Sadistic Master Bundle (BDSM Billionaire Erotic Romance)

by Dalia Daudelin

  What sweet men, she thought, closing the door. What to do next? Ah, yes. She changed out of her traveling clothes first. No reason to be walking around town in any worse fashion than she had to, after all.

  Once she felt like herself again, Cora headed back downstairs. She wanted nothing more than to sit down on the sofa in her suite, but there was no time for that. She had to make preparations. It had been years since she had heard from her mother, and it might be years more if she hesitated too long.

  She stopped by the desk to ask for recommendations for a guide into the mountains. She knew nothing about the place, after all, and she certainly knew nothing about mountaineering. The worst they had in Michigan were some terribly impressive hills.

  She was given a list of names, written out, along with addresses where they might be found. She made sure to thank the concierge and tip the man suitably. Martin Littlefeather stood out. Why, their names were so similar; it was as if they were fated to meet. She asked about him specifically.

  "From what we have been told, he's one of the best, ma'am. Willing to take folks up the mountains in some of the worst conditions. Always brings them home safe and sound. Doesn't take to drinking, like some of his race. Everything I have heard has been that he is the absolute picture of professional conduct, in fact."

  She thanked him again, folded the paper up and fitted it into her bag, beside her wallet and room key. Martin Littlefeather, she thought, turning the name over in her head again. He sounded like the perfect choice for her expedition. This early in the season, there was a good chance it would still be snowing on her mother's mountain. The passes would be mostly closed.

  Cora only had to hope that they wouldn't run into too terribly much trouble. After all, any trouble that she got into, her mother would be stuck in already. Stuck with her new family, with her new husband. Perhaps her new daughters.

  Cora tried to settle herself down. It wasn't personal. There was no reason to be hurt by it. Simply because she hadn't heard from the woman in years, and now she had some whole new life, with new people. Simply because she had been discarded. She and her brother both. No reason to get too upset.

  She had already gone so far in order to find her mother. And she had finally received that letter. There was nothing else to be done, but to go and see what it was that her mother had been so excited about. That was all it would be, and then she would be perfectly fine.

  Cora took a breath and waved her hand over her eyes, trying to dry the tears that she could already feel forming. She was about to meet the man who was going to guide her up the mountain. Now wasn't a time to cry. She would have plenty of time for that once she saw her mother again.

  Ten years wasn't so long. It had only been half her life since she saw the woman, ten years since she had left without a word and disappeared from her childrens' lives.

  Cora stopped fanning. There wasn't much point, now that the salty tears were already falling down her cheeks. The meeting with Mr. Littlefeather would have to wait a few minutes more.

  Three

  The first thing Ashton did when he got off the train was to ask where a rich woman would have gone to stay in the city. After all, he assumed that she had no more knowledge of the city than he would. He, then, would only have to think like she did.

  That meant asking someone, and trusting their recommendation. When he walked into the Royal, he did the same thing. Had they had a guest within the past three days, name of Cora Little. The clerk checked the records and informed them that they had, for a single night, the night of the 28th.

  "On the 28th, then. She would have been looking for someone to take her out of town. Do you know who she might have spoken to?"

  "The desk concierge, sir. I believe that day it was Clarke, sir. He's the one there. He's on break, sir."

  Ash left the desk behind and headed over to the bar, where the man sat sipping on what looked like water but might have been alcoholic, and smoking a short hand-rolled cigarette.

  "You're Clarke," Ashton said. It wasn't a question. The man stood up and nodded.

  "Glen Clarke," he said. "Should I find something for you, sir?"

  "I'd appreciate it if you could answer a few questions for me. Please, sit."

  Clarke settled back into his seat, but now he looked stiff and a little bit uncomfortable. Ash might have felt bad for him if he hadn't had to do the same routine before himself. It was only fair that now he was the one making someone else uncomfortable.

  "How can I help you?"

  "Two days ago, you spoke to a woman. Cora Little. She would have been asking about a way out of town. Into the mountains, I believe."

  "A lone woman heading into the mountains?" He furrowed his brow. "That sounds dangerous, no matter the guide."

  "Well, that's why her brother sent me along. Make sure that things went smoothly."

  "Two days is a long time for someone to get into trouble, if you don't mind my saying, sir."

  "Which is why I'm in a hurry, Clarke."

  "Oh—yes. I recall the woman. I believe she was going to speak to Martin Littlefeather. He's a native—"

  "I can tell by the name. Where can I find him?"

  The man gave an address. "Only, if he's taken the woman up the mountain, you might find the place empty."

  "It's something, at least." Ash thanked him for his time and then he was back out the door. The wind was bracing today. Of all days to come into town, he had to pick the day when the wind was picking up unnatural-like. He didn't like it. Didn't like it one bit.

  He would stop by the office. The rake in his pocket would see him inside, if the man didn't have a secretary. If he didn't, then he should get one. Lee was the single best investment that Ashton had ever make. Other, that is, than the Navy revolver on his hip. But that went without saying.

  The place was over a laundry service, so he was at least going to have a good time of getting into the apartment. Ash took a minute to sit and wait for the right moment before heading back up, knocking conspicuously at the door before jamming the rake in, then the torque wrench.

  A little twisting pressure, and a few easy motions, and the door was open. There was a little map of the mountain on the wall, one that must have cost more than a months' rent on a place this size. There were a few pins sticking out. No doubt the route that he would take up the mountain.

  Ash took a mental picture of it and then started out. The concierge, Clarke, had been right. A woman could get herself into plenty of trouble, regardless of the guide she had with her. That went double if he didn't have a lot of hunting experience. The number of pins in the mountain told Ash that whatever experience the man had, it was more in path-finding than in hunting.

  Well, anyone went up on that mountain more than once or twice, Ash knew, they would have run into something. If the man was highly-enough recommended for a rich woman to trust him, then the man had gotten through his share of scrapes.

  If Ashton was lucky, then he would find the girl, free and easy. Then he could just tag along with a good, experienced guide. Maybe he had gotten a bad impression over nothing. Maybe things were all going to work out fine. It wasn't Ashton's experience that things out West went fine. Not ever.

  He put part of his deposit into getting himself a reliable horse. Nothing too flashy, but a horse would be his lifeline out there in the wild. It had been years since Ash had needed to ride a horse. That didn't mean that he didn't still know how. He pushed himself up, pointed the horse toward the mountain, and started going.

  The horse would figure the best way, as long as he kept it pointed in the right direction. For right now, the wind was mixing with the bad mood that he hoped only came from how rushed the job was. He had the revolver loaded properly, but if he needed more than five shots, he didn't want to be left having to prepare new shot.

  He put his head down, reached into his pouch of shot balls and started working. Down in New Orleans, things were mostly quiet. Then again, with a legend like King Peters keeping wa
tch over things, what Devil would think of rearing its head around?

  Well, quiet or not, the man had prepared them for about anything. It wasn't the first time that Ashton had prepared shot for Devil hunting on horseback, but it was still unfamiliar. Strange. Uncomfortable, even. He stopped after two more full loads. If things went very badly, then he would have time to prepare more.

  If things went so bad so fast that nineteen shots couldn't take care of the problem, then more bullets wouldn't help. At that point, it was a choice between praying for a miracle, and running for the hills. Hunter or not, reputation or not—hell, fifteen thousand dollars or not, it didn't matter what his reputation or his bank account looked like if he wasn't around to enjoy it.

  Ash checked the heading. He referred back to the mental image of the route. He could about imagine how it went, with the view he had of the mountain from the foot of it, and the overhead view that the mapmaker had fixed. It was amazing they'd managed to get even that map finished.

  Ashton almost lost himself for a moment imagining what it must have been like for the team of hunters who would have to have been hired. Peters would have liked that sort of job. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Ashton knew, he would have liked it, too.

  That was exactly why he needed to stay in the city.

  Four

  It was the first time she'd been on a horse, and even though she'd been doing it for three hours she still wasn't sure that things were going right. The mare below her, thankfully, seemed to know what it was doing—even if she didn't. Cora decided she would just have to trust the horse to do what it wanted.

  That was the advice Martin had given, and he seemed to know what he was doing. His suit was shabby, at least compared to what Cora was used to, but the fact that he wore one this far outside of proper civilization… it was nothing like she had expected from the frontier. Nothing like she'd expected from a native, either, from the stories she had heard back east.

  She took a deep breath of the cold mountain air and reminded herself how inappropriate it was to judge. She'd downright embarrass herself thinking like that.

  The wind was mighty strong, though. She willed the horse to go faster, and to her surprise it did, just a bit. Then it slowed back down again. Cora called out to Martin, who was riding a few feet ahead.

  "Is it usually this windy?"

  He didn't hear her over the wind, so she had to repeat it. Finally he decided to come back over to her, since it was quickly becoming evident that he wasn't going to hear her no matter how loud she shouted.

  "Is it usually so windy here?"

  He looked up at the mountain, then toward the south, where the wind was blowing from, then back at her. "Not normally, no, Miss Little."

  She liked that. Manners. "You don't think it's anything to worry about, Mr. Littlefeather?"

  "I don't reckon so, ma'am."

  "Thank you, Mr. Littlefeather. I'm sorry if I've distracted you."

  "No distraction, ma'am."

  He went on ahead again, watching for something, though what it might be she couldn't say. The whole thing was making her nervous. She didn't like it one bit. No, she would rather have been home safe, but that wasn't an option. Not when her mother finally needed her enough to write.

  If there was something wrong, or even something very right, then she was going to be there for her mother, come hell or high water, and no storm was going to stop her, however scary it might be. She adjusted herself in the saddle and tried to summon up every bit of self-control. It wasn't so scary up here, she thought. It wasn't so bad riding. She was becoming a regular cow-girl at this rate. Arthur might not have approved of the trip, but he would surely get some amusement out of her new-found ability to ride a horse, at least, surely.

  As they rode the sun sank. She shouted up the line, "How much further, do you think?"

  Martin let his horse fall back to talk with her again.

  "How much further will we go, do you think, Martin?"

  "We're about where we should be, ma'am. We'll make camp for the night under that outcropping over there, you see it? And then tomorrow, we'll start looking for it."

  "Very good. Thank you, Mr. Littlefeather."

  "You're very welcome, ma'am."

  He turned a little ways and pointed the horse at the outcropping he had pointed out. Cora still wasn't used to these horses, but at least she could get them turned where she wanted them to go. She guided him in about the right direction and let him walk.

  Martin helped her off the horse, started a small fire, and set about grooming the horses for the night. Once the fire had grown, he started on supper.

  It was basically edible, thought Cora, which was mighty impressive for something that they had fixed without a kitchen in sight. She took in another deep breath.

  She was right. They had been spreading stories about the frontier back east because they were afraid of the place. Looking down on Salt Lake City, she thought the entire frontier seemed beautiful. What could possibly scare someone about a place like this? So peaceful. So beautiful.

  Martin came over, waiting at a respectful distance as she ate, and when she looked up it was to notice that he had finished assembling the tent.

  "Begging your pardon, ma'am, but I've got the tent ready for you. You've got a sleeping bag inside. Once you're ready to turn in for the night, you can go on in. If you need anything, I'll be right out here. Tomorrow we get up good and early to get the rest of the way up the mountain."

  "Thank you," she told him again, for what seemed like the hundredth time. The man was every bit the picture of good manners and good service. She had chosen the right man for the job, she thought. The recommendation had been a very good one. She made a point to find that concierge again and thank him personally. Perhaps a note would suffice, if she were in a hurry.

  She finished the supper and thanked him, complimented the excellent food. It was, perhaps, not completely excellent, but she wasn't going to be so gauche as to say so. After all, without manners, what difference was there between men and animals?

  Then she settled into the tent for the evening, lighting the oil lamp and pulling her mother's diary from her bag. It was from before Cora was born, and the spine was badly broken from reading it too many times as a younger girl, when she didn't know nearly so well how to take care of her things.

  That didn't mean that it was less appreciated, though. She let herself settle in, turned to the next page, and started reading. Her mother had led an exciting life, if the diary held true. But then, like so many stories, they seemed impossible, and the more that she got to know the frontier the less plausible those stories seemed.

  Just a bunch of folk stories and myths. Well, she was no fool. She wasn't going to just believe any sort of hokum because it was written down in a book.

  But the sort of hokum her mother wrote, well, that was permissible. She might not believe it herself when her mother talked about wolf-men who shed their skin like snakes. But this was the hokum that her mother had wanted to write down, and that made it important all by itself.

  Cora didn't know when she had fallen asleep, but when she woke up it was dark. The lamp had been turned off at some point—it must have been her, because the tent showed no signs of being tampered with. There was, of course, no breeze to blow it out, and Martin was not the sort of man who would have looked in on a sleeping woman. He was the picture of professionalism in every respect.

  The wind outside, though, seemed to have picked up, blowing a feverish wail through the air. The way it cut through the framing on the tent, made it sound as if it was a voice, screaming out it's fury or its terror for the entire mountain to hear.

  She undid the latches on the tent, hoping to wake Martin and get some reassurance. He was already up, though, she saw. It wasn't until a moment later that she saw the other figure. There was a long moment where she wasn't sure what she was looking at.

  One instant, it looked like a man stood there, but it was too tall. Perhaps
seven foot tall, towering over Martin. At others, it looked like nothing at all—a bit of frontier dust blown into a rough facsimile, but that was all it was.

  Martin was reaching back for a knife she hadn't realized he carried, on the back of his hip. He yanked it free a moment before his arm fell, limp at his side. The rest of his body went similarly limp a moment later. Like he were a puppet and someone had just cut his string.

  Then, as suddenly as the creature had been there, it was gone. Cora's heart was pounding in her ears. Was this one of those horror-creatures that she had heard so much about? Her shaking hands did their best to fit the latches closed again.

  Martin had been so confident that there was no danger. Now he was lying there, dead. What was she going to be able to do? Now that she was so far outside of town, though, could she afford to turn back?

  Five

  Ashton followed behind a ways. They had left a trail. Even with the heavy wind whipping around him, they weren't so far ahead. A day at most. If Cora Little were anything like the horseman he imagined that she was, perhaps they were less. What was better, though, was that they were following the map he had in his head almost exactly.

  The trail, where he could see it, was rarely more than a hundred yards from the straightest path. With that knowledge, he just stopped watching the ground, except every few minutes to make sure that he hadn't taken a completely wrong turn.

  A gentle slope turned steep, and then steeper. An easy ascent, though, for the horse. Ash might have been tired making it, but he let the horse take it at a comfortable pace, and they were making good time.

  The trail, he realized after a moment, had stopped. He shrugged. They had most likely stopped for a while. He could see a space where he would make camp, if he intended to, but he didn't. After all, there were still hours left in the day. For that matter, he hadn't particularly provisioned for it.