The War of the Remingtons

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

Amelia stared at the ceiling above her bed, clinging to the covers like a lonesome child. Her body shivered underneath the comforter, not from the cold as much as the fiery heat that churned inside her. She longed for a husband, for affection, for s*x, and yet none of that was coming to her. She was afraid the longer she stayed on the ranch, the more her dreams for romance would die. That is unless …

She heard a tapping at her window. Thinking it was just the wind, she was shocked when the sound became more forceful. And a glance in that direction, she made out Christian’s form on the other side of the glass. She swept from bed and pulled up the window.

“Good lord, what are you doing!” she scolded.

“Shush. I want you.” He practically fell inside as he climbed through.

“You could have come up the stairs, for crissakes.”

“But isn’t this much more romantic?” he said, his arms gliding around her waist as he moved her purposely toward the bed.

“Christian, no, please!”

“No? Why it’s been months, sweetheart. I’ve missed you.” His hands were all over her, in familiar places he knew how to enliven in seconds with the gentlest of touches. Amelia tried pulling away but his one palm found its home against her pubis, remaining there to feed her hungry body. His mouth moved down to hers, quieting her objections. And with their mouths pressing together, they opened. Their tongues met, and a moment later, he had her nightgown on the floor.

“You are so gorgeous,” he purred, as she stood in front of him demurely embarrassed by his zealously attentive eyes. Pulling off his boots, he tossed them aside, and undoing the buckle at his waist, he pushed his pants to his feet. As he lay down on her bed, Christian pulled Amelia with him. At first on top, he then rolled her over, pinning her to the bed with his hands on hers beside her head.

“Christian, please.”

“You’re hot, Amelia. As hot as I am.”

“I am hot, but it can’t be for you.”

“You were before.”

“But that’s over.”

“Never, sweetheart. I love you.”

“No. You love what’s between my legs.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

He gave her no opportunity to answer, but covered her mouth again with his, and tortured her with a hundred tiny kisses. As his leather-covered groin wiggled against her naked one, his prick sprung free. And without a fight, she opened her thighs so he could dip himself inside her warmth. Making himself at home again, they moved about the bed, making love. Falling into a pattern of physical pleasure that had begun three years before, he was ingenious, tormenting and satiating for a lonely woman on a lonely night. For a horny man, it was a delightfully good f**k.

“Christian, you have to go,” Amelia reminded him as the clock on the lodge’s grand staircase chimed two a.m..”

“I do not,” he said. “This is my home as much as yours.”

“But it’s not your bed. And if your father finds out, he’ll disown you and throw me out.”

“Naw. He loves you too much.”

“Love? He respects me. Though I’m not certain why after my past. But he is a gentlemen and he has always considered me a lady. Unlike you.” She poked his chest. “Now go. And don’t come back.”

“Oh, you hurt me,” he said pouting. He was dangerously handsome when he smiled so winningly, but she would not give in.

“Never again,” she said.

“Never?”

Certainly, he didn’t believe her.

“Never,” she repeated.

“Why’s that?”

“My heart and eyes are elsewhere, Christian. You cannot return here every few months, stay a week and expect me to sleep with you whenever you’re horny. I’d be no better than one of your women. Tonight was a mistake. Please don’t do it again.”

“You’re serious,” he looked at her surprised.

“Yes, I am.”

“So, who’s the lucky fellow?”

“I have no intention of telling you.”

“Zachary Ingalls, I bet.”

“I’m not saying a word.”

He nodded his head as though he had it all figured out. And that was just as well for Amelia, since she’d never let him know the object of her affections.

***

Amelia sighed heavily for the hundredth time. After nearly three weeks, the obstreperous girl was wearing her out with her refusals and her nasty quips. They were in the kitchen, Amelia fixing dinner, Lottie lackadaisically ignoring most everything she said. Anytime Samuel would appear, however, the girl’s face would soften and she took on a pleasant and submissive look.

“I know what you’re doing,” Amelia charged after the last more than obvious change in attitude.

“Oh, and what is that?” Lottie spat out.

“You are trying to play Mr. Remington and me against each other.”

“Really? You think I’m that smart? Or just some half-breed, whiny Indian girl?”

“I certainly don’t think that at all. You’re not an Indian, or a half-breed, and whiny is hardly how I’d describe your insufferable behavior. You are an underhanded, conniving little wench who deserves another good paddling on your behind.”

“Oh, but sweet as I am to Mr. Remington, he’ll never whup me.”

“And that’s too bad. But the next sassy retort you make, Lottie Desmond,” she warned, “I will discuss your behavior with him.”

“Oh, I’m so worried.”

Lottie sashayed out of the kitchen with the dinner plates in her hand. Amelia worried the entire time that they’d be in pieces on the floor a second later, deliberately so. When she didn’t hear the crash, she hoped the worst of the girl’s fit was over. Returning to her work, she was busy at the stove, pouring gravy into a dish. Suddenly, Lottie was at her side, much too close. Amelia, feeling an unexpected push, spilled the entire pan of hot brown liquid all over her dress, the table and the floor, making a sticky, greasy mess.

“Why you little b***h!” Amelia seethed, turning a mean glare on the brat. Her fury quickly unmasked, she grabbed a wooden butter paddle in her hand, and jerked the smaller Miss Desmond off her feet. Lottie landed in her lap as Amelia sat in a kitchen chair. And though she was one handful to keep under control, the older woman managed to raise her skirt and tear away her bloomers. Working briskly, with the element of shock still in her favor, she held Lottie tightly around the waist and proceeded to spank her ass as hard as she could. The butter paddle came down with a resounding fervor, while the girl’s angry cries rose bitterly into the air.

“You will behave yourself, Miss Desmond!” Amelia blared as she intently watched the two quivering ass cheeks on her lap. They were brightening quickly from the smacks, taken to a red more vibrant with each strike of the broad paddle. Though she squirmed like the dickens, Amelia poured every ounce of strength into the effort, managing to contain the squirming brat until she had her ass and upper thighs scorching hot. Though Lottie was just beginning to show the fight in her, Amelia was losing some of hers. Not wanting the girl to win this battle, Amelia smartly chose to end the spanking on her own terms. With two hard smacks to either ass cheek, she laid the butter paddle on the table beside her and relaxed. Pushing Lottie off her lap, the girl was on her feet a second later, and so was Amelia.

“Mr. Remington will be expecting dinner on his table shortly,” Amelia said looking down at the dark-haired beauty. “I’m going to change my clothes. And while I am gone, you’re going to clean up this mess, and see if you can salvage some of this gravy. I will not mention this to Samuel, but should you do anything else to cross me, I will tell him every mean, conniving, contemptible thing you’ve done. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, you have,” Lottie said. She hardly looked repentant. In fact, if Amelia were gauging responses, Lottie showed the same measured degree of defiance she’d witnessed since the girl’s arrival.

Seconds later, Amelia escaped the kitchen, her honor still intact, though she was completely exhausted. Punishing a fractious brat was not an easy thing to do, and she hated it. At the moment, she hated Samuel as well for putting Lottie’s retraining and deportment in her hands. This one needed a man’s firm hand, and likely a few sessions in the woodshed.

At dinner, Amelia was silent, nothing mentioned to the elder Remington. She would keep her promise to Lottie, hoping that her threat would be enough to keep the girl minding her manners, though she had little hope that her plan would work. She put up with the annoyance solely to please her employer. Samuel asked so little of her most of the time, and this seemed like something that was particularly important to him, she didn’t want to let him down. Unfortunately, the strain of the arrangement was draining and she didn’t know how long she would last.

***

“Mr. Remington!” Amelia’s cry reached the kitchen, sounding like a shriek of horror. “Mr. Remington, she’s gone!”

Amelia raced down the stairs as Samuel bolted from the dining room.

“What do you mean, she’s gone?”

“Lottie. She’s back in her leathers and escaped through the window. Dimmit! I hate her!”

It had been three days since she spanked her, but they had been three days of hell. Lottie never did anything to really anger her as she did with the gravy, but there were constant little things to keep her annoyed and on edge waiting for the next prickly battle.

Amelia was convinced that Lottie had a furtive, deceitful streak in her blood. There might be innocence that she’d showed around Samuel—probably because she was still afraid of his belt, yet the girl knew exactly what she was doing, making serious waves in the normally passive waters between Amelia and the master of Great Bear Lodge. Amelia had neither the physical strength or the cunning to match it. She might be ten years older than this spitfire, but she had not had the same rough life to teach her how to be tough. Another battle with the butter paddle and Lottie, she was sure would drain her empty.

At this stunning news, Samuel cast Amelia an angry, disconcerted glance and she quaked with fright, scared of what he was thinking.

“Might just be roaming around the stables,” Christian remarked as he sauntered casually toward the stairs. He leaned on the banister, peering toward the loft above.

“Christian, search the barn and the stable. If she’s nowhere to be found, we’ll ride out. She couldn’t have gotten too far on foot.”

“That’s if she didn’t take one of the horses,” Christian noted.

“Let’s hope not,” his father droned and he went for his coat.

“I’ll go too, Samuel, there’s no telling in which direction she headed.”

“Like hell you will!” he glared at her, shaking a finger her way. “You stay where you are. I don’t need two malcontents roaming about my lands.”

Except for one brief scolding three years before, Samuel had never spoken to her this sharply, or with the kind of look in his eyes that suggested the same threatening fury he often had for his willful son. The sensation was alarming, considering how it seemed to enliven her physically as much as it scared her.

An amused Christian flashed her a grin, then followed his father toward the door while Amelia meekly stared at the two, her eyes filling with anxious tears. Though she was sure the belligerent and artful brat had done this purposely to upset the household, she was nonetheless concerned. The day was bone-chilling damp, the terrain was treacherous in many places, and a young woman, despite this one’s toughness, didn’t belong running away from anything in these unkind circumstances.

Not finding Lottie anywhere in the vicinity of the lodge or its out buildings, Samuel and Christian took off on horseback into the most likely direction the girl might venture. They followed parallel trails making sure to cover the territory thoroughly and stay within a shout’s distance of each other in case they discovered her, or some clue to the path she’d taken. It was likely Lottie was using the knowledge she’d gleaned from the Indians to cover her path, making her hard to track. And yet, a mile and a half out Samuel began to pick up signs of a recent traveler. Looking keenly toward the brush and woods ahead of him, he caught glimpses of something moving—a bird or squirrel perhaps, but then there was the sight of leather britches scurrying away. He moved cautiously but directly in her path.

The two played a game of cat and mouse for nearly a half of a mile, until faltering on her path, Samuel saw her clearly go down hard against the ground. Riding forward quickly, Samuel was on her fast, amazed that she still intended to flee. Though Lottie picked herself up and stumbled on ahead, Samuel on horseback could easily make up the distance. Taking off through thick brush, she tried to go where he couldn’t, but there was not enough cover or places to hide.