Wanton in the Wild West (2 page)

The sensation led her to a
forbidden corner of her mind.

“Maisie?”
She whispered softly into her friend’s ear.

“What is it?” Maisie didn’t
turn from her Bible, but Amber knew that she wasn’t really reading.

“Do you remember the night
of your birthday party?”

Maisie kept her eyes fixed
on the small book, but small pink circles appeared on her cheeks.

“No.”

Amber giggled. “Yes, you
do.” Maisie really was taking this prim and proper attitude way too seriously.
“We drank too much sherry then went out into the back yard and stripped off in
the rain.”

Maisie lowered the book to
her lap then closed it.

“Amber.” She turned to meet
her eyes. “We agreed that we would never discuss that night … or any of the
others again. It was just…” She shrugged.
“Young women being
wild and wanton.
Gaining some insight into the
workings of the body before lying with a man.”

Amber smiled and reached out
to gently stroke Maisie’s cheek. “Of course it was.” She smiled when Maisie’s
eyes darkened at her caress. It clearly wasn’t an unpleasant memory for her
friend.

She took Maisie’s hand
between hers on her lap and relaxed into the movement of the train. As she
drifted into a doze, lulled by the motion of the train and the warmth of the
late summer sun that penetrated the glass of the window, images of the fun and
frolics in Chicago flickered through her mind like the sepia images captured by
the new-fangled cameras.

Tall,
slim Maisie skipping around naked in the moonlight, her small pert breasts
dripping with summer rain, which trickled down and caught in the dark blonde
hair at the apex of her thighs.
Maisie
being led by a young woman—another guest of Miss Claudia’s—to a blanket laid
out in the back yard where others waited.
Amber herself,
following her friend, then sinking to the floor where she writhed blissfully
nude against the cold white skin of her companions.

There she had learnt
something of the pleasures of the flesh, those that the preachers always
condemned as wicked and sinful. But how could something that felt so good, be
wrong?

The kissing and the touching
and the pleasuring had been so intense, yet so innocent. It was there that she
had been taught how to receive pleasure from another and how to return that pleasure.
Just the thought of tickling between Maisie’s legs with her fingertips, whilst
feeling someone else’s hand cupping her own sex made her squirm in her seat. It
had all felt so delicious.

The other young women
staying at Miss Claudia’s had talked openly about men and laughed at the
differences between a woman’s body and a man’s. They had pored over a book of
sketches that one of them had sneaked from Miss Claudia’s library, and Amber
had been fascinated by the images of men’s private parts. They looked so
different, and it thrilled her.

 
How she would like to know more about men … before
committing to one for the rest of her life.

If she
could face such a commitment.

Ever.

****

Amber was suddenly jolted
from her reverie by a screech of metal and the sensation of flying through the
air.

“
Woah
there, missy!”
She looked up to find herself looking into Gideon’s handsome face. His
fingertips dug into her upper arms, and she realized that she was between his
legs. “Are you hurt?” He frowned with concern as he looked her over.

Amber tried to right herself,
but her feet slid from beneath her on the shiny wooden floor. Damn her
fashionable new black boots with their spool heels. Each movement brought her
face closer to Gideon’s bulging groin, and her heart thudded against her ribs
as heat filled her whole body. But just before her cheek finally touched his
crotch, he hoisted her upwards and perched her on his knee.

“
It’s
okay, Miss Carpenter.
Doesn’t look like anything’s broken.”

She bridled as he perused
her body, his gaze settling upon her breasts, which now bulged conspicuously
beneath her jacket, pushed there by her corset, which had slid upwards when she
fell. The intensity of his gaze and the crushing corset made her lightheaded.
She was aware of every part of her body, and her skin was on fire. Beneath her
bottom, his leg was hard and strong, and she wondered how it would look naked
against her own shapely thigh.

A tingling began between her
legs.

Amber’s breathing quickened,
and with each breath, her bosoms rose higher, attracting the attention of both
Gideon and Harry, the latter having been woken by the dramatic stopping of the
train. Her nipples grazed the lace edging of her corset, her gauzy chemise
offering little protection from the stiffened weave. But instead of being
unpleasant, the sensation just aroused her further.

She knew that she should
rise and move away, return to her seat, but having their joint attention upon
her was delicious, and it made her thirst for even more. What if all three of
them were alone somewhere and…

“Excuse me!” A gruff voice
disturbed her thoughts, and she sprang to her feet. She began adjusting her
skirts and neckline, trying to discreetly tug down her restricting corset.
Black spots swam before her eyes, and just as she started to drift from
consciousness, she felt Gideon’s big hands upon her waist, lowering her to his
lap once more. She slumped against him gratefully, aware even in her
semi-conscious state that he had rescued her again.

When her vision cleared, she
looked at the greying old porter who had addressed them. He was now standing in
the middle of the carriage. Something was wrong.

“Ladies
and gentlemen!”
The man cleared
his throat. “I’m afraid we have a problem. There is damage to the train tracks,
and until it is repaired we can’t proceed any further.”

There was a collective sigh
of outrage followed by individual grumblings.

“Well, how long is it
gonna
take to fix?” A well-dressed lady farther along the
cabin waved her hand about as she sought attention.

The porter coughed into his
hand, clearly delaying telling the truth. He rubbed a hand over the salt and
pepper whiskers on his chin and shuffled his feet.

“How long, man?” The porter
glanced nervously at Harry. “We have two young ladies here that we’re escorting
home, and they’re keen as mustard to see their families.”

Gideon gently returned Amber
to her seat at Maisie’s side, but Amber said nothing. She was still too churned
up inside by what had just happened.

“A few
hours … at best.”
The old man
shrugged. “We’re really sorry. Might I suggest that you take this opportunity
to stretch your legs and get some air?”

A series of boos and hisses
drifted across the carriage, and Amber felt a wave of pity for the porter. It
wasn’t his fault that the tracks were damaged. More than likely they hadn’t
been fixed right in the hurry to complete the railroad or even worse, perhaps
the Indians or bandits had sabotaged them, hoping to get a chance to rob and maybe
even murder folks on a passing train. Her stomach churned at the thought, and
she was grateful that Miss Claudia had agreed that they were to be escorted by
Gideon and Harry, even more grateful that each man carried at least one gun
upon his person.

As the porter moved away and
began delivering the bad news to the folks in the adjacent carriage, Maisie
squeezed Amber’s arm. “What on earth was all that about?”

“What?”

“You know what!” she exclaimed.
“You’ll destroy your reputation behaving like that in a public place,
ya
know!”

“I fell asleep!” Amber was hurt
that Maisie would think that she had faked her fall. “Then I felt faint. I
didn’t do that deliberately!” Her throat tightened, and tears pricked at the
corners of her eyes. Everything was so confusing and so contradictory in this
life. People could be good and bad. It was okay to want some things but not
others. Men were allowed to behave as they liked, but women were condemned for
similar behavior. Was there ever a truly right way to think, feel, or act?

The heat in the carriage was
suddenly oppressive and unendurable.

“I have to get out of here!”
Amber rose and picked up her reticule and fan from the floor where she’d
dropped them as she fell, then moved towards the aisle.

“Where’d
ya
think you’re going, Miss Carpenter?”

“I need some air.” Amber
lifted her chin and swallowed hard, cursing the emotion that threatened to overwhelm
her. She tugged at her jacket irritably.

“I could take some air.” Harry
nodded. “What about you, Miss Bennett?” He reached out a hand to Maisie.

“No, thank you.” Maisie
shook her head. “I’m fine right here.”

“But shouldn’t you come
along with Miss Carpenter?” Harry paused.
“For propriety’s
sake?”

Maisie looked at Amber, and
Amber scowled back. Her friend was such a hypocrite.
All that
stuff and nonsense about staying pure for a husband.
Where did it get
you? If you were lucky, you got wed to a kindly gent who’d make you a nice home
and not get drunk every night at the saloon with the whores. If not … the
alternative made her shudder.

Nope. Getting wed was not
high on her agenda, and even though she knew that it was that or life as an old
maid, she really wanted to focus on living and experiencing here and now. She’d
seen what had happened to her mother at the hands of her husband, and no man
was going to rule her like that.

Not ever.

She’d have her fun and give
her heart to no man.

“It’s fine!” Amber said. “I’ll
not go far!”

With that she flounced along
the carriage and towards the door where a grimy looking cowboy was handing the
women down onto the side of the track.

Amber nodded her thanks at
the cowboy then began marching away from the train. She was so mad she could
pop! Maisie was her good friend and she cared about her deeply, but at times
she found her infuriating. If Maisie didn’t take care she’d fall into the arms
of the first man to propose to her, and if she got really unlucky, he’d be a
wastrel who’d break her heart.

Love and
devotion.
Hell, marriage was for
fools! Why shouldn’t she just throw caution to the wind and have some fun?

Her Granny’s voice nagged at
the back of her mind, warning her about why not. Fun was what had gotten her mother
into the family way by a married man, her own daddy. He’d denied all
responsibility, and when Amber had been born, her mother had rushed into
marriage to the first man who’d have her. It had been a big mistake. She had
fallen head over heels for the rich prospector who’d seemed fine and dandy. A
regular hero he’d been, taking on a wanton woman with a bastard child.

At first.
But he’d been hiding a darkness of his own. He’d
enjoyed beating her mother and hurting her in the most awful ways. Amber could
still hear her muffled cries of pain. The cries her mother had struggled in
vain to keep from her little girl. They haunted Amber’s dreams, never far away.
It fired her determination to stay single, to stay away from love.

Yet there lay her major
contradiction.
For she did want to be with a man, to enjoy
the pleasures of the flesh.
Though she’d vowed to avoid loving a man,
she hadn’t vowed to avoid lying with one. She knew that a woman had to be
careful about conceiving and all that. Her Granny had been pretty blunt about
it, and she’d learnt from the girls in Chicago that a child could be made when
a man and woman coupled. But she’d also learnt that it could be avoided if you
took the right precautions. Amber had every intention of being careful, but she
also fully intended on having a good time.

As soon
as possible.

Before
she arrived home in Deadwood if she was offered the opportunity.

Chapter Two

As she waded through the
long grass, the heat of the afternoon sun beat down on Amber’s head, and she
cursed her own stupidity at leaving her bonnet on the train. The crickets
chirped happily, hidden from human sight, and the whorled milkweed flowers
sprang greenish-white from their long stems. Amber was careful to lift her
skirts away from the toxic flowers to avoid getting their pale pollen over the
dark satin. Such a shame that such a pretty flower could be so dangerous to
livestock. It was a warning that appearances could be deceptive. Just like her
handsome step-daddy.

She shuddered and hurried
on.
 

The tracks had been built at
the top of a small hill, and Amber had chosen to walk down rather than up,
thinking that it would be easier with her still feeling a bit woozy and all.

“Wait up, Miss Carpenter!”