Corrected by the Colonel (8 page)

         
“I never agreed to be a dutiful and obedient wife.”

         
“What other sort of wife is there?” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Now, get yourself in position over my knee so that we can see to your behavioral issues before we join the others.”

***

          
I woke up this morning intending to beguile Lord Owen Tyndall while out for a ride and now, not even twelve hours later, I am betrothed to his cousin? The same man I thought was an insolent footman two days ago?

         
Life had certainly taken an interesting turn for Miss Cassandra Sheridan. No turn more interesting than her current position lying across Blaise Sinclair's lap while he spanked her bare bottom.

         
She kicked her feet to thwart his efforts to punish her backside. Blaise's palm cracked on her thighs. "Hold still," he said, "or I'll take off my belt and tether your ankles. Or maybe I'll use it on your naughty behind."

         
"What?" Cassandra reared back and attempted to turn to stare at Blaise over her shoulder, but he buried his hand in her hair and gave a possessive tug to her tresses sending a tingle of desire through her body.

         
"Stay in position. Listen to my instructions. Take your punishment like a good girl."

         
He certainly gave orders like a colonel. Well, she had not enlisted in the army and she had no intention of obeying him like a simpering private. She kept her head down, but grabbed hold of his calf and dug her fingers into his flesh.

         
"You're asking for it now, Sassy Cassie." Blaise loosened her grip on his calf then placed both her hands at the small of her back and held them firmly in place. "I said to take your punishment like a good girl and I meant it." He punctuated his words with a sharp crack to the center of her buttocks.

          
His wide palm smacked the same spot over and over and over again. Although her mind told her to continue to struggle against Blaise's dominance, her heart told her to hold still. This was where she belonged.

         
With each impact on her bottom more and more of Cassandra's stress and uncertainty melted away. The burdens of the last few years, intensified by her father's most recent illness, built to a crescendo and finally the dam broke. Tears flooded her eyes and with each stinging swat of Blaise's hand she gave up her struggle against him.

         
She relaxed her shoulders, dipped her head, and let the tears flow. She sobbed for her lost mother, her frightened sisters, he sickly father, and finally, she wept over her failure to make everything turn out right. She had believed sheer force of will would be sufficient to achieve her goals, but she had been wrong and her plan had gone completely off kilter.

         
She sobbed so hard she didn't realize the punishment had ended until Blaise lifted her gently to sit on his lap. He buried her face against his neck, while stroking her back and rocking to and fro on the bench whispering words of comfort in her ear.

         
"There you go, my little Cassie. Let it all out."

         
She knew she ought to pull herself together and attempt to retain at least a miniscule amount of dignity, but she was just so tired. Tired of trying to hold it together for her entire family. Exhausted from worry and anxiety.

         
She sighed and snaked her arms around Blaise's waist, pulling herself closer to his strength.

         
"That's my girl." His voice rumbled under her ear. "You're mine now. Let me take care of you."

         
Cassie knew it was ridiculous to think that a mere army colonel could save her and her family from financial ruin, but what choice did she have?

         
She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder.

***

          He could hardly imagine what the men under his command would think if they saw their colonel rocking a beautiful woman on his lap and cooing to her as though she were a frightened child, but at that moment, Blaise Sinclair cared of nothing but the warm little body trustingly snuggled against his.

         
He had never planned to fall in love. Never intended to marry. While most second sons resented their lot in life as no more than a spare male heir to secure the family line in the event the eldest son died without issue, Blaise had relished it. As far as he was concerned, he had all the benefits of wealth and privilege without the duties and expectations. His commission in the army fulfilled his need for adventure and excitement. He had no desire to settle down. Had never considered a wife and family. To his thinking, children were nothing more than a bother which he was glad to avoid, particularly now that his brother had produced twin sons.

         
And yet, when a beautiful blonde mistook him for a footman and handed him her shoe to repair, all this bravado fell away. At least most of it did. Their encounter in the barn, and her submission to his thumb probing her bottom hole, melted his defenses.

         
He was a man who liked order and discipline, but he also liked a challenge. For him, Miss Cassandra Sheridan was a perfect match. He envisioned their future together and his heart warmed at the thought of the children they would have. He whispered as much against her sweet smelling hair.

         
When she made no response at all, he tipped back to examine her face only to find her softly sleeping in his arms.

Chapter Seven

         
"No, I will not have it. Your mother is surely turning over in her grave. It is shameful enough that you insist upon marrying a girl such as Miss Sheridan, but I
shall not
allow the event to take place at Hadley Hall." Lady Tyndall's strident tone sent Cassandra ducking into an alcove outside the breakfast room, grateful she had not entered during what was obviously a conversation about her.

         
She had woken from the most delicious dream. She dreamt she had fallen asleep in Blaise's arms, that he'd whispered words of love while he held her close then carried her to her room, gently removing her clothing and slipping her into bed in her nightclothes before tucking the covers under her chin and kissing her on the forehead.

         
For the first time in months her dreams had been filled with happiness and hope rather than visions of herself as a scullery maid and her sisters married off to any man who would have them.

         
But of course, it was only a dream. Though she had no recollection of what happened after Blaise snuggled her in his lap, she was certain her imagination, and possibly the wine, had created the tantalizing fantasy.

         
A fantasy which vanished with Lady Tyndall's harsh tone, though what followed shocked her even more.

         
"I am sorry you feel that way, Aunt. If you do not wish the marriage to take place here, then Miss Sheridan and I shall vacate your home as soon as our bags can be packed. You may be assured we will not darken your door again. Your unkindness to the woman I have chosen as my bride is uncalled for and if my dear mother were to be turning over in her grave it would be because of your maliciousness and not the perceived unsuitability of Miss Sheridan as my wife."

         
Cassandra covered her mouth with her hand to stifle an involuntary gasp. If she had been able to peek into the breakfast room she would have seen Blaise's stiff bow to his aunt before he exited the room, but since she could not, his sudden presence in the hallway, and firm grasp of her arm, caught her by surprise.

         
Still holding her arm Blaise led her to her bedchamber. "We shall leave in one hour. I have arranged for a special license and will alert the vicar to expect us."

         
Cassandra stared after him as he tromped down the hall. She sighed and entered her room, prepared to pack her things.

         
The task was quickly accomplished. While she waited for Blaise to collect her for their departure, she read her sister's letter for the hundredth time. So much had happened since she first read it the day before. She had not even had an opportunity to respond. Hastily she took out pen and paper and dashed off a note to her sister sharing the news of her imminent marriage. Cassandra did her best to sound upbeat about the situation, though in reality she felt anything but.

***

          Blaise wore his dress uniform and Cassandra could not help but notice how well it suited his commanding presence and handsome features. The uniform gave him an even greater air of authority, if that was possible. She imagined what it was like to be one of the soldiers under his command, taking orders without question, placing complete trust in his authority.

         
The idea made her knees quiver and a tiny tingle formed between her legs. Shamed at having such lusty feelings while standing next to a vicar, she lowered her eyes and did her best to focus on the words of the marriage ceremony.

        
Married. It had been her goal, though this was not her intended groom. She had no doubt  Blaise was a better match for her personally, but her objective had not been felicity but prosperity, and in that regard, Blaise could never measure up to Owen Tyndall. Regardless, a marriage to Lord Owen Tyndall was unthinkable at this point.

          
She glanced up as the vicar finished the ceremony that bound her to Blaise for all eternity. To love, honor and obey.

***

          The vicar and his wife kindly shared their breakfast with the newlyweds, though Cassandra only pushed her food around the plate.

         
Later, riding in the Sinclair family carriage with her new husband, Cassandra's stomach rumbled. Blaise raised an eyebrow at her. "I noticed you didn't eat much this morning. Are you nervous, my wife?"

          
Cassandra did not know what to say. Of course she was nervous. Her life was in total disarray. Not that it had been peaceful and calm before, but marriage to Colonel Blaise Sinclair had not been part of her grand plan.

          
Instead of sharing her anxieties with her new husband, she simply stated, "It has been an eventful couple of days."

         
Blaise squeezed her hand. "I think we have both had a few surprises recently." His chuckle and continued clasp of her hand sent warmth spiraling through her body. He held her hand in both of his, unbuttoned the closure of her glove, slowly removed the soft material. He placed a kiss on her exposed palm, then upon each finger, his eyes never leaving hers while he did so.

         
She squirmed in her seat while his sucked her index finger into his mouth and swirled his tongue along the curve of her delicate flesh.

         
By the time he finished attending to each digit, desire scorched Cassandra's nether region. A desire she did not know how to quench and didn't even understand, but something primal told her Blaise was the only man who could satisfy the pulsing need within her.

          
He gathered her to him and kissed her. Hard. She buried her hands in his hair and relaxed into him. He kissed her mouth, her eyelids, the curve of her cheek then moved down the column of her throat. Cassandra moaned and crushed her body to his. He tugged at the neckline of her dress, kissed along the slope of one shoulder and then the other before revealing her breasts. Cassandra's nipples puckered and pulsed, whether from exposure to the cool air of the carriage or in anticipation of Blaise's touch, she neither knew nor cared. When he lowered his face to pay homage to their creamy curves, she arched into him, willing him closer.

         
His fingers danced along her shoulder blades while his mouth ravaged first one aching breast and then the other.

         
Her hips bucked and swayed and she yearned to ask him to touch her beneath her skirts, but even if she had the courage, she didn't have the words. How did one ask for such a thing?

         
He laid her back gently against the upholstered seat of the carriage and gazed down upon her. Cassandra emerged from the daze of passion to realize the bodice of her dress was bunched around her waist, her hair had fallen into loose clumps around her shoulders, and her breasts were bared like a woman in a Greek painting.

         
Shocked, she covered her breasts with her hands.

         
Blaise, his eyes darkened by passion, smiled down at her while he gently removed her hands. "Oh no, little Cassie, you are mine. All mine. To look at whenever I wish it. And I expect to wish it very often, so you had better get used to it."