimaced.
“He’s not going to touch you,” Lyle said. His fist closed around a hank of her hair then released it. Looking into his blue eyes, she almost believed him. His hand at her hip squeezed, then slid it down over her bottom. She fought against flinching as he smoothed her still tender skin.
“Sore?” he asked, a smug look on his face.
“Yes,” she replied shortly, wondering what he was about, when he leaned closer, his lips close enough to hers that she could feel his hot breath.
A knock on the door broke the spell, along with a man’s gruff voice. “Sheriff, open up.”
Rose jerked back, and Lyle motioned her to stay seated. He opened the door but blocked it with his tall body, and Rose could hear his cordial tone. “Sheriff, I’m Lyle Wilder. How can I help you this fine evening?”
“Is this the residence of Rosie May?”
“There is a lady here by that name, sir. What business do you have with her?”
“Investigation of the murder of Joseph Boone, brother of Otis Boone.”
“And cousin to James Doyle?” Lyle muttered, but swung the door open.
Rose had taken the seconds to prepare for her audience and arranged herself on the chaise so she leaned on the arm with her hair flowing down her back: the picture of a queen in repose. “Sheriff,” she purred, extending a hand. “Welcome.”
The man’s eyes darted back and forth between the handsome Lyle, casually leaning along the door, and Rose’s seductive, supine position. “I’m here to ask you some questions about the suspicious death of Joseph Brooks.”
Rose raised a delicate brow. “Is that the man who fired a shot during my act a few nights ago? Brought a gun to a fist fight?”
The sheriff nodded, looking unhappy.
“Why, then, my dear sir, there’s nothing suspicious about his death. I shot him.” She patted her long thigh, cocked up on the chaise. “I have the weapon right here.”
“You committed the murder?”
“Wasn’t murder. Self-defense. Besides,” she swung up to her feet, her temper flaring, her good humor gone, “he killed my friend, Samuel Wright. Who’s investigating that death? I’d like to know.”
Faced with a redhead mad as a spitting cat, the sheriff took a step back.
“I concur, good sheriff.” Lyle drawled from his place at the door. “As a citizen of Colorado Territory, I’m concerned that this town isn’t providing proper justice to those who aren’t bosom buddies of Doyle. The dead man is Doyle’s cousin, correct?”
Boxed between a tall man and angry woman, the sheriff chose to face the man.
“You know as well as I, Doyle owns this town, and the one just over,” he told Wilder.
“Then you’ll be happy to know we came from a meeting with him just last night,” Rose said, drawing both men’s eyes. Lyle shook his head but she ignored him. “Everything’s been settled.”
“That true?” the sheriff asked Wilder, and Rose made a sound of frustration.
“It is,” Lyle confirmed. “Though the terms weren’t agreed on exactly amicably. Doyle agreed to let Rose leave with me.”
“And who are you to her?”
“I’m her husband,” Lyle replied smoothly. “Or at least I will be, whenever the minister gets here.”
Rose’s mouth fell open, but the sheriff didn’t notice.
“You taking her away from all this?”
“That’s my intention,” Lyle said. “We don’t want to cause any more trouble.”
The sheriff frowned then pointed a finger at Rose. “Rein her in,” he said, eyes still on Lyle.
Lyle let a smile spread across his handsome face and gave a little bow. “Do my best, sir. May take a few more trips to the woodshed, but I’ll learn her.”
The sheriff laughed and anger coursed through Rose like brushfire. She waited until Lyle had shut the door and pivoted slowly to face her.
“So that’s your plan to rescue me,” Rose said, deceptively quiet. “Marriage.”
“Yep.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and cocked his head as if waiting for her outburst.
That only made her rage boil over. Her fists knotted at her sides to keep from flying at him again. “What the devil are you thinking?”
“There’s my Red.” He grinned. “You know, as much as I like you sweet, I love seeing the spitfire. You have enough vinegar to send a man packing. Good thing I know the real you.”
“You don’t know me,” she sputtered. “You waltz in, snatch me out of a saloon, and—”
“Save your life,” he supplied patiently.
“Interfere,” she hissed. “Then drag me off over and over again...”
“Rescue from a very dangerous man. Bury your friend, at the risk to my life, my brother’s and yours.” Lyle advanced, holding up a finger for each point. “Provide a horse for you to escape Doyle’s town. Stand up for you in front of the sheriff and plan to ride out with you tomorrow, to help you shake off the last of Doyle’s influence.”
She clammed up because these were very good points.
Lyle saw his opening and took it, stalking forward and squeezing her shoulders “I’m not going anywhere, Rose. And I want to prove it. Not only that, but it’ll send a message to every man who looks at you the wrong way, including Doyle.”
“I can handle Doyle.” She wrenched out of his grasp.
Lyle let her go, blue eyes dark, following. “Last time, he sold you back to your drunken father and I lost you for five years. Forgive me if I’d rather not go through that again.”
“Oh, I’m sure it was so hard for you.” She rolled her eyes and waved a hand, propping the other on her hip.
Lyle’s eyes snapped to hers. “You don’t know the half of it.”
“What a hardship, to lose the younger sister on the eve of marrying the elder. What, Mary wasn’t enough, you wanted to dip your stick in the sister’s well?”
Storm clouds passed over his face. “Careful, Rose. No one disrespects my Mary. Not even you.”
“You’re worse than Doyle,” she whispered. “At least he doesn’t tell pretty lies about how he’ll take care of me.”
“You will speak to me with respect.” Lyle’s voice cracked like a whip. “I know you hate it when I have you cornered, but I have you, Rose, and I’m not going anywhere. Throwing insults will get you nowhere. I’m not backing down from this.” His powerful body pushed forward, herding her back until the back of her knees hit the chaise. Unwilling to face his determined glare, she shut her eyes. The weight of the afternoon, her punishment, the kiss, and his insistence, hit her all at once. Her reserves were dry and she had no more fight.
Her shoulders slumped and she sank back on the chaise. “Forget all I’ve said. Do what you want with me. I
t won’t be the first time a man has come to take over my life. And when you’re done with me, and I’m discarded again, I’m sure you won’t be the last.”
“Rose.” All anger bled out of Lyle’s beautiful face, leaving something she could not bear. Pity.
“I’m tired.” She started to turn from him. “May I go to bed now, or do you need me to be present and awake during the ceremony?” Her voice was quiet but laden with sarcasm.
She felt his heat at her back, and when he put his hands on her hips, she stilled but didn’t turn.
“Mary’s death nearly broke me,” he said.
She froze.
“It’s been five years, and I searched for you that whole time. Let my farm languish, left the claim. My cabin burned to the ground, and I rode the Pony Express for a few months and used any time I had to look for you.” Pulling her to face him, he put his hands on her shoulders, his blue eyes deep on hers. “I just knew I had to find you.” His hand cupped the back of her neck with supreme tenderness. “You were my guiding star. I knew I would find you and give you whatever aid you needed.”
She couldn’t move, could barely breathe. Something huge was happening, and she was helpless in the face of it.
“You need my help,” Lyle said. “Doyle won’t stop harassing you. Your only friend was shot, and you have no allies. I’m your only hope.” His voice dropped, along with his forehead, leaning against hers in a gesture she knew and loved too well. “I know it’s sudden. It’s not how I would’ve chosen things to go. But you can’t keep on alone. Better to come back with me, hide through the winter, then come spring decide what you want to do.”
“But why marriage? You can’t marry me.” She shook her head. “It’s crazy.”
“It’s the only way to send a message to these men, that you’re mine and not to be trifled with.”
“I don’t need a man.”
“You need protection. I’m offering. Do this for me, please? Let me care for you.”
Her heart twisted, softening. The blue eyes and handsome face seemed sincere. What if she let down her shields, just for a while? The marriage would be in name only.
