Authors: Molly Ann Wishlade
A Total-E-Bound Publication
Desire in Deadwood
ISBN # 978-1-78184-427-4
©Copyright Molly Ann Wishlade 2013
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright August 2013
Edited by Sue Meadows
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2013 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a
This story contains 51 pages, additionally there is also a
at the end of the book containing 6 pages.
DESIRE IN DEADWOOD
Molly Ann Wishlade
Can Nate Hamilton really put aside his hurt and learn to forgive the woman who destroyed his life then help her to find her heart’s desire in Deadwood?
Deadwood, 1878, Nate Hamilton and his former sweetheart Evelyn Campbell meet up after more than a decade of separation.
When the widowed Evelyn discovers that her tuition post has fallen through, she is left destitute and concerned about how she will provide for her son, until Nate offers her a way to earn some money—and a way to exact his perfect revenge for her betrayal—he will pay her to be his own private whore.
The combination of past hurts, secrets and rekindled passion causes fireworks in and out of the bedroom!
To my husband and children, I am grateful every day for your love, support and patience.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmark mentioned in this work of fiction:
Stetson: John B. Stetson Company
“Take your clothes off.”
“You heard me.”
Evelyn forced her mouth shut.
She looked around the room, buying time. The faded brown curtains hung limply over the windows, not quite touching, and the afternoon light filtered through the gaps, its beams turning the dust in the air into diamonds. She could hear the rattle of a wagon on the street below and the regular rhythm of squeaking bedsprings in the adjacent room.
“So? What are you waiting for?”
She stared at the man on the moth-eaten chaise longue in front of her. He was serious.
“But I thought…” She chewed her lower lip.
“What exactly did you think, Mrs Campbell? That I asked you to meet me at the Gem Saloon just to talk?”
She swallowed. “I had hoped…that it would be as we agreed, Mr Hamilton.”
“But it is.” He frowned, running a hand through his thick, black hair. “You agreed to meet me here and I agreed to pay you.”
She watched as he stroked his moustache. He examined her form and paused for a moment too long upon her breasts.
She pulled her shawl tighter across her chest and glanced at the door to her left.
“Now, look, Mrs Campbell”—his voice was soft as he straightened his waistcoat—“you are under no obligation. If you want to leave then do so. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve let me down.”
Evelyn’s heart beat quickened at the muttered closing remark.
“No, I…I don’t want to go, Nate”—she shook her head—“Mr Hamilton.”
“Then keep your side of the deal, Mrs Campbell.” He leant back and lifted one foot, resting it upon his knee.
“Could you lock the door?”
He rolled his eyes. “Do you think that you have anything under those clothes that anyone in this joint hasn’t seen before?”
“I certainly do, Mr Hamilton!” Her voice cracked. “No one in this town has seen me…”
He put up a hand and shook his head.
“I didn’t mean your personal attributes. I referred to those of the whores.”
Evelyn’s cheeks burned and she blinked away tears of anger and humiliation, wondering how it had come to this. For years she had imagined meeting Nate again, seeing his handsome face light up as she walked into a room. Instead, here they were. He had offered her money and she had accepted.
He rose and walked over to the door and pushed the bolt across then he sauntered back towards her and stopped right behind her.
“Evelyn,” he whispered into her ear, causing ripples of excitement to course up and down her spine. Her nipples tightened and she felt a tingling beginning between her legs. She fought the urge to turn to look into his eyes.
She struggled to breathe as he placed his hands on her shoulders and the tingling lower down intensified.
He applied a gentle pressure then moved to caress her collar bones. He rubbed his thumbs over the nape of her neck, whilst he stroked his index fingers into the hollow at her throat. She felt the power behind his touch, the heat of his skin.
An awful thought struck her—did he mean her harm?
No. That wasn’t his style. Unless…
“Let me take this.” He tugged at her shawl and she loosened her grip on the russet wool then he returned to his seat and smiled up at her like a satisfied cat.
Raising the shawl to his face, he inhaled deeply. “You still smell good, Evelyn. I didn’t think you would. Why, I don’t know”—he frowned, staring at the shawl—“but your scent still pleases me. Now…” He gestured at her clothing.
Nate leant farther backwards in his seat, trying to maintain the façade of nonchalance but blood was thundering in his ears and he was overwhelmed by the emotions coursing through him. When he’d heard that a young woman and her boy had arrived in Deadwood—where the mother was to take up the tuition of Mrs Riley’s spoilt brat—he’d thought of it fleetingly as bad luck for the new arrivals. The Riley brat had been claimed by smallpox just days before, so the poor tutor had travelled all the way from Custer City for nothing.
But then he’d heard from Al Swearengen that the woman was mighty fine in the looks department, with breasts the size of watermelons and a rump you could rest your tankard on, and that had fired his curiosity. So, a week ago he’d taken a stroll along to the Grand Central Hotel to take a look.
And he hadn’t been able to believe his eyes.
He bunched the shawl up in his lap at the familiar sound of her voice—a voice that had haunted his dreams.
“Mr Hamilton?” His eyes were dragged to her face.
Though it had been ten years or more since he’d last seen her, her appearance was virtually unaltered and right now she looked like an angel with her golden hair and skin the colour of cream. The only real difference was her expression. Her blue eyes betrayed her with their wariness and sorrow.
He could almost feel sorry for her. Almost. But he knew what a cold, betraying bitch she could be.
“Strip!” he growled, watching her wince at the venom in his command. He would see her humiliated, brought low before him as he’d been brought low all those years ago. If he could make her feel a fraction of the hurt and shame he’d experienced, he knew that he would feel better. That was how it worked.
He dragged a stool towards him and plonked his feet upon it then leant back to enjoy the view.
Evelyn’s knees knocked together as she tried to decide what to remove first. She fingered the buttons at the neck of her blouse and she fumbled with the top one.
“Leave it!” Nate’s growl startled her.
“Let your hair down first.”
She pulled at the pins that held her heavy locks in place then let them drop to the floor, one by one. When she had finished, she shook her head and ran her fingers through the honey waves, reminded as she did so of how Nate had loved her hair, loved seeing it down and pressing his face into it.
“It’s still so long.” His voice was husky.
She nodded. “You used to love it.”
He frowned, his eyes hardening, and she took a step backwards.
“There were a lot of things I used to love about you, Evelyn.”
“Oh, Nate.” She covered her mouth to damn the torrent of words.
A noise from the hallway made them both turn.
“Is everything alright in there, Mr Hamilton?”
“Fine,” he snarled.
“Can I get you anything to drink?”
“Who is that?” Nate demanded.
“Why it’s Dan Doherty, Mr Hamilton!”
“I’m fine, Doherty. Now clear off!”
“As you wish, sir.” The man’s muffled laughter grew fainter as he walked away.
Looking back at Nate again, Evelyn realised that the small room was darker than when she’d arrived. It was past four o’clock and the shadows were deepening, filling the corners of the room and spreading across the floor. It gave her some comfort, at least she didn’t have to strip in the harsh light of midday.
She looked around for somewhere to sit. The room’s only furniture included the chaise longue, a footstool, a smudged looking glass, a mahogany changing screen and a bed with a soiled mattress. She moved the short distance to the bed where she perched upon the edge and began to untie her boot laces then she tugged them off and stood them together on the floor.
When she lifted her skirt a little to get to her stockings, she heard Nate’s sharp intake of breath and looked up to see him staring at her, his eyes dark with desire.
“I think that we should remain formal, Mrs Campbell.” He pushed himself upright and licked his lips. “This is, after all, a business transaction.”
“Yes, of course.” Her heart plummeted to familiar depths.
She rose and went to stand in front of him again. She reached up to her collar and began unfastening her blouse. As each button was released from its hole she paused, hoping that he would stop this degradation but he made no sound, no movement. He just sat and watched her hungrily.
Once her blouse hung open, she looked him in the eye. At a slight nod of his head she shook the blouse from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
He was in control here, he had bought her and she would earn her money. She had to because she needed it so desperately.
As he stared at her she felt that he would burn through her skin and into her very soul. His gaze was unflinching. She looked away into the corner of the room to avoid eye contact. Her hair fell down over her chest and the plump mounds of her breasts protruded, covered only by her thin chemise. When she took a shaky breath, she felt the stays of her corset against her ribs whilst the lace edging around its top rubbed against the underside of her bosom. Her nipples strained against their covering, so tight that they ached.