Rocky Mountain Wild (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 6) Read online

  Still recovering from the powerful orgasm, Phoebe tensed, but she was too aroused to say no. With a wicked grin, Calum probed her bottom hole, pushing his finger in and out a few times before removing it, and bending his head to start licking her all over again.

  “Oh, no Calum, please.”

  “Hush, sweet Phoebe. You take all I give you and more.”

  Sighing she lay her head back. Tonight, his tongue was voracious; it ruled her world. She climaxed again and again on the table, and later in the bedroom, when he lay on his back and had her straddle his face. She rode him, nipples pointed and body shaking until she fell off. Lights seemed to flash behind her eyes and the whole world shook.

  He lay her down on the silky furs and took his pleasure, his large cock sending her into another round of bliss.

  He came soon after. She noticed again that he had his finger in her bottom hole again; she’d squeezed around it right before she climaxed the final time.

  His mouth nuzzled her ear as they lay recovering. “Do you like your smooth cunny? Every time I bathe you, I’m going to shave it and lick you after. What do you say to that?”

  “I might not survive.”

  He chuckled, and rolled her to her side to wrap his arms and legs around her so she dwelt in a Calum cocoon.

  “Calum.”

  “Yes, lass?”

  “You put a finger in my bum, um, when you were inside me.”

  “Yes, I did. Did you like it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Sweet lass, you don’t have to know. I’ll do it again, and you can see if you like it.”

  “But,” she squirmed, “it’s dirty.”

  “Not after I give you a bath. Then you’re all clean.”

  “But—”

  “Hush, wee one. Whenever I touch you, I’ll make it feel good. I’ll take care of you.”

  She relaxed. “Yes, Calum.”

  “Good lass.”

  *

  The next day, he woke and pleasured her again, before dressing her in warm clothes and bundling her onto the little mule.

  “I have a wedding present for you as well.” He led her mount on a climb through the alpine forest, through groves of aspen that were starting to turn to flame. When the trail grew too steep and rocky, he picketed the mule and lifted her into his arms. He carried her down the winding trail.

  “I can walk,” she protested.

  “I know.” He grinned. “I like carrying you.”

  She rolled her eyes, even though, secretly, she liked it too. Even though her leg was stronger, it still throbbed painfully after hours of working on a twisted foot.

  The way grew darker as Calum pushed through the growth and entered a cave.

  “What’s that smell?” She wrinkled her nose.

  “Sulfur. You’ll get used to it.”

  The cave widened and came to a warm, wet place, lit by sunlight streaming in a crack in the rocks. A large spring was bubbling out of the ground. Calum set her down and she bent to touch the pool in the hollowed rock.

  “Oh, my.” The water was warm, and steam rose from it, filling the cave with damp air.

  “Do you like it?”

  “I don’t know. What is it?”

  “Hot springs. The Ute tribe says it will cure all your ills.”

  By the time Calum stripped off his clothes, she was ankle deep in the largest pool. With the little light dancing over the pools, illuminating the steam, the whole cave seemed to glow. The place was magical.

  “Clothes off, lass. I didn’t bring a change for you.”

  “You just want to get me naked.”

  “That too. Come, wee bird.”

  He took a blanket out of the saddlebag and helped her undress. As always, she felt shy about her body, and as he lifted her dress, she covered her breasts with her hands. He saved her boots for last, and when he knelt and undid her laces, the care he took unwrapping her bent foot brought tears to her eyes. He was so good to her, too good. His kindness could even turn an ugly thing beautiful.

  “Phoebe, why are you crying?”

  She shook her head. Setting her boots aside, he kissed her wet eyes.

  “I’d give anything to take away your tears.”

  I’m ugly and you’re beautiful, she wanted to say. And the two of us can never be.

  “You already have.” She gave him a watery smile, and lifted her arms in invitation.

  He carried her carefully into the deepest pool. The water accepted them, rippling quietly around Calum’s giant, naked body, as steam rose up to embrace them both. He waded deeper and set her down. She hissed a little as the hot water lapped at the tender places between her legs.

  “Sore?”

  “Yes,” she blushed. Her new husband had made his attraction to her clear over the past few days.

  She sank into the springs, feeling the steam already softening her skin.

  “Like it?” He submerged his body until his hair floated on the water. She did the same, and grinned back her answer.

  They swam like that, keeping their heads dry and letting the hot springs melt their aches away. From time to time, they grew too hot and had to leave the pool to cool off.

  It was one such time that Phoebe felt her husband’s body pressing against her back.

  “Do you need something, Calum?” She bit the inside of her cheek to hold in her smile.

  “Aye.” He lifted the hair from her shoulder, planting kisses there. “I need to make you feel good.”

  They made love in the shallows, in the heated water and rock. His body dominated hers, shielding her from the chill, and when they were done, she cuddled against him, half in and half out of the water.

  “Phoebe, I want to ask you about something.”

  Cradled in his lap, in a magical cave miles away from the outside world, she felt she could grant him anything.

  “I know your leg pains you, because of your foot. No, don’t shrink away from me lass.” His arms cut off her escape. “Talk to me, Phoebe. I want to care for you.”

  “You can’t,” she whispered. Even now, she tried to tuck her foot under her opposite leg, hiding the horrific sight. “My foot is cursed. There’s nothing to be done.”

  “I know your family told you that. Why did they think such a thing?”

  “I don’t know.” Because it’s true.

  “I don’t think that.”

  She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing.

  “Tell me about your family,” he said finally.

  “My family all lives together on one giant farm. My grandfather has the biggest house, and my uncle and his boys all stay there with him, along with their wives. My cousins aren’t all married, but my uncle always has one or two. My grandfather chooses the women, to make sure they are worthy.” One of Calum’s hands massaged her shoulder as she spoke, encouraging her to go on. “My father made a mistake, and lay with a woman who wasn’t worthy. That’s why they had me.”

  “And why they thought you cursed.”

  “I am cursed,” she said. “You don’t even know.”

  “Tell me.”

  She took a deep breath. She hadn’t shared the details with anyone, not even Mrs. Covey. “From the time I was a babe, I was an outcast. They treated the dogs better than me. I even would run away and they’d tie me up in the shed, with a rope around my neck. They didn’t let me eat meals with them, or go to school.”

  Calum’s body was rigid and angry underneath hers, but his hand on her shoulder was gentle.

  “It would’ve been worse, but my grandfather took a liking to a traveling preacher, and he and his wife came to stay at the compound. They saw me and asked about me, and the preacher’s wife made them treat me better. I even stayed with them for a while. That’s where I finally began to talk. My father had been sent away, but he returned, and married a woman Grandpa chose for him—one of my cousins. They treated me a little better than before, and let me go to school.

  “But then my father di
ed, and my stepmother had to marry my uncle. That’s when the curse really came out: all her children were stillborn; and then she died too. I was blamed for it.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “They started treating me worse than before. So, I ran away. They brought me back and beat me, and I waited and ran away again, further this time. That’s how I met Mrs. Covey and started working for her.” Phoebe smiled. “I was hiding in her stables and her servant found me.”

  “So you worked with her for almost ten years.”

  “Yes, and my uncle found me and threatened to bring me back until I gave him money. Then they realized they could let me work, and I’d pay them for it. But then they wanted me to marry and Mrs. Covey thought it would be best if I ran again. So then I came here.” She stared into his grey eyes, wishing they weren’t so sad. It hurt, knowing she was the reason for his melancholy. After a minute of silence, she started to push away from him again.

  “I don’t need your pity.”

  Again, he tightened his hold and refused to let her go. “I don’t pity you, lass.” When she relaxed again, his fingers stroked a few stray tendrils of hair away from her face. “It was a cruel thing your own family did to you. I wish I could go back in time and protect you. I want to help you.”

  “This helps me.” She indicated the pool and healing waters.

  “It’s a wee drop in the bucket. I’m going to give you all this, and more. I won’t stop until you have an hour of pleasure for every minute of pain.” From his tone, and the look in his eye, he meant it.

  She blinked back tears. “You’re so good to me.”

  “I live for the day, Phoebe, when you’ll not think these things are good enough for you. I dread it too, because at that moment you’ll know you’re too good for me.”

  She wrinkled her brow, and his fingers stopped her protest.

  “I’ll do anything I can to teach you that you deserve all of this, and more. You told me once you weren’t a beggar. The truth is, Phoebe, I’m the pauper, and you’re the one giving away her riches to a poor man. I only hope you don’t wake up one day and feel you’ve squandered your love on one such as myself.”

  “Never,” she whispered fiercely. “Never.”

  “Oh, Phoebe.” He tucked her face into his neck, holding her like a babe. “My wee bird with a broken wing. One day you will fly.”

  *

  After the hot springs, Calum redoubled his efforts to help her bent foot. At night, he made her warm compresses, and tried to talk her into letting him massage her leg.

  She resisted. More than ever, she felt she must earn his kindness. He was so good to her; what would happen when he woke up one morning and realized she had nothing to offer him?

  Over the next few days, Phoebe threw herself into work. She even insisted on going with him to check the traps, though the trip left her sore and embarrassed when she realized how much she’d slowed him down. She made up for it by helping with the smoked meat, packing some of it to sell and storing the rest. Winter was coming fast, and all help was needed, even if it came from a slender girl with a crippled foot.

  At night she sewed. Mrs. Martin was all too happy to pay her for any finished pieces Phoebe could turn in before the shopkeeper traveled to Colorado Springs for a big autumn market.

  One such evening she was bent over the fabric, stitching feverishly by firelight. Her husband sat in his large chair, dividing his gaze between her and the fire.

  When he stood, his large body cast as shadow over her. “Phoebe, come to bed.”

  “I can’t, I have to finish this for Mrs. Martin,” she said, angling her body so she could see. Calum sighed, but didn’t insist.

  A few minutes later, Phoebe pricked her finger and yelped. The blood ran down the digit, and she held the cloth away from her to keep from staining her work. “Oh, no.”

  Calum leaned over her, wiping the blood away with his handkerchief and wrapping it tightly. “Better?”

  “Yes,” she sighed, impatient to start stitching again.

  “Leave it, Phoebe. Your work will be here in the morning.”

  “In the morning I need to help you.”

  “I’ll manage for a few hours alone. You cannot work the night through.”

  “Yes, I can. I have before.” Her body chose that unfortunate moment to yawn, and her husband took advantage of her distraction, lifting into his arms.

  “Sleep now,” he said firmly, carrying her to the bed and tucking her in. He joined her soon after, wrapping his big arms around her and pulling her flush against him. They lay in silence for a moment, until Phoebe realized his manhood was pressing into her bottom.

  She glanced back at him. “Sleep?”

  “Sleep,” he said firmly.

  She lay her head back down, then wriggled her bottom against him, giggling at his exasperated sigh. A few more minutes of that and he sat up and leaned over her.

  “Oh, Phoebe. What am I to do with you?”

  “I’m not tired,” she whined.

  “No? I might think of some way to wear you out.” She could hear the excitement in his voice, but did not expect him to pull her under him and draw her legs apart in one swift movement.

  She squealed as her center pressed against his hard cock.

  “I’m gonna take ye, wee wife, until you’re too tired to do much more than drop off.” His stubbled face nuzzled hers and dove into the crevice between her chin and neck. “And you’ll have pleasant dreams, I’m sure of it.”

  Her husband was as good as his word.

  The next day, though, she paid the price. All day she struggled to drag her tired body around the farm, and at night, when she could’ve easily gone to bed early, she sat by the fire, the lamp lit at her elbow, sewing.

  She yawned and caught Calum frowning at her. He stood.

  “Time for bed, Phoebe. It’s getting late.” He crouched at the fire, lifting the warming bricks for their bed.

  “Just a few more minutes,” she muttered.

  “A few more. You need your sleep.”

  A few minutes later, she heard him clear his throat.

  “All right, wee wife.”

  “I need to finish this,” she whined. The dimming firelight made her squint to see her stitches. She was frowning at her work, face screwed up in concentration, when a big hand tugged the cloth away. “Hey!”

  “Bedtime,” her husband said, sweeping away her needles and thread deftly.

  “Give it back! I was working on that.”

  “And it will still be here in the morning. You’re running yourself ragged, and I’ll not sit back and watch.”

  “I’m not sleepy.” Her words broke in half as she yawned.

  “I see you are,” Calum said sternly. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

  “I will not!”

  “You’re coming to bed and you’re gonna get a good night’s rest. In the morning, you’ll be able to work. Soon enough.”

  She stood, dodging his grasp. “I don’t want to go.”

  “You’ve been grouchy and tired all day.”

  She stomped her foot. “I don’t want to go to bed.”

  “If you act like a child, you get spanked like one.” He cocked his head, and when she didn’t start moving towards the bedroom, he came towards her.

  “No.” She fled around the table. For such a big man, he was light on his feet, stalking her like he must hunt prey in the woods.

  “Phoebe, stop rushing about on your leg and come to bed,” he growled. She darted to the side and he caught her easily.

  “Get off!” She pounded his shoulders and he let go of her in surprise. Running again, she grabbed the first thing that came into reach—and iron pot—and swung it. She meant to throw it, but he was closer than she thought, and it hit him in the arm and bounced right off.

  “Ouch.” He stopped, rubbing his arm.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” She dropped the pot in horror. “Did I hurt you?”

  Cocking his head, he
just looked at her, a sandy brow raised over his long-suffering grey gaze.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just think I should be able to set my own bedtime.”

  “We spoke of this. If you cannot get enough sleep to keep you well, I’ll be making sure you do.”

  “With a bedtime? I haven’t had a bedtime—I’ve never had a bedtime!”

  “Then I think it’s high time you had one, lassie.” He gave a wolfish grin. “And, when you sass me, a spanking to go with it.”

  “No, not that,” she stammered. “I don’t think…”

  He came forward and she backed away, but he only sat in his great chair. “Now, you’ll come and lie over my knee for your correction, or it’ll be double punishment for you.”

  She gulped. “Double punishment? What’s that?”

  “Stay there and find out.”

  Sagging a little, she approached and accepted his help going over his knee. As soon as she settled on his iron thighs, smelling the wood smoke and wild scent of him, her body hummed with readiness for his touch. Lowering her head, she submitted, but not without another protest.

  “I didn’t mean to hit you with the pot. Can we just go to bed and talk about this?”

  “Time for talk was earlier.” He drew up her skirts, and she could hear the satisfaction in his voice He loved the sight of her pale thighs and buttocks framed between her dress and dark stockings.

  “I’m glad you’re sorry though, or your smacking would be longer. I’m going to turn your bottom pink as it is.”

  She groaned. His hands worked her flesh thoroughly, readying it for his smacks.

  The spanking was never harsh enough for her to cry. Worse was the scolding; he kept it up the whole time.

  “From now on you have a short time after dinner to finish your work, and then it’s bedtime for wee Phoebes. And if I hear a word of protest, you go to bed with a sore bum.” His hand fell in a faster rhythm as if to emphasize this. “I’ll not have you yawning through the whole day; you work hard enough as it is. I told you I was going to care for you, and I intend to keep my word. Argue and you’ll get a smacking. You’ll get one every night to keep you sweet if I have to.”

  Her cheeks felt hot by the time his lecture was finished. “You understand?”

  “Yes.” She kicked her legs a little, but otherwise submitted to his touch—the sharp smacks and the deep massage in between that eased the sting, but made her insides quiver.