A Wanton Woman (Mail Order Bride of Slate Springs 1)

Yes, I wasn’t spending the first night with her—it couldn’t be called a wedding night as we were already proxy married—on the back of a horse. I wanted her on her back and me over her. “We have a room at a hotel down the street,” I added, shifting because I had to hide my hard cock.

“Pass?” she asked as she looked behind her one last time before we led her out of the station to the busy street. Horses and wagons filled the thoroughfare.

I tucked my hat back onto my head. While the air was frigid, it did nothing to cool my ardor. Nothing would, not until I was buried deep inside her and filling her with my seed. Even then, I’d want her again. I was absolutely sure of that.

“The road to Slate Springs follows a canyon up into the mountains to the west of here. It goes so high that it is snowed in for the winter. Denver is on this side of the pass, our town on the other.”

She slowed her pace but did not stop walking as we continued down the sidewalk toward our hotel. “You mean we will be isolated?”

I glanced at Walker, but could not tell his expression with it being dark and his face in shadow beneath the brim of his hat. Many people had difficulties being in a town that was cut off from the rest of the world. The snow and cold was sometimes too much for people to handle. By the time spring thaw came, many men had turned slightly insane. Thus the new law. If the men had their beds warmed and a family to care for, they might find the long winters much easier to pass.

“That’s right,” Walker said. While Celia couldn’t tell his words were guarded, as his brother, I could hear it plain as day. “Once the snow comes in earnest, the town is cut off until spring.”

“What if it had been snowed in earlier than usual? Would I have been stuck here in Denver while you, Mr. Tate, remained on the other side of the pass?”

Her question was unexpected. I feared she would be concerned about being trapped in a small town with us, not trapped without us. I stopped on the sidewalk, tilted her chin up with my fingers. Her skin was soft, like silk, yet chilled from the cold. Her eyes met mine. “Luke. Call me Luke. We would never leave you alone like that,” I replied, my voice gentle. “We have been in Denver three days waiting for you, considering just such an occurrence.”

Her eyes widened. “You… you have?”

It was the surprise in her voice that kept me from responding, for I knew there was much to learn about her from that alone.

“We’ve been waiting for you, Celia,” I told her. All my life. I just didn’t know it.

“Let’s get out of the cold.”

I glanced at Walker as we turned toward the hotel once more. Neither of us would leave our bride alone in a big city as we waited for spring thaw, stuck in Slate Springs. If anything, we’d remain on the east side of the pass with her. With her.

What kind of marriage did she have before? Why was she so amazed we had been concerned? I wanted to know the answer, but not on the street. While I was big enough to keep warm in just my shirt, and the temperatures in the city were much warmer than at home, I did not think our bride could tolerate the chill for long until she became accustomed. Even then, she was a tiny thing and we needed to be cautious. If my toes were turning cold, then certainly hers were as well in her thinner shoes. Some new clothes more suited for the winter weather were our first purchases. But as I glanced down at her as we continued on, watching the gentle sway of her hips, seeing the long line of her elegant neck, I was just as eager to see her out of clothes entirely.

CHAPTER THREE

Celia

“This is impressive.”

There weren’t any other words for the suite Luke had at the hotel. I’d only come through the door, but the space was opulent. Thick rugs covered hard wood, dark red velvet curtains hung at the tall windows and also covered the chairs and couches that faced a crackling fire. I could see into two additional rooms, their doors across from each other. Large beds were centered in each, one even had a canopy. This wasn’t a simple hotel room to waylay until our departure in the morning. This showed wealth. It appeared my husband had money. Lots of it.

I should be reassured that I would not be married to a pauper, but I knew that money did not offer happiness. Certainly a full belly and warm clothes, but I’d known both of those with John and I’d been so very unhappy. I would hold judgement on Luke, for now.

I watched as he removed his hat and placed it on a table by the door. He wore the usual men’s uniform of dark suit, white shirt and black tie, but it seemed to fit him better than most and only accented his broad shoulders and thick chest. He turned and took his coat from my shoulders and caught me studying him. The heavy outer garment had kept me well protected from the cold and allowed his enticing scent to envelop me. Something dark and manly. Not a heavy tonic like John would have used, but a natural scent, clean and sharp. I breathed in the last remnants of it as I followed him to the couch before the fire.

I took the moment that was offered for one more surreptitious look. He was tall, so very big. I only came up to his shoulder and it should have felt imposing to have to tilt my chin back to meet his gaze, but that was not the case. Every time he spoke with me at the station and out on the street, he’d been close, perhaps a little closer than was appropriate for a man, but he was my husband. It hadn’t felt awkward. Instead, I felt… protected.

Butterflies fluttered in my belly as I looked at him. His fair hair was short and neatly trimmed. His eyes, so fair and yet intense, were beneath a strong brow. His nose seemed to have a slight crook to it, as if it had been broken at one time. While it appeared he had shaved earlier in the day, whiskers dusted his square jaw and I wondered if it would feel raspy against my palm.

The entire journey from Texas I’d wondered and fretted as to the man to whom I’d been matched. Would he be just like John—a well-respected man with absolutely no conscience or values? I hadn’t had to share much of my past with Mrs. Carstairs at the establishment that matched men to mail order brides. My past had preceded me certainly, but women who came to her had varied reasons for wanting to be sent to marry a stranger. I was sure she’d heard it all, even a story like mine. The underlying reason though was most likely the same. Desperation.

I had been desperate to escape Texas the only way a woman with no money or job could. That did not mean I hadn’t been wary and doubting my choice for the thousand miles it took to arrive in Denver. The relief of finding Luke visually appealing was a start; however, John had been an attractive man, educated too, but a philanderer, so that did not allay all of my concerns. Only time would tell if Luke was the same.

I was wary about my attraction to him. It was instant. The moment I saw him on the station platform holding the Bible, I’d been interested. Intrigued. Immediately overwhelmed. Newfound desire had coursed through me, heating me at just the sight of him. I’d shivered when I stood before the two men. It hadn’t been from cold, but the heavy feel of their attentions on me. Yes, both of them. It wasn’t just Luke that had made me feel… curious, but his brother, Walker, too.

He’d been just as attentive as Luke, just as solicitous. His hair and eyes were dark, but it was obvious that they were brothers. Even in physique they were different; Walker was a touch taller and leaner. While Luke had offered a soft smile that softened the look in his eyes, Walker appeared to be more of a brooder. Intense, but no less kind.

But it was Luke who approached me now; Walker had not come to the suite with us. My heart leapt into my throat with the realization that this handsome man was my husband. Mine, and he would soon touch me, hopefully in a way I’d wanted for so long.

Without saying a word, he lifted his hands to my head, removed my hat. I breathed in his clean scent and tried to calm my racing heart. Blunt fingers ran over my hair, then tugged the pins from my prim bun.

“I’ve been wanting to see your hair down, to feel it,” he murmured, his eyes on his ministrations.