Rocky Mountain Rogue (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 5) (11 page)

"So are you staying here?" Chivington asked, rubbing his hands together briskly.

"Just arrived, hoping to get some rest and a bath."

"Mr. Wilder and I were just married a few days ago." Susannah took Jesse's arm and dug her fingernails in hard enough to pinch through the coat. "Isn't that right, dearest?"

"Yes, my love," Jesse said through gritted teeth. His hand covered hers in what looked like a tender gesture, even as his glance promised retribution.

Susannah smiled sweetly.

Chivington's glance darted from one newlywed to the other. To Susannah's eyes, the English lord missed nothing, but wisely held his tongue. Instead, he fixed a carefree grin on his face. "Oh, you're on your honeymoon! How delightful. Well, we won't keep you."

"We?" Jesse asked.

"Hello, Jesse," a woman's voice purred from the corner.

Jesse's head whipped around, and Susannah turned to see a short, curvy woman with a mass of scarlet curls falling down her back. Her skin was wrinkled under the paint, but as she walked forward with swaying hips, every man in the room fixed his eye on her.

"Wilder, surely you remember Rosie May," Chivington said.

Wearing a seductive smile, the woman called Rosie May slithered right up to Jesse, completely ignoring Susannah.

"Remember me? How could he forget?" The redhead smiled and brushed back a bright curl. Susannah huffed inwardly; the woman was painted like a whore and obviously wearing a wig. "Mr. Wilder and I had such lovely times together."

"Ahem, yes." Jesse cleared his throat. "Quite lovely. Miss May, this is my fiancée, I mean wife, Susannah Oberon. I mean Wilder."

Susannah took a deep breath to control her ire. "How do you do?" she said coolly to the painted lady, before turning furious eyes onto her husband. "Darling," her voice dripped acid, "could we get a room so I can rest and freshen up? I'm so hot and uncomfortable I could scream."

Jesse nodded, having the good grace to at least look sheepish.

"All right, old sport," Chivington said jovially, as if he was oblivious to the tension. "You must come down and let me buy you a drink. Or buy me a drink. You do owe me for betting I wouldn't bag a buffalo. And for wooing a wife without so much as telling me." He slapped Jesse on the shoulder, and her husband winced a little.

"Miss May, Chivington." Jesse seemed more than happy to make his goodbyes and escape.

"Goodbye." Susannah waved, and let her husband tug her towards the stairs.

Once they were upstairs and settled, Susannah sailed towards the water pitcher in the corner, her back stiff and straight and head held high. Jesse tipped the porter, and laid out their meager bags.

Susannah went to the mirror and started fussing with her hair.

"I've paid for a night, but we may stay longer. Depends on whether Doyle catches on to where we are. But we should be safe for now. Would you like to dine up here or in the main room?"

Susannah ignored him, combing through her hair with her fingers.

"Susannah, did you hear me?"

"I'm not speaking to you, Mr. Oberon. Perhaps you can get Mr. Wilder to relay a message to my husband, asking him to explain himself." She worked at a particularly annoying knot, grimacing a little at the pain.

Jesse sighed. "I can explain."

"Can you?" She gave up on the knots and whirled around, hands on her hips. "Because I'm interested to hear why the man I married seems to have two names."

"Listen."

"You said your name was Jesse Oberon!"

"That is my name. It's my middle name. Mother saw a troupe of players when she carried me and became enamored."

He loomed over her, rugged face contrite. Again, Susannah found herself wishing he wasn't so good looking.

She held up a hand. "Spare me the explanation. What's your real name?"

"Jesse Oberon Wilder. I went under a alias to keep from being found out."

"Is our marriage license even correct?"

Jesse winced. "Yes. I was going to tell you eventually."

"You lied to me."

"I bent the truth. A bit. To save my life."

Susannah blew out a breath. With his head cocked and eyes entreating her, he looked like a little boy whose hand had been caught in the cookie jar, and was hoping for mercy.

"What other truths did you stretch? Do you even have a claim?"

"Yes, I swear. It's adjoined with my brother's. It's a wild place, but once we strike gold, I shall build you a fine house." He came close to her, his hands going to hers on her hips. "Please, Susannah."

A knock on the door interrupted, and she brushed him away as the porter and innkeeper came in with a large tub.

"What's this?"

"Hot bath, ma'am. Just as your husband ordered." The two men trailed in and out, filling the tub with steaming water.

"You asked for this?" Susannah faced her husband.

He shrugged. "Anything for my lady and wife."

She crossed her arms over her chest, even though her heart was melting. "And when I'm clean, what am I to wear?"

"This may help." Lifting one of the saddlebags, he pulled out smaller, cloth bag she recognized as one of her own.

She gasped and rushed to take it, not caring that it put her back within arm's reach of her rogue.

"I took the liberty of going through one of your trunks, and packing a few essentials."

There was a hairbrush and fresh clothes—one of her more sturdy dresses, and clean underthings. "This is perfect. I thought—"

"I figured you wouldn't want to get everything dirty on the trail. A few days in the same dress didn't kill you. And now you have clean things."

"Thank you." She couldn't bring herself to be too angry with him for making her think all her trunk's contents went to Denver. She wasn't even really mad at him for omitting his real last name. In the end, he was trying to protect them both.

"You're welcome, baggage." He dropped his head closer, whispering for her ears alone "Although I can't say it was a harsh chore, sifting through your lady things. A pity the trunk did go to Denver; I should've liked to see you in all of them."

At the thought of him rifling through her chemises and intimate silks, heat flared through her. She stepped back, a blush searing her cheeks. "You, sir, are a rogue," she informed him.

He didn't look the least bit contrite.

"Bath is ready," the innkeeper announced, and Susannah turned, grateful for the distraction. Once the bedroom door closed, she approached the dingy tub. It didn't look like much, but Susannah knew it would be heaven after her wilderness initiation. She sighed as she trailed her fingers in the warm water.

Jesse hovered at her shoulder, a hopeful grin creeping over his stubbled face. "Am I forgiven?"

"Perhaps. Oh, I don't know. This time." She couldn't help smiling back at him.

Her new husband put his hand on her hips, his lips whispering into her hair. "Susannah, admit it, as wild as your trip has been, you are having an adventure."

"Hmmm." Susannah craned her neck and his face filled her vision, his lips enticingly close. He really was handsome. Her pulse quickened as he drew her hips back, and she found herself scrambling for her previous pique. "I don't know."

"You're having fun," he purred.

It was true, despite the aches and men trying to kill her, she hadn't given any real thought to returning home, or longed for it. It was as if everything in her previous life had been dull and washed out, and now, in Colorado Territory, her life was finally brilliant with color.

"If you came home with me, we could explore just how much fun there is to be had."

The thought was tempting. His body heat enveloped her, setting her own desire rocketing up.

"Jesse," she gasped as he nuzzled her neck. She had to get control. "We don't know each other..."

"We could get to know each other."

"Too much has gone on between us."

"I'll spend a lifetime making it up to you, atoning for my sins. I mean it, Susannah. Come with me to my homestead."

Jesse's hands were moving up and down her trim waist, leaving fire in their wake. As the rough skin of his fingers caught on her fine silks, she suddenly wished she wasn't wearing so many clothes. "How am I to trust that you even have one?" Another thought struck her. "Does my friend Carrie even know you?"

"Carrie Donovan?" Jesse lifted his head, and stepped back a little. She felt a loss where his body had been. "Of course. She and her husband are my brother's neighbors. And mine too, when I go back. Of course, if you come with me, you could see her."

Susannah bit her lip. Part of her wanted more than anything to turn around and seduce him. She had no doubt it would be worth it.

His hand stirred her hair, and she remembered how badly she needed a wash.

"My bath's getting cold." This time she stepped away, and faced him.

Jesse's intense gaze followed her. "If that's what you wish," he said with a little mocking smirk, and sauntered to the door. He paused before opening it. "Need me to help you scrub your back?"

"Get out!"

* * *

After he left Susannah to her bath, Jesse paused outside the bedroom door for a moment. Every part of him, and one part in particular, strained to tell him to go back inside and break in his new wife. He was almost surprised at his restraint. He'd never let propriety stop him from wooing a woman before.

Of course, this wasn't just any woman. This was Susannah, sophisticated yet wild, intelligent yet naive, pliant yet stubborn as a mule. He'd never met someone so fascinating and infuriating at the same time. Half the time he'd known her, he was torn between wanting to spank or serenade her. Certainly he wanted to do all manner of things to her body. Twice. But here was the biggest irony: she was untouchable, even though she was his lawfully wedded wife.

He fully intended to let her go back to Boston, his bet with his brother be damned. He'd been a fool to think a well-born Bostonian could adapt to the wild frontier. They'd had their fun in letters, and the fantasy had swept them away. A lady like Susannah settling for a man like him would be like... a fairy queen marrying an ass. It wasn't fair to the queen or the ass. Queens don't live in pastures.

Of course, once you got past her haughty manner, the baggage wasn't so bad, after all. She certainly clung very close to him on the final leg of the journey into town. Her warmth at his back, arms around his waist, stray blonde hairs tickling his neck: he wanted nothing more than to stop Jordan and spend a very educational afternoon learning his new wife's curves and teaching her just how to please him.

And then when they got to the hotel and she got angry—he'd never forget the way her cheeks flushed and eyes sparkled. It was all he could do to keep from throwing the innkeeper out and making use of the bed, then washing her clean in the tub, then the bed again... which is why he finally broke down and tried to convince her to stay. It was a weak moment on his part, but it didn't sound like there was much for her back in Boston. He had held out this long only because a lady like her deserved a sight better than a borderline outlaw and vigilante. If she had come later in the summer, after his business with Doyle, he would've cleaned up his act, been ready to act the gentleman. Instead, she'd seen him at his very worst.

And yet, she was still along for the ride. Could that mean... But no. If he was a gentleman, he'd let her go.

The door in front of him creaked a little, and Jesse realized he was resting his clenched fist against the wood, ready to knock or break it down. Inside, soft little splashing noises heralded the start of his bride's bath.

A second later, his cock was fit to burst, and he wrenched himself away from the door. No sense tormenting himself further, lusting after someone he could never have.

Striding downstairs, he stopped abruptly when he saw a telltale red head sitting in the dining room.

"Rosie."

The woman smiled at his approach.

"Jesse," she purred. "I was thinking you'd never come."

Hooking a chair with his foot, he sat across from the painted lady. The woman masquerading as Rosie May was older than the real Rosie by almost twenty years, but Jesse's only prerequisite for the role was that she be female, redheaded, and willing. It'd been a few months of this woman pretending to be Rose Wilder to sway Doyle from his sister-in-law's trail, and the fake Rosie May didn't look the worse for it.

In fact, by the way she was eyeing him, she was well rested and ready for some fun.

Jesse sighed and shifted in his chair to relieve some of the pressure on his angry member.

He'd slept with the redhead, of course, but no longer had a taste for red. Not anymore, with his blonde wife upstairs, naked in a tub.

Clearing his throat, he got on with the business. "Tell me what you've been up to."

The woman masquerading as Rosie May raised one slender eyebrow. "All business? Is there no room for play?"

"Not at the moment."

Her mouth curved knowingly. "It's the blonde, isn't it? You actually have feelings for her."

He did, come to think of it, even beyond his throbbing cock. In fact, he'd be quite hurt when she boarded a coach for New England. He scowled at the thought, and Rosie May laughed.

"Ah, how the mighty have fallen." Her foot prodded him under the table. "The great Oberon, head over heels. I never thought I'd see the day. After this is all done, are you going to take her back to your brother's cabin, make a little housewife out of the lady?"

"No. The marriage is a sham. It's only for a little while," he said.

"Does she know that? Because she sure seems settled as Mrs. Oberon Wilder."

"She's getting on a stagecoach to go back home as soon as I can find one."

"Hmm. So then it's up to you to stall her. I'm sure you can give her a good reason to stay. One giant reason." Rosie May deepened her voice into a throaty purr that should've had him rock hard. But all it did was make him think of Susannah's eyes widening at the sight of the quirt.

Jesse sighed, and reaching into his pocket, tossed a parcel of money onto the table. Rosie May leaned forward, teasing forgotten.