His Errant Educator (Willamette Wives Book 3) (3 page)

"Privacy or not, I could use a cup of hot coffee and some food myself," Wyatt said and the others nodded. The men carried the ice-skates and Wyatt pulled the sled behind him as the group of friends tromped through the snow towards the Wilcoxs' cabin. Wyatt grinned as the women made a point of speaking loudly, stomping their boots on the porch as if to give warning that they were about to enter… possibly interrupting an intimate scene that each and every one of them had experienced themselves… several times.

"For goodness' sake, how long are you going to be mad?" Teresa asked, stomping her foot after Roger swung her down from the saddle.

"Perhaps until I actually believe you understand that what you did was dangerous," Roger said, tying the reins around the hitching post before leading her up the steps of the porch. "So far, all I've heard is a bunch of excuses as to why it is anyone else's fault but your own."

"You act like I meant to fall through the ice."

"Honey, I know you didn't mean to, but what I'm saying is that if you had only listened to me, we wouldn't even be having this conversation." He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "Look, I understand you were scared, and I am so thankful you are all right. But, Teresa, you need to acknowledge your part…"

"I said I was sorry and if you don't believe me, then that's your problem, not mine!" Jerking her arm from his hold, she stomped across the porch, yanked open the door, and then squealed when her rather dramatic entrance was spoiled as she tripped over the hem of the borrowed dress. She would have fallen except for Roger's quick reaction as he grabbed her around the waist and hauled her back to her feet.

"Settle down, Teresa, before you do break a leg. This stubbornness of yours almost got you killed and now…"

"Don't be so melodramatic," she said, jerking away yet again. "It's this stupid dress. It's too long."

"I'd think you'd be grateful," Roger said. "If not for Agatha's generosity in sharing her dress, you'd be an icicle, or as naked as a blue jay and—"

"It was only a silly accident," Teresa interrupted.

"An accident that not only could have been prevented if you'd only heeded my warning, but one that almost cost you your life!"

Her blue eyes rolled as she tossed her hair. Not only didn't he appreciate the obvious disrespect she continued to demonstrate, his patience had grown as thin as the ice that had cracked beneath her weight.

"Teresa, I'm serious. If I had been further away or if I hadn't heard the ice crack, you could have slipped beneath the surface and drowned."

"Well, you are acting as if you wish I had drowned!"

He had absolutely no response to such a ridiculous statement. It seemed she didn't particularly care as she began to climb the stairs that led to the family's home located above the restaurant. Stumbling again, she cursed beneath her breath.

"Teresa Goldman! What did you say?"

"Nothing. I'm going to change."

"Don't think this discussion is over," Roger said to her back as she yanked her skirts up in order to stomp up the stairs without tripping again.

"It's over as far as I'm concerned," she snapped back, turning her head to glare down at him. "I'm quite tired of listening to you lecture me like a silly child…"

"A naughty child!" he countered.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not naugh—a child!"

"You most certainly could have fooled me. I'm sure your pa would not only agree, he'd already be deciding on how many strokes he needed to give you to teach you that such naughty behavior and vulgar language is totally unacceptable!"

"See, you don't know what you are talking about. Pa stopped spank… I mean, never mind. I don't appreciate being threatened!"

"Oh, I assure you I'm not threatening you, young lady. I might not be your pa, but I am the man who almost lost you today," Roger said, his voice low and even. "What I am doing is making you a promise that if you continue to act like a little brat, I won't hesitate to turn you over my—"

"I won't stand here and be lectured, Roger Morrison! It's boring and I'm growing quite tired of listening to you repeating yourself. If I had my way, you'd just be glad that I'm alive!"

The very audacity of that statement caused his fingers to twitch, almost releasing their hold on the bundle of her sodden clothing, where ice crystals had already formed.

"Boring? You find my concern for you boring?" He honestly couldn't believe she'd just uttered those words as if nothing he'd said had mattered one little whit. He took a deep breath before continuing. "I suggest you listen to this, as I'll make it perfectly clear. If I had my way, I would have turned your bottom crimson the moment I helped you out of your clothes. Perhaps having a well-spanked, hot little ass would teach you what happens to little girls who continue to be naughty! Are you bored now, Miss Goldman?"

Her blue eyes flashed and her cheeks flushed. Though her mouth opened and closed like a little fish gasping for air, no words came out, just a little squeal as she fled up the stairs. His hopes that he'd finally gotten through to her were dashed when a voice bellowed from directly behind him.

"What in the hell is going on out here?"

Turning, he saw Benjamin standing in the open doorway that led to the dining room. He could also see several diners looking towards him as well, and realized that perhaps the conversation hadn't been quite as private as he'd thought.

"It's not what you think, sir."

"It damn well better not be, because I trusted you with my daughter," Benjamin said, his own tone as hard as steel. "I never once thought that I'd regret that decision."

Sighing wearily, Roger gave one last glance up the stairs, hoping to see the girl he'd fallen head over heels in love with coming back down to stand at his side and take responsibility for her part in today's debacle. Unfortunately, there was no sign of her. Turning again, he shook his head. "I can explain… or at least I'll try, but I believe it best if we go someplace a bit more private."

"Upstairs, my study," Benjamin barked before turning to speak to Catherine who had materialized beside him. "Please assure our customers that I'm sure it is a simple misunderstanding," he requested before giving the room's occupants a glance. "If not, I'll be sure to send them all an invitation to a wedding, even if there is a shotgun involved."

Wyatt and Agatha had just said goodbye to their friends after sharing a meal consisting of a thick venison stew, freshly baked bread, and plenty of hot coffee. Once he shut the door, she scurried towards the kitchen, intending to clean up the dishes.

"Those can wait," he said, again grabbing her around the waist before she'd taken two steps. "We've got a discussion to finish."

"I thought we all decided that Roger must have taken Teresa home."

"I'm sure he did but I'm not talking about Roger or Teresa," Wyatt said. "I'm talking about you, young lady."

Her heart thudded rapidly as the skin on her bottom began to crawl. "I'm not sure what you mean. What about me?" He ignored her question as he drew her towards the kitchen table.

It was funny how one never really considered the use of a chair until seeing a large, obviously determined husband pulling one away from its place and taking a seat, she thought, only to feel her tummy flip as he pulled her between his spread knees.

"What did you mean?" he said.

"Mean? About what?"

"You said that you never knew it could be like that… that you always wondered. What exactly did you mean?"

"Oh, um, I just meant that… well, that it was even more fun than I imagined," she said, giving him a smile. "It was fun, wasn't it?"

"Agatha, I'll not remind you again what happens when you aren't honest. We aren't talking about how much fun it was. We are discussing what you meant when you said you wondered what it would be like," he said, "like you've never done that before. Did your pa really take you sledding?"

"Oh, yes, of course he did," she said, grateful that she could answer truthfully.

"I see," he said, his gaze so intense that she had to struggle not to look away. When she realized she was nibbling on her bottom lip, she instantly stopped, hoping he hadn't noticed. Evidently he had.

"You know, we can always continue to get to the truth afterward, if you'd prefer."

She had absolutely no doubt what he meant. Experience had taught her that though he was the most wonderful husband a woman could have, he was also one who didn't allow naughtiness to go unpunished, even if that naughtiness hadn't been intended.

"Um, I-I meant that… um, Pa did take me sledding but, um, not on big hills."

"How big? How tall were those hills?"

"Tall? Um, I don't know exactly. I mean, I was a little girl… everything looks bigger when you are little…"

"Were they as tall as the mountain?"

"That wasn't a mountain, it was a… a hill." When his eyebrow lifted and his lips compressed, she knew he didn't appreciate her rather feeble attempt at distinguishing between the two. "No, sir, not that tall," she said, grateful to see his nod at her second answer.

"I see, so, as tall as our barn?"

Glancing towards the window as if trying to picture two-story structure that sat on the other side of their house, she again had to shake her head. "Um, no, more like the hay bales…"

"Hay bales? In the loft?"

"Um… not exactly. More like those in Anna's barn that day."

"Oh no, you did not," Wyatt said. "Are you saying your pa took you down slopes as small as those bales you hid behind?"

"No, I mean, I don't know. It seemed really tall when I was five…"

He shook his head as he tightened his hold at her waist with one arm while reaching around to swat at her bottom with his free hand. "Agatha Mae Wilcox, I can't believe you had me practically killing us both!"

"You said it was fun! You were laughing, too!" She squealed when another swat landed.

"You know what they say, laugh before you cry."

It was time to remind him of his earlier words. "Wait! What about the game you wanted to show me? Don't you want to play?"

His grin had her tummy doing rapid somersaults. "Agatha, I have already begun," he said as he began to rake her clothing up. "Good grief," he murmured, his action pausing once her skirt was at her waist. "I forgot that you are far more knowledgeable about dressing for cold weather than I am. How much clothing are you wearing?"

This time, her giggle wasn't stifled. "A lot," she admitted. "Unlike Teresa, I do listen to my dear husband," she said, "at least you can't fault me for making sure I don't catch cold."

Shaking his head, he smiled. "The only people participating in this game are you and me. The rules are as follows: you've got about two minutes to get yourself into the bedroom and get out of those ridiculous trousers, and another second to bend over our bed with your little arse up in the air waiting to be warmed."

Seeing his smile and the look in his eyes, she said, "I assure you, dear husband, that beneath all these layers, my arse is quite warm already."

"I assure you, dear wife, that it is nowhere near as warm as I intend to make it," he said without missing a beat.

"You aren't really going to sp-spank me… I mean, not really
spank
me, are you?" she asked, suddenly a bit unsure as to where this so called game was leading.

"My game, my rules. Now, go!" Patting her backside rather sharply, he released her and chuckled as she immediately turned to dash away.

***

Standing up, he followed, making sure to stomp across the floor so that she would be well aware that her husband was coming. He was rewarded by her squeal. His cock hardened as he walked towards their bedroom door. Leaning against the frame, he grinned at the sight of his wife, struggling to peel out of not only a pair of his old trousers she'd altered, but first one and then a second pair of the red flannel drawers she'd made.

"Oh, look, time is up," he drawled, pushing off the door frame and moving towards her.

"What does that mean?" she asked, dropping the last set of bloomers and stepping out of them, her skirts dropping to conceal her nudity.

"That, my dear, means you have to pay a penalty."

"On top of a spanking? What sort of game is this?"

"My kind. Let's see, you've lost this," he said, grabbing her and causing her to squeal louder as he began to unbutton her skirt, allowing it to drop to her feet. "Oh, and this," he said, unbuttoning her blouse and slowly removing it. As he bared her, her breath came faster and her cheeks pinkened beautifully. Cupping the heavy weight of her breasts in his palms, he stroked his thumbs across nipples that pushed against the fabric of her chemise and were already rock hard pebbles.

"No taller than the hay bales, huh?" he said and, at her shrug, he shook his head. Plucking the red ribbon of her chemise, he felt her begin to quiver as one after another, he undid the bows until the halves fell apart, exposing her breasts, each tipped by tightly puckered, raspberry colored nipples. Once she was completely naked, he watched her skin break out in gooseflesh and saw her tremble. "Hmm, it appears that all those clothes didn't keep you as warm as you'd believed. Looks like I'm going to have to warm up a great deal more than I'd planned." Bending, he kissed her, pressing his tongue between her lips as her hands reached up to wrap around his neck. It wasn't that long ago that she'd been mortified to be standing nude in his arms and yet now, after months of tender care and infinite patience, she not only kissed him with passion, she pressed her body against his as if anxious to begin.

"You know, I've read that the best way to get warm is body heat," she said, pulling back a bit.

"I've heard the same," he agreed, watching her expression as he quirked his eyebrow. "And, little girl, I think the fastest way to heat your body is to apply my hand to your cold behind." He could practically hear the gears turning in her head. "And, if you attempt to convince me that you aren't cold now, I will take you outside, plunk you down into a snowbank and then warm you up."

"Oh, that won't be necessary. I am feeling a bit chilly, sir," she said quickly.

"That's what I thought," he said, giving her a grin as he led her to the bed and patted the surface.

"Hands right here, and this," he said, patting her bottom, "well up."

"Wyatt… by body heat I meant…"

"My game, remember?" he said and saw her roll her eyes. "And that just earned you another penalty." He loved teasing her and watching her wonder exactly how far he intended this game to go. It was time to warm her before she did catch cold. "Face down." Once she'd laid her cheek against the quilt, between her hands, he ran his palm over the hillocks of her ass. "How many feet taller do you think that slope was than the ones your pa took you down?"

Her gasp told him that she had no desire to even hazard a guess. "Shall we do the math? A hay bale is approximately eighteen inches but, for ease, let's say it's two feet. That's generous, don't you think?"

"Um, yes, I suppose," she said.

"Good, so there were what, three bales that day, so that's six feet—"

"There were four," she interrupted. "I mean, before that one fell."

"That's right because when it fell, I could easily look over them to see my naughty little wife on the other side. All right, eight feet." He continued to rub his hand over her bottom, smiling when she began to push her hips up and back as if asking for more. "How far do you think we walked up that mountain today?"

"That little hill?" she tried again, only to smile when he chuckled, obviously not buying it.

"Darlin', I might not know about sledding, but I assure you I know a mountain range when I see one. Let's call it a quarter a mile, though I'm willing to bet it was further. Sound fair?"

"I-I guess."

"And how many feet are there in a mile?"

"Why?"

"Because, my love, for every foot over eight feet, that's how many swats this beautiful little backside will receive."

"Oh! I… I don't know. Twenty?"

His laugh rang out loudly. "Some little girl didn't get high marks in mathematics, did she? As I recall, there are 5,280 feet in a mile."

Her eyes flew wide and she shook her head. "No, that can't be right!"

"I assure you, it is. So, 1,320 feet for a quarter mile, minus eight feet is… 1,312 feet, correct?"

"Oh my God," she said, "I… you… no…"

He placed both hands on her buttocks and gave them a squeeze. "Since I'm a big enough man to admit that I actually enjoyed that stunt, how about we make a deal?"

"Anything," she promptly answered, nodding her head vigorously. Her inhalation was audible as he pulled one of the globes of her behind away from its twin. "Wha-what are you doing?"

"Seeing the beautiful divide in your naughty bottom gave me an idea. Do you know what it is?"

"I-I'm not sure…" Her exhalation was just as loud as he pressed his thumb against her previously concealed opening before raking his fingernail around the crinkled skin.

"Then let me clarify. Let's divide that by, say, a hundred. How many swats would that leave you?"

She didn't immediately answer and he had to bite back a chuckle, knowing that she'd not been considering anything as mundane as mathematical problems. He ran his finger up and down the cleft of her ass, dipping down to trace the seam of her sex and returning to press against her anus.

"Agatha?"

"Oh… um, thirteen… um with a-a little left over."

"Ah, so you do know your math. I'm feeling generous, so let's consider it an even thirteen," he suggested. Removing his finger, he allowed her cheeks to close. "Of course, since both of your little hills were seated on that sled, I'm sure you understand that each one must pay equally. What do you think?"

"I'm not exactly sure I understand your logic, dearest husband," she said, turning her head to look back at him, her cheeks very flushed. "Besides, most of the time I was sitting on your lap… not on the sled."

"I so adore you," he said with a grin. "Facing a spanking and yet still full of that sass that I so love." He chuckled as she huffed and then he gave both of her buttocks a little squeeze. "We shall call this game, Agatha's Slope. Count these as my hand bounces down to land on each of your own snowy white hillocks until they are the same pretty shade of pink as your face."

"Wyatt!" she said, her cheeks flushing even darker at his words.

"I so love hearing you call my name," he said, lifting his hand and beginning.

***

Agatha's mind was still reeling from his supposedly generous offer, her body tingling from his play in her most private place but when she felt his palm lifting from her skin, she braced herself for the first swat and when it came, she smiled. "One." He was spanking her, but he wasn't punishing her. "Two… three…" she continued to count each one and it wasn't long before she was pushing her hips up higher. At ten, she felt the delicious heat transferring from her backside to settle between her legs. At fifteen, she was wagging her hips a bit as the burn intensified, the swats a bit harder, and doing a good job of both warming her flesh and stoking the fire that he could always build within her, one that only he could extinguish.

"Ow, twenty!" she said, her hand going back to attempt a little rub against the spot just spanked, knowing he would be giving her the next on the other side. Perhaps it hadn't been such a good idea to leave out the fact that her pa had never allowed her to sled down tall slopes.