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  "Saph! Are you all right? What's going on?" Opal's beautiful dark eyes were wide with concern as she rushed up to her friend. Emerald and Dottie were right behind her.

  "It's a misunderstanding," Sapphire said between gritted teeth. "I'll be back soon."

  Opal looked her over. "They didn't even let you put on a shawl?"

  Following her friend's gaze, Sapphire looked down and grimaced as she realized her black corset was loose and only half-laced, exposing far more of her bosom than she usually did when she was downstairs, working the room. "Anyone you catch looking at these owes me a dollar," she said, trying to make light of her complete humiliation.

  Opal grinned. "Split the proceeds fifty-fifty and we have ourselves a deal," she shot back.

  The deputy's deep, gravelly voice was loud enough to carry above the general clinking of glasses, murmured conversation and barks of laughter always prevalent in the saloon. "Come along now, miss, I don't have all night."

  "Can't afford it!" someone shouted, to bellows of mirth.

  "Ouch!" Sapphire squealed as Slade's hand tightened yet further on her arm and he steered her swiftly out into the night, leaving Opal, Emerald and Dottie huddled together, staring after them.

  Chapter Two

  The sheriff's office and jailhouse in Culpepper Cove were in the same building; a squat, square place a fairly short walk from The Red Petticoat.

  Crawford Slade marched silently, still holding the black-haired girl firmly by the arm. Despite her show of temper in the saloon, she seemed subdued once they were outside in the balmy evening air, almost resigned to her fate.

  He noticed she was struggling to keep up with his long, leisurely stride, but she didn't ask him to slow down. Nor was he in the mood to do so. He had been at Culpepper Cove for well over a month, and had managed to avoid the saloon—and the people who lived and worked there—for the duration. Until now. Sheriff Justice had always been the one to handle any eventualities if there was trouble at that house; even going so far as to marry one of the girls who used to work there; Rebekah, whom he still called "Red." Her gem name had been Ruby.

  Crawford frowned. Aside from one encounter with a flame-haired girl a short while back, during which he had been careful to be as unpleasant as possible, he hadn't even seen a gem, as the working girls were referred to. And he preferred it that way. Which was why he hadn't been at all pleased when the tall, blonde madam had summoned him to attend a "disturbance" on the sheriff's night off, of all things.

  His gaze slid down to the slip of a girl still tripping alongside him. Her corset was far too loose, exposing the lush, creamy tops of her breasts—no, he wouldn't even think about that. But aside from her state of (un)dress, there was nothing that would have made him suspect she was a soiled dove. Usually the women who "mined the miners" in establishments such as The Red Petticoat were brash, brawny and almost toothless, with arms like logs and an ability to outdrink, out-gamble and out-cuss any man.

  This one—Sapphire—was different. Come to think of it, all the girls he'd seen on his brief walk through the saloon had been different; all varying heights, builds and hair colors, but every single one much more attractive than he would have thought. Aside from their manner of dress, they looked like real, proper ladies. Including this one.

  "Don't talk much, do you?" she said at length, interrupting his thoughts.

  "Nope." He let go of her, opened the door to the sheriff's office and held it open for her without thinking. "After you."

  Her eyes were wide but she moved quickly inside and stood waiting, obviously unsure of herself.

  Crawford noticed she never even looked around. "Been here before?"

  "No, sir. Never."

  "Well, we need to get a file started on you." He moved to the desk and sat down behind it, gesturing to the chair on the other side. "Sit."

  She sat, still staring at nothing but him as he fished a form from the desk drawer and picked up a pen.

  "Name?"

  "Sapphire."

  He frowned at her. "Your real name."

  She frowned right back at him. "I don't see how that's important."

  "This will be a lot easier if you cooperate, miss," he said, coolly. "I won't ask a third time. Name?"

  There was a pause, during which he watched a series of emotions flit across her pale, pretty face. Her eyes were big and dark, with long sooty lashes; her nose was dainty and straight, and her mouth was—

  "Ada," she said quietly.

  "Ada what?"

  "Madsen."

  "Age?"

  She paused again. "I'm not sure."

  Crawford was unable to prevent his eyebrows from shooting up at her admission. "How can you not know how old you are?"

  She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. "I think I'm twenty-two."

  "You sure about that? You don't look a day over eighteen."

  There was a flash of something—anger, perhaps—in her eyes. "I'm twenty-two," she said again, more firmly this time.

  "How long you been in Culpepper?"

  "Longer than you." Leaning back in the chair, she folded her slender arms.

  Suppressing a smile, Crawford gave her his most piercing glare before tapping the tin star affixed to his chest. "That's as may be, darlin', but I'm the deputy around here, not you. Now answer my question. How long have you been in Culpepper?"

  She sighed. "I don't know. A few months, maybe?"

  "Good enough." The nib made a scratching sound on the paper; otherwise there was complete silence. Crawford hadn't been lying when he'd told Gabriel it was quiet in the jailhouse. Not a single cell was occupied, a rare occurrence in the rapidly growing little mining town.

  "And before that?"

  "What?" She looked genuinely startled at his question.

  "Where were you before you came to Culpepper?"

  "What does that have to do with anything?"

  Eying the empty coffee mug on his desk, Crawford found himself wishing he had some whiskey. "You always this… difficult?"

  Sapphire glared at him. "Are you always this unfriendly?" she shot back.

  He didn't miss a beat. "Only when I have to deal with people like you, wasting my time."

  As the young woman turned her head to look around properly for the first time, her black hair gleamed in the lamplight, shimmering almost blue. Sapphire, he thought, irrationally.

  "Wasting your time?" She gave a little snort. "There's no-one here. What else do you have to do?"

  Not in any kind of mood to justify himself, Crawford took a deep breath, trying to contain his rising frustration. The girl was as infuriating as she was beautiful. He couldn't wait to be rid of her. "Where were you before you came to Culpepper?" he said again, enunciating each word.

  There was a pause while she obviously considered what to say. "San Francisco."

  "And what was your occupation while there?"

  Quick as a flash, the feigned indifference was gone and she leapt to her feet, her eyes glittering. "I didn't take his stupid watch, all right? I'm not a thief! Now either lock me up or let me go; I'm done answering your dumb questions. I mean it! I won't say a single more word!"

  With deliberate languor, Crawford rose from his chair and moved around the broad desk until he was looming over her. Her hot skin smelled of soap and he swallowed, hard.

  "Sit back down," he said in his most dominant tone of voice.

  "Make me." Even though she was fairly tall, she still had to crane her neck to look up at him, which she did, her lower lip jutting out petulantly.

  Crawford had a sudden urge to bite it.

  "You really don't want me to do that," he said slowly.

  "Oh, really? You gonna hurt me? You promised Mr. Gabe and Madame Jewel that I would be safe." She was taunting him now; making the demons he kept so carefully buried deep down in his soul threaten to rise.

  Again he swallowed, his fists clenching at his sides. "I don't know how it is over at that bawdy house," he said carefully,
"but this here's my jurisdiction. In this building, I'm judge, jury and executioner. I'm the boss. You don't get to give me orders. I give the orders."

  He watched her carefully, surprised to see that, instead of fear, there was something else in her eyes. Her bosom was rising and falling rapidly, the pale pink crescents of her nipples just visible beneath the black satin of her corset; threatening to pop right out. With a jolt, he realized what the emotion was.

  Desire.

  No, it couldn't be. This girl made a living out of seducing men; he mustn't be fooled. "You sit right back down, missy, or so help me I'll put you over my knee and spank you until you agree to answer my questions—though it probably won't be sitting down once I'm through with you."

  There was a long, long pause, during which Crawford became suddenly and painfully aware of how hard he was.

  Then she bolted.

  Quicker than lightning, she had flown through the office and to the door. Finding it locked, she looked around wildly, then made for the stove oven.

  Crawford folded his arms across his chest, watching her shrewdly. True, the oven was cold, the ventilating pipe connecting the stove to the wall was only loosely connected, and the flue behind it did lead straight outside, but it was narrow, far too narrow for her to squeeze through, and surely a girl as clean and sweet-smelling as her wouldn't want to risk getting dirty by trying to escape that way.

  "Well, I'll be damned," he muttered as she proceeded to do just that, wrenching the pipe out of the wall and diving headfirst into the dark, sooty hole.

  He had not made a single move to go after her but she either hadn't realized that or didn't care; so focused was she on getting outside.

  Pushing and wriggling, she managed to make some progress, getting her arms, head and shoulders through the flue.

  And then, as Crawford knew she would, she stopped.

  Aware she was unable to see him, he allowed himself a genuine smile of amusement, which only broadened when he heard her infuriated cry.

  "I'm stuck! Get me out of here right this minute!"

  "I'm sorry?" he said, fighting to keep his tone even. "I can hardly understand you."

  "I said, I'm stuck, you jackass! Get me out, now!"

  "All in good time," he said calmly, moving toward her. "Gosh," he said, with exaggerated calm once he reached the failed escapee, "you sure got yourself into a bit of a pickle here, din'tcha?"

  The ventilation opening was a hole in the wall at about chest height, and it looked deceptively large. Unfortunately for Sapphire, it wasn't quite wide enough, even for her slender body. And now she was stuck, wedged in the hole, with her lower half still dangling invitingly within Crawford's reach.

  "Pull me out right this minute, Deputy, or so help me I'll—"

  "What?" he barked, genuinely annoyed at her uppity tone of voice. Even when the girl was at her most vulnerable, she had an attitude. "What will you do? You can't even move!"

  There was silence for a few seconds before she said, a little more sweetly, "Please, sir. Please help me out and I'll cooperate. I promise."

  "Nu-uh," he said. "It's too late for that. Can you breathe?"

  "Yes, I can breathe, but I can't get out!"

  "Well, you should have thought of that before you tried to escape, shouldn't you? What did I say was going to happen if you disobeyed my order to sit down and answer my questions like a good girl?"

  "You wouldn't dare!" she cried, even as he reached out and took the hem of her red petticoat, drawing it up to reveal long, shapely legs adorned with pretty, beribboned stockings. "Stop that! I'll tell Mr. Gabe!"

  Crawford chuckled just loudly enough for her to hear. "Don't forget that the sheriff is married to a former gem. I know all about Mr. Vasquez's methods of discipline and how he keeps you girls in line. I doubt very much that he'd be mad at me for spanking you once I tell him how downright rude you've been. In fact, he'll probably want to put you over his knee himself once I'm through with you."

  Her lack of reply was all the confirmation he needed that he was right. Running his hand from her ankle to her knee, he felt something inside her stocking. "Well now, what do we have here?" Ignoring her squeals of protest, he rolled down the sheer material to expose a small, sharp dagger clad in a prettily adorned sheath. Inlaid in the handle was an oval, blue gemstone. "A dagger?"

  "Never know when you might need it." Her voice was suddenly small, almost apologetic.

  With a sudden pang, he realized how right she was. Not wanting to dwell on the dangers of her chosen profession, let alone start thinking about how such a beautiful, delicate young woman—who was obviously educated—had ended up selling her body, he concentrated instead on why he'd been called to pick her up in the first place. Laying the dagger aside, he took a deep breath and untied the ribbon of her drawers with deft fingers.

  "Hey!" she cried. "What do you think you're doing?"

  "I'm preparing to give you just what you need to settle down; a good, hard spanking right on the bare."

  "You… you can't!"

  "Why? Is this your first time? Want me to go easy on you?"

  Silence.

  Thinking that perhaps he'd overstepped, Crawford took a deep breath, wondering why this slip of a girl had the power to get him so riled up. "Listen, honey, you have been nothing but troublesome since the moment I laid eyes on you. I'm tryin' to do my job here, and lawd knows you're not making it easy. I told you you'd be going over my knee if you disobeyed, and you decided to stage an escape attempt. I'm just following through with my promise. Not sure what kinds of men you're used to where you're from, but I always keep my word."

  Without further ado, he tugged the drawers down past her slim hips until they fell to puddle around her ankles. Her bared behind was quite possibly the loveliest thing he had ever seen, and once more he realized how hard he was. Been too long since I was last with a woman, he told himself sternly. That's the only reason why this one's getting to me so much. Deliberately being careful not to look too closely at her pale, creamy buttocks, let alone the dark, shadowy delights between them, he took a step back and raised his hand.

  * * *

  CRACK!

  The sound of the deputy's broad palm smacking against Sapphire's bare flesh echoed like a gunshot off the walls, but the sound was nowhere near as bad as the pain. It felt like someone was holding a branding iron to her right buttock, with the stinging burn lasting well beyond the impact itself.

  Despite her previous determination to remain stoic, she howled at the top of her lungs; hoping that someone walking by outside would hear her cries and come to her aid.

  They won't, a small voice told her. You brought this upon yourself. If you'd just sat there quietly and answered his questions instead of attempting to escape like an idiot, you wouldn't be in this predicament. You wouldn't be pinned in a ventilation shaft, your upper half covered in soot and ash, and your lower half hanging obscenely naked out in the sheriff's office with your butt making a perfect target for—

  CRACK!

  Sapphire had been spanked before; as a child by her parents, by Mr. Gabe—and even by the cook, Nettie, who'd taken her famous wooden spoon to Sapphire's behind for helping herself to a pie Nettie had baked especially for little Jade, to get her to eat—but nothing had ever felt like this man's hand. And before she could draw breath to howl again, he walloped her a third time.

  "Please," she begged, "please, please stop, sir! I'll be good, I promise!"

  If she had learned anything about Deputy Crawford Slade in the short time she'd spent with him, it was that he did things his way or no way, so she hadn't really expected him to heed her. But he must have done just that, because as she waited, holding her breath, feeling her legs tremble with the fearful anticipation of the next swat, nothing happened.

  "Sir?" Her voice rang out in the cool night air.

  Oh, God. He's left me. He's gone and left me here…

  Panic rose within her like a cobra, threatening to squeeze the breath
out of her lungs. She was stuck, and now he'd left her there, for anyone walking past to laugh at.

  "Deputy Crawford!" she yelled, scrambling for purchase, determined to try to wriggle back out, but the darned chimney flue was so high in the wall that the toes of her boots weren't even scraping across the wooden floorboards. "Sir! Please come back. You can even keep spanking me, I'll even admit I deserve it! Just please don't leave me here alone!"

  She shrieked with shock when her ankles were seized and Crawford began to pull them toward him, and her panic only grew when she realized that if it worked and he managed to drag her out, she would land face first on the hard floor. Then a thick arm hooked around her waist and she heard an unmistakable voice.

  "Did I just hear that right? Was she begging you to spank her?"

  Oh, shoot. Mr. Gabe.

  It was almost enough to make her want to crawl straight back through the hole… but with a couple of hefty tugs and a grunt, the two men managed to extract her from the ventilation shaft. Deputy Slade let go of her ankles and Mr. Gabe set her down almost tenderly.

  Almost.

  "What on earth is going on here?" he said at length.

  Sapphire stared at the floor, willing it to open up and swallow her whole. The only good thing about being rescued was that her petticoat had once again slipped down to cover her nakedness.

  "She got tired of being questioned, so she decided to make a break for it—through the chimney flue." There was a definite tinge of amusement in Deputy Slade's deep voice.

  "The door was locked," she said quietly.

  "The front door. Why she didn't try the back door instead of making straight for the stove flue is anybody's guess."

  Gabe chuckled. "I can't wait to tell Jewel this story. She'll hardly believe me."

  "Oh, please don't!" Sapphire forced herself to look up at her employer. "Please don't tell anyone about this!"

  "Are you kidding? Of course I'm going to tell her. Besides, she'll want to know why I'm taking the strap to you when we get back."