He’d seen more than his fair share of corpses, though, thankfully none of them had been friends or even acquaintances, let alone an only sibling. He’d not had to see his father’s body, he was in Germany when he died, but the mental vision of him inside the coffin as it rolled away into the Crematorium furnace had haunted him ever since. Despite his training, both medical and military, the sight of a dead body never failed to stir a disquieting acknowledgement of one’s own mortality. A perfectly natural reaction, and one that an adult had the maturity and experience to deal with. But a child? In circumstances like that? She probably still had nightmares. And then to feel like she was being punished for being alive? Little wonder that as a consequence, she’d grown up fearing and fighting the world, being defensive and antagonistic at the same time. Reckless and self-destructive. Searching for someone who’d show her boundaries, give her the direction she’d never had. Someone who’d hold her when she was frightened, congratulate and support her when she achieved. Love her when she felt unloved. Care enough to punish her when she stepped over the reasonable line.
And she thought she’d turned out the way she had because she was tall! That silly idea had shone through quite clearly in her agency details. She harped on about being tall and physically strong. She’d even used the word intimidating, for crying out loud. He could see how the good little actress that she’d become might intimidate a man, but only a weak, pathetic individual. The smart ones would see it was all an act, and realise that they would receive far more from her than they would have to offer in return.
They’d only touched very briefly on her marriages—she obviously didn’t want to open up about those mistakes yet. But Tom already had a good idea how the story would pan out. The plain fact was, Phoebe Simons had spent her entire life giving, whilst those around her chose only to take. Beneath that tough exterior, Phoebe was the gentlest, sweetest child Tom had ever met.
The image of a sad little girl holding an empty candy-bag flashed into his mind. And surrounding her was a bunch of other kids—chewing.
“I’ve found you, little girl. And if I have to drag you kicking and screaming from your hiding place, I will,” Tom murmured with a grin.
But, to be fair to her, he would have to set the ground rules and establish a safe word for future—and inevitable—punishment sessions. He’d taken a huge chance spanking her the way he had—twice in a row and they’d only just met! But the truth was, she’d actually been asking for it both times. Not that she’d ever admit it, either to him or herself, especially once she discovered he was a bloody shrink! Still, if their relationship were to have any chance of survival, he would have to tell her the truth. He wanted to show her off to his friends and family, and the truth would then most definitely come out. To avoid an embarrassing and potentially heart-breaking scene, he’d just have to get it over with soon and hope she didn’t tell him to get lost.
Tom shuddered at the thought. This wasn’t the States, where having an analyst was almost like a fashion accessory. In dear old Blighty, the need for analysis was still considered, by many, as the domain of the criminally insane. And Phoebe, well, she was definitely the kind of girl who held such convictions. She thought she was tough, impenetrable, hard and care-worn. Oh, how mistaken she was! His grin widened upon realising that he truly had fallen head-over-heels in love with Phoebe Simons.
* * *
The day dragged in leaden hours. Tom had spoken to Phoebe at midday and was surprised—though pleased—to note that she picked up the phone on the second ring. He had figured she would deliberately make him wait, perhaps let him leave a message and call back—another little show of defiance. But she had sounded happy and relaxed, told him that she was whizzing through the alterations to her book like a mad thing and thoroughly enjoying it. She attributed her new enthusiasm to him, though admitted with a delightful little laugh that she had had to place two cushions on her chair.
They’d arranged for him to pick her up that evening. Her car had been towed to a local garage and wouldn’t be ready for another day or two, so she was pretty well marooned in the wilderness until then. He intended to make absolutely sure it was safe once she got it back, though. There was no way he would let her drive it again unless it was in tip-top condition.
Tom’s nerves played merry hell with his stomach as he drove along the winding lanes to her secluded little hideaway. He was going to tell her tonight after they enjoyed a pleasant, though somewhat more casual, meal at her local pub. He was overjoyed when she suggested it; it meant she was willing to be seen with her new man. Quite a big step considering all the locals were used to Peter being with her.
By the time he pulled up outside the house, his belly was a tight, painful knot. It soon dissipated as Phoebe ran out to greet him and practically launched herself into his arms, wearing a bright smile and very little else.
Tom picked her up like a featherweight doll and carried her back inside, the pair of them laughing. She shivered, clad in only a pair of scarlet silk panties and bra.
“You’ll catch your death pulling little stunts like that,” he admonished with a mock frown. He set her on her feet, then pulled her close and kissed her with a passion that surprised even him. He wanted her so badly he could barely contain himself. Little vixen, she certainly knew how to hit the right spot, but there was no hidden agenda. She wasn’t trying to butter him up in order to avoid revealing some guilty deed. She was just being Phoebe—outrageous!
But passion would have to wait until his guilty secret had seen the light of day. He released her, spun her around and, patting her backside lightly, sent her off to get dressed.
An hour or so later, after a first-rate pub meal, they sat chatting to the locals, who’d made a beeline toward them almost the moment they’d spotted Phoebe with a new man. One or two of the men—the younger ones—Tom noted, were decidedly cool toward him at first. He couldn’t blame them; Phoebe was vibrant and sexy. She was the fantasy older woman for any young stud. They’d probably been secretly hoping they might have a chance now that she was single again. But the combination of his size and the possessive way he held her left no room for doubt about his claim. She loved it. Every minute of it. Tom reminded himself to have a little word with her about her flirtatious behaviour later. It was cruel and unfair, and potentially dangerous for a woman living alone in the middle of nowhere.
After they’d exhausted the barrage of questions, Tom quietly suggested to Phoebe that they go home for a nightcap, flicking up a suggestive eyebrow. She responded like a hare out of the trap and practically leapt out of her chair. He felt like a heel. There was a lot of talking to do before he could fulfil his thinly disguised promise. And afterward? Well, she might not want him to. Ever again.
* * *
Phoebe was giggling and trying to peel off his clothes the moment they walked through the door. Boy! But she was hungry. He made a few weak denials before having to tap her hand and give her a firm, “No.”
She pouted then and a confused frown blighted her brow.
“I want to talk to you first,” he said gently, though the nervous twang had resumed residence in his stomach.
She looked worried then. “But, I haven’t….”
He cut her off with a smile. “No, you haven’t done anything wrong.” He suddenly remembered the flirting, but chose to ignore it for the moment. “It’s something I need to get off my chest.”
He led her into the sitting room and sat her down on the settee. He sat next to her and drew a deep, preparatory breath.
“What’s the matter, Tom? You look like you’re about to tell me something absolutely dreadful!” Her eyes were fearful.
Tom saw a look of hopelessness cross her beautiful face. She thought she was going to be let down—again.
He reached for her face and kissed her, then looked her straight in the eye. He owed her that. It was his turn to look at her and admit a wrongdoing.
“Phoebe, I have a confession to make. And I’m not proud of my deceit. It�
��s just that....” He shook his head. “No, I’m not going to make excuses for myself. I don’t expect it from you, so why should I offer any less?”
She had a look of absolute dread on her face. He stroked her cheek softly.
“I told you I owned a chain of security firms. I do, but I inherited them from my father. For twenty years I was a Colonel in the British army. A medic.” He breathed deeply again. “A psychiatrist.”
Phoebe’s eyes widened to magnificent proportions and she drew back from him, her face registering a mixture of shock and betrayal.
“A shrink?” She shook her head, staring at him with an accusatory glare. “Yes, that figures,” she said, nodding. “It all fits into place, now. The way you stare when you’re questioning me. Like you’re a fucking interrogator! The way you pick up on the slightest little insecurity. Make me squirm with discomfort. Open me up so you can tear out my soul!” She stood up and glowered down at him, tears welling in her angry eyes. “You didn’t tell me because you knew I’d be more guarded. You waited until I’d laid myself bare, didn’t you? You’ve ... you’ve dissected me for your own perverse pleasure!” she screamed and burst into floods of tears.
This was the worst kind of reaction. The one Tom had dreaded most. He stood and reached for her. She flinched away. He wanted to grab her and hold her tight, but knew he had to give her space. To make her feel trapped now would be a big mistake.
“Phoebe, I’m sorry. I should have told you right from the start, but I promise you, even though ... yes, I’ll admit I coerced you into opening up, but it was only because I knew you needed to and I’d already fallen for you by then. Phoebe, I promise you, I do love you. So much that my heart aches every moment you’re out of my sight—my arms. I feel like a love struck bloody teenager again!”
She looked up at him, wiping tears from her cheeks. She had a hard look in her eyes. Her defences had risen again, like a mighty fortress.
“And I suppose you think that I asked for those....” She took a deep breath and straightened up. “Spankings,” she said firmly, her eyes full of defiance and rage.
Jesus, she’d caught him out there! But if he lied now, it would be his undoing.
“Yes, I do. And so do you,” he said quietly. “You’ve spent far too many years in self-analysis not to realise that, Phoebe. You’ve just veiled it in order to protect yourself.”
“There you go again!” she screamed. “Dissecting me! You can’t help yourself, can you? Stop it! You’re— “ She started to cry again. “Hurting me,” she whimpered through her tears.
That was it, he couldn’t hold back any longer. He stepped forward and pulled her to him in a strong, protective embrace. She struggled a little, but he held her firm.
“Phoebe, I never want to hurt you. Not like this. And I’m truly sorry that you feel that I’ve betrayed you. I never meant to. I need you, my love. More, probably, than you need me. I’m not short on insecurities and vulnerabilities either. And you have already turned out to be my greatest vulnerability ever. If I lost you now, because of this, I ... I don’t know what I’d do.”
She was trembling as she sobbed into his chest, but she’d ceased struggling, her body now limp with emotional exhaustion. He slipped an arm under her, lifted her off the floor and carried her back to the settee. He cradled her in his arms, rocking gently, still dreadfully fearful that she’d pull away and tell him to get out of her life forever. But as her tears subsided, she lifted her head and looked him in the eyes. It was the look of a frightened child.
“Am I really that pathetic?” she asked in a tiny voice.
Tom’s heart crashed. “No, Phoebe, no! You’re a wonderful, intelligent, strong woman. You’ve just got wounds that have never healed—we all have, to some degree. It’s just that yours have ... still are ... festering inside. They’re preventing you from being you. And now I’ve glimpsed that gentle girl inside you, I just want to bring her out permanently. So she can be mine forever.”
Her eyes fell and she shook her head slowly, breathing a little sigh of resignation. When she looked back at him, a rueful smirk tilted her lips.
“If I’m honest, I sort of enjoyed being interrogated by you. It felt like I was trapped, but in a nice way. As though the exits I’d always used were finally closed to me. At long last, I couldn’t run away. I had to face my demons.” Her eyes and smile turned a little more challenging. “But I’m well trained, Colonel. So don’t expect a full confession overnight. For now, all you get is name, rank, and serial number!”
Tom laughed with delight and utter relief, then hugged her close. “Oh, baby, I do love you so much!”
She sat back from him and a mischievous grin lit up her face.
“Does this mean I get to give you a spanking?” she said, her eyes glistening still from her tears.
Tom shook his head, feigning a little boy pout. Then he tilted his head at her and levelled a challenging stare that warned her not to even think of agreeing to his next question.
“Would you really like to try it?”
Phoebe laughed again and shook her head. “No thanks, you’re weight would probably break both my legs! I’m sure I can come up with something equally as unpleasant to punish you with. Just give me time to think of it.” She winked and resumed the mischievous smirk.
“That reminds me,” he said, “there are one or two little points we also have to discuss. You flirted with those boys in the pub tonight. Don’t do it. You live out here alone and one of them might just get it into his head that you’re serious. You’re a very desirable woman and although I know you’re just having harmless fun, they might not. So, don’t let me see you do it again, or there’ll be trouble.”
Phoebe saluted him sharply and he responded with a slap to her bottom.
“I’m serious, Phoebe. And another thing....”
She sighed and shook her head. “Shut up, Major Tom! You owe me! And it’s time to pay up. So get your cute little arse upstairs!” She was grinning from ear to ear despite an attempt to look stern.
Tom burst into laughter and swept her up as he stood. “Right you are, Ma’am. One thoroughly good seeing to coming up!”
Chapter Four
The following morning after Tom left for work, Phoebe’s rear end discomfort had diminished adequately to enable her to fulfil her promise to Murphy. She saddled up and rode down the lane with Remus’s noisy remonstrations ringing in her ears. He always complained about being left behind, but she’d tried leading and riding before and nearly ended up being torn in two when Murphy took exception to an oncoming lorry.
The sex last night was even better than the morning session and—at her request—Tom had excluded any more sensual taps to her raw behind. She figured enough was enough for a while at least. Her poor beleaguered backside had taken quite sufficient punishment for now.
He’d hugged and stroked her for over an hour after they’d made love, and that feeling was perhaps even more glorious than the sex itself. No man had ever done that. They mostly rolled over and went straight to sleep afterwards, whilst she laid awake feeling a little like a test tube for a sperm sample.
As she rode, she pondered the sudden and shocking effect Tom’s revelation had had on her. A bloody shrink, no less! It was one thing wanting to open up to a man, another thing actually doing it, but an entirely different kettle of fish when the man concerned was a trained psychiatrist and her lover! His confession had enraged her, mostly because an accelerated synopsis of everything she’d already told him had flashed through her mind in an instant. She had felt so humiliated. Particularly about the spankings. Yes, if she were honest about it, of course she had asked for them. Both of them. Unconsciously at the time, maybe, but the fact he knew it made her feel perverse and ashamed all over again, despite the knowledge that he had been an active ... spankophile—yuck! That word again—for years!
But the feelings she had for him had already grown too strong to cast aside. She loved him, dammit, despite the persistent nagging
of her inner voice that told her she was getting in way over her head far, far too quickly.
“Love at first sight! Bloody ridiculous at your age, you soppy old bat!” she scolded herself with a little laugh. “What do you reckon, Murphy, young man? Am I being an absolute fool?”
Murphy snorted coincidentally, and Phoebe laughed aloud.
“Quite right, my precious, quite right!”
She rode on, enjoying the fresh air and—for February—a rare glimpse of sunshine. She’d decided to take a longer route than normal, seeing as she’d pretty well finished the urgent work on her book and could afford a little more time to herself. It meant a half mile walk along the main road before reaching the next leg of the bridle path, but Murphy’s road sense had improved considerably over the last few months and she figured he was about ready to face heavier traffic. He handled the speeding cars well, and she chatted and patted as he walked, reassuring him and rewarding his courage, but the ominous rumble of a large oncoming vehicle began to unsettle him. They’d reached a fairly sharp bend in the road—only a matter of a few hundred yards from the bridle path—when a milk tanker steamed around the corner. Murphy suddenly leapt onto the steep bank and promptly stumbled. His back legs slipped out from underneath him. Phoebe’s seat was very good, however, and she managed to stay on board at that point, crooning gentle reassurance despite the horse’s fear.
The tanker slammed on his breaks and the sudden hiss of air sent Murphy into a wild panic, he scrabbled to his feet and put in a huge buck, followed by a series of leaps and plunges. Phoebe lost her balance and slid sideways out of the saddle, landing awkwardly on the concrete. The tanker had managed to slow down enough to avoid the panicking horse, but could do little to help Phoebe who’d held onto the reins and was being dragged along the hard surface like a rag doll. Fortunately, Murphy stopped a few yards further down the road and stood snorting and blowing, staring at the offending ‘monster’ now standing silently by the verge.
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