Rocky Mountain Dawn (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 1) by Lee Savino
Authors: Lee Savino
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between her legs. Aroused, she rubbed her breasts against the coverlet, adding some pleasure to the pain.
"Naughty girl," her husband growled, and set her on her feet. She went to grab her bottom, but a glare from him stayed her hands.
"Go to the corner, and stand with your nose touching the wall. Think on what you've done. You'll be making apologies to the Smith's later for leaving them and causing them worry."
Huffing with pain, she moved slowly to get her dress.
"No clothes."
"Yes, sir." She crossed and put her nose to the wall, her smarting bottom the only thing she could think of. She was sure her two cheeks now looked like hot coals.
"You stay there," he said. I'm going to see if I can return these drawers and get the ones you need."
"But—" She started to turn and met his blazing anger.
"Face to the wall, Esther. If I find you've moved, you will receive more strokes with the cane."
The cane! Squeezing her eyes shut, she held very still. She'd been birched as a child, but her parents usually preferred a hand or a switch. Her brother's schoolmaster used a cane, and they reported it was horrible.
Fear kept her in place, even though she did glance behind her a few times. She was shifting from foot to foot when she heard the door open.
"You're fortunate, my dear." She heard a rustle of paper as he set the package on the bed. "The shopkeeper understood. I paid extra for his trouble."
She waited, nose to the wall, for instructions.
"Esther, come here."
Her husband was sitting on the bed, and pulled her in between his legs. "You know why I must punish you?"
"To keep me from disobeying."
His brown eyes were soft, and his hand stroked back the hair from her face. "You have a beautiful spirit. I don't want you to be hurt."
"I understand. I'm sorry."
"I know you are." He stood. "Lean over the bed. "Five strokes with the cane. You will count."
Esther lay down again and gripped the coverlet.
At the first strike, pain exploded through her and all other thoughts flew out of her mind.
"One, sir," her husband prompted, and Esther managed to repeat it.
The rest were all the same, but by the fourth, she did a little dance, coming off the bed.
Her husband waited a moment, then gathered her hands behind her back and held them for her.
"Thank you," she gasped, resuming position. Her tears were now running unchecked down her face.
The final stroke landed, and she eked out the count, then let her head fall forward onto the bed. She felt her husband examine her marks, touching just outside the stinging lines.
"Well done, Esther," he said, lying down next her. She turned to him, hanging on and soaking his shirt with her tears.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "You must have been so worried."
"Shocked, actually. I saw you alone on the street, and then you walked into the saloon. At first I wasn't sure it was really you."
"I'll try to be good from now on."
"You are good. You are my good girl, and you took your correction well. It's a pleasure to teach you how to be better."
*****
She slept on her stomach, waking when her husband rolled out of bed and went to the door. He spoke in urgent tones to someone in the hall, then came back and turned on the lamp.
"Esther," he whispered. "I must go. A family has fallen sick, and I am the closest doctor."
Rising up, she watched him pack a bag with his instruments and medicines. For their four month long journey, he'd brought only two changes of clothes, leaving more room for his medical supplies.
He looked up, brown hair falling into his face as she came around the bed.
"Let me come with you, Johnathan."
He nodded, and she quickly dressed, then followed him out of the room.
A man waited by the inn door, twisting his hat in his hand.
"Lead the way," Johnathan said.
They hurried down dark streets until they came to a little house. A family huddled in the parlor, lamplight flickering on worried faces. In the small, dank back room, a young girl lay on a pallet with her
"Naughty girl," her husband growled, and set her on her feet. She went to grab her bottom, but a glare from him stayed her hands.
"Go to the corner, and stand with your nose touching the wall. Think on what you've done. You'll be making apologies to the Smith's later for leaving them and causing them worry."
Huffing with pain, she moved slowly to get her dress.
"No clothes."
"Yes, sir." She crossed and put her nose to the wall, her smarting bottom the only thing she could think of. She was sure her two cheeks now looked like hot coals.
"You stay there," he said. I'm going to see if I can return these drawers and get the ones you need."
"But—" She started to turn and met his blazing anger.
"Face to the wall, Esther. If I find you've moved, you will receive more strokes with the cane."
The cane! Squeezing her eyes shut, she held very still. She'd been birched as a child, but her parents usually preferred a hand or a switch. Her brother's schoolmaster used a cane, and they reported it was horrible.
Fear kept her in place, even though she did glance behind her a few times. She was shifting from foot to foot when she heard the door open.
"You're fortunate, my dear." She heard a rustle of paper as he set the package on the bed. "The shopkeeper understood. I paid extra for his trouble."
She waited, nose to the wall, for instructions.
"Esther, come here."
Her husband was sitting on the bed, and pulled her in between his legs. "You know why I must punish you?"
"To keep me from disobeying."
His brown eyes were soft, and his hand stroked back the hair from her face. "You have a beautiful spirit. I don't want you to be hurt."
"I understand. I'm sorry."
"I know you are." He stood. "Lean over the bed. "Five strokes with the cane. You will count."
Esther lay down again and gripped the coverlet.
At the first strike, pain exploded through her and all other thoughts flew out of her mind.
"One, sir," her husband prompted, and Esther managed to repeat it.
The rest were all the same, but by the fourth, she did a little dance, coming off the bed.
Her husband waited a moment, then gathered her hands behind her back and held them for her.
"Thank you," she gasped, resuming position. Her tears were now running unchecked down her face.
The final stroke landed, and she eked out the count, then let her head fall forward onto the bed. She felt her husband examine her marks, touching just outside the stinging lines.
"Well done, Esther," he said, lying down next her. She turned to him, hanging on and soaking his shirt with her tears.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "You must have been so worried."
"Shocked, actually. I saw you alone on the street, and then you walked into the saloon. At first I wasn't sure it was really you."
"I'll try to be good from now on."
"You are good. You are my good girl, and you took your correction well. It's a pleasure to teach you how to be better."
*****
She slept on her stomach, waking when her husband rolled out of bed and went to the door. He spoke in urgent tones to someone in the hall, then came back and turned on the lamp.
"Esther," he whispered. "I must go. A family has fallen sick, and I am the closest doctor."
Rising up, she watched him pack a bag with his instruments and medicines. For their four month long journey, he'd brought only two changes of clothes, leaving more room for his medical supplies.
He looked up, brown hair falling into his face as she came around the bed.
"Let me come with you, Johnathan."
He nodded, and she quickly dressed, then followed him out of the room.
A man waited by the inn door, twisting his hat in his hand.
"Lead the way," Johnathan said.
They hurried down dark streets until they came to a little house. A family huddled in the parlor, lamplight flickering on worried faces. In the small, dank back room, a young girl lay on a pallet with her
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