To Wed a Wanton Woman Read online

  I can promise you laughs, I can promise you tears, and I can promise that you will not be bored when you read this delightful novel! [The author] has done an incredible job of writing a near-perfect story and she has won a place on my (and many others, I would imagine) keeper shelf!

  5 Hearts - Brenda – The Romance Studio

  A wonderfully written tale that brings on laughter, and entertainment. It is a genuine story, with great believability, that surrounds a huge range of characters. There is always a trouble-maker in every group and this story is no exception…

  I adored the contact with Marion and Train as they tried to find the right boundaries to connect while battling their stubbornness. The town is so visual and comes to life as the characters breathe excitement with every turn of the page in this delightful story.

  5 Angels - Linda L. – Fallen Angels Reviews

  To Wed a Wanton Woman

  by

  KyAnn Waters

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  To Wed a Wanton Woman

  COPYRIGHT 2012 by KyAnn Waters

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Visit www.KyAnnWaters.com

  Publishing History

  First Edition, July 2012

  Originally Published as Marion’s Train (2006)

  This book has been revised from its original publication.

  Published in the United States of America

  Chapter One

  Montana 1879

  A late summer breeze blew through Montana’s canyons scorching the cracked, barren trail. Wild grasses and ground brush withered under the unrelenting, midday sun.

  Marion Young squinted under the shelter of her raised hand, surveying the heat rising in waves from the dust. Sweat trickled down the side of her face as she sat on the bouncing seat of a buggy. She fanned her face with stiff paper wondering how much further it was to the Bester Ranch. Reaching down, she grasped the folds of her cotton dress and petticoat, lifting them onto her lap. She rested boot-clad feet on the rim of the wood frame, spreading her bare legs wide.

  “Always a lady,” Sandy Jensen said sarcastically.

  Marion shifted a glance. Sandy was more than a friend; she was the only family a whore could ever hope to have. The madam of the Dusty Rose Brothel was a blessing to all her girls. In the years while Marion lived and worked with Sandy, she learned to cipher, read, and write. She also learned to tempt a man to part with his money. Marion’s pouty lips made a man ache to see them wrapped around his cock. While in the brothel, her full tits teased as they spilled from the seductive bodices that hugged her thin frame.

  “Don’t badger me,” Marion said, shrugging off the comment. “Refinement comes easier for you.” She fidgeted with the tight neckline of her dress. “I’d like to take this damn dress off. I’ve never worn this much clothing.”

  “You’d stand as maid of honor at Allison’s wedding in your usual attire? Tsk tsk. TJ Bester is the biggest toad in the puddle around here. I will not soil his bride’s reputation by showing up dressed as a whore. If his guests don’t know his fiancée’s former occupation, we are not going to be the ones to enlighten them.”

  “It isn’t as if she worked on her back,” Marion said. “Allison didn’t have the stomach for bedding strangers. Hell, she couldn’t bed down with any of the regulars either. But she was good at taking care of us. Cleaning up after whores doesn’t make you one. She would’ve starved if we hadn’t taken her in.”

  “Some of us were born for the work.” Sandy swatted at a horsefly. “Allison was bred to be a wife and mother.”

  Marion reached behind and undid the buttons of her dress giving air to her soaked décolletage. “I won’t say anything. I have more grace than that.” She groaned as she leaned back. “Dear Lord, deliver us from this heat.” Taking her hankie, she wiped the perspiration from between her breasts. “Hell couldn’t be this hot.”

  “One day, we’ll find out.” Sandy laughed and flicked the reins. “It isn’t much further.”

  Marion glanced at her friend. A river of sweat followed her hairline. “How are you feeling?” A rut in the road bounced them around on the seat.

  “Don’t fret over me. I’m fine. Doc Applewood was in last week. He said I am the picture of health.”

  “I don’t think you can call what you were doing a medical examination.”

  “Well, we both felt better afterward.”

  “Do you think TJ will hire someone else to care for the household now that Allison is being promoted into a new position? Oh Sandy, I hope he shows her lots and lots of new positions.” Marion laughed as she leaned her head back. “Not an ounce of fat around his gut. How could I not wonder? Seems like everyone I’ve seen lately has more gut than goods.”

  “TJ is going to be married to our Allison. Believe me, I know. You don’t want carnal knowledge of your best friend’s husband.” She was quiet for a moment. “In fact, I worry Allison’s going to have a hard time knowing TJ used to be a regular patron of mine. At least, as far as my relationship with him, he isn’t like his father. We won’t see TJ at the Dusty Rose once he’s married.”

  “I wish I could find a man who wants to pleasure me. I’m tired of sweaty, sour smelling miners. I want what Allison found.”

  “Money, looks, and love?”

  “A cowboy who knows how to use what the good Lord gave him…and I ain’t talking about smarts,” Marion stated with a perverse pleasure in the challenge. “We’re going to a ranch. Maybe I’ll find one.”

  “Flirt if you like, Marion, nothing else. You’re not open for business. Only advertise.”

  Marion opened the carpetbag from under her seat, retrieving a small pouch of tobacco. “I can’t roll.” She laughed, her body jostling on the seat. “Could you at least try to avoid the ruts?” Finally, she lit one and handed it to Sandy, then lit another for herself before returning to the topic of conversation. “Allison thinks of you like a mother. She knows TJ loves her.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Sandy said as she tugged on the reins, bringing the horse to a stop. “We’ll rest here and freshen up.” She pointed to a clearing not far off the road where a river snaked around a cluster of scrub oak. The water rippled and foamed against rocks jutting out from the riverbed.

  Barefoot, Marion reached the water’s edge and carefully found her footing. Swift running water splashed up her leg as she held her dress around her thighs. “This is better than sex,” Marion said, and then sighed.

  Cupping her hands in the ice-cold mountain runoff, Sandy splashed her face and soothed her parched throat. “We want to make a statement when we arrive. Remember, we are ladies.”

  * * *

  Nestled in the mountains, the log pole, two-story main house of Bester Ranch presented picturesque majesty. The wide, front porch welcomed family and friends alike. A porch swing invited leisurely evenings watching sunsets or snuggling under a blanket during a summer thunderstorm. Towering trees reached to the heavens giving testament that all things were larger than life in this part of the country.

  Sandy waved at TJ Bester when they pulled the buggy up to the house. “We made it,” she said, accepting his assistance to the ground.

  TJ tilted his head in Marion’s direction in greeting. She alighted without assistance and walked around th
e buggy. Several horses were tethered to the large stable off to the left. Cowboys paused in their duties to admire the two women who were first to arrive for the main event.

  Marion squealed as Allison sprinted across the grounds avoiding the lace-covered, rectangle tables between them. Her long chestnut locks bounced in the breeze while her cheeks grew pink from the exertion.

  Marion hugged Allison tightly.

  “Allison!” Sandy scolded. “The groom is not supposed to see his bride before the wedding.” She winked at TJ as he took their bags from the buggy.

  “I’ll put their bags in the room next to yours, Sugar.”

  “Sugar?” Marion teased. “He must find you very sweet.”

  “Married folks often have pet names for each other,” Sandy said. “Not all names have sexual meaning.”

  “So, Allison?” Marion asked. “How did you get yours?”

  Allison blushed crimson. “Don’t ask. Long story and not very flattering. I’m so glad you came.” She pulled Sandy into a hug.

  “Don’t mess my hair,” Sandy said, trying to keep Allison at a distance. Using her palms, she smoothed her copper-colored hair back into the enormous, plume covered bonnet. Unlike Marion, Sandy wore full makeup. Pancake powder covered her wrinkles, and plenty of dark shadow accented her heavily lined eyes. “Don’t smudge my lips,” she warned when Allison leaned in to give her a kiss.

  “I better not touch you.” Allison laughed and pulled back. “Come, I want to show you the house.” She linked her arm with Marion’s.

  “It looks like plenty of male company around here for a girl like me,” Marion teased.

  “We are not here to work,” Sandy said, a stern warning to her voice.

  “He’d be purely for pleasure.” She smiled at a cowboy watching them walk toward the house. TJ had joined him.

  “That’s TJ’s best friend,” Allison said, looking over her shoulder. “His name is Joseph, but everyone calls him Train.” Train stood an inch or two shorter than TJ, but his broad shoulders tapered into a narrow waist, making him look bigger than his mentor. Although both men had chiseled features, a couple days worth of whiskers dusted Train’s hollow cheeks. Obviously, he spent a good deal of his time weathering the elements. Under his cowboy hat, his eyes squinted against the sun that had bronzed his skin. Marion felt an instant warmth in her sex. Tingles chased along her spine and her nipples hardened.

  “Mmm,” Marion cooed. “Let me guess. Is he called Train because he has a large locomotive?”

  Allison’s jaw dropped. “I wouldn’t know the size of his locomotive!”

  “You girls can chat without me,” Sandy said. “I need to rest. I admit, I don’t like being awake at this time of day.”

  * * *

  “I see Allison’s friends have arrived,” Train said as he continued to clear the area of large rocks for construction of a temporary wooden dance floor.

  He couldn’t help staring at the woman with hair, black as onyx, piled high on her head. Pearl and abalone clips twinkled in the sun. Olive skin and almond-shaped eyes touched only with a hint of makeup. However, even from a distance he could see her rose red lips when she smiled.

  “Can you believe those two looking like proud peacocks?” TJ picked up his hammer.

  Train shrugged. “They probably don’t get many opportunities to dress properly.”

  “Train, you’ve never been to the Dusty Rose with me. A whore is good at two things. I don’t need to tell you about the first. The other thing is dressing up.”

  “Whore or not, there’s more to women than sex and fancy clothes.”

  TJ smiled. “After you get some experience we’ll talk about what inspires a woman.” He held his hand up to stop Train from giving another lecture. “I’m about to be a married man. My only concern is Allison.” He looked toward the house. “The younger woman’s called Marion. She has a temper, but she can be a lot of fun. Sandy’s too old for you.”

  “I’m not looking for hour-long romances, and I’d never want a woman you’ve had.”

  “Then Marion’s your girl. Sandy’s been around so long her fields have been plowed by every man, but you.”

  Train rolled a cigarette and thought about the woman in the house with Allison. “No harm in having a conversation with the lady,” he said, not expecting TJ to offer a reply. “After all, she is Sugar’s best friend.”

  * * *

  Music drifted through the warm evening air. Marion watched Allison float around the yard on the arm of her husband. The sparkle in her eye and the contagious smile on her lips affected her, too. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.

  Tables brimmed with food. In a pit set away from the guests, a large pig roasted on a spit. Honey glaze dripped from the belly and smoldered in the fire sending mouth-watering aromas heavenward.

  “Nice evening,” someone spoke from behind her. Sitting in her chair at one of the long tables, Marion turned her head to see who it was.

  “Train, isn’t it?” She motioned to the chair next to her. “Allison pointed you out earlier.” Dimples and a slight tilt to his crooked grin made her stomach flip. Yes, he was handsome. Men didn’t usually make her wet with just the sound of their voice. Men were customers. They held no mystery. Train was different. He actually appeared nervous, making him even more appealing.

  Train sat in the chair she indicated. His black trousers strained against muscled thighs as he rested his forearms on his knees. “TJ told me you work for Miss Jensen. It must be nice for her to let you out.”

  Marion laughed. “You make it sound as if I’m a slave living a life of servitude. I come and go as I please. I do what I want.” She sipped her coffee. “Don’t look so horrified. I’m not here to tarnish Allison’s wedding with my wicked ways. I’m a guest just like you.” She looked in the same direction as his stare. “They look happy.” She sighed.

  They watched TJ spin Allison around the wooden dance floor erected for the reception. Allison’s wedding dress pooled around her like a cloud. Her head fell back, laughing at something TJ had whispered in her ear.

  Marion adjusted in her chair and opened a little oriental fan. Wearing her most seductive smile, and tilting her head, she created a light breeze against her neck. “If you don’t want to have a conversation, maybe there’s something else we can do?”

  His head snapped around. “Oh no ma’am.” His smoke colored eyes stared into hers.

  “Good, because I’m not here to work.” She playfully slapped her fan closed and leaned in close. “Did you know I can read a man’s thoughts?”

  It was true. Years on her back had taught her to look into a man’s eyes to know his intentions. Train was transparent.

  “You like what you see,” she continued, her gaze trailing down the length of his body and back up again. “But as I said, I’m here to support Allison in her new life. We can have a good time, Train. But, if you want to conduct business you’ll have to come to town.” She stood. “I’ll see you later.” How much later was up to Train. She didn’t see him as the type to act on his impulses. Such a shame.

  Marion found Sandy sitting with TJ’s children.

  “Marion, meet Sissy and Michael.”

  “Allison’s our mama now,” Sissy said with an air of authority. “My mama died when Michael was a baby.” She gave her two-year-old brother another bite of wedding cake.

  “I think it’s wonderful,” Sandy said, smoothing a palm over the little girl’s hair. “Allison will be a good mama for you.”

  “Yes, that’s nice.” Marion didn’t relate to children. Nervous in their presence, she didn’t even know how to speak to them. She understood men. “I need to step away for a few minutes.” Marion patted her small evening, clutch purse. She was sure smoking would meet with the other women’s disapproval. “I didn’t want you to come looking for me.”

  “Marion, my dear, this is your time. Do whatever you wish.” She laughed when Michael grabbed a piece of cake off the spoon before Sissy had a chanc
e to put it into his mouth.

  Once safely on the other side of the stables, Marion took a deep breath. Knotted up inside, pretending to be someone she wasn’t, made her stomach sick. She could put up a good front when she had to, but she preferred life at the brothel where she could be herself. Truthfully, mingling with these people made her feel inferior. She saw their stares. No matter how hard she tried, she could not come off as a lady. She thought of Allison. Most would assume she was a woman of means. No one would believe she had once tried to pursue employment in a whorehouse.

  Marion slipped open the top button of her dress. The new fabric was stiff and uncomfortable in her fingers. She preferred her lived-in clothes at the brothel. Light and airy, they allowed a woman to breath. Corsets, bustles, and yards of useless fabric could make a woman churlish. Perhaps that was why women in town never laughed and why their husbands kept her busy.

  She slipped a pre-rolled cigarette from the silver holder in her clutch. After a deep inhale, she almost felt like herself.

  A noise to the left startled her. Someone stepped from the deep shadows of the stable. “Are you following me?” She put her hand over her heart, trying to calm its racing.

  Train stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his trousers. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Miss Young. I was enjoying your company until you up and left. Figured I owed you an apology for something I said.”

  She waved her hand, dismissing his apology. “I’m not easily offended.” She inclined her head, debating whether to say something. “Actually, you could make it up to me if you’d go over there,” she said, pointing to a group of men. “And get me a glass of whiskey. Not a little glass,” she said, using her thumb and index finger to demonstrate. “But more like that.” She pointed to a woman drinking a tumbler of lemonade. “Since you are aware of my disreputable occupation,” she said with a teasing smile, “you can understand why I would not want to embarrass my best friend on her wedding day by drinking whiskey and smoking tobacco. But Train, if I don’t get a drink, I’ll have to hide in my room. I’m not used to proper womenfolk, just whores. I admit, I’m a touch jittery.”