Mastering Maeve (3 page)

“Don’t [
smack
] you [
smack
] ever [
smack
] raise [
smack
] your [
smack
] hand [
smack
] to me [
smack
]
young lady [
smack
]!”

Maeve was too shell-shocked to do anything other than yell. She kicked her legs furiously, but he simply pinned them between his so she was lying across one knee and held down by the other. She thumped at his muscular thighs with her fists, but she may as well have been a fly landing on his strong legs. She became aware that he was pulling down her leggings. The humiliation would have been totally unbearable except she didn’t have time to deal with it at that precise moment. The urgency to make the thrashing stop was her most pressing need.

“Let me go, you bastard,” she shouted. “I’ll see you locked up for this.”

“Let me remind you who cast the first stone,” he replied, still thwacking down on her behind. “I will have to publicly bear the humiliation of your temper; at least your marks will be hidden.”

“Ok, I’m sorry, please stop. Please.” By now her shouts of anger had changed to cries of pain and despair.

But it didn’t stop, not until she desisted fighting and lay prostrate across his knee, simply accepting her fate with tears streaming down her cheeks. Once she ceased struggling, he stopped spanking, his anger apparently burned out.

Chapter Two

As Maeve lay motionless and non-resistant, Larry began to realise the enormity of what he had done. He could sense the heat emanating from her behind and could see the deep crimson blush through her white lace panties. The masterful, self-righteous sense he had felt only a moment ago abandoned him as he realised he had effectively assaulted a woman almost ten years his junior, and one he barely knew at that. He didn’t know what had come over him. Sure, he was angry that she had slapped him across the face, but he knew his reaction was totally over the top.

Larry’s anger slipped out of his body. He returned to his normal controlled self and his gut instincts kicked in. Fear, shame, and arousal permeated his core. Fear because he had no idea how she was going to react, shame as he knew she hadn’t a hope against his sheer size; he felt like a bully. But yet a darker shame was the arousal he felt once she had entirely submitted and stopped struggling. For that brief moment in time, this lovely young woman was helpless in his grasp and it was a high he could not articulate.

Guilt or fear won. He didn’t know which. Once he came to his senses, his automatic instinct was damage limitation. When he took her across his knee, his only thought was to teach the little brat a lesson in basic manners and not underestimating a man’s strength. The way he saw it, she was the one who overstepped the mark in the first place by striking him across the face. She was a spitfire in need of taming. His rational brain held a different belief: she had smacked him across the face, yes, he knew that and it would be acknowledged in a court of law, but whether his reaction would be considered reasonable self-defence was very doubtful in his own jurisdiction and the fact that he was in another legal territory scared the pants off him.

As he released her, he was already forming the contract for the hotel in his mind, willing to invest in her; not so much because he believed in her abilities, but because maybe she would not instigate proceedings against him. He had spent ten years running a very successful ranch, dealing with tough-nosed rivals and deceptive ranch hands and had learned plenty of lessons along the way, but his most valuable lesson had been to evaluate the opposition and now he was going to study Maeve to figure out his next move. There was no doubt she could now get money out of him, but he could dictate the terms if he played his cards right.

Larry braced himself for the backlash as he released Maeve. He almost apologised but stopped himself before it was out of his mouth. That would have been as good as an admission of liability and he knew that would be a big mistake. It was smarter to watch her reaction.

Maeve slowly and cautiously raised herself once she realised the ordeal was over. He could sense her hesitation.

“It’s ok, honey, you’re all done. I think you know not to lash out like that again,” he said calmly, as if it was an everyday occurrence. He really hoped she couldn’t sense the pounding of his heart in his chest. As she stood, she returned the leggings to their rightful place, but not before he spied another glimpse of the red hot cheeks through the white lace panties. Straight away, he knew that would be an image that would haunt him for years to come. His dick twitched at the beauty of it. He was momentarily sorry he had not lowered her panties too, when he had his chance, but then he was horrified by his own innermost thoughts.

Both of them stood looking at each other, squaring one another off, for a moment or two. Then Larry pulled her into his arms to prevent her running off before he got to have his say.

“You’re a bright young woman with lots of ideas, but you have to learn to control your life. If you can show responsibility and the figures add up, I’ll back this place.” He thought he had her interest from the momentary look of relief in her eyes, but he realised she was still in shock.

“When you’re ready to talk, we can work it out,” he promised as he tugged her in for an awkward sort of a hug. He inhaled the scent of her essence coupled with the smell of the sea, corrupted by a sweet perfume. He never wanted to forget that fragrance and hoped someday he would learn the name of it, but he knew it would never be the same on another woman, as it was her distinctive scent that excited him.

Lawrence Williamson the Fourth knew something monumental had just happened in his life. He also knew it was going to cost him, but he realised he almost looked forward to paying the price. In his mind she was within his grasp already. He was also fully aware that in
her
mind he was now someone to be feared or to be paid back. While her sweet youthful behind peeping out of her underwear, blushing from his touch, was a vision etched in his mind forever, the horror on her face was another story. He wished he could wipe it clean, start again.

“You’re stark raving mad,” she said, but quietly, her fire temporarily tamed. “You think I want to have an on-going business arrangement with you after
that
?
How long before you try to do it again?”

“If you keep your hands to yourself, you might encourage others to do the same,” he pointed out. “Now go tidy yourself up and wash your face. You are to meet me in the bar when you’re finished work so we can talk this through,” he added in a commanding tone. He didn’t want to give her a chance to argue, and he needed to thrash out the potential arrangement before she’d had a chance to sleep on it and her rebellious nature had time to rise again.

He watched her unconsciously follow his instructions, standing to fix her attire and tidy her hair. She blew her nose and gingerly walked away. It was obvious from her slow deliberate movements that she was in not inconsiderable discomfort. Again he was aware of his arousal. Then shame about his excitement. She was far too young for him to be messing with, but that neat, firm, rounded bottom, and the way she had succumbed to his correction, had essentially made his common sense fly out the window.

The first thing he did was put a call in to his lawyer. He wanted two draft contracts, the essence of which he had already formed in his mind. One paying a small amount of damages in return for silence. Another substantially more generous one, offering to act as an investor in order to keep the hotel as a going concern and fund the restoration of the museum section. He prayed hard that the contract Maeve signed would be the latter; he wanted to keep this young lady in his sphere of influence.

Larry knew he would probably have a better chance of getting her to accept the offer of backing if he went over her head and involved her grandmother and his father, as he knew they were both behind the project, but it had suddenly become very important to him to find a way to work with Maeve specifically. And if not, he still had his reputation to uphold.

* * *

Maeve returned to her room and surveyed the damage, both to her behind and her pride. Larry was going to be made to pay for this. She considered her options. She could report him to the local police, but the thought of explaining that Larry had upended her over his lap was just so humiliating. It irked her to know that Larry was probably anticipating that her embarrassment would prevent her making a formal complaint and she was playing right into his hands. Even aside from her mortification, she was afraid Sean would hear of it and go totally over the top because of his friendship with her. A letter from her solicitor would be just as difficult as she’d have to outline the nature of the assault. She’d have to think some more about it; maybe she could go to one of the big solicitors’ firms in the city—one of those no-win, no-fee types that were always advertising their services. At least they’d be anonymous.

As she stood under the soothing shower stream, she became aware of a different type of heat. Her bottom stung, but she had a strange pleasant sensation in her feminine parts as the water eased the ache away. She felt confused by her body’s reaction. Surely this couldn’t be right? And as she reflected, she realised that humiliating and all as the experience was, she had pushed him. She had hit him first. She managed a wry grin as she made a mental note never to strike a man again, as the outcome was definitely uncertain. While she grudgingly accepted that she may have contributed to his actions, there was no way she was letting him get away with treating her like that. She was determined not to show any sign of weakness.

Maeve dressed in her usual uniform of knee-length black skirt and white blouse and wished that instead of her trademark figure-hugging pencil line skirts, she had one that allowed a little more ease of movement. Every move she made caused the skirt to rub against her tender behind. Her main concern now was that
he
would not be in the restaurant for dinner this evening. That would be too much degradation to bear in one day; she really needed some space to deal with her mixed bag of emotions. Maeve already knew he intended seeing her in the bar after her shift, but she’d try to keep away.

Naturally, Lady Luck had abandoned her and Larry and his father were indeed at dinner. She managed to fob them off on another waitress and made sure she was constantly busy. It annoyed her that every time she managed a surreptitious glance,
Mr Big Bully Williamson the Fourth
seemed to be studying her. She was so not ready to deal with him yet. She really needed to talk this through with someone, but who the hell did you discuss such a thing with? The only one she could even conceive discussing it with—Orla, her roommate from college and best friend—was on holiday in Spain. Even at a push, if she considered her other college roomies, they were on their way to the U.S. and it wasn’t exactly an email type conversation. For the first time since she had finally come to terms with losing her parents, Maeve felt totally and utterly alone.

It was a huge relief to her when she saw the two men finally leave the dining room. She had thought they’d never go. It was only then that she realised that she had been half-holding her breath all evening. Jaysus! This was complicated. Maeve knew she would have to show a bit more bravado if she was to put him in his box. But somehow just seeing
Mr Slap-Happy Williamson the Fourth
had her like a meek little pussycat. She knew she’d have to get over this ridiculous timidity by the next time she saw him or he would feel he’d won.

“You’re to cover the bar when you’re done. Mary has to leave early,” Bridie informed her as she cleared away the last remaining dishes.

Maeve wasn’t one bit impressed. Her ass was still stinging, she was emotionally drained, and she had been up since nine a.m. having only gone to bed at four. No doubt it would be after two a.m. by the time the diehards were ready to give up the ghost. As long as it was only the locals and not that damn American, she would just about manage to keep something resembling a smile on her face.

She grimaced as she entered the bar and the traditional Irish music blasted her out of it. She had completely forgotten what day it was. It had all the hallmarks of a late night as the best of the local traditional Irish music bands always played the last Friday of every month in the bar and the session never ended early. And of course all of the residents were there, including the Americans. On the plus side though, the bar was busy so Maeve knew she would have no time to do anything more than dole out drinks and smiles. She couldn’t help furtively casting a sidelong glance in
his
direction every so often.

He was handsome for a man of his age, she supposed, in that all-American, clean-cut, square-jawed kind of way. But when he thought nobody was looking, he had a solemn stern look that she didn’t quite warm to. He was perfectly capable of turning on the charm offensive in company, but she felt that the brooding look was probably more natural to him. His dad, on the other hand, had an easy smile that seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face. She felt much more at ease with him, happy to be on a first-name basis with him, whereas she still hadn’t a clue what to call his son, even though he could be no more than nine or ten years older than she was. He just didn’t invite familiarity. And yet he’d had the cheek to call her ‘honey’ earlier after abusing her like that. How dare he ‘honey’ her? She drove these thoughts out of her head as a customer ordered a round of seven drinks to be memorised. She had to keep her eye on the ball. When he came to order a couple of drinks, she refused to smile, even when he offered her one.

“No, thank you, I’m working,” she replied with an icy chill. She left his tip sitting on the counter. She didn’t want his guilt offerings, at least not paltry ones. She’d go for the big prize if she decided to pursue justice.