“But surely he didn’t mean—”
“Look, I’ve heard enough. You’re just makin’ excuses and I won’t pardon your behavior.” As he spoke, he turned me around and began to working the buttons on the back of my dress. “I told you to go to bed and you disobeyed. You were putting yourself in danger to clean the ceiling, even after you promised not to overdo it.” He pushed the dress down until it puddled around my feet and signaled for me to step out of it. I pushed it aside with my foot and no sooner than I did, Clay pulled me back between his thighs. “What’s more, you made me think you meant to obey when you knew you didn’t intend to.”
“That’s not exactly—”
He silenced me with a glare. “Don’t try and talk yourself out of this, you’ll only make it worse. Now, is there anything we need to add to your list of misdeeds? Did I miss anything?”
I started to shake my head, but then I realized I’d probably do better to come clean. “I moved the couch and scrubbed behind it,” I admitted in a small, girlish voice. “I also swept the floors.”
“I’ll say this for you, Maggie, at least when you mess up you take it all the way.”
I peeked at him to see if he was pokin’ fun, but no such luck. He was as commanding and immovable as he’d been a minute ago.
“Thank you for your honesty. I ‘spect my job’s clear. I need to make sure you remember to obey me in the future.”
“I will,” I whispered, pleading, even though I knew it wouldn’t do a lick of good.
“Over my knee.”
I obeyed reluctantly, but laid myself over his lap nonetheless—I knew better than to upset him further when he had punishment in mind—pushing my bottom up toward him.
“Let’s get these right on out of the way,” he said, untying my drawers.
“I’m sorry,” I whimpered as he began peppering my bared bottom with light smacks.
“I’m sure you are, but not for the right reason. You’re not sorry you disobeyed me, you’re only sorry I caught you out.”
I didn’t know how to answer that and Clay saved me the trouble by smacking my behind smartly, first on one cheek and then the other. I bit down on my lip as the sting spread over my cheeks. I figured I better save my voice—I might need it later on, for I was sure and certain this spanking was far from over.
How right I was. Clay’s hand paddled up one side of my hiney and then down the other until I couldn’t help but cry out with each blistering lick. He lectured me while he blistered my bottom and I didn’t know what hurt more—the hard, punishing strike of his hand, or the disappointment I heard in his voice.
“You promised to obey, remember.”
“You know right well I remember,” I said, sticking my lip out petulantly. I wished he’d stop all the scolding and get on with the spanking, if that was what he intended. Facing either was hard enough—both was nearly unthinkable.
“I don’t know,” he replied, his voice somber. “You’re anything but obedient any time it suits your purpose.”
With an affronted gasp, I tried to fling myself from his lap, but he held me firm. “Let me go!” I protested, kicking my legs.
“What in all hell has gotten into you, woman?” he growled, beginning his assault on my tender backside anew. This time, his hand slammed into my already pink fanny with vigor, the licks coming faster than I could count.
I wiggled and writhed for all I was worth, but it didn’t slow Clay in the slightest. Each time his hand connected with my sore behind, I cried out from the pain. He was spanking the same spot over and over again, and it was almost too much to bear. Once I could no longer hold back the cries of pain—it was a mercy I’d lasted this long—the tears were quick to follow, coursing down my cheeks in hot, humiliated rivers.
Still, Clay’s hand cracked down again and again until I wondered if his arm would ever tire. My cries turned to sobs of contrition as I lay over his lap, well and truly spent.
As if having me limp and exhausted over his knee was a sign he’d been waiting for, Clay stopped the spanking, resting his hand on the small of my back. “That was for trying to escape the hidin’ you had comin’.”
“Yes, sir,” I whimpered. “I am sorry, truly.”
“Now, for the matter of your disobedience.”
I gasped, struggling to sit up. This time, Clay let me, though the minute my bottom hit his hard thigh, I regretted moving at all. “I thought…”
“You were punished for fighting me during a punishment. Now, go fetch that new hairbrush of yours and we can get this business behind us.”
“But—”
“Not another word, Maggie, unless you want me to add extra licks to what you already have comin’.”
I hightailed it over to the bureau, but from the moment I laid my hand on the cool handle of the brush, my feet felt nailed down to the floor and nearly impossible to move. I turned to face Clay, who watched with cool, impassive eyes as I walked over, slow as molasses. How could he keep his feelings off his face? I was sure I was plenty easy to read just now. Every inch of me had to be saying please don’t.
Still, I handed over the brush and he took it without hesitation. “You understand why I’m spankin’ you, don’t you?”
I reckoned he’d keep on whether I did or not, so I didn’t answer.
“Maggie?”
“Yes, I understand,” I mumbled. I found myself pulled back over his lap and braced myself for the first swinging smack of the brush. Instead, Clay surprised me by rubbing the brush in circles over my bared bottom. Waiting for a paddlin’ you knew was comin’ was nothing short of awful.
“I hope you know how much I hate havin’ to tan that adorable bottom of yours. I’d much wear you out in another fashion entirely.”
I knew he was trying to make me feel better, but I didn’t think anything would accomplish that at present. “Please, can you make short work of it, Clay?”
“Alright.” He patted my rump gently before pinning me down with his hand on the small of my back. As soon as he had, he let the brush fly against my bottom.
I was in tears from the first swat. And though there probably weren’t more than a dozen, each laid a fire into my tender skin that I doubted would be able to be cooled with any amount of salve. By the time he lay the brush aside, I was nothing more than a sobbing mess, good for nothing but being put to bed.
“Come here, it’s alright.” Clay laid me down with gentle hands and slid his solid form beside me, hugging me to him. “It’s alright, all’s forgiven now.”
I used to love it when he comforted me after a chastisement. Normally, I buried my head in his chest and wept, clinging to handfuls of his shirt. Now, I turned away from him, wanting to hide my puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks.
“Maggie? Maggie, what is it?”
“You’re not being fair.” I spoke the accusation so softly I didn’t expect him to hear, but when I felt him stiffen beside me, I knew that he had.
“What am I to do with you, woman? You earned that whippin’ and that’s all I’ma say on the matter.”
“Not the spanking,” I protested, sniffling.
“What then?”
“You keepin’ me locked in this house like I’m a leper or some such. I need fresh air, Clay. I need sunshine. If I don’t get it, I think I’m like to go mad.”
He was silent for a long time and it made me nervous. When he cleared his throat, I did some tensing of my own, hoping I hadn’t been a burr in his side all over again. “Turn around, sweetheart. I want to look at you.”
I did as he bade, wincing at the brief moment my sore hiney touched the sheets. If I wasn’t careful, I was sure the heat radiating from my rear would cause the sheets to stick. That would be quite an unpleasant surprise indeed.
“Listen, Maggie, I’m only tryin’ to do what’s best for you. If I’ve been a little over-protective, well, I can’t say no one would blame me. You went through somethin’ so awful, when you lost that other baby. I don’t want that to happen ag
ain, I don’t think either of our hearts could take it.” He reached over and stroked my wet cheek. “More’n that, you’re my wife. I’m worried about you, is all, darlin’. Losin’ a baby would be bad enough, but if I lost you, Maggie… well, I don’t think I’d be much longer for this world.”
My eyes widened in surprise. Why, he couldn’t mean that! But as I studied his face, I could see quite clearly that he did. I saw the love pouring from his eyes, from his gentle smile and the soft, considerate way he touched me. I felt my heart squeeze tight in my chest and knew that I’d been nothing but a fool. “It was foolish,” I admitted, chewing my lower lip. “I was worried about the house… I want them to like me.”
“Like you? Maggie, they’re bound to be just as crazy about you as I am, once they get to know you.”
“I don’t know about all that,” I said with a begrudging laugh.
“Sure they will. And as for the house, I’ll tend to the chores, just as I told you I would. If there’s somethin’ that needs doin’, you’re to tell me. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I said with a sigh.
“I mean it, Maggie. I’ll break this brush over your bottom if I need to and then put an order in for a new one next time we go to town.”
“I’ll obey, Clay. I promise.”
His smile widened and he leaned down to kiss me sweetly on the mouth. “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“No, I s’pose not. It gives you some extra time to work on your flapjacks.”
“Oh, so that’s what this is about?” he teased, strumming his finger underneath my chin. “You’re afraid you’ll have to admit I’m the better cook once and for all.”
I returned his smile and allowed myself to be pulled into his arms. I was plumb tuckered out, without an ounce of fight left in my body. All that was left for me to do was give in and obey my husband. I snuggled closer to him, sighing sleepily. It didn’t feel so hard just now, if it kept me in the safety of his arms.
I don’t know how long I slept, only that when I awoke, Clay wasn’t with me. I yawned, stretching my arms above my head and debating going back to sleep. I thought I just might when Clay poked his head in.
“You just wakin’ up, sleepyhead?”
“You told me not to overdo it.” I grinned at him.
“There you go with the sass again, Mags. Can you not go even an hour without needing your bottom spanked?” His eyes gleamed with laughter as he spoke. “Why don’t you join me at the table for some supper? It’ll get you out of bed, at least.”
Only then did I realize I was lyin’ abed without a stitch of clothing on. I climbed out of bed and put my underthings and my dress back on before walking out of the room. I was glad Clay wasn’t sore at me anymore—though my butt still ached plenty—but I still didn’t find my forced confinement a laughing matter. Might be that I never would, but I’d learn to live it, for the time bein’.
The instant I stepped out of the bedroom, I turned my head from side to side, wonderin’ if my eyesight was beginning to fail, and me not even thirty. The house I was looking at couldn’t be the one I’d fallen asleep in hours ago. Perhaps I was still asleep, after all, dreaming—had to be, it was the only thing that would explain the sudden change.
“You like it?”
I turned to see my Clay watching me, his arms folded over his chest and his mustache twitching. “You did this?” I asked in awe.
“I told you I would. Did you truly think I’d have folks over to the house and embarrass you? You’ve got to learn to trust me, darlin’.”
I walked over to him in quick strides, ignoring my bottom as it protested the sudden movement. As I neared, he opened his arms and I pitched myself into them. “You’re wonderful.” I didn’t know many husbands that would take the time to sweep the floors, scrub them after and do laundry to boot. It looked like he’d even dusted and rubbed down the furniture, because it shone like new.
“You’re pretty wonderful yourself,” he murmured, lowering his head to kiss me.
I leaned my head back, letting our lips melt together. I returned his embrace eagerly, slipping my lips open to allow his tongue in. Kissing Clay thrilled me right down to my very bones every time as though we’d never kissed before. And yet, with time our passion only seemed to grow.
As much as I was enjoying the kiss, I pulled apart when I smelled something burning. “Ah, Clay? About you becomin’ the family cook…”
“What are you—oh, what the devil!”
I couldn’t help but smile as he took off for the kitchen at a run.
Chapter Ten
I needn’t have fretted so—the new preacher and his wife were as polite and kind as anybody I’d ever met. They put me at ease straight away with their warm, genuine smiles and Miz Harding was sweet enough to set your teeth to achin’. I thought she and Abigail would get on well.
What’s more, it was clear from her rounded belly that she, too, was in a family way. It wasn’t proper to speak on in front of the men, so I got her alone as quickly as I politely could and we began whispering about pregnancy woes and overprotective husbands. I could easily commiserate—the preacher sounded ‘bout as bad as Clay!
“He hardly lets me leave the house,” she moaned. “I was thrilled when he told me your husband had asked us to dinner, let me tell you.”
“At least he lets you leave the house,” I said, shaking my head wryly.
“You poor dear.” She patted my hand sympathetically. “Maybe if you sweetened his tea some…” Her eyes twinkled at me and I bit back a giggle. Perhaps she was more like Libby than Abby, after all.
“Oh, no, I’ve had my fill of that conversation, believe me.”
She nodded knowingly. “Daniel can be rather… hard-handed at times himself.”
I was so lost in our conversation that I hadn’t noticed the men move from the supper table back into the parlor. “What are you hopin’ for, if I might ask?”
Miz Harding opened her mouth to reply, but the preacher cut her off. “Whatever the good lord gives us.”
I nodded to him, wondering if anybody could sneak anything past the ol’ sin buster.
“Chow’s ready, how ‘bout we scoot to the table?”
I hid my smile behind my hand—Clay only suggested scootin’ when he was like to starve to death. I had to admit, though, the chicken he’d cooked smelled good enough to set my tummy to rumbling.
I rose to my feet and was walking toward the table when Miz Harding caught my eye.
“Boy,” she mouthed.
I glanced at her husband to see his attention was on the dinner table before I mouthed back, “Girl.”
After which, the two of us took our seats and enjoyed one of the best meals I’d had in a long time. By the time the meal was over, I’d laughed so much I’d put a stitch in my side. Preacher’s face had remained still as a stone, which for some odd reason, struck me as even funnier.
“These biscuits are delicious, Maggie.” Miz Harding said as she nibbled. “Might I borrow your recipe?”
I exchanged a glance at my husband, whose mustache was twitching again. “Clay made them, in truth.”
“Yes, Maggie is the biscuit-burner in this family.”
“Why, I never!” I declared, slapping my fork down as I grinned at him. He winked at me, and we both began to laugh. Once I caught the perplexed look on Preacher Harding’s face, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to stop.
* * *
“Maggie, come here for a moment, won’t you?”
I’d been knitting another pair of booties—Clay had brought me three new balls of yarn from his last trip into town—but at the sound of his voice, I slipped the needles into the bag at my feet and went to the rocking chair he sat in. When he patted his knee, I readily took a seat, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“I made a point of seein’ Doc when I was in town yesterday.”
“Oh?”
“Well, I told him about some of the trouble you’re havin’… stayin’ coop
ed up and all… and he thinks maybe I am bein’ a bit too, ah… well, he says you can get out more, is all. You still want to be careful, and—”
I hardly heard his cautionary admonishing, I was so excited. I squeezed his neck tighter, starting to squeal with excitement as I bounced up and down on his lap.
“Now, wait just a minute, Maggie. You settle down, ‘cause you’re not leavin’ my lap until you hear me out.”
I stilled on his lap and said, “Yes, sir,” demurely, though I could hardly hold back the grin that wanted to brand itself to my face at the unexpected good news.
“You still have to be careful, very careful, y’hear? I mean it, Maggie. No heavy lifting, no horse ridin’ and you will rest for at least four hours a day. Is that clear enough for you?”
I was already nodding. “Yes, sir. Can I work in the garden?”
“Yes, provided you’re not moving manure or anything. If that needs doin’, you let me know.”
“And I can go for walks?”
“You can, though I won’t deny I’d rather you not go alone. If you must go alone, just be sure to tell me.”
“Am I allowed to be happy now?”
“As long as it’s just a small speck of happy,” he teased, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “And there’s one more thing we need to discuss.”
Even his firm voice couldn’t wipe the smile from my face.
“I was thinkin’, in honor of your thirtieth birthday I want to take you to supper in town.”
“Truly?” I exclaimed. Without waiting for an answer, I hugged him tight enough to give him trouble breathin’. “That’ll be next week.” I leapt up from his lap and began to pace excitedly. “I’m going to go to the garden and check on my tomatoes and then I’ll go for a stroll—”
“Whoa there, slow down,” he laughed. “There’ll be plenty enough time for all that later. Right now, I can think of a few ways you can stay busy without leavin’ the house.” Without another word, Clay took my hand and pulled me toward the bedroom, his intentions becoming clear.
Maggie Meets Her Match Page 18
