Martha (The Marriage Market Book 5)

by Stevie MacFarlane

  “No amount of money will satisfy her, Dalton. Not my mama.”

  “Then we’ll have her put away. If she truly started the fire that killed Celeste, she’s guilty of murder. If she’s insane, there are places for her, far away, in Europe maybe. Now will you please stop crying and carrying on?”

  “All right,” she sighed, snuggling closer but still sniffling.

  “That’s my good girl,” he said approvingly as he kissed the top of her head. At least she was making an effort to pull herself together. Suddenly a loud wail split the air and she was once again struggling in his arms, her hand pushing against his chest.

  “What is it now?” he asked, feeling the last of his patience slip away.

  “Now we can’t go to Georgia,” she howled, “and I won’t be able to flaunt how wealthy we are to those bitches.”

  “Suzanna,” he scolded sharply. “That’s hardly appropriate, given the circumstances and I can’t believe that still matters to you, considering how happy you’ve been here and in Seattle.”

  “Well, it is important to me,” she snapped, tears streaking down her cheeks. “You don’t know how horrid those people were to me!”

  “Yes, but you have a new life now with a husband who loves you very much and friends who adore you. Surely you can let that go?”

  “I don’t know if I can, Dalton,” she admitted.

  Heaving an enormous sigh, Dalton swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. Gently he laid her down and quickly sat on the voluminous gown, pinning her in place while he pulled off his boots.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded when he stretched out beside her.

  “Taking your mind off things,” he replied calmly as he began to undo the dozens of buttons down the front of her negligée.

  “I don’t think that’s possible,” she said, trying to cross her arms over her breasts.

  Carefully, he pulled one arm down and moved his thigh over it.

  “I’m sure it is darlin’,” he answered softly, a wicked grin creeping across his lips as he exposed one plump nipple. “In fact, I’m certain of it,” he whispered as he lowered his head to claim his prize.

  Her other hand came up to push his head away and he bit down hard enough to make her yelp and move her interfering hand. Releasing her nipple, he raised his head and pinned her with his gaze.

  “Suzanna, I have not spanked you since the accident,” he began in his deep, firm voice. “There have been times when I’ve wanted to, times I felt you needed it, but I have refrained from doing so in deference to all you’ve been through. I am fast approaching the limit to my patience. In fact, my hand is itching to administer some swats to your lovely bottom.

  “While I understand that grief is normal, the relationship you had with your mother and grandmother was not. You may grieve what should have been, possibly what could have been had they been reasonable and loving women, but they were not. I will not allow you to become consumed with grief over two people who made your life miserable, not when you have so many people who truly love and value you.

  “Your life is not over, sweetheart. It’s just beginning and I’m determined to help you enjoy it. Making love to you brings us both incredible pleasure and I will not let you deny us. Do you understand? You will not be the kind of wife who refuses her husband on a whim, not and sit comfortably. This will take your mind off your worries and I plan to love you to distraction each and every chance I get. Now put your hand down and keep it there. I plan to make you see stars very shortly.”

  She didn’t mind him, of course. Being Suzanna, she had to do things her own way. Instead she raised her hand to her lips, kissed it and placed it on his lips. Her eyes were shining, not with tears, but with happiness and he felt her body melting onto the bed in surrender as she parted her thighs.

  Dalton smiled his approval before his head lowered and he resumed nibbling, licking and nursing on her pert nipple. His hand busily fussed with the multitude of buttons, his frustration growing by the second. He needed her naked, wanted her naked and it wasn’t going well. She was covered in yards and yards of delicate fabric and without thought his hand fisted in the material below her breasts.

  Suzanna trembled. He could feel the shivers run across her tummy.

  “Don’t do it,” she whispered with a hint of distress in her voice.

  “I’ll buy you another,” he growled against her skin.

  “It’s one of my favorites,” she chided.

  “I’m sorry,” he sighed just before he rent the fabric from the waist to the hem. Buttons flew wildly in all directions and suddenly she was bare, gloriously naked and framed by yards of pink tulle and lace, so beautiful she made his eyes water.

  “Dalton,” she said in reproach. “It’s you who needs the spanking.”

  “Perhaps I do, but this is not something I will ever regret or repent for,” he informed her as he devoured her with his gaze. “Oh, how I love you, Suzanna Vanderbilt.”

  “And I love you,” she replied, cupping his cheek, “but if you don’t stop destroying my things, I’ll…”

  “You’ll what?” he teased, kissing her neck.

  “I’ll take the scissors to your favorite dress shirts.”

  “Go ahead, but don’t mess with my boots,” he warned with a grin. “That will get you in deep trouble.”

  “Perhaps I like trouble,” she sighed, angling her head to give him more room.

  “As do I,” he replied. “It may be why I married you,” he said, biting her earlobe. “Now why don’t you be a good little wife, roll over and let me slap those sweet cheeks until they are nice and pink, hmm?”

  “Dalton,” she gasped in shock. “You can’t mean that!”

  “I most certainly do and what’s more you’ll enjoy it,” he insisted, lifting his head and grinning wickedly.

  “You promise?” she asked uncertainly.

  “Cross my heart, darlin’.”

  Suzanna rolled over.

  “Oh my,” Suzanna whispered as her husband trailed a finger down her spine, starting at the back of her neck and ending at the cleft between her cheeks. Peeking at him over her shoulder, she could see he was looking at her bottom with great affection. His large hand cupped each cheek individually, as though weighing them as he gently jiggled each handful.

  “So lovely,” he murmured before raising his hand.

  She tensed in preparation for the sting, but it didn’t come. Instead she felt the tender smack that seemed more like a caress than a spanking. Sighing, she relaxed on the bed. His hand continued to stroke and slap her in a way that was entirely new.

  “You find this pleasant?” she asked him, smiling into the bedclothes.

  “Extremely,” he replied huskily.

  “Why?”

  “Several reasons. I like the sound of it, and seeing my handprint on your bottom, my mark on you. I like…”

  “Are there handprints on my bottom?” she asked in surprise.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s odd; I thought that only happened when you were angry or frustrated with me.”

  “No. Are you through interrupting me?” he asked, smacking her a touch harder.

  “Um, yes.”

  “Good. I like the color of your skin when I’m spanking you. You’re very fair and it doesn’t take a hard hand to bring it up to the surface. It almost matches your gown now,” he informed her quietly. “I like knowing I am the only man who ever has or ever will touch you in this way. Watching you accept it makes me so hard I ache.”

  “Do you like it when you really spank me? Does that make you hard and achy?” she asked.

  “It does,” he admitted. “It gives me a wonderful sense of satisfaction when you submit to my discipline.”

  Suzanna snorted.

  “I don’t submit,” she giggled. “You make me accept it.”

  “That’s true. Would you accept it if given a choice?” he questioned, smacking each cheek quite firmly, enough to make her gasp.
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  “I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “I guess if I felt I really deserved to be punished I might, but this is much nicer,” she cooed, lifting her bottom for more.

  Dalton laughed and accommodated her, giving her several more slaps of equal firmness that caused a slight hiss to escape her throat.

  “Are you becoming excited?” he asked.

  “No,” she replied.

  “Liar.” Slipping his hand between her thighs he cupped her core, a finger seeking entrance. He found it.

  “Ah,” Suzanna whispered as she lifted her bottom. “All right, maybe a little,” she confessed as he glided in and out of her center. “A lot,” she panted when he withdrew his finger and found her button, circling it gently.

  Dalton laughed, and after giving her a tiny pinch in that sensitive area, he resumed spanking her. Five crisp smacks on each cheek had her yelping.

  “Ow,” she cried. “What was that for?”

  “For lying,” he replied, rolling her over onto her now tingling bottom.

  She watched him rise from the bed and begin to undress. He really was magnificent, she thought, so handsome, so strong, so determined. As a husband he was a dream come true.

  Languidly, she raised her arms above her head, knowing her breasts would appear more prominent. Slowly, she moved her thighs farther apart as he removed his pants and let his cock spring free. What a lovely thing that hard shaft was, she thought, feeling her heartbeat quicken. How could she have known a man had such a marvelous appendage when they kept the poor thing tightly tucked away until they needed it?

  It wasn’t like a woman. All a man had to do was bend her over, pull up her skirts, and there she was, exposed for all to see. Not exactly fair in her mind. A man could tell how big a woman’s breasts were, how plump her bottom cheeks simply by looking closely, but a woman had no such advantage. Thank goodness she’d married a man who was well equipped and knew so many wonderful tricks to make her swoon with pleasure.

  Some women weren’t so lucky, she knew. They grew pinched about the mouth and frequently appeared angry and mean spirited. Suzanna would bet if they were made love to like she was at least once a day there would be a lot more smiling going on.

  Dalton climbed onto the bed and she opened her arms, encouraging him to come into her. He didn’t. Instead he lowered his head between her legs, draping one over each of his broad shoulders.

  “Oh, Dalton,” she protested weakly as his lips settled over her button. “You know what that does to me,” she whined, arching her hips.

  “What does it do to you, my darlin’?” he breathed against her flesh as his finger entered her.

  “It makes me scream,” she said. “We’ve already been spoken to twice by the management.”

  “You’d best grab hold of a pillow then, my love. I’m dining in tonight,” he said, chuckling.

  Three times she screamed into her pillow before he crawled up her body and took her properly, claiming every inch of her. She yelped when he brushed her womb as he lifted her hips.

  “You might want to hang onto that pillow,” he warned.

  Suzanna smiled and clamped down on him. This time it would be him that roared.

  Later they lay wrapped in each other arms, Dalton’s hand firmly on her bottom.

  “So, what do you want to do since we are not going to Georgia?” he asked groggily. “Do you want to see Paris, London, Rome, and Venice?”

  “No,” she sighed against his chest. “I think I want to go home, to Seattle. I miss my friends, especially Effie and I want to start building our home. Will I feel safe there?” she asked, lifting her head and looking up at him worriedly.

  “You’ll always be safe as long as I’m around,” he promised. “I’ll book our passage tomorrow.”

  Happily, she settled back against him and closed her eyes. In moments the gentle sound of her breathing told him she was asleep, and he pulled her closer, hoping he’d just told her the truth.

  Chapter 6

  “Do you want me to go for the doctor?” Lucas asked as he gently placed Clara on the settee after kicking in the door of the dress shop.

  “What happened?” Charlotte asked, dropping to her knees and taking Clara’s hand.

  “She fainted.”

  “What did you do to her?” Martha demanded angrily with her hands on her hips.

  “Nothing, my man was simply washing away some blood and guts from the boardwalk in front of my establishment. Miss Webster happened to see it and fainted,” he replied defensively.

  “Oh, that’s lovely,” Martha drawled. “A gentleman would have cleaned that up before there were ladies about.”

  “A lady wouldn’t be standing outside a saloon at ten in the morning,” he barked back, “or anytime for that matter. If the sight of blood offends your delicate sensibilities, perhaps you shouldn’t have chosen a building attached to The Bucket of Blood.”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake, stop bickering you two,” Charlotte snapped. “Mr. Armstrong, you are free to go. Martha, please go and get me a cool cloth.”

  “Gladly, please let me know if I can be of further assistance,” Lucas said, stomping from the room. “As you know, I am right next door.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Armstrong,” Charlotte replied while gently patting Clara’s cheeks.

  “Of all the ill-mannered buffoons,” Martha spat as she returned to the room and carefully placed the cloth on Clara’s forehead.

  “Hush, she’s coming too. Clara, Clara, open your eyes.”

  “What… what happened?” Clara asked weakly.

  “You fainted, dear, and Mr. Armstrong carried you in here. You just rest for a few minutes and I’m sure you’ll be right as rain,” Charlotte told her gently. “He explained the situation to us and it stands to reason it might affect a lady as it did you. Don’t worry.”

  “Oh, it was disgusting,” Clara rasped out with a shiver. “What a horrible, horrible place.”

  “It’s a saloon, dear,” Charlotte explained with a slight smile. “Where there are men and drinking, there are bound to be fights.”

  “And that’s exactly why we must do everything within our power to shut it down and other places like it. No wonder Seattle is such a dangerous place at night. I swear, if it takes my last breath, The Bucket of Blood will be just a dark stain on the history of this town,” Clara insisted as she started to sit up. Dizzy, her hand moved to her forehead and she sank back down onto the cushions.

  “You must be quiet, dear,” Charlotte said. “Just rest now. We can talk about all that later,” she murmured soothingly.

  Lucas stepped away from the wall and rolled his eyes. Just want he needed, a half-pint on a mission. He hadn’t realized how small and fragile she was until she was in his arms. Back in Texas he’d carried bales of hay that weighed more than she did and the little firebrand thought she could hold her own against some of the meanest drunks in the Northwest Territory. He had to do something; it was imperative, before someone got hurt.

  Making up his mind, he got his hat and went out to the barroom.

  “I’m going up the mountain, Henry,” he said. “Hold down the fort till I get back.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Armstrong,” Henry replied as he wiped the bar down.

  At the livery, he retrieved his horse and saddled him. He’d start with Ethan. It seemed like the logical choice since it was his woman who was apparently footing the bill next door, although he strongly suspected Tempest Jordon had her hand in this somewhere.

  If Miss Martha was so heart set on opening a dress shop she could do it at the other end of town, somewhere safer. If this was indeed about something more nefarious, Ethan needed to know what his woman was up too. In fact, now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Ethan ever since the little women started making their improvements.

  Maybe he was out of town. The Jordons often sent him off to Portland on business. Most likely he didn’t know a thing about it. Well, he soon would. After what he’d overhea
rd a few minutes ago, there could be no doubt. Maybe Miss Martha would get that spanking after all. He certainly hoped so and hoped he was around to hear it too.

  As far as Clara Webster was concerned, just let him catch her marching down the street holding a sign. She’d be marching to a different tune with his hand on her bottom every step of the way. He was done waiting to see what would happen. It was time to take the bull by the horns, or in this case, the hellcat by the tail. Lucas rode out of town and he didn’t spare his mount.

  He found Ethan Jorgenson in Camp #5. It was one of highest on the mountain and difficult to reach. Apparently he’d been there for quite a spell if the camp gear was any indication. It also didn’t look as though he’d be heading down the mountain anytime soon.

  Dismounting, Lucas tethered his horse to a nearby tree and called out.

  “Hello the camp.”

  “Armstrong, what brings you all the way up here?” Ethan asked, rounding the tent. Suddenly his face paled and he stopped in his tracks. “What is it? Has something happened?” he demanded.

  “Well yes and no,” Lucas replied, walking to Ethan and holding out his hand. Ethan shook it, looking at him with a strange expression.

  “Maybe you better come right out with it,” Ethan suggested. “I am not fond of surprises.”

  “Then you won’t like this one,” Lucas replied darkly.

  “Take a seat,” Ethan offered, pointing to a log by the cook fire. Getting a tin cup, he poured himself a cup of coffee and one for Lucas.

  “It’s about your intended, at least I think she’s still your intended, Martha Jonas,” Lucas said, taking the coffee and squatting down.

  “Go on.”

  “Are you aware she got hold of the building next to mine?”

  “No, I did not know that,” Ethan said slowly. “Do you know what she plans to do with it?”

  “The story is she’s going to open a dress shop, but it’s much more than that. Ethan, the wall between our properties is thin. Standing in my office I can hear just about every word that’s said over there and believe me some of it is not suitable for polite company.”