Grace (The Marriage Market Book 2)

by Stevie MacFarlane

  “Wait! Magnifique, that is it. We shall have a party. A grandiose ball and invite many les jeunes hommes for you to choose from,” she trilled, clapping her hands in delight. “There will be music and dancing, the perfect setting for love to bloom. Oui?”

  Suddenly tears changed to squeals of happiness and Tempest laughed gaily. The next hour was filled with making plans, and when Tempest took her leave, she was kissed and hugged nearly to death.

  “Behave ma petites; I will see you soon to discuss dresses. You must all be beautiful for this merveilleux night. Au revoir.”

  Sam met her on the porch and took her arm as he escorted her to the carriage.

  “Well, did you get everything straightened out?”

  “Oui, parfaitement. We are going to have a ball,” Tempest said smiling and taking his arm.

  “Wonderful, reward the little brats for their bad behavior. That always works,” he drawled sarcastically as he snapped the reins.

  “Sam,” Tempest scolded. “Do not be so harsh. They are all young and far from home, their dreams of love and marriage crushed.”

  “It was their choice. No one made them travel across the country to marry a stranger. What were they thinking? What were their families thinking to let them run off like that?”

  “I think many do not have families. To me it was the act of a desperate woman.”

  “Desperate or greedy?”

  “Mon Cher, do not say such things. You are too cynical for one so young,” Tempest said sadly.

  Sam looked into his mother’s blue eyes and patted her hand. Pulling up to his parents’ home, he set the brake and walked around to lift his mother down.

  “Aren’t you coming in? I thought you would explain to your Pa Pa about the party.”

  “Nice try, Mother, but you’re on your own. I have to get into town and meet Hugh if he shows up. I swear since he and Amelia moved into my house I’m lucky to see him at all.”

  “Ah, they are in love. Is it not wonderful?” she asked, her face glowing with happiness. “Maybe one of the Mademoiselles will catch the eye of my other son,” she said thoughtfully. “Then we will soon have beaux bébés filling the house, oui?”

  Sam laughed and got back onto his seat.

  “Don’t even think it. The last thing I’m looking for is a woman to complicate my life.”

  “But Samuel, there are many to choose from. Each of them would consider themselves lucky to have attracted your attention,” Tempest insisted, stomping her foot.

  “My attention or my money?” he asked. “Do they want a man to love and support, or a man to cater to their every whim? No thank you, Mother. If and when I decide to wed, the woman I choose will be smart enough not to travel into dangerous territory on her own. Someone I won’t have to worry about every second of my life. I’ll want a wife, not an irresponsible child.

  “Now hadn’t you better speak with Father about your plans before you get those girls any more excited?”

  “Ah, you’re Pa Pa will never deny me,” Tempest scoffed. “He is not very good at saying no. Now go to work, your negativity is depressing me,” she continued, waving him off. “You need a woman to make you smile. Imagine, my own son is no fun at all.”

  *

  Flicking the reins, Sam drove away, wondering if perhaps his mother was a little bit right.

  “Why, Duncan?” Tempest demanded, leaning over the front of her husband’s desk. “I do not see what you could object to. A ball will allow the juene filles a chance to meet potential husbands. It is the way in France.”

  “I’m sorry, Lass, but the answer is no,” Duncan replied, looking over some figures.

  “Oh, you are pig-headed, my husband,” she hissed, pounding her small fist on the desk. “I put on your favorite dress to ask this of you.”

  “Yes and you look beautiful, my love, as always,” Duncan replied, taking in his wife’s appearance. He could feel the electricity rising in the room as she wound herself up, aching for a fight. His temperamental lass didn’t like to be thwarted and for years he’d given in to her tantrums. It was only recently he’d come to realize he’d done them both a huge disservice and had taken her in hand.

  Looking at her, he noted her long dark hair, pulled back and hanging nearly to her waist, just the way he preferred it. The blue day dress was the exact color of her eyes when she was happy. Now those eyes were flashing in annoyance.

  “You are a stubborn man, Duncan Jordon,” Tempest spat, picking up a figurine and turning it in her hand. “If it is the money, I will pay for it myself.”

  “That’s very generous of you, darlin’, but it isn’t the money. Now put that glass doodad down before you get yourself into trouble.”

  “This is my home, and my do-did… my do-dig… my statue,” she insisted, eyeing her husband as he pushed back his chair and stood. “It’s mine and I’ll smash it if I want to.”

  Duncan knew she was testing him as she’d done several times since he took her over his knee intending to put an end to her volatile rampages. Up to now, she’d backed down at the last moment but he had a strong feeling that wasn’t going to be the case today. Walking around the desk, he leaned against the front, his big body poised and ready to react. She didn’t disappoint.

  Shaking his head, he sighed and began to roll up his sleeves as the figurine shattered against the stone fireplace to his left.

  “Lock the door, Lass.”

  “Oh, non, Duncan, I am sorry,” she cried with her fingers over her lips as she backed away from him.

  “I’m sorry too, but you know what that is going to cost you.”

  “I’ll pay for it.”

  “Yes, my love, you will, but not in money, in tears.”

  “I didn’t mean it. I just lost my temper for a moment. Please forgive me,” she pleaded, her eyes wide with worry.

  “I will, just as soon as you’ve paid the piper. Lock the door.”

  Tempest went to the door slowly, her head down. As she took the doorknob in her hand, Duncan wondered if she was going to make a run for it, but finally she turned the lock and faced him. Smiling in pride, he held out his hand and enveloped her in his strong arms when she ran to him.

  “You know why I have to do this?” he whispered into her hair.

  Tempest nodded against his neck, her body trembling as he swept her up, carrying her to the settee. Sitting, he held her on his lap and smoothed her hair back.

  “Tempest, I canna agree to your idea. Most of the men who want brides work from sunup till sundown in the forests and mills. They dinna have the use for clothes grand enough for a ball. They want wives who will work alongside them, not cutting down and transporting logs, but work to care for a home and a family. They’re lonely and heartsick to think they’ve lost the women due to their own foolishness. You must give them the chance to make it right, my love.”

  “But they lied,” Tempest insisted, looking into her husband’s eyes.

  “Yes, they did. They deceived the girls, but not because they aren’t decent men. The loneliness got to them and they were afraid the brides wouldn’t come if they used their own names. Many of them sent honest letters, but used Hugh’s name because he placed the ad and was the man the girls expected to hear from. The money used to pay for the passages was their own. Some of them have been saving for years. Giving a ball would eliminate them from the competition and open the field for many of the wealthier men in town to enjoy the evening, even though the chance of them actually taking a Mail Order Bride to wife are slim.

  “Why not invite them to a nice informal dinner party and give the ladies a chance to meet the men who sent for them. Give the loggers a chance to explain and possibly win them over. I will agree to that, but not a ball, my love.”

  “You are a wise man, my husband,” Tempest said with a smile. Pulling his head to hers, she kissed his lips longingly before she released him. “I will talk to the Mademoiselles and tell them of your decision. They will be disappointed, but perhaps you are
right about the men and we have been too hasty in dismissing them.”

  “I’m glad to see you are becoming more reasonable, even if it is because you have a spanking coming.”

  “You are still going to spank me?” Tempest turned pleading eyes to him and Duncan suspected they weren’t asking for mercy. In his heart of heart, he knew she would soon be getting not only what she deserved for her childish behavior, but also what she needed; a strong man willing to set limits and enforce them.

  “I’m afraid so, Lass, spank you and more.” Turning her easily, he placed her face down and bottom up over his lap. “There are more ways than one to punish a naughty wife.”

  Flipping up her skirts, he pulled her pantalets down swiftly and cupped her pretty bottom.

  Tempest didn’t struggle until the tenth swat fell crisply on her pink cheeks, but Duncan easily held her tighter, keeping her in place.

  “I’ve told you there will be no more compromising as far as your temper tantrums go. I simply will not tolerate them any longer. You may argue with me to your heart’s content, but throwing things at me or speaking to me in a disrespectful manner will have your sweet bottom paying the price each and every time.” Swat! Swat! Swat!

  “Oh, oh I am sorry, Duncan,” Tempest gasped, clutching a pillow. “I’ll be good.”

  “That you will,” he informed her, slapping each cheek in turn. “And dinna for a moment think this is a hardship on me, my love. I find it quite exciting to give my dominant nature free reign outside the bedroom after so many years together. The sight of your naughty, well-spanked bottom inspires a burning in my loins I have no intention of denying. When we are done here you are to go upstairs and wait for me to come to you.”

  “Oui,” she whispered, sagging in relief when his hand began to caress her burning globes.

  Spreading her legs he slipped his big hand between her thighs, and ignoring her tears and wiggles, prodded her opening with his finger until the dewy moisture coated his digit.

  In a second, he was deep inside her, stroking in and out firmly while she clamped down trying uselessly to keep him out.

  “None of that,” he ordered, withdrawing briefly to land several hard spanks on her ass as she cried out. “Do you think I don’t know it excites you when I take you in hand?”

  Tempest slumped in shame, her tears falling rapidly.

  “It’s all right, love. Give yourself to me, your needs and your fears. I’ll take them all,” he whispered gently. “I have nothing but love for you in my heart, Lass. Dinna be afraid.”

  For the next several minutes he teased his wife, coaxing her closer and closer to climax with his thick fingers stroking her clit before plunging into her core. He smiled as her bottom rose to meet his thrusts, quivering each time he returned to manipulate her hidden nub. Finally, just as he sensed she was about to go over the edge, and feeling her begin to contract around him, he stopped and applied several more swats to her glowing bottom.

  “Duncan,” she moaned, obviously willing to ignore the painful spanking if he would just return to his other pursuits.

  “No, this is a punishment.”

  “I need you,” Tempest cried, looking at him over her shoulder with accusing tear-filled eyes.

  “I know, but you will learn you do not control everything and that your tantrums will bring you more than a red bottom if you don’t behave. In fact, I find a great deal of my day is spent thinking of ways to discipline my naughty wife if she doesn’t mind me.”

  “You do?” she gasped.

  “Yes, I do. Now go upstairs and wait for me. I’ll be there soon,” he said as he helped her up and rose from the settee. “And don’t touch yourself, Lass. I know you have brought yourself pleasure many times over the years when you were angry with me and wanted to punish me with your disinterest. Dinna do that today, or you’re likely to find out just how determined I am to break you of your disobedience.” Stooping, he pulled up her pantalets and smacked her bottom before letting her skirts drop.

  Tempest’s face went from pale to red in seconds as the enormity of his promise registered. Swiftly she fled the room, her feet flying up the stairs. For once, she didn’t slam their bedroom door.

  Chapter Six

  Molly Muldoon chewed nervously on her fingernail and looked around the huge kitchen. She knew this day was coming and had done everything she could to avoid it, including pretending to be sick and trading favors, but it was finally here and she couldn’t think of any way to get out of it. It was her turn to cook dinner.

  Oh, she could make a delicious apple pie and molasses cookies that would have everyone shitting like a blue goose, but that was the extent of her culinary expertise. Why, why had she lied in her letter to Mr. Jordon?

  Because you thought he was rich and although the likelihood of him wanting the likes of you was slim, there was always a chance. Thought you’d maybe marry a rich man and have servants to cook and fetch for you, didn’t you, you silly girl?

  “Oh shut up!” Molly hated it when her conscience got the best of her. It was a sarcastic voice in her head that wouldn’t or couldn’t be quiet. “I should have told Angus the truth when I had the chance,” she mumbled, looking in cupboards for something to inspire her.

  Yes you should have, you deceitful little baggage. You got yourself brought out here under false pretenses, now your goose is cooked. When he finds out you can’t cook, he’ll toss you out on your ear!

  “But his letter was so sweet,” she sighed. “The way he talked about working side by side and building a future together and maybe having a few children. I guess I got caught up in his dream.”

  You got caught all right. Right between a rock and a hard place.

  “Oh, for the love of Mike, will you shut up! You’re not helping anything.”

  “Molly, are you all right in here?” Martha asked sticking her head in the doorway. “I thought I heard yelling.”

  “Oh, yes… I just cut myself,” Molly said, grimacing as she clutched her finger in her apron.

  Little liar.

  “Oh dear, let me see. Jane is out for a buggy ride with Dr. Martin, but they should be back soon.”

  As Martha approached, Molly backed up.

  “No, no it will be all right. I just don’t know if I can make dinner tonight, what with all the bleeding.”

  “I’d better take a look at it,” Martha insisted. Reaching out she took hold of Molly’s forearm and tugged. “Come on, Molly. Don’t be such a ninny.”

  Shoulders slumping in defeat, Molly released her finger and showed it to Martha.

  “Why I don’t see a thing wrong with it,” Martha observed. “Are you feeling all right in the head?” she asked, laying the back of her hand against Molly’s forehead.

  “I’m fine,” Molly snapped as she pulled away. “I’m just in a fine fix is all and I don’t know what to do.”

  “What kind of a fix?” Martha eyes suddenly narrowed in suspicion. “You’re not in some kind of trouble are you?”

  “Oh, I’m in trouble, but not the kind you’re thinkin’. I’m not havin’ a baby or in trouble with the law or anything like that,” Molly insisted, brushing her red hair off her damp forehead. Walking to the big worktable she hoisted herself up and sat.

  “Then what is it? Surely it can’t be as bad as all that.”

  “I can’t cook.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “I said I can’t cook.”

  “At all?” Martha gasped.

  “Well, I can cook a little, for a small family maybe. I don’t think anyone would starve or die or anything, but that’s about it.”

  “But Molly, Mr. McGuire is building that new cabin for you. He thinks you’re going to live on the mountain and help him feed the men.”

  Molly nodded dejectedly.

  “Why did you lie? There were no requirements of that sort in Mr. Jordon’s advertisement. Why make up a story?”

  “I don’t know,” Molly replied, twisting her hands. “I felt despe
rate. I figured I wasn’t high class enough for him to choose me so I just sort of threw that in there, thinkin’ he might have a job for me, being a big timber baron and all.”

  “I thought it was Mr. McGuire who wrote to you and paid your fare out here. Surely he must have explained what he was looking for in a wife.”

  “He did. Angus was completely honest. It’s me who’s the big fat liar. I knew all along he needed someone to be a helpmate to him, yet I never told him the truth. As I said, I was desperate. I’d been living with my brother Toby and his wife in a two room shack. They already have four children and another on the way. I couldn’t be a burden to them any longer so I took a room over the tavern where I worked serving drink to seamen.

  “Lately some of the men started thinkin’ I was good for more than a song or two and a pinch on the backside. Then one night I overheard some of them plotting, talkin’ about what a pretty young thing I was and how people in certain ports would pay dearly for a redhead with fair white skin. That night after my shift, I went to my room, packed my bags and climbed out the window onto the metal stairs. I ran back to my brother’s and two days later the fare arrived from Angus. You better believe I was on the first train I could get.”

  “Oh Molly, I’m so sorry. If I had only known you then, I could have offered assistance. My home and shop were probably no more than five miles away from the wharf. So that’s why you wouldn’t go with Mr. McGuire when he came to fetch you?”

  “Yes, and he didn’t look like the kind of man who could take a joke. It seemed best to put him off as long as I could and try to figure something out. Now the cabin is nearly completed and time is running out.” Jumping down from the table she looked at Martha with panic in her eyes.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to run away,” she said with bravado, squaring her shoulders. “I’ll get a job somewhere and pay Mr. McGuire back if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “Molly, that’s a horrible plan,” Martha insisted, taking hold of Molly’s shoulders. “Why you’re likely to end up in the same position you ran away from in the first place. There are unsavory men all over, and you are very pretty. I’m sure the places that would hire you in Seattle pose their own dangers. No, we must think of something else,” she drawled thoughtfully.