A Contract Bride's Triple Surprise (12 page)

“A bit,” replied Ross. “Brown hair, smoky blue eyes, small nose. She’s shorter with wider hips and more flesh.”

“Hand her down to me.”

Gillis hooked the lantern on the wagon and raised his arms. Ross reluctantly handed Amy over. She murmured something but didn’t wake. Ross scrambled down and over to his brother.

“Good,” said Gillis, staring at Amelia’s face. “The lass must be like her mother’s side of the family. I dinna know what I’d do if she was like Prue.” He let Ross take her back and then grasped the nearest horse’s halter. He turned his back and waved them away. “Go put a son in her belly, lad.”

“Are we home?” Amelia’s eyes were barely open. “I need the necessary.”

Ross was already walking toward the privy. After a quick visit, he insisted on carrying her to the house. Auntie had left a lamp burning on the kitchen table for them. He pushed open the door and stepped inside. Trace told him women liked the tradition of getting carried into the home. Ross figured it was a man’s way of making sure his wife didn’t dawdle on the way to their bedroom. He carried her through the kitchen and up the stairs, her long hair dangling.

“Welcome home.”

He set her down just inside their room. He would have to thank Tillie for her efforts. A lamp burned on the corner table. A flowered ewer and basin waited beside a folded towel topped with a small bar of soap. He sniffed, inhaling the relaxing scent of sage. Auntie would have smudged the room to clear out any lingering memories. She’d done the entire house when she arrived, but he welcomed her extra effort. All he wanted in this room was good memories, made from this night on.

“That’s a big bed.”

“Nevin must have lashed both of ours together so we’d have lots of room to play.”

He reached around her waist and began unbuttoning her dress. He hadn’t said a word when she dressed that morning, just watched as she put on layer after layer. No more. Starting tomorrow, she wouldn’t have to perspire from all that clothing. Ross felt her resistance, subtle but there. She hadn’t been like this after their first time together. He tugged her dress from her fingers. Her corset and both petticoats followed.

Ross would marry anyone, claim anything as his child, if it meant Fin and Hugh didn’t inherit the MD. He tried not to hold anything against Gillis’s mother, but if she hadn’t doted on her first two sons so much, maybe they wouldn’t have made his life so miserable. Yet, without everything he’d gone through, he wouldn’t be the capable man he was.

Amy sighed as she looked out the window. The moon highlighted her pale skin, so unlike his. He shucked off everything but his pants. His cock strained hard against his buttons. He winced then stripped. Naked, he walked over to her. When he placed his hands on her hips, she leaned back against his chest. There was no way she could miss the hard mass pressing into her back.

Together, they looked out the window. Did she feel the same sense of permanence those mountains brought him? Why he couldn’t bear to live anywhere else?

“It’s beautiful here,” she whispered.

A lone wolf howl was joined by others as the pack celebrated. Perhaps it was a downed elk to feed them all, or maybe they wanted to say, “I’m here. This is mine.” He understood. Family, clan, pack, all were the same. You worked together to benefit all.

Some men thought they were the leaders, ordering their womenfolk around. Wolves knew better. The alpha female was the boss of the hunt. Everyone bowed to her strength.

Everyone but the alpha male.

Ross brushed Amy’s hair off the right side of her neck. He kissed her flesh right where her neck joined her shoulder. Gently, he bit down. The alpha male wolf took the female from behind and held her by the scruff of her neck as he mounted her. He had to earn the right, chasing her until she let him catch her.

When Amy settled in here, he’d take her far up the mountain under a full moon. He’d strip her naked as nature intended. He’d chase her across the meadow, easily following her white flesh.

When he caught her, he would mount her. He’d thrust deep and bite her, right there. Just hard enough so she would remember her mate. Every time he stood behind her, he would kiss that spot, and she would remember how he’d claimed her.

“Do you think they sing because they’re happy?”

Amy turned toward him. Because she was so short and he tall, the raised tip of his cock touched the underside of her breasts. She looked down, swallowing hard. He waited for her. With trembling fingers, she let her chemise slide off her shoulders. She bent her knees slightly and caught him between her breasts. He gently thrust, and together, they watched his tip appear then retreat. He counted the times, concentrating on anything but coming.

“Oh, Ross, what you do to me,” she said.

She released him and stepped back. When she bent forward to slide her drawers down her legs, her cheek brushed his cock. He almost came right then. She dropped her head as if suddenly shy. He weighed her breasts in his hands, chafing her nipples the way he already knew drove her higher.

“What is it I do to you, Amy? Tell me.”

She gasped when he pressed her nipples between his thumbs and fingers.

“You make me want to do wicked things.” She panted the words. He massaged her flesh, hard from need.

“What things?”

When she grasped his cock he jerked. She licked her lips. He held his breath.

Slowly, she knelt in front of him. He had to release her, but he ran his hands through her hair instead. She licked his glistening tip. He couldn’t stop the growl. It was close, but he kept himself from thrusting deep into her soft, wet mouth.

“Amy, while I very much want you to do that, if you put your mouth on me right now, I’m going to come right away.”

The moon caught her light-colored eyes when she looked up at him.

“Why don’t you look out the window,” he said.

She stood up without releasing his cock, using it to keep her balance, and turned to face the night. The bottom of the open window frame came to her waist.

“Hold on with both hands. Tight.”

She turned her head over her shoulder to look at him. Comprehension made her smile like a coquette. She looked forward and settled her feet. She leaned over and grasped the wood.

Ross realized this was not going to work without bruising her. He looked around. Folded on the chair was a quilt. Touching her ass in a silent order not to move, he picked it up and brought it back. She folded it over the wood and leaned over, pointing her naked ass at him.

Her legs were so short he had to spread his wide in order to get down to the right height. He placed one hand on her lower back and guided himself into her. Only an inch, as if he was setting up a nail to be hammered and he wanted it to go in straight.

He was as stiff as a nail, and he wanted to hammer her just as hard. Though she was wet, she wasn’t ready for that. He held her hips tight and pressed into her pussy. Her tissues stretched around him, holding him tight. Back and forth he went, a little farther each time.

Her pussy was so hot. So wet. So eager to swallow him. Finally, he was all the way in. His cock felt like it was in a vice. He shook from the need to keep himself still.

When she wiggled her ass as if impatient, he pulled back. Almost out, then in again. Slow and steady. He reached under her belly with his fingers. He smiled at her sudden hiss. Her clit was right where he remembered. He rubbed it in small circles while continuing to slowly pump.

In and out he went. One hand held her hip so she couldn’t jam herself back on him and take over. The other kept at her clit. She twitched, her back rippling with the tiny gasps that somehow made him even harder. He changed angles, dropping a bit to angle higher.

She clutched his cock from tip to balls and keened her orgasm. He held back for at least two seconds before grabbing both hips and slamming her against him. She grunted every time her ass hit his belly, every time his cock dove deep. His chest felt on fire as he gasped, his cock felt like lightning, and everything else was a blur.

Once more, her pussy clenched him hard. This time, he let go, releasing his seed along with a howl of triumph. She joined him for a final orgasm before he pulled her up against his chest and sank to the floor.

Legs shaking from the strain, he held her, still joined. The wood floor under his back felt cool to his overheated flesh. Every few moments, she quivered with an aftershock. He’d spent it all in one massive explosion and had nothing left.

From far up the mountains came the deep, long call of an older wolf, still in his prime. A sign from Wolf the Creator, congratulating him on finding his mate.

If Amy was fertile, in nine months, he’d hold a squalling bundle of new life.

Chapter Twelve

Amelia woke to the sound of blue jays screaming outside her window. A cool breeze drifted by. She reached her hand out for the covers but found nothing. Ross hadn’t let her put on her nightgown, saying he’d keep her warm enough. But he was gone. She opened her eyes, blinking at the sun shining in. The angle was far too high for early morning.

She groaned. Her first day at her new home and she slept in! Auntie and Tillie would think she was a lazy, pampered girl from the city. She stretched, wincing, and then sat up and looked across the room. The top sheet, all bundled up, rested by the stairs. It must be wash day, and she was still in bed.

She yawned and looked at the double bed. Lying beside her pillow was a yellow rose. She remembered Prue’s letter boasting how her dear Gillis sent all the way to Boston for her favorite rose bushes. She lifted it, wincing when a thorn pricked her finger, and inhaled the scent. Her husband knew how to pleasure her and make her wake with a smile.

It was far past time to get up, but she had nothing to cover herself but the sheet under her. After listening for a moment, she confirmed that the door at the bottom of the stairs was closed. She carefully rolled out of bed and crept behind the screen to do her business. A flower in a jelly jar beside the basin made her smile. It looked like one she’d seen on the way down the mountain. It was fresh, drops of dew still damp on the petals.

She added the yellow rose to it. Ross must have gotten up very early to have gone up the mountain and down again while she slept. Despite his gruffness, he was kind. If she’d known marriage could be like this, she’d not have cared for Father all those years!

She needed to find where her trunks were stored. They contained all her clothes but the gray travelling dress she’d worn yesterday. The gray dress was gone from the hook, replaced by a spring green one she didn’t recognize. Prue, who stuck to pastels, would never wear such a bright color. Other than the dress, she could see no feminine clothes.

“Ross MacDougal, you better have left my underthings!”

No one answered her growl. She stomped over to the window where she’d undressed. She flushed, remembering how they’d done something shameless. She tingled, eager to do it again. She bent down and looked under the bed but found nothing but a pair of old boots and dust.

There was a trunk in the corner, but she would not look in another person’s trunk. She couldn’t see why Ross would put her things there, anyway. How could she go downstairs without a chemise, drawers, hose, corset, or petticoats under her dress? No proper woman would leave her chamber without at least a morning wrap. Whether she wore the green dress or wrapped the sheets around her, she’s still be naked underneath.

She peeked out the window, keeping to one side. She saw no one. With the sun far up, the men should be out tending the cattle or whatever they did daily. Only Tillie, Auntie, and the babies would be at home. The dress was a very pretty green. It covered her toes. Prue said Beth was much taller and blonde, so perhaps it came from her.

The crisp cotton supported her breasts to some extent, but the tiniest touch made her nipples rise. She brushed her hair and braided it into one strand although she couldn’t tie the end. She hoped she soon found some pins. Ross had pulled them out as soon as they left town, wanting to see her hair fly in the breeze.

She tidied the bed, blushing in memory as she placed the folded quilt at the foot.

Wearing nothing but the dress, she stepped quietly down the stairs, carrying her jar with both flowers. Her thighs brushed against her pussy lips with each stair step. She followed the soft murmurs to the kitchen. A dark-haired young woman with skin the same color as Ross sat in the rocker nursing a baby. A red fuzz covered the child’s head.

“I’m Tillie,” said the woman, “and this is Hope.”

The baby’s white hand rested peacefully on the brown breast. How soon before she had a tiny brown hand resting on her own? She flushed at the memory of a very large brown hand and mouth doing the same.

Tillie lifted Hope from her breast. She smiled at Amelia and lifted the baby. Amelia had spent many days helping at a charitable place where poor people could get medical care. She’d seen firsthand what a cruel man’s fists could do to women and children. She’d learned how to treat the more common problems. The best part was holding a baby. She took a cloth from the pile Tillie pointed to, placed it over her left shoulder, and took her niece.

Hope smelled clean, unlike the poor little ones she was used to. She was also heavier than expected. But Amelia held the darling to her chest and patted the tiny back as she swayed side to side. A tremendous belch emerged. Amelia couldn’t help laughing at the surprised expression on the baby’s face.