by Lee Savino
It wasn't until the cramps in her stomach calmed that she realized her new husband was at her back. He'd collected her hair and was keeping it out of her way. As she straightened, he was ready with a handkerchief to wipe her mouth. Feeling weak and hollow inside, she allowed him to guide her to the bed so they both could sit down.
"You're all right now, Susannah. You've had a bad night, but you're safe here."
Shaking, she stared at him with broken eyes.
He left her side for a moment, and returned with a wet cloth, which he used to gently wipe her face and then neck. "There you are. Good as new."
She nodded. Her face must be puffy and hair disheveled, but there wasn't a trace of disgust in Mr. Oberon's expression. Still, she wasted no time putting distance between them, backing away a little to take inventory of her person. She'd lost her bag in the escape, and her dress was ruined. At least she still had her money tucked into her corset.
A loud stomping heralded someone in the hall. Susannah scuttled closer to her bridegroom until the footsteps passed. "Are you sure we're safe?"
"Pretty sure." Mr. Oberon was watching her closely.
Susannah squeezed her arms around herself, wanting to retreat, but not knowing where. The man before her was dangerous, but outside might prove deadlier still. "What do we do now?"
"That's a very good question." Her new husband stood, and she had to crane her neck to look up at him. He stepped closer, his height and broad shoulders dominating the small space, and her. His hand came out and she flinched, but he only caught a lock of her hair between finger and thumb, looking thoughtful.
"So sweet, so soft. Your charms almost made me forget."
"Forget?" she asked, and watched his face harden before her eyes.
"You want to tell me what you were doing at Doyle's brothel?"
"What?" she whispered.
Jesse's finger caught her chin. The look in his eye made her heart plummet. Gone was the casual, joking air, the amused smile just around the corner of his mouth.
"Have you been in league with him this whole time?"
"No," she stuttered. "I don't know..." She started to back away, and he caught her shoulders.
"Which is it?" His fingers dug in. "Answer me."
"I don't know anything about any of this, I swear! I was looking for a place to spend the night." She panted in fear, feeling tears press against the inside of her eyes. "I've only just come here. The only people I know are Mrs. Marsh... and... and... you!" Her voice stuttered and she lost her fight with tears. "I just wanted to... to get married," she wailed. "I never wanted any of this to happen."
His grip eased. "All right, baggage. I believe you."
But the dam had broken and she couldn't stop. "And then you robbed the coach, and blew up the safe, and then the sheriff came and questioned me, but I didn't tell them about the scar or what you looked like. I dreamed of you, and you came and we got married, and then you tied me up and left me for hours..."
Jesse pulled her shaking body into his arms. She huddled in the warm strength of his body, her hands gripping his shirt as sobs wracked her body.
"Now there's blood on my clothes and that... man..."
"Boone is dead, he won't hurt you." There was nothing but tenderness in the rugged outlaw's voice. "Don't cry, sweetheart. I'm here."
That only made her cry harder. Finally, Mr. Oberon scooped her up and eased them both down onto the bed. He just rocked her, and made shushing sounds until she calmed. She pressed her face to his throat, breathing in his scent. He smelled good, like leather and gun smoke. His presence was a quiet, steady solace in a world gone mad.
After some time, Susannah peeled herself away from his chest.
"Thank you," she sniffled, and he offered her his handkerchief. The kindness almost made her cry all over again. In her whole life, no one had ever taken care of her when she was sick, or held her when she cried. No one.
"You feeling better?" He let his arm fall from her shoulders but didn't move away. His body was close enough that their clothes touched. It was more intimate than she'd ever been with a man, and yet she felt completely comfortable. And safe.
She nodded.
"You've had a rough time of it, baggage." He leaned down a little so his shoulder nudged hers.
"I'm not in league with anyone. I was only trying to get away from you."
"Shhh, Susannah, I know." Gently, he tipped her face up to meet his smile. "You have the worst luck of anyone I've ever met."
"It's not me," she said sorrowfully.
"I know it's not." He let his forehead brush hers for a moment, and pressed a little kiss on her mouth before releasing her.
She sat in bed, shivering a little, confused, even as she missed the warmth of his body and mouth. Something deep inside her was crying out for something, she knew not what.
He crossed the room in the easy, loping stride she now recognized, and returned with water.
"I can ring for some food if you're hungry."
She shook her head.
"All right, darling. It's been a long day." Producing a clean handkerchief, he wiped her eyes. "In the morning, we'll go back to Mrs. Marsh's, get your things, and put you on a coach back to Boston."
"But what about—" she started, then hiccupped.
Jesse chuckled. "The marriage? I won't hold you to it."
She nodded, even though a little pain shot through her heart. Looking up at the tall man, with his dark hair and rugged face, handsome despite his devilish smirk, she felt she knew him better than any other person she'd ever met.
"Still," he said, raising her chin with a finger. "It would've been nice if things had turned out differently."
The pain in her heart disappeared, replaced by a soft heat, spreading through her limbs.
She watched him cross the room and check the door before ruffling through his saddlebags. He must have been staying here awhile, she realized. He certainly looked at home in the shabby room.
"Sleep now, Susannah." Mr. Oberon was standing in front of her. She blinked at him, and he grinned down at her, his fingers going to her dress' buttons. He had four of them undone before she smacked his hand.
"What are you doing?"
"Helping you get ready for bed." He brushed aside her hands, and when she pushed at them again, he caught her wrists. The pain from the skin rubbed raw made her hiss.
"Baggage?" He turned her hands palm up and frowned.
"Don't call me that," she muttered, even as he examined red marks on her wrists.
"You hurt yourself."
"Don't look so surprised. Someone tied me up and left me for hours."
"I was gonna come back."
She glared at him. "I didn't know that."
He left her side again. "I'm not the type to lie to a lady. Or leave her tied up overnight." Pausing in his search through his bag, he shot her a grin. "Unless she wants it."
Susannah huffed. "Well I most certainly didn't."
"All right, baggage," he returned, and took her hand again. Before she knew it, he'd smoothed something cool on her wrists.
"What's that?" She hissed again, even as the burning pain immediately cooled.
"Just a balm. Cowboys I rode with used it to help the teats." He smeared it liberally on both wrists, then cocked an eyebrow. "I've found it also has other uses."
For a moment, she just looked at him in confusion. His smirk clued her in. "You rogue," she cried. "Take your hands off me."
Laughing, he loped away, tucking away the unguent.
"You really are a scoundrel."
"As you say, wife." He sauntered to the door and paused with his hand on the knob. "Shame our marriage is to be short lived. We could've had a lovely time together." He winked at her before he left the room.
As soon as he was gone, Susannah breathed a sigh of relief, even as she felt disappointed. She scolded herself a little as she started unbuttoning the rest of her dress. Of course they wouldn't spend the night together, even t
hough they were married, and she did feel safer with him in the room. With wrists soothed and tears all cried, she felt her old self.
She was struggling to get her corset off when Jesse Oberon walked back in.
"What are you doing?" she yelped.
"Returning to my room after checking my horse." He approached, and she backed away.
"Turn around," he commanded, and for some reason, she obeyed. She felt his fingers, nimble and quick on her stays. He must have had a lot of practice, she thought, her heart sinking. Of course, the silver-tongued rogue would have all the feminine attention he wished for. Her mouth twisted at that bitter thought. Of course, she was no better; after all his mistreatment of her, here she was, letting him undress him. There was something about him, a magnetism she couldn't resist.
"There, baggage." Her corset fell from her, and she crossed her arms to cover herself. She still wore her chemise and drawers; their thin fabric would do as a nightgown in a pinch, or at least until she got her things from Mrs. Marsh's.
She climbed into bed, drawing the covers over her up to her neck. Jesse still puttered around the room, unbuckling his holster, placing his pistols near the bed and leaning his rifle against the wall. Even though he was a tall man, he moved with a predatory grace, his dark hair and lean, muscled body reminding her of a panther she'd seen painted in one of her aunt's library books. It was funny, really, even knowing how violent he could be, Susannah wasn't afraid of being in the same room as her rogue. She felt safer, knowing she was under the protection of a man more dangerous than any other.
"When will we return to my room?"
"Tomorrow, if it's safe. Tonight I thought it best to lie low. Doyle runs this town; Boone was his right hand man. His death won't go unnoticed."
Under the covers, Susannah fingered the torn flesh of her wrists. The pain was completely gone. "Why did you kill him?"
Jesse looked up from where he was checking his saddlebags. "He was going to kill you."
Her hand fluttered to her neck. "I understand that, Mr. Oberon. But you had a gun on him before I arrived."
"He wanted to kill my sister-in-law."
"Rose?"
He nodded. "She would never be safe with him alive."
"What about the law?"
"What about it?" He straightened. "You met the sheriff?"
It was her turn to nod.
"He's Doyle's man. Everyone in this town is, whether they like it or not."
Susannah wrinkled her nose. "Surely there must be someone who would stand up to him."
"That's right, baggage, and someone is. Me." His business finished, Jesse took off his boots and took up the lamp. To her surprise, he came to the bed and climbed in after her, on the side of the rifle.
"What are you doing?" Susannah squeaked, scooting over to make room for him.
"Going to sleep," he said, setting the lamp on the bedside table. "You're welcome to do as you wish, as long as you don't leave the room until I say."
"You can't sleep here. We're not—"
"Married?"
"Well, not really..." she sputtered.
"Relax, baggage. I'm not going to ravish you. More's the pity."
"I never!" she huffed.
"Hush," he said, blowing out the lamp, and then rolling to her, drawing her body against his before she could scoot away.
"This is improper," she protested, but didn't fight. She was too tired, and besides, it actually felt nice.
"Not for two married people. Besides, nothing's going to happen. You'll return home with your virtue intact."
Susannah fell silent, wondering at why she felt so disappointed. Jesse's body was long and hard behind hers, enveloping her with his warmth. No one had ever held her like this—certainly not any man—but she'd imagined it again and again. The reality was better than her imagining.
She turned her head and his hair tickled her ear.
"Besides," he breathed. "If you want me to truly touch you... you'll have to beg."
"I will never," Susannah vowed.
Jesse chuckled. "I'll take that bet." His arms settled around her. "I like a challenge.
* * *
After that, Susannah couldn't really sleep. She would've tossed and turned all night if not for the large outlaw at her back, spooning her.
She'd never met a man so infuriating. His words turned over and over in her head, driving sleep from her. Not to mention, his rather large member was poking her back. A strange pressure was building between her legs, but seeing as she was trapped in an outlaw's arms, she could only stay very still and seethe. Eventually, she did drop off to sleep, waking a few times, and finally rousing completely.
There was no window in the little room to tell her whether it was dawn or not, but she wriggled around and came up on an elbow, reaching over her sleeping rogue to light the lamp.
As the light hit his face, he sighed, but didn't wake. She held her breath and slipped from the bed, looking back at her resting rogue. Sleep had relaxed his features; they were still rugged but softer somehow, missing that devilish smirk. A day and night's growth of stubble covered his face, but Susannah thought it made him more handsome. His long form almost hung off the bed.
If she had any sense at all, she'd shoot him as he slept. In the brief time she'd known him, he'd lied, cursed, fought, murdered, and stolen, not to mention demeaned and manhandled her. She had never met a man who had subjected her to such indignity. He couldn't be any more opposite to the gentleman she'd expected from his letters if he had a devil's horns growing out of his head.
And yet, and yet...
He'd killed a man who'd threatened her, and taken her to a place where he knew she'd be safe. He'd comforted her and explained his reasons. He'd held her all night.
She didn't understand him at all. With a sigh, she bent to pick up her clothes. Perhaps she could slip away before he woke; it'd be for the best.
As soon as she rose, she met Jesse's green eyes.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm leaving," she said. Sleep had replenished her haughtiness. "You don't have to concern yourself with me anymore."
"I don't think so." In seconds, he was up and alert, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Not until I make sure it's safe.
Stamping her foot, Susannah turned her back to the rogue, and drew her corset around her. She struggled with it until she felt Mr. Oberon's body at her back. Without a word, he reached around and helped mold the whalebone to her body, expertly tightening her stays.
"Thank you," she said when he was done. Just because he had no manners didn't mean she forgot hers. He didn't make a bad lady's maid, she thought with a grimace.
Before she finished dressing, Jesse was ready at the door. "Let me go out first. Yes, Boone is dead, but the rest of Doyle's men are about."
With an imperious nod, she gave her consent, and spent the rest of the time finishing her toilet. Her dress was irrevocably stained, but her fingers didn't do too badly combing through her hair.
She almost felt presentable by the time Mr. Oberon returned.
"I have bad news." He looked grim. "They didn't see me. They saw you. Doyle's men are crawling all over the place, looking for a blonde thing fitting your description. Looks like you're stuck with me a while longer."
Her legs wobbled a little. "Are you certain?"
"Should've killed the whoremonger," Jesse muttered.
"What'll I do?"
"You'll stay here. I'm going to get our things from Mrs. Marsh. Tell her we're excited to go home and I had you go to the coach. She'll never be the wiser." He leaned down and took both her hands. "I'll ready Jordan, then I'll come back and get you. We'll go one town over and I'll get you back to Boston, I swear."
Susannah stared up at him.
"Can you trust me to keep you alive?"
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes a second, and then opened them to his green ones. "Yes."
"Stay here, Susannah. Don't open this door for anyone but
me. Promise?"
She nodded, and he returned it, nothing but seriousness in his stubbled face.
But as soon as the door closed on his black-clad form, fear washed over her, and she paced back and forth.
Had she really just put her life in the hands of a man she'd only just met?
She cursed the happy dream she had of going west and marrying. The whole West could go up in flames, and she'd just laugh and watch it burn.
Her aunt always said she was too impetuous. First joining the abolitionists, then wearing bloomers to scandalize every suitor, even going to college and becoming a teacher instead of immediately settling into matrimony.
After her first engagement ended, her aunt had been afraid Susannah would be a spinster, the woman had started to throw all manner of men in her niece's path and finally laid down the ultimatum: marry by her twenty-fifth summer or be completely cut off. Even idealistic Susannah knew she couldn't afford the finest silk on a schoolteacher's salary. As distasteful as marriage was, she figured she could find a well-to-do gentleman who would be so enamored by her looks and charm that she could twist him around her little finger, and continue as before.
Perhaps, she'd hoped, he'd even love her.
Jesse's letters had come at the exact right time, and flattered her, especially when her spirit was in tatters with the end of her engagement.
Why had she married him? She wished she'd asked Carrie for confirmation of his character sooner. Did her friend in Colorado really know this rogue, or had it all been a lie?
He said he'd never lie to her, but that was just the thing a liar would say!
And now she was waiting here for him to come back and save her? The man who robbed her, tied her up and left her, swooped in and married her, seduced her, put her in a situation where her life was in danger and she was being chased by evil, unwashed men.
This was madness!
Pulling out her money, she counted it. For a moment she was tempted to paw through her groom's bags to find any valuables, then cast the thought aside. Jesse's outlaw ways were rubbing off on her; all the more reason for her to run.
