Libby Learns Her Lesson (Swift Justice Book 3)

by Dinah McLeod

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  More Stormy Night Books by Dinah McLeod

  Dinah McLeod Links

  Libby Learns Her Lesson

  By

  Dinah McLeod

  Copyright © 2016 by Stormy Night Publications and Dinah McLeod

  Copyright © 2016 by Stormy Night Publications and Dinah McLeod

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

  www.StormyNightPublications.com

  McLeod, Dinah

  Libby Learns Her Lesson

  Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

  Images by The Killion Group and 123RF/sonatasun

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

  Chapter One

  1869

  Truth was, Libby had plumb hated Maggie Swift from the moment she’d clapped eyes on her. It didn’t have anything to do with her dark blue eyes, framed by long, curling lashes. It wasn’t even her dainty wrists, which she envied, or the stubborn jut of chin that she could have poked fun at—though it much resembled her own. It was because Libby could see in a glance that the only daughter of Jonathon and Kathleen Swift was loved, and dearly.

  As an only child and the daughter of well-to-do parents, she was often considered spoiled. But as she watched the Swift family the first time they walked into her pa’s mercantile, she could tell that Maggie was beloved. Seeing that she, a poor country girl had something that Libby longed for, something money couldn’t buy, stirred a dark, envious nature that, until that moment, she hadn’t even known she possessed.

  Being a child, she still didn’t truly understand. Nor did she know the cruelty she was capable of as a result. Through the years, Libby teased the girl mercilessly, dug at her weaknesses and dismissed her strengths until the dislike for each other was mutual. It was a long-standing rivalry, kept alive by a small slight, or a whispered word intended to cut. The lion’s share of the blame belonged to Libby; Maggie didn’t truly have it in her to be hateful.

  It was truly ironic then, that they would one day become sisters-in-law. An arrangement that, at the time, neither of them was satisfied with.

  Nor had Libby ever expected to marry Maggie’s brother. In fact, she’d probably never spoken more than two words to Wesley Swift until the day that he spanked her with nearly the entire town in attendance to witness the spectacle.

  True, she hadn’t been feeling particularly agreeable that day, seeing as how the dress she’d been expecting to try on still wasn’t ready. Libby had exchanged some heated words with the seamstress—she was a Park, after all. And if the woman valued their business, she’d make her a priority. When she’d come into her pa’s mercantile, her mood sour and her boots thundering against the floor like a stampede of ornery horses, she’d simply been intending to have a word with her father. He’d want to make her happy. He’d take the seamstress to task and see that she got what she wanted. The thought had calmed her, if only slightly, and when she saw a girl she did not recognize behind the counter instead of the man she’d expected, her temper had flared.

  “Good day to you,” she greeted Libby with a smile.

  She’d arched her eyebrows at the stranger and deigned not to answer. Instead, she turned away and began walking through the store as though she owned it. Which, to be fair, her family did. Where was he? Libby wondered, her irritation growing. How long would it be until he was back? She’d had her heart set on him handling it straightaway, so that she might have the dress by morning, just in time for services. Yes, Libby knew it would mean that the seamstress would have to stay up all night to finish it, perhaps until daybreak, but she reasoned that the seamstress would be paid handsomely to do so.

  She turned her head from side to side hoping to catch sight of her pa, but she only saw customers as they milled about, searching the shelves and talking amongst themselves. One or two caught her gaze and waved, or said, “Howdy-do, Miss Libby,” but she turned away without a word. She was a woman of singular focus and she couldn’t allow anyone—especially farmers—to distract her.

  Still silently fuming, she walked over to the candy bin and picked out a chocolate. Without a second thought, Libby popped it into her mouth. Normally, nothing soothed her like the soft, creamy taste of the candy, but today she scarcely noticed. She was far too riled. She was reaching for another piece when she heard a timid voice pipe up from behind.

  “Excuse me, miss?”

  She whirled around with a hand planted firmly on her hip. “Yes?”

  The girl looking back at her was a poor, frightened mouse if she’d ever seen one—and Libby had seen plenty of those. As she stared her down, she remembered Pa mentioning he’d hired a new girl in the shop. “Ah, miss, you’ll have to pay for that candy.”

  “Will I?” she asked just before popping the second chocolate into her mouth. She gave the girl a smug smile. If she had to wait for Pa, at least she could make her own entertainment until he arrived.

  The girl at the counter blinked at Libby in startled surprise just before her face began to turn bright red. “If you can’t pay for it, I’ll have to tell Mr. Park.”

  “Please do,” she replied, smiling sweetly at her. Clearly, she didn’t know who Libby was. It would have been annoying if the girl wasn’t turning out to be so much fun to toy with.

  Of course, she could have simply given her name, but that would end the amusement. Besides which, who was this big-eyed mouse of a creature to question her? She was merely enjoying the benefits of her birthright, part of which included doing whatever she pleased.

  “Will you give me your name, miss?”

  “No, I will not.” It was all Libby could do to contain the laughter that threatened to spill when the other girl blanched. Really, why couldn’t her father ever hire anyone with a backbone? They’d be far less fun, but perhaps a better investment. Maybe then he wouldn’t go through them so quickly.

  “B-but m-miss… I’ll need the money you owe, or I’ll have to give your name to Mr. Park.”

  “How will you do that?” Libby practically purred. “When you clearly don’t know what it is?” Her frustration with the seamstress had vanished, replaced with a tittering delight at this girl’s embarrassment. “What is your name?” she countered.

  “Justine,” she answered, her lower lip quivering.

  “Well, Justine, it’s been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, but I think I’ll take my leave now.”

  “You can’t!” she objected, her eyes widening.

  She could feel the eyes of everyone in the store on the two of them now, watching to see what would happen. It didn’t give her a moment’s pause. She was used to being stared at—it had been the case for as long back as she could remember. Mama always told her that it was the price she paid for being born into a wealthy family. “Can’t I?” she mocked, giving her a smug little smile before she turned on her heel.

  She’d intended to flounce out of the store, head held high, but instead she found her path blocked. Her smile faded as she took in the tall, muscular man standing in the way, his expression stern. “By your leave,” Libby said, her voice stiff. But he did not stand aside and she fel
t her ire increasing by the second. It was one thing to make a dramatic escape, but to be stuck here like this was unseemly.

  “You need to apologize to that poor girl,” he informed her, his voice quiet and calm.

  Her brow furrowed and she resented the fact that she had to tilt her head back to look up at him. “I don’t need to do anything, except get by.” But when she tried to move past him, he caught her by the arm and held her there.

  She gasped in fury. “How dare you!” Libby hissed. “Take your hands off me this instant!”

  “I said, you need to apologize,” he replied, cool and calm as ever despite her visible outrage.

  “I will do no such thing!” she declared, her voice getting louder now. “You know who I am!”

  “‘Course I do. And though I reckon you can’t remember my name, I don’t let things like that bother me. What troubles me is the spectacle you made of yourself just now in front of these fine people.”

  Of course she knew his name. He was Wesley Swift, Maggie’s eldest brother, which was part of the reason she hadn’t given him so much as a second glance through all the years. It was just that he hadn’t ever troubled himself to speak to her, and certainly not as forcefully as he was doing now. She’d never been spoken to in such a manner in all her life. She couldn’t say that she liked it much.

  And yet, it was a change of pace. Which in itself made it new and somehow exciting—or so her pitter-pattering heart told her as it sped up.

  “Let me go,” Libby ordered as she tried to shake him loose.

  His grip didn’t lessen. “Not until you do as you were told.”

  Her eyes widened just moments before she narrowed them into slits. Did he really think he would get anywhere ordering her about? Certainly, it seemed he did, but why should he believe she would do anything merely because he said so? “I don’t answer to you.”

  Wesley seemed to take this in stride, unmoved by the fire in her eyes that perfectly matched her tone. “You don’t answer to anyone, little girl. More’s the pity.”

  Little girl? Little girl? He did have some nerve! “Let me pass,” she demanded through gritted teeth.

  “Gladly, ma’am.”

  Her lips began to twitch in triumph, but it was premature, for he still did not make to move.

  “As soon as you make your apologies to Justine there.”

  She rolled her eyes skyward. He would know her name. They were probably courting to boot. The thought made her look him over properly. He had broad shoulders, was a good head and a half taller than Libby herself, and there wasn’t a bit of him that wasn’t all muscle. His hair was wheat-blond, his eyes a dark brown. He was a farmer, yes, but perhaps one that was too fine for the likes of Justine.

  “Pardon me for sayin’ so, Miss Libby, but you’ve been mighty unkind to a girl who, if I’m seein’ things right, you don’t even know.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off.

  “And I don’t take kindly to women who roll their eyes at me. I ask that you bear that in mind.”

  He was keeping his voice level and low. Probably to save her from the whispers of the townsfolk who were watching them. But Libby had no such qualms. “Woman, am I? That’s funny—just a moment ago I was a ‘little girl,’” she remarked, not troubling to keep her voice down.

  “You sure are actin’ like one, you reckon?”

  That did make her laugh. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I know well who I am. I am Libby Park—” she cut her eyes at Justine here, just in time to see her mouth drop open, “—and I am insisting that you let me pass, sir.”

  “I know well who you are, which isn’t half as important as you think.”

  Her brow furrowed as she glared at him. He wasn’t making this easy on either one of them, and with each second that passed she vowed to make him pay for it. “How dare you! When my father hears—”

  “When your father hears, I reckon he’ll be as disappointed in you as I am.”

  She didn’t know why, but the words stung. She certainly shouldn’t have cared what the likes of Wesley Swift had to say. Yet, she found heat flooding her cheeks, feeling both embarrassed and hurt all at once. But she quickly pushed those emotions down, hiding them behind a mask of anger. Which explained why she did what she did next: Libby raised her heel and stamped on Wesley’s boot as hard as she could.

  “Oof!” he grunted, his face registering surprise.

  While she had him caught off guard, Libby sprinted to the side, just barely squeezing past him. Her heart was pitter-pattering so hard she could hear it above all the gasps and “Oh, my!”s that were flying around the store. She didn’t even pause her getaway long enough to glare at the ridiculous old biddies who had nothing better to do than watch their argument. In fact, it was probably the most entertainment they’d seen for a fortnight. Truth be told, it was just the same for her. As vexed as she was by Wesley, part of her was having a grand old time outwitting him.

  She was feeling mighty pleased with herself as she made it outside and down the porch. That was, until she felt a hand clamp down on her arm. Then she was left cursing her damnable skirts that kept her from making a proper getaway. “You forget yourself!” She turned her head to glare at him.

  He, unlike most men, did not quake at the furious stare Libby aimed at him. In fact, he seemed altogether unmoved. She just didn’t know what to think.

  “Surely, your parents taught you how to treat a lady!”

  “That they did,” he replied with ease, almost as if he knew that he had her baffled. “But a lady, as I’m sure you know, admits to wrongdoin’ and accepts her comeuppance.”

  “Are you suggesting…” She trailed off, unable to even finish the sentence. Surely, he wouldn’t dare. Yet, even as the thought crossed her mind, she dismissed it. It seemed to her that Wesley was a man who was unshakable, who, standing tall in his cowboy boots and strong in his convictions, would dare much.

  She would soon know just how much.

  “Not at all. I’m merely sayin’ that I’m sure, as a lady, you’ll be more than willin’ to apologize to Justine and take the punishment you deserve.”

  She couldn’t help it, and even though she knew she shouldn’t, she threw her head back and began to laugh. She knew that the big, burly man in front of her would take offense, which wasn’t something she should want given that he already held her captive. If she’d been able, even given all her smart remarks, she would have held in the laughter.

  But it was laughable. The idea of someone, anyone threatening to punish her was something that she found downright comical. It would never happen—couldn’t, in fact. She’d never been chastised with more than a stern look or a few heated words. Not that either was truly a punishment at all and the thought of any man thinking that he could chastise her was more than she could endure.

  “Do I amuse you, Miss Libby?”

  “No,” she protested, though she still giggled. She saw Wesley’s mouth set in a firm line and hurried to explain. “It’s just… well… I’ve never been punished, you see.”

  He arched his blond brows, his face registering surprise. “Your pa, surely…?”

  She shook her head. “My mother was quite insistent that… well…”

  “I see. Well, I’m afraid that today’s goin’ to be quite a shock for you then. I’m sorry for it, but I’m afraid you’ve brought it on yourself.”

  “You can’t mean you honestly intend—”

  “I don’t ever say a thing I don’t intend, Miss Libby. You’d do well to remember that.” With a gentle but firm tug he began to pull her back toward the store.

  Her eyes flew to the mercantile and with a growing unease she remembered all the people inside. Oh, my, how they’d stare now! “But you can’t! It’s highly improper!”

  “You just told me your pa won’t make you apologize, so I ‘spect someone else will have to step in and see to it that you do.”

  She swallowed hard, past all the hateful things
that she would have liked to spit at him, past the fear she was beginning to feel, too. “I will apologize.” The thought made her miserable—the idea of the humiliation she would face, begging Justine’s pardon when she’d kicked up such a fuss in the first place, was almost unbearable. But in the face of the alternative, Libby would have to bear it, it seemed.

  “I suppose you will, once your hide’s been tanned.”

  “No.” She shook her head, making her curls dance wildly. “I’m saying—”

  “I know exactly what you’re tryin’ to say, Miss Libby. But I’m afraid that just won’t do now.”

  “But—”

  “If you hadn’t been so stubborn, we wouldn’t be here,” he reminded her as he pulled her along.

  She tried to dig her heels in, but it was to no avail. Wesley was strong, and he was a patient man. It didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest that they made slow progress. No matter how she twisted and yanked, trying to free herself, still inch by inch the store grew closer.

  “There’s no sense in dragging this out,” he admonished. “You’re just gonna make it harder on yourself in the long run.”

  “But you can’t… can’t…”

  “Spank you?” He mentioned the word so casually, one might think it was something he did every day. The thought made her shiver. “Yes, ma’am, I can and I sure intend to.”

  She knew that she wouldn’t be able to fight him. He’d proven that today twice already, and though she might be as stubborn as the day was long, she was hardly stupid. If he intended to whip her until she bawled over his knee, he could and there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop him. But the idea of him doing it in front of those people… it was enough to make anyone positively ill. “I feel faint.”

  “I reckon you do,” he replied mildly.

  Well! So much for sympathy! “Aren’t you a Christian man?”

  “I certainly am.”