Over the Barrel Read online

  "Yes, Mr. Malcolm," Madeline curtseyed. She put her hand out before Sloan to prevent him from following them. "Begging your pardon, sir, but bathing time does not require a man to be present."

  "I am her husband, and …"

  "I have been bathing the child since she was nine years old. I do not need your assistance," Madeline said firmly.

  "What you need is a good paddling," Sloan murmured under his breath loud enough for Madeline and Blair to hear. "I will bring her food up."

  Blair stopped Madeline from arguing. "Do not be concerned about him. He is very protective, that is all. Sloan, darling, Madeline was my nanny and my only true friend. Please treat her with kindness."

  "Beg pardon, ma'am," Sloan held his hat to his heart. "I did not mean any offense. I will still bring up her meal."

  "Let's go," Blair smiled, grabbing the woman's hands. "I have so much to share with you."

  Chapter 11

  "He is a handsome devil, that one, Miss Blair," Madeline proclaimed as she led Blair up the polished wood staircase. "How did you meet?"

  "It is a long story, my dear, dear Madeline. What is this?"

  "Mr. Malcolm has a taste for the new and unique," Madeline said, priming a pump that emptied into a giant copper tub. "There is a water closet behind that divider and see? Hot water!"

  "How does that happen without bringing up buckets?" Blair stared in fascination.

  "Mr. Malcom said that the house is built atop a thermal spring. He said that we will stay warm all winter, even walking on the floor in our stockings. Isn't that grand?"

  "You really like Grandfather Malcolm, don't you?" Blair asked, narrowing her eyes slightly in her maid's direction.

  Madeline reddened, "He is a good man. Much kinder than Madam Farbor. Miss Blair, I know she is your aunt, but …"

  "That woman is an evil, selfish and arrogant spinster. I hold no loyalty to her. What happened?"

  "I should not say, Miss," Madeline looked distressed. "Please …"

  "Help me into the tub and then you will talk. I expect to be told everything."

  "You wish that I stay while you bathe?" The woman looked shocked.

  "I have long since lost my modesty," Blair proclaimed, her filthy, worn clothes falling around her ankles. She stood naked before the stunned woman and lifted her chin. "The tub?"

  "Yes, Miss," Madeline said, quickly helping her in. She gasped. "Miss! Your bum!"

  "Ah, yes," Blair twisted to glance at the fading bruises left by the switch. "I got into a small argument with a hazelnut tree and lost. Twelve times."

  "You permit your husband to beat you?"

  "Sloan does not beat me," Blair said, settling with a sigh into the steaming water, "he disciplines me for my transgressions. Aunt Imelda used to have me beaten. There was no love behind her motives, other than to absolve herself of any responsibility for my actions."

  Madeline gasped as Blair picked up the lavender soap and began to scrub her hair. "Miss? That is for decoration. Soap is for laundry!"

  "Soap is for cleaning, and I have three months of trail dirt buried in my pores. Are we able to drain this tub and refill it?"

  "Yes, Miss Blair."

  "Then after my initial scrubdown, we shall do so. Please, soap my back."

  Madeline uttered several unintelligible phrases in French as she obeyed Blair's instructions. The tub was nearly filled for a second round when Sloan entered the bathing chambers without knocking.

  "Sir! The lady …"

  "Is my wife and I have seen her naked many times. Why the frown, my darling?" he asked, setting the platter of fragrant stew seasoned with fresh rosemary on a table next to the tub.

  "Madeline is hiding something from me about my aunt."

  "Is this true, Madeline?" Sloan asked, raising his eyebrow at her.

  Madeline paled, nodding her head. Sloan patted her shoulder. "Let's hear what you have to say."

  "But, Sir, I … what are you doing?! Mr. Sloan, this is not decent!" Madeline panicked as Sloan quickly stripped off his clothing and slipped into the tub with Blair.

  "Haven't you ever seen a man naked before?" Sloan asked mischievously as Blair began to scrub his back.

  "Don't tease. Madeline, I wish to hear your words this instant."

  Madeline looked as though she would cry. "Madam Farbor has kept you for nine years because Mr. Malcolm was sending her money. He did not want you to live in the West until you had a proper home and education. He asked for you last year, when the building of this house was completed," Madeline began to cry into her hands. "Madam Farbor refused, fearful of losing the money sent to care for you."

  "Aunt Imelda is very wealthy. Why would she need Grandfather Malcolm's money?"

  "Her wealth was a mere illusion, my dear," Malcolm's voice came from the doorway.

  "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?"

  Chapter 12

  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."

  "That certainly has not changed," Blair stated.

  "I am sure it has not. When Jane, your mother, was born, Imelda refused to come to her christening. Her actions embarrassed my parents to the extent that Father wired her and said she was out of his will until she showed an effort to change her selfish ways. He permitted her to live in the house until she found a husband."

  "Aunt Imelda never married! Did she do that to ensure she maintained her resources?"

  "Yes, I believe so. Father saw through her schemes and rewrote his will. Upon his death, his grandchild, if still living, would inherit the estate and whatever funds remained in trust. He stated that if she were under the age of majority, her assigne
d guardian would receive a stipend to maintain the house until such a time that the grandchild could inherit it. In her passing, all proceeds would automatically be forwarded to the grandchild's first born. That was you."

  "Was Mother aware of these holdings?"

  "Yes, she was. Imelda was permitted to stay at the house under a maintenance stipend because Jane had fallen in love and wished to follow her husband to Africa as a missionary. They returned to the States when she was found to be with child and lived in the house until your birth. Imelda's rage grew during that time because Jane would not open the accounts for her use. My daughter was a very wise woman," Malcolm said proudly.

  "My memory of Mother has faded over the years," Blair said, sadly. "She used to laugh all the time and dance with Father in the middle of the sitting room. I do remember the times when Aunt Imelda called them simpering fools."

  "Jane was a happy child who grew to be a happy woman. She was also very caring. When your father had the opportunity to serve in the Louisiana hospital ward during an outbreak of consumption, Jane was right by his side. I was notified of her passing three months later when Imelda was unable to convince the bank to release the account to her."

  "That was when I was sent to stay with her permanently."

  "Since I knew that Imelda had neither a fondness for your mother or for children, I wired her with an offer to take you on as my ward. She insisted you stay and receive an education and convinced me that you would have a better chance in life if you were offered the opportunities that civilization provided. She also said there would be a price for those opportunities, and if I cared about your future, I would assist. Her words made sense, and I agreed to provide her a monthly allowance to care for you until you were old enough to make your own choices."

  "I truly wish you would have just taken me."

  "I, as well," Malcolm sighed. "You were of nine years then. My wife passed away the following spring, and I was struck by grief. I sent a letter to Imelda, telling her of my loss and requesting that she permit you to come and live with me. She refused, stating that it was improper for a man alone to care for a female child. She demanded that you stay in her residence until you turned eighteen."