Authors: Breanna Hayse
"Mr.
Malcolm!
Decency!"
Madeline scurried to the entrance and
tried to block his view with a spread towel.
"I'm
not looking, for God's sake," Malcolm grunted.
He pulled up a chair in the
hallway.
"Imelda was given the
care of our father's house and property, and a small sum to maintain it until
Blair reached legal age.
I
inherited his business, which was bidding on cattle drives and distributing the
livestock.
I came to Colorado on a
hunch, against my father's better judgment.
I foolishly gambled away a good portion
of my inheritance.
It is my
weakness, gambling—and good whiskey," the man admitted.
"The bank was coming after the
spread, and in a moment of depression, I climbed the Peak, with all intentions
of throwing my body off the side.
That was when I found the nuggets."
"Wait,"
Sloan interrupted.
"Why would
Imelda's finances be cut off when Blair reached her majority?"
"Her
great-grandfather trusted the house to her.
Didn't Imelda tell you?" Malcolm
asked.
"No,
Grandfather.
I was led to believe
that I was a charity case since my parents died," Blair said bitterly,
stepping out of the tub and smacking Sloan's hand as, much to Madeline's
horror, he reached to squeeze her behind.
"She allowed me to stay in the servants' wing and dine with
them.
Truthfully, I was grateful
for that because I loathed being in her presence.
She kept my clothing simple and sturdy,
stating that I was not of the proper caliber to be allowed into society.
She sent me to the Young Ladies Academy
on a daily pass that required I either take a carriage or walk there and back.
I was not permitted to board with other
girls, and the matrons treated me harshly.
I must confess that I did not offer them any reason to do
otherwise.
Confinement of any kind
ails me," Blair added, with a slight smile.
"Your
mother, rest her soul, also needed adventure," Malcolm chuckled sadly.
Sloan asked,
"How did Imelda pay for your train fare if she was without money?
Blair was in a decent coach with padded
seats.
That costs a pretty penny.
Madeline?
Do you know?"
"Yes,
sir, Mr. Sloan."
Madeline
sounded distressed.
"I used my
savings to ensure Miss Blair had proper travel arrangements and money for
food."
"So the
money you gave me was yours and not my aunts?" Blair's mouth hung open.
"Yes,
Miss."
"Well
then, I will make certain you are repaid for your generosity, plus
interest," Malcolm declared.
"Blair, my dear, please hurry and dress so that we can catch up on
life."
"I
would very much like that, Grandfather.
Sloan?
Are you going to
leave that tub or will you become wrinkled as an old maid?"
"I'll
stay and soak a bit, darling.
Madeline?
Would you care to scrub my back?"
Sloan asked with a mischievous grin.
The maid paled and violently shook her head, trying desperately not to
look in his direction.
"Don't
tease," Blair scolded, leaning over to kiss him.
She lowered her voice, "Do you
believe him?"
"I
don't know.
My gut tells me yes,
but even I can be fooled by a skilled conman," Sloan whispered back.
"I do believe the woman, though.
Just be careful."
Blair nodded
and followed Madeline to the room that she and Sloan were assigned to
share.
It was decorated in opulent
Victorian furnishings with heavily curtained windows and a large featherbed
with a goose-down comforter.
"These
are your chambers, Miss.
Your trunk
was retrieved from the train station after your absence was noted.
I steamed your gowns and hung them in the
armoire."
"Thank
you, Madeline.
No corsets.
Burn them, please.
Tell me," Blair began, allowing the
maid to pick out her underclothes, "Do you find any of my Grandfather's
stories odd?"
"No,
Miss.
When you came to Farbor
Mansion, the lady informed us that you were here as charity and because of
that, you were to be treated with just one step above the rest of the
household, but no more.
I recall
her spending hours waiting for wires and messages to come, and found her many
times poring over the accounts.
I
did not know that your great-grandfather had left the estate to you or that Mr.
Malcolm was your benefactor; but if you consider that you are his only child's
daughter, and the only grandchild, I do not find it strange."
"Are
you aware of any outlaw activity here?
We ran into a trio a week ago."
"No,
Miss.
But I only just arrived
myself.
Were you harmed?"
"No,
however, they did share some information with us—reluctantly, of
course."
Blair smiled.
"My husband is a very persuasive
man.
You are to share this with no
one—not even my grandfather."
Madeline
held her hands over her mouth as Blair repeated the information given to them
by the ragtag trio, including their knowledge of both Malcolm and Imelda.
"I cannot
believe that to be true of your grandfather.
He has been nothing but kind to
me."
"Yes,
but he admits his fondness for gambling and whiskey.
Perhaps he is in debt again?"
"I do
not know anything of the sort.
I …
Sir!" Madeline shielded the half-dressed woman with her body as Sloan
walked in, wrapped only in a towel.
"Easy,
girl.
Do you think you can see if
there is a change of clean clothing for me, please?
Maybe from the ranch foreman's
supplies?"
"I do
not meet with men unescorted, sir."
"Easterners,"
Sloan sighed.
"Either go and
do that for me or I swear I will walk around naked until you do."
"Madeline?
I suggest you follow his
instructions.
He tends to be
stubborn and always follows through on his promises.
Good or bad," Blair stated.
She waited until Madeline scurried away
before turning to Sloan, "I need to get into his study and see if I can
find any clues."
"Be
careful.
You do clean up nicely,
Miss Blair," Sloan said as she brushed her long, dark hair with the boar
bristles, fluffing it with her fingers to dry.
"Would you care to take a moment
and relieve my discomfort?"
"Discomfort?"
Sloan raised
his eyebrow and dropped his towel.
"I cannot be so close to you in an unclothed state without wanting
to make love to you."
Blair
grinned as she straddled his lap, parted the soft cotton drawers, and allowed
his rigid cock to sink inside of her womanhood.
"Madeline will fall to fits if she
catches us."
"Mmm,"
Sloan murmured as he dug his fingers into the side of her hips and guided her
up and down his pole with long, languid strokes.
"Maybe this is what your friend
needs to loosen her up a bit."
"Sloan!
Be kind.
Madeline was widowed after twenty years
of marriage."
"Well,
maybe it is time she got the attention of a nice, respectable man.
I love you, but talking about another
woman's love life is not providing any assistance to my own," he grumbled,
pushing her hips down towards his thighs to impale her fully.
Blair
stretched out over him and trailed her right hand down to fondle the sensitive
skin of his lower abdomen before slipping her index finger upon her clit.
Sloan pulled her lips to his and, as he
probed her mouth with his tongue, he cradled her breasts in his palms and
tickled her marbled nipples with the flats of his thumb.
Blair began to purr as she shifted with
his cock inside of her hot shaft and began to pump in a slow rhythm, up and
down, her speed increasing as her arousal intensified.
"Faster,"
Sloan whispered.
He closed his eyes
as Blair began to vigorously thrust her hips like the piston on a steam
engine.
He clamped his hands on her
shoulders and steadied his breathing as she began to quake.
"Now Blair.
Let it go …"
Blair's head
spun as the orgasm racked her body in dizzying waves.
Sloan's hot juices spilled into her womb
and she clutched to engulf every hard inch he offered.
Spent, she rested into his chest, her
arms wrapped around his neck.
Silence filled the room as they both panted.
"Mr.
Sloan, I found …" Madeline announced, stopping cold in her tracks as she witnessed
the final measure of their coupling.
"Thank
you, Madeline.
I will be done here
in a moment.
You are welcome to
stay," Sloan said, his voice light and playful as he reached around to cup
Blair's bottom in his hands.
Madeline
started to sputter and then fled the room, muttering her protests in French.
"You
must stop scaring her away," Blair giggled, lifting herself off his
softening organ and adjusting her drawers.
"What has happened to that severe, stoic man that I met on the
train all those months ago?
You
have become quite the rogue."
"He
fell in love," Sloan grinned.
He kissed her forehead, smacked her bottom affectionately, and then
began to dress in the clothing that Madeline left strewn on the floor before
she took flight.
"What
happened to that prim and proper young lady that I rescued on the train so many
months ago?"
"I
would not be so forward to proclaim that I was ever prim and proper,"
Blair giggled as she, too, dressed, "but I also fell in love.
Would you care to tie me up?"
She turned her back to him to offer him
the laces on her pale yellow gown.
Sloan's eyes
twinkled as he tightened her dress, "I would love to tie you up.
Perhaps when we get settled down a
bit."
"Sloan!"
"Yes?"
"You
scoundrel!
But, yes, that might be
rather enjoyable," Blair giggled again.
"Hmm,
maybe over a barrel?"
Malcolm
fussed over the couple as he settled them onto overstuffed couches.
Blair shook her head in refusal of his
offer of wine.
"No
thank, you, Grandfather.
I am interested
in what has occurred between you and Aunt Imelda, if you don't find my asking
insufferable.
How is she to survive
if not for your donations?'
"That
is a quandary she will have to solve on her own," Malcolm said, sipping
from his glass, "She has spent a lifetime living in an illusion of wealth
and power.
Even as a child, she
would pretend to be something she was not.
It angered Father to no end when he would discover her spreading tales
of her invented life to her friends.
We lived comfortably, but certainly not in the manner in which she would
convey."
"How
sad for her," Sloan commented, eyeing Blair.
"A person such as that might go to
extreme measures to keep up appearances."
"That
she did.
She even stole a necklace
from an old dowager we were visiting.
Father knew nothing of it until several weeks later when he saw it
around her neck.
She denied the
theft and stated it was given to her.
Of course, it was a fib.
He
forced her to return it and then had her serve the dowager for two weeks as
recompense."
"She
had me beaten with a rod when she caught me trying on her jewels.
I was eleven and was just sitting at her
vanity," Blair stated, with contempt.
"Imelda
has always had a passion for subtle cruelty.
When I married, she deliberately wore
black to my wedding because she despised Lillian, my wife to be.
They had quarreled over tea about
Imelda's behavior towards a prospective suitor.
My sister has never taken correction
well."