Surrendered on the Frontier (3 page)

“You’d quiet my mouth with a kiss?” I asked, in between gasps of breath. “You were mad enough to swallow a horned toad backwards!”

His mouth dropped open.

“Oh, I’m simply shaking with fright!” I guffawed, not sure where I was going with this, but certain that if my punishment for provocation had been a kiss like that, I needed to provoke him again.

“Woman,” he warned, but I would not be quieted.

“And I’d like to see you try to spank me, Samuel Stanley! I’ll tell your ma on you!”

His eyes were dark now. “She’d clap my back and congratulate me,” he growled.

This had me howling with laughter.

I didn’t know such a large man could move so quickly. He had me cornered, then up and over his shoulder in seconds, marching me out of Hannah’s bedroom and into the main room of the cabin. I protested, of course, but it was no use and I knew it. He walked with decided steps to my room and tossed me down on the bed.

I shrieked with laughter. “Oh, you look like a bear that’s just emerged from his winter cave, with those eyes of yours,” I taunted. I placed the back of my hand to my forehead and pretended to be faint. “What’s a girl to do?”

“Stop your yappin’!”

I needed him to kiss me, or spank me, I just needed him to
touch
me, and I needed him to touch me
now.

“Yap yap
yap
!”
I prattled on. He growled, bending down toward me again, lowering his mouth close to my ear as he grasped my bottom with one hand and squeezed. It was a shocking gesture, scandalous for an unmarried couple.

“Naughty little Ruth needs to be put in her place.”

He kissed me again, and this time, his hands roved my body. I moaned into his mouth, my hands on his chest, my palms flat against his shirt. I could feel the hardened muscles beneath, and I shifted with arousal.

He wrenched his mouth off mine, but only to growl one more warning. “Are you gonna behave yourself now, or not?”

“Nooooo,” I moaned, as I did not want this to stop. I began unfastening the buttons on his shirt. He removed it as the last button came undone. I stared for a moment at his muscled chest, honed by years of hard labor. As I roamed my hands across the sprinkling of hair and lower still to the taut muscles, I could see the evidence of his arousal tented in his trousers. I felt suddenly overcome with tears.

He wanted me.

Until then, I’d never been desired like
this
,
in a way that made me feel attractive and beautiful. With my husband, I was merely a vessel for him to use to satisfy his base desires. But for Samuel, it was different. He hungered for me even his firmest touches were gentle. Right then, I’d have allowed him to have his way with me. I’d have refused him nothing.

“You beautiful, reckless, naughty little girl,” he whispered in my ear.

“I’m not a girl,” I replied in protest.

“When you’re with me you are.”

My lady parts tingled as one large hand wrapped around my waist and pulled me closer to him. His mouth on mine again, we kissed as his hand kneaded my breast, one firm thumb encircling my nipples straight through the fabric.

I knew I should have protested. I should have insisted he court me, or sent him on his way. But I did not care that we were not married. Samuel made me feel wanted for the first time in my life, and I yearned for more.

I was pinned beneath him now as he kissed me, bracing himself over me with one hand so he wouldn’t smother me, while the other was hiking up my skirts. My thighs clenched together in anticipation as I felt the warmth of his hand on my stocking. Blast the layers of clothing I was wearing! He smoothed a hand over my drawers. My hips bucked. The intensity of my arousal had me near tears.

“Please,” I begged, conscious of the desperation in my voice.

“Sit up,” he ordered. “Undress yourself.”

Hastily I obeyed, until I was wearing nothing but a thin chemise and drawers.

“Ah, so you
will
obey,” he said. “Seems I may have found the key.”

I moaned in reply as he laid me back down, lowering himself over me again, his lips insistent and probing. He kissed me as he pulled my drawers down, dipping a finger between my legs to my most sensitive parts. My breath caught in my throat as he stroked me. The feeling was exquisite.

“Spread your legs, honey,” he whispered. I obeyed, while he stroked me, his other arm holding me close to him while we kissed. Two fingers plunged into my core. I gasped from the sheer pleasure before he went back, stroking me. I was going to lose control, with Samuel holding me tightly next to him. In minutes, the release coursed through me, waves of ecstasy meeting in a delicious crescendo as he stroked and pumped my sex. He kissed me slowly, softly, holding me until the delicious spasms passed.

“You feelin’ better?” he whispered.

“Yes,” I replied with a sigh. “You?”

He chuckled. “No, but that’ll be for another day. Today was about puttin’ you in your place.”

I pursed my lips. “Is that so?”

“It is. You’ll question me now, woman?” he said with a raised brow.

I smiled. “No, sir,” I said, as meekly as a lamb.

“Sir, is it?” he said. “I’m not sure you’ve called me that before.”

“No, sir,” I said, closing my eyes as he lowered himself onto the bed next to me.

He chuckled. “Now are you gonna be a good girl, get yourself dressed, and come bake me one of your cakes, or am I gonna have to toss you over my shoulder and carry you on over?”

“You and your taunts,” I muttered. “Toss you over your shoulder! Spank your naughty little bottom!”

He tilted a head to me. Though his eyes twinkled, his voice was stern. “Oh, honey, those weren’t threats. Now get yourself dressed and let’s go before I prove that to you.”

Not in the mood to test him, subdued after he’d brought me to ecstasy, I obeyed.

Chapter Two: Tossed into a Loft

I dressed, while Samuel righted himself and went out to the barn to do some of my morning chores. I left the birds with water and some grubs, and fixed my hair. I looked a right mess after he’d laid me down in bed. My cheeks flamed with embarrassment as I remembered lying in bed next to him. And it wasn’t just because of his intimate touch. No, it was deeper than that. I had been a docile lamb afterwards.

Yes, sir.

I closed my eyes, pursing my lips as I splashed cold water on my face and tidied up. I’d been beaten by my husband and mistreated by my father, but I’d never willingly submitted to any man. I sure wasn’t going to start now. I was a woman in my own right, and I’d stay that way.

Samuel came in a few minutes later, tapping off his boots and shaking off his hat, hanging it up on a peg. “You ready to go?” he asked.

“In a minute,” I said. “I have a few things to tend to. Why don’t you go on up ahead and I’ll meet you in a little while?”

He frowned. “You think I’m leaving you to travel alone when I’m right here, and can go with you? Nonsense, woman. Do what you need to, then we’ll go.” He turned his back to me, pulled a chair out, and sat down. Well, then.

I didn’t need to worry about cooking, since I’d be with Ma for most of the day, but I did need to set my sourdough bread to fermenting. I affixed my apron and busied myself flitting around the kitchen, turning out my flour and deftly preparing the dough.

“That’s astoundin’,” Samuel murmured. I paused, flour straight up to my elbows, and looked at him.

“What is?”

“The way you just—” His hands flipped around and twisted. “And then you just—” He pretended to pat the dough. I smiled.

“You never seen a woman prepare dough before?” I asked, incredulous. He was around enough women in the Stanley line to know that this was routine. I was puzzled. But he was staring at my hands now. He sat with his legs spread apart, hands folded lightly in his lap. His voice was low and husky when he spoke.

“Not with pretty little hands like that, I haven’t.”

My lady parts well remembered where his hands had been. I squirmed.

“Land’s sake,” I whispered. “Samuel, you’ve one mind!”

He chuckled low. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“And blast if I can’t keep my head on straight around you acting like that,” I muttered.

He grinned. “Well, now. I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe I can keep little Ruth behavin’ herself for another minute or two.”

I flicked flour from my fingers at him, which merely elicited a low, manly chuckle I felt down to my bones. Oh, this wouldn’t do at all.

“Behave
yourself
,” I hissed, momentarily forgetting what to do with the dough next. Another chuckle.

“Or what?” he teased, drawing his arms up and crossing them over his broad chest as he sat up. “You’ll raise your little voice to me?” He was taunting me now, lips pursed and eyes twinkling.

I glared at him and lifted my chin. “Behave, or I won’t let you kiss me again.”

He grinned, but his voice was low as he leaned forward, speaking in a measured tone. “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

I gave the bread dough a sound slap that reverberated around the cabin. He shook his head, rising to his feet, as I finished up my preparations and wiped my hands on my apron.

“Come now, woman,” he said. He took my hand, and I felt my heart flutter in my chest. I loved the feeling of his hand in mine. But as we walked together toward his home, I wondered. What had changed between the two of us? Where did we go from here?

* * *

I spent the morning doing chores with Ma. My honey cake looked simply decadent sitting atop her glass plate, drizzled with warm, golden goodness. Buckets full of honey stood ready to take back to my own home, and Pearl and Geraldine came to fetch some, too. The honey tree had been a veritable goldmine.

Arriving before Geraldine, Pearl gave me a big hug around the neck and a peck on my cheek. “Oh, it’s good to see you,” she said, her blue eyes shining at me. She was a pretty thing, taller and fuller than I was, her dark, unruly hair tucked into a thick bun with wisps of curls framing her face. She had a fetching smattering of freckles around her nose, and her eyes were shining. Pearl was expecting a baby in the summer, and her face was fuller and rounder, simply glowing. I placed a hand on her swollen belly and smiled at her.

“How’s young little Aaron?” I asked her. She smiled. We had already decided that Pearl was having a baby boy, and that if she ended up with a girl, it was only because Aaron had changed his mind. He was the bossy sort, so I liked to tease her that the baby would be a little Aaron.

“Not Aaron,” Pearl said with a roll of her eyes. We had this conversation at least several times a week. “Behave yourself, Ruth. His name is
Patrick
.”

“If you say so,” I said. “Seems fitting that he’d be named after a man that drove the snakes from Ireland.”

Ma chuckled behind me. She knew I’d devoured every one of the books that were her husband’s, tucked away on the little shelf by the fire, and regularly clucked her tongue at me when I would pull out an odd fact or anecdote. Sweet as she was, Ma had no use for fables and stories. She’d been raised by strict Methodist parents, and now only allowed fiction in her home out of respect for her late husband. I’d been told he not only allowed novels to be read, but would read aloud to his whole family by the fire.

Geraldine snorted in the background. “Those stories are for heathens, Ruth. You ought to keep your head away from them and focus on real life instead.”

Ma’s lips pursed as she swept the floor. “My husband didn’t abide heathen tales, Geraldine. Now you hold your tongue.” We all knew how Ma felt about the novels herself, but it was an insult to her late husband’s wishes to criticize, and we all knew it. I merely buttoned my lip and continued stewing the chicken in the pot on the stove. I watched Pearl. Pearl looked intently at Geraldine before she turned away. I knew she wasn’t allowed to engage in arguments, though she could have a sharp tongue herself, and had no qualms about standing up to Geraldine. I could tell she was trying to decide if it was worth contradicting Geraldine. Apparently, she’d decided not to.

Pearl’s marriage to Aaron only the year before had surprised the Stanley family. Samuel told me the story of how the brothers had joined a band of travelers heading west. They’d rescued Pearl from the home she’d been staying in as a servant, as she was the lone survivor in a late-night raid. I loved Pearl’s story of rescue, and I loved watching her with her husband. I’d not known many married couples, and none who were as affectionate as Aaron and Pearl.

I liked Pearl. Like me, she’d known a troubled childhood. Details would surface when we worked side by side. We’d picked beans together one day, and she told me how she’d been raised by a couple that had taken her in and treated her like a slave.

“Before I met Aaron, I never knew what it was like to be happy,” she said.

I hadn’t responded at the time, because I still wondered what that would be like. I’d never known either.

Pearl knew what it was like to be unwanted and unloved. She was every bit an adopted member of the Stanley family as I was, only she was actually a member. I was not.

Geraldine was another story.

She was shorter and smaller than Pearl but taller than I was. That didn’t really account for much, though, because everyone was taller than I was, even Samuel’s brother Matthew. Geraldine was neat as a pin and lovely, her gleaming chestnut hair always immaculate, her skin smooth as silk. I envied her hair when I was tucking away my own dark tresses in a bun. She was a bit plumper now than when I first met her, and carried her wee one on her arm. Her eyes were shrewd and distant, and though Pearl said Geraldine was much kinder now than when she’d first met her, I found it hard to believe. We did not much care for one another and kept a respectful distance. If I hadn’t had so much respect for Ma, on more than one occasion, I’d have let Geraldine have a piece of my mind.

As I stewed the chicken, I mulled over how I’d been bested by Samuel. I felt irritable and cross, in no mood to deal with Geraldine’s haughty ways.