“I’m too upset to spank you right now, so I want you to go to the corner in the dining room,” Jackson said as he opened the front door and ushered her into the house.
“What? You want me to what? What do you want me to do in the corner?” It was nice and cool in the house when he closed the door behind him, but the look he gave her made her bottom heat up all by itself. It took a concentrated effort not to cup her cheeks and back away.
“I said, I’m too upset to spank you right now, but that doesn’t mean that you’re not in trouble. You know better than to go someplace without me or someone else, at least. So you can go over to that corner, tuck your nose in there, and think about why you chose to disobey me.”
“You want me to stand in the corner—just stand there?” Celia had never heard of such a thing. If that’s what he wanted, she could do it. It didn’t make much sense, though. And to be honest, she’d probably rather he spanked her. At least then he’d talk to her and they’d clear the air.
“Cecelia Grace.” He closed the distance between them and spun her around, then marched her toward the corner.
“Just Celia,” she whined and then yelped when a volley of swats landed on her seat. “All right, all right. I get it.”
“I’m not playing with you, young lady. You will stand here quietly until I say you can move.”
Celia had never heard of such a thing. Her governess had been quite free with her, often saying that she should be more firm with the child, and yet she always gave in. The girls at the boarding school had been disciplined with the ruler to their palm, but Celia had never received even that. She’d been threatened with lines on the blackboard once and that had been enough to curb her rebellious nature. Had she ever been sent to the corner, it was very likely, it would’ve spurred her career as a troublemaker.
Her time spent staring at the planked junction was enough to drive her batty. She’d never been in such a state of uselessness, where she could do nothing but look at the end of her nose and think. The only thing that kept her from rebelling was his haunting look when Jackson had declared the man wasn’t his father. Celia couldn’t think of anything but how distraught he’d looked.
“You can come out now.” His voice startled her, after the time of silence. She turned around and wrung her hands together as she walked toward him. “I hope you’ve given it a lot of thought. Did you know that yesterday a gunfight broke out on Larimer? That’s only three blocks from the boarding house.”
It took her a minute to realize he was still upset that she had walked to the boarding house by herself. “But the same thing could happen if I were with you, or anything for that matter. The fact is, nothing happened.”
“The fact of the matter is that things happen, horrible things happen to beautiful young women all the time. Things that naïve young women like you should not hear about. You don’t hear about them because they’re awful and we try to protect you. You should be thankful about it and not argumentative. I don’t think that corner did you one lick of good.” He sat down in the chair at the table, scooted it out, and patted his thigh. “Come on.”
“You’re crazy if you think I’m going to let you, let you—do that. There’s no way I’m going to—”
“Oh, you’re going to let me, and you can put yourself over here quickly, ‘cause if I have to come get you—it’s my belt you’ll be getting. Don’t make me start counting.” Celia wanted to curse at him about the unfairness of the situation, but his next word made her move like no single word ever had in the past. “One—”
She flew toward him and dove across his muscular thighs. It was something she’d never be able to explain to someone else if they asked about it. A natural physical reaction? “You’re being unreasonable today, Jackson.” Surprisingly, it was a feeling of comfort, of warmth, of security when his arm locked over her back, holding her tightly to his side. She knew she couldn’t get away, but she wouldn’t have tried.
“Unreasonable? How many times have I warned you before? The rutting pigs on the streets are unreasonable. They won’t take no for an answer. They take whatever they want with no regard. If this is what I have to do, then this is what I have to do.” He shifted in. She realized that he had bent over and was lifting her skirts.
“Oh, Jackson, no. Please, please don’t do that.” Her cries had no effect on him. Neither did her hand, which she threw back, trying to shove her skirts back down as he pulled them up. He very easily tucked her hand against the middle of her back and held it there. Then, to her great shame, he reached around to her middle and grasped the tie that held her drawers in place. Cool air briefly met her bottom right before the first hearty smack fell.
“If this is what I have to do, you can bet your bottom, I’ll do it every time.” He punctuated each word with meaningful swats. “I gave you a chance to think about what you have done wrong and it seems you wasted it.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll do better. I swear I will.” Celia tried to hold still and be good to prove that she was sorry, but it was hard. Jackson had a large, heavy hand, and no matter where it fell, it brought waves of heat.
“Hopefully you’ll remember that, so we don’t have to do this again.” He went on and on spanking here and there, lecturing as he went until she was a puddle of remorse. She wished her butt would fall off—that she could somehow disassociate herself with it. She was sure if it didn’t end soon, she would die. Finally, when she could take it no more, he stopped.
She clung to him, not wanting to leave the comfort of his lap, even if she was just lying over the top of it. The connection was there. He was rubbing her back, stroking her hair and simply being there for her. Celia didn’t know how much time had passed and wasn’t in a hurry, so when he started to lift her up, she cried out, not wanting to lose contact.
“Shh, come here, little dove, let me hold you. It’s all right now. It’s done and over with. We know you’re not going to do that again.” He kissed her forehead and brushed her hair away from her face.
Celia wrapped her arms around his neck. She wanted him to kiss her like he had at the river and not to stop. She timidly kissed his chin. “Jackson, could you—would you... make me your wife for real?”
She was pretty sure it was a groan, the guttural sound that came from deep within his chest. He pushed her away and looked down at her face, staring at her hard. He still looked angry or in pain.
“Woman, you know what you’re asking for?” It sounded like it hurt for him to talk. Did she know what she asked? No, but she wanted to be his. Wholly his, totally and completely his. She trusted him to know her.
“Yes, I love you. I’d never loved anybody before. I never been loved or cared for the way that you care for me. I want to give myself to you, Jackson.”
It was a groan, a roar, something animalistic as he scooped her up and strode to the bedroom. He deposited her on her feet in front of the bed and his nimble fingers went right to work on the buttons at her neck.
“Are you absolutely sure, Cecelia? Once you give yourself to me, you can’t take it back. I’m a possessive man. I make no apologies.”
Celia could not look away from his eyes, and she shivered even though it wasn’t cold. She didn’t dare look down, or she might grow nervous. He had more than half of her tiny pearl buttons undone already and she was sure no more than sixty seconds had passed. It took her a good three minutes to get them undone.
“I’m scared, but I trust you—no matter what.” Her peach blouse fell to the floor.
“You have nothing to be afraid of, little dove. I will always take care of you.”
Just Right!
