Authors: Lee Savino
Rocky Mountain Wild
Rocky Mountain Bride Series, Book Six
©2016 by Blushing Books® and Lee Savino
All rights reserved.
No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Rocky Mountain Wild
eBook ISBN: 978-1-68259-435-3
Cover Design by ABCD Graphics & Design
This book is intended for
. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the Author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
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Table of Contents:
The young woman sat on Calum’s lap, her hair falling down her back in a thick, dark mass. Pale and slight, with wide blue eyes, she was a lovely creature, though at the moment she wore a little pout.
Taller and larger than most men, Calum MacDonnell had no trouble balancing her slender body on his broad thighs. One arm supported her, while the other dipped into a bowl of stew.
“Open,” Calum said, holding the spoon to her mouth.
She whimpered a little in humiliation, but did as he said.
Her brow wrinkled as she accepted the food into her mouth. “I don’t need you to feed me,” she said once she had swallowed. “I’m not a baby; I’m two and twenty. I can take care of myself.”
He just clucked at her and held up another spoonful to her lips. “That argument would’ve worked before you decided to disappear down another trail, even after you agreed you’d follow me straight home. It’s a lot of work, playing in the snow, and you weren’t to run off without me. You might fall and break a bone, and then were would we be?”
“I was perfectly fine. I’m much stronger now.”
“We don’t want you to overdo it,” he said. “You’re much too thin to be flitting about in the wild on your own. My wee bird needs to eat.”
She took the next spoonful obediently, then whined, “But Calum…”
“Hush, Phoebe. As it is, you’re getting spanked and plugged tonight. Keep it up and you’ll get another clyster. Disobedient lassies need their bottoms cleaned out to settle them.”
She pouted, but let him continue feeding her, not even protesting when a bit dribbled down her chin and he mopped it up with a cloth.
“That’s it, wee one,” he crooned. “Just a few more bites before I put you over my knee for your punishment. And where do naughty Phoebes get punished?”
The beautiful lass squirmed in his lap. “My bottom.”
“That’s right. Inside and outside their bare bums.” He held the cup of milk for her to take a sip before picking up the spoon again. “Now if you finish your dinner like a good lass, after I plug your cheeks and turn them pink, I’ll make sure to take care of you.”
Three months prior…
When the stagecoach stopped in Royal, Colorado, Phoebe breathed a sigh of relief. The little town stood out from the miles of wilderness, tucked against the rising mountains.
Clutching the bag containing all her meager possessions, she hopped down before the driver could come around to help her and started for the general store, only to stop in her tracks at the sight of two men lounging on the porch, watching the coach. Both were tall, smartly dressed and good looking. With their similar slouching confidence and matching thick, black hair, they looked like brothers.
Phoebe ducked her head before she finished limping up to the building, hoping to avoid the men’s stares. The limp came partly from her cramped leg and partly from her cursed right foot. From birth it was twisted slightly inward, forcing her to wear an oversized shoe and walk heavily on her right side. Mrs. Covey, her former employer, had been understanding about her defect, and even provided bandages and hot compresses that seemed to help. But the long journey from Missouri had her whole body aching.
The men on the porch were gazing at her, but men always did. Phoebe considered herself twice cursed; once at birth with a twisted foot, and then, at the age of thirteen, with a comeliness men could not ignore. Even the shawl clutched around her head couldn’t cover the thick black fall of hair flowing past her waist, the darkness accentuating her pale skin and wide blue eyes. Her body was too tall and skinny to hold much interest, but her face was more than enough to catch the eye, as it did now. At least the men only stared. If one decided to take advantage of her, experience had proved she couldn’t run away fast enough.
But she’d come all this way to start her new life, and she’d promised herself she wouldn’t be afraid anymore.
Reaching the porch, Phoebe ignored the two men who watched her curiously. Only a close study would note her fingers whitening where they clutched her shawl.
“Help you up, miss?” one asked, coming away from the railing and offering her his hand. Shaking her head, she shied away and limped towards the store to wait for her new employer. Before she could open the door, a large woman in a fine dress bustled out.
“Mrs. Martin.” The two men whipped off their hats.
“The items you ordered won’t be here for a fortnight,” she announced, and the men groaned.
“You should’ve put in the order sooner,” she scolded. “You know every man and his mule is trying to dig for gold.”
One man looked to the other, settling his hat on his head. “I told you so.”
“Shut up,” the other retorted, with an easy grin that told Phoebe he was joking.
“Now, now,” the matron clucked. “None of that on my porch. The supplies will come in when they come in, so be off with you. Don’t you have wives waiting for you at home? I know Rose will give you the sharp side of her tongue if you keep her dinner waiting.”
“She’ll give it to me anyway.” The taller man shrugged. He didn’t seem too put out by the shopkeeper’s nagging.
“And who are you?” The woman turned her attention to Phoebe, who gulped several times before she could speak.
“Phoebe Wilson, ma’am. I’m here to take a position working for Mr. MacDonnell.”
“Mac?” one of the men said in surprise. “He hired you?”
Phoebe nodded. “He offered a position as housekeeper, cook and laundress.”
“That Scot. He needs a wife.” The taller man shook his head.
“Are you sure that isn’t what the position really was?” The other scoffed, and the first cuffed him.
“You Wilder boys, shoo,” Mrs. Martin ordered before addressing Phoebe. “You, girl, come inside.”
Easing her bag onto her other shoulder, Phoebe followed, hiding her limp as much as possible. The woman didn’t seem like someone to refuse.
“What does our Calum MacDonnell need with a housekeeper?”
Phoebe’s whole body tightened at the question. Was there a problem with the position? She didn’t want to be sent back. Her old employer Mrs. Covey would take her back in, but both she and Phoebe knew it wasn’t safe for her at the hotel anymore.
“I don’t know, ma’am. He placed an ad, and my old employer found it.”
“Did she want to be rid of you?”
“No, ma’am. She was sad to see me go. But I needed to leave.” The position had looked perfect, and come when Phoebe had needed to flee far away.
Mrs. Martin’s eyes narrowed a moment, and then her scrutiny dissolved. “Oh, you poor dear. Man trouble?”
Phoebe didn’t quite know how to answer; men were often trouble for her, so she nodded.
Mrs. Martin returned the gesture. “It’s all right. One thing I know, Calum MacDonnell can handle himself. He’ll protect you.”
“I don’t need protection,” Phoebe blurted. “I just want to work.”
“Of course.” Mrs. Martin waved off her protest. It was obvious the woman had made up her mind about Phoebe’s predicament. “And I’m sorry for all the questions; I’ve never had children of my own, but I’m quite a mother hen. It’s a small community, and I’m protective of all my boys.” As she spoke, she laid out crackers and jam, and pushed it towards Phoebe, along with a cup of water. “Go on, girl, eat up. You’re too skinny by far. Calum needs a sturdy girl.”
A nervous pang went through Phoebe again. Would he think she was too slight to be much use on the homestead? She took a bite of the cracker and it turned to dust in her mouth, so she drank the whole cup of water instead.
“Don’t worry, dear. I’m sure you’ll be a perfect fit for Calum. He’s been alone too long.” Phoebe’s forehead creased, but Mrs. Martin patted her hand, then fingered the edge of a scarf Phoebe wore. “Where did you get this? I’ve not seen such fine needle work.”
“I stitched it, ma’am.”
“Stitched it?” The woman’s eyes lit up. “Can you do it again?”
“Yes, ma’am. Would you like me to make you one?”
“I’d like you to make me ten. They’ll sell like hotcakes.” Mrs. Martin turned on her heel and marched to a shelf, selecting some items. “Here. I got this cloth three months ago and no one’s touched it. Do you have a needle? You can use this thread.”