Rocky Mountain Rogue (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 5) by Lee Savino Page A
Authors: Lee Savino
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forward with swaying hips, every man in the room fixed his eye on her.
"Wilder, surely you remember Rosie May," Chivington said.
Wearing a seductive smile, the woman called Rosie May slithered right up to Jesse, completely ignoring Susannah.
"Remember me? How could he forget?" The redhead smiled and brushed back a bright curl. Susannah huffed inwardly; the woman was painted like a whore and obviously wearing a wig. "Mr. Wilder and I had such lovely times together."
"Ahem, yes." Jesse cleared his throat. "Quite lovely. Miss May, this is my fiancée, I mean wife, Susannah Oberon. I mean Wilder."
Susannah took a deep breath to control her ire. "How do you do?" she said coolly to the painted lady, before turning furious eyes onto her husband. "Darling," her voice dripped acid, "could we get a room so I can rest and freshen up? I'm so hot and uncomfortable I could scream."
Jesse nodded, having the good grace to at least look sheepish.
"All right, old sport," Chivington said jovially, as if he was oblivious to the tension. "You must come down and let me buy you a drink. Or buy me a drink. You do owe me for betting I wouldn't bag a buffalo. And for wooing a wife without so much as telling me." He slapped Jesse on the shoulder, and her husband winced a little.
"Miss May, Chivington." Jesse seemed more than happy to make his goodbyes and escape.
"Goodbye." Susannah waved, and let her husband tug her towards the stairs.
Once they were upstairs and settled, Susannah sailed towards the water pitcher in the corner, her back stiff and straight and head held high. Jesse tipped the porter, and laid out their meager bags.
Susannah went to the mirror and started fussing with her hair.
"I've paid for a night, but we may stay longer. Depends on whether Doyle catches on to where we are. But we should be safe for now. Would you like to dine up here or in the main room?"
Susannah ignored him, combing through her hair with her fingers.
"Susannah, did you hear me?"
"I'm not speaking to you, Mr. Oberon. Perhaps you can get Mr. Wilder to relay a message to my husband, asking him to explain himself." She worked at a particularly annoying knot, grimacing a little at the pain.
Jesse sighed. "I can explain."
"Can you?" She gave up on the knots and whirled around, hands on her hips. "Because I'm interested to hear why the man I married seems to have two names."
"Listen."
"You said your name was Jesse Oberon!"
"That is my name. It's my middle name. Mother saw a troupe of players when she carried me and became enamored."
He loomed over her, rugged face contrite. Again, Susannah found herself wishing he wasn't so good looking.
She held up a hand. "Spare me the explanation. What's your real name?"
"Jesse Oberon Wilder. I went under a alias to keep from being found out."
"Is our marriage license even correct?"
Jesse winced. "Yes. I was going to tell you eventually."
"You lied to me."
"I bent the truth. A bit. To save my life."
Susannah blew out a breath. With his head cocked and eyes entreating her, he looked like a little boy whose hand had been caught in the cookie jar, and was hoping for mercy.
"What other truths did you stretch? Do you even have a claim?"
"Yes, I swear. It's adjoined with my brother's. It's a wild place, but once we strike gold, I shall build you a fine house." He came close to her, his hands going to hers on her hips. "Please, Susannah."
A knock on the door interrupted, and she brushed him away as the porter and innkeeper came in with a large tub.
"What's this?"
"Hot bath, ma'am. Just as your husband ordered." The two men trailed in and out, filling the tub with steaming water.
"You asked for this?" Susannah faced her husband.
He shrugged. "Anything for my lady and wife."
She crossed her arms over her chest, even though her heart was melting. "And when I'm clean, what am I to wear?"
"This may help." Lifting one of the saddlebags, he pulled out smaller, cloth bag she recognized as one of her own.
She
"Wilder, surely you remember Rosie May," Chivington said.
Wearing a seductive smile, the woman called Rosie May slithered right up to Jesse, completely ignoring Susannah.
"Remember me? How could he forget?" The redhead smiled and brushed back a bright curl. Susannah huffed inwardly; the woman was painted like a whore and obviously wearing a wig. "Mr. Wilder and I had such lovely times together."
"Ahem, yes." Jesse cleared his throat. "Quite lovely. Miss May, this is my fiancée, I mean wife, Susannah Oberon. I mean Wilder."
Susannah took a deep breath to control her ire. "How do you do?" she said coolly to the painted lady, before turning furious eyes onto her husband. "Darling," her voice dripped acid, "could we get a room so I can rest and freshen up? I'm so hot and uncomfortable I could scream."
Jesse nodded, having the good grace to at least look sheepish.
"All right, old sport," Chivington said jovially, as if he was oblivious to the tension. "You must come down and let me buy you a drink. Or buy me a drink. You do owe me for betting I wouldn't bag a buffalo. And for wooing a wife without so much as telling me." He slapped Jesse on the shoulder, and her husband winced a little.
"Miss May, Chivington." Jesse seemed more than happy to make his goodbyes and escape.
"Goodbye." Susannah waved, and let her husband tug her towards the stairs.
Once they were upstairs and settled, Susannah sailed towards the water pitcher in the corner, her back stiff and straight and head held high. Jesse tipped the porter, and laid out their meager bags.
Susannah went to the mirror and started fussing with her hair.
"I've paid for a night, but we may stay longer. Depends on whether Doyle catches on to where we are. But we should be safe for now. Would you like to dine up here or in the main room?"
Susannah ignored him, combing through her hair with her fingers.
"Susannah, did you hear me?"
"I'm not speaking to you, Mr. Oberon. Perhaps you can get Mr. Wilder to relay a message to my husband, asking him to explain himself." She worked at a particularly annoying knot, grimacing a little at the pain.
Jesse sighed. "I can explain."
"Can you?" She gave up on the knots and whirled around, hands on her hips. "Because I'm interested to hear why the man I married seems to have two names."
"Listen."
"You said your name was Jesse Oberon!"
"That is my name. It's my middle name. Mother saw a troupe of players when she carried me and became enamored."
He loomed over her, rugged face contrite. Again, Susannah found herself wishing he wasn't so good looking.
She held up a hand. "Spare me the explanation. What's your real name?"
"Jesse Oberon Wilder. I went under a alias to keep from being found out."
"Is our marriage license even correct?"
Jesse winced. "Yes. I was going to tell you eventually."
"You lied to me."
"I bent the truth. A bit. To save my life."
Susannah blew out a breath. With his head cocked and eyes entreating her, he looked like a little boy whose hand had been caught in the cookie jar, and was hoping for mercy.
"What other truths did you stretch? Do you even have a claim?"
"Yes, I swear. It's adjoined with my brother's. It's a wild place, but once we strike gold, I shall build you a fine house." He came close to her, his hands going to hers on her hips. "Please, Susannah."
A knock on the door interrupted, and she brushed him away as the porter and innkeeper came in with a large tub.
"What's this?"
"Hot bath, ma'am. Just as your husband ordered." The two men trailed in and out, filling the tub with steaming water.
"You asked for this?" Susannah faced her husband.
He shrugged. "Anything for my lady and wife."
She crossed her arms over her chest, even though her heart was melting. "And when I'm clean, what am I to wear?"
"This may help." Lifting one of the saddlebags, he pulled out smaller, cloth bag she recognized as one of her own.
She
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