by Zoe Blake
The problem was none of the possible illnesses matched what was happening to his little one. A fever, a slowed heartbeat and terrible stomach cramps. Every time she groaned and clutched her middle it was like a knife to his heart. Despite his best efforts to hold her at bay, to only use her for his body’s needs, the little chit had gotten under this skin. He adored her smiles and the funny way her nose wrinkled when she was deep in thought. Her innocent appeal that masked an insatiable need for his particular form of discipline and sexual gratification had captured his heart. She was more than he could have hoped for in a precious little one. And now her life was possibly in danger, and he was failing to protect her. It was his duty to keep her safe, and he was failing.
Lucian walked into his bed chamber. He had carried her here the first morning she’d been burning with fever. She looked especially small tucked beneath the heavy covers of his massive bed. She looked so pale and tiny. He placed his large hand over her delicate one. She felt cold to the touch.
He was losing her.
He thought of how she’d looked the morning when he gifted her with the kedgeree hatchling. Her very own falcon to train. How she purred and cooed over the little bird. When she announced she would train her bird to fly but not to hunt, Lucian had just smiled. The bird’s primal nature would win out…just like his primal nature always rose to the fore whenever Corinne was near. It was a constant need to dominate and possess yet protect and please.
She’d been so happy that morning. She’d promised to return his gift with one of her own. Flowers. Nanny had mentioned she had picked flowers for him. Such a sweet childish gesture…so like her.
Lucian paused. Flowers. She had been picking flowers.
“Nanny! Nanny, come here,” he shouted as he leaned over Corinne’s still form.
“Your Grace! I really must insist you keep your voice down around Corinne,” scolded Nanny. Her irreverence for his title showing how concerned she was for her charge.
“Where are the flowers Corinne picked for me the other day?”
“I believe she put them in your study. Should I have them brought in here? Do you think she would enjoy the sight of them when she awakens?”
“Absolutely not. I am going to my study. Have the gardener summoned here.”
“The gardener?” murmured Nanny.
Nanny stared at his retreating back. She was very much afraid Corinne’s fever was catching. His lordship seemed to be feverishly out of his mind!
Lucian threw open the door of his study and scanned the darkened room. The item he sought was placed on the edge of his desk. Grabbing the porcelain vase, he examined the flowers displayed. Though they were rather wilted from being picked days earlier, it was just as he suspected. There were several long stems with bright purple blooms.
He returned to the master suite. The gardener was already there looking terribly out of place and very anxious.
“Wolfsbane.”
The gardener paled.
“Grab all the men on the estate and search the grounds. I want every stem found and destroyed.”
The gardener nodded his head furiously. Too anxious to speak.
“Speak man. Will she die? What do we do from here?”
“May I…may I see the girl, Your Grace?” asked the gardener hesitantly.
Lucian gestured with his hand for the gardener to follow him into the bed chamber.
The gardener leaned over the bed and took in Corinne’s wane appearance and shallow breathing.
“When did she pick the flowers, Mrs. Canon?”
“A few days ago, at dusk, Mr. Trellany.”
“Well, Your Grace, I’m no learned man like those doctors you’ve been bringing here, but I’d bet my life your little wife is going to be fine. The poor thing just got a bit of the poison from touching them. I can’t imagine she actually ate one of the blooms. The poison just needs to work itself out.”
“What should we do?”
The gardener shifted on his feet, hesitant to give commands to the master of the estate. “Well…again, I’m no learned man but…I would open up those curtains and let some cool air and sunshine into the room.”
“Damn that Dr. Hodge for claiming she needed the illness sweated out in a warm, closed room,” muttered Lucian as he tore at the heavy drawn curtains.
“Mrs. Canon, if you can ask Chef to prepare a nice bone broth. My ma used to spoon that into any poor soul who had touched the wolfsbane, seemed to do them a bit of good.”
“Right away, Mr. Trellany.” Nanny scurried out of the room, looking more relieved than she had in days.
Lucian turned his attention to the bed. Corinne had made the smallest whimper and he was immediately at her side, brushing her hair back and whispering endearments.
“I’ll just be seeing to the grounds, Your Grace. Rest assured there won’t be a bit of the nasty stuff by nightfall once we are done.”
Lucian nodded his head in assent without taking his eyes off Corinne.
If we shadows have offended, think but this, and all is mended, that you have but slumber’d here, while these visions did appear. And this weak and idle them, no more yielding but a dream.
Lucian looked up from the text of Shakespeare’s Midsummer’s Night Dream he was reading to see Corinne observing him with a strange look in her eye.
It had been a fortnight since her brush with death. The beautiful pink blush to her cheeks had returned. Her deep green eyes which had looked so vacant, now sparkled with mirth. He still insisted that she rest in his bed. In fact, after this, he doubted he would allow her to sleep in the nursery again.
The problem was, he was denying his own primal nature. Ruthlessly suppressing a driving need.
He wanted to see that same beautiful pink blush on her lush bottom cheeks after feeling the sting of his riding crop. Her deep green eyes? He wanted to see them sparkle with unwanted desire. He was a monster. He must be. A walking devil. To want to continue as they had begun. He missed the challenge of her submission. Missed the feel of her body as it trembled with fear and want at his touch.
He missed the hunt.
Corinne watched Lucian’s lips move as he read the final passages of one of her favorite plays. Still she could not stop thinking of one of Shakespeare’s other plays, The Taming of the Shrew. One scene in particular. Lord help her…the spanking scene.
Thou must be married to no man but me, for I am he born to tame you, Kate, And bring you from a wild Kate.
True, she may not be a termagant like Kate, but she was quickly learning she craved her Papa’s discipline none the less. Craved the moment of fearful anticipation as she waited for him to enter his chamber, not knowing what sort of depravity or forced submission he may have for her. Craved the lingering feel of his hand on her skin, the burn, the sting. Truth be told, after so many years of stagnant existence, trapped in the mundane repetitiveness of the abbey, it was exhilarating being his little one. Her heart raced at just the thought. Never having control. Her world always spinning. She was a moon around his sun. He made her feel deeper emotions…more intense emotions than she’d thought capable.
And now she feared it was all lost. He treated her like a wounded bird. Too delicate to even touch. She missed when he would pursue and dominate her.
She missed the chase.
Somehow she needed to show him that she had fully recovered. That while she appreciated the angel he had become during her illness, she wanted her Lord Lucifer back.
Chapter 10
“Mrs. Canon!”
Lord Talon’s roar could be heard down the hall. Mrs. Canon came scurrying into the room. Usually she would have given a discreet knock and waited respectively on the threshold before entering his grace’s master chamber, but over the last few weeks, all had changed with her charge convalescing in his bed. She had taken one of the guest rooms down the hall to be close. To be certain, she was not sure where his grace slept…she suspected he did not. By the look of strain on his face, she would not be
surprised to learn the upholstered chair pulled up to the bed near Corinne had been his bed these long weeks past. She had served the Talon household since she was a maid herself and his grace just a boy. He could deny it all he wanted. He could try to hold Corinne at arm’s length and only treat her like a treasured doll, but Mrs. Canon knew better.
The man cared for his little wife and her for him. More than they both probably realized.
“Where is she?”
“Whatever do you mean, Your Grace? Who?”
“Corinne! Where is Corinne?”
“Why sleeping of course,” responded an indignant Mrs. Canon as she marched past Lucian to peek into his bed chamber.
Only a ruffled pile of bed linens greeted her gaze.
“Oh my! She was only just here!”
Lucian ran a hand over his face.
His little bird had flown again.
“Tell the servants to check the grounds. I will check in the nursery to see if she’s been there to gather her things.”
Lucian ran down the hall, taking the stairs two at a time. Throwing open the door to the nursery, the room seemed quiet and undisturbed. He was about to turn to leave when a glimpse of black caught his eye.
Walking further into the room, he stood over Corinne’s small crib. Reaching up, he touched the smooth, cold surface of one large, black marble bead.
All ten were pushed to the far right of the silver rod.
In all the time she had lived under his roof, never had Corinne acted out enough to earn all ten beads. He would have remembered that punishment.
In fact, when he was in this room a few days ago to retrieve a doll she’d requested, he specifically noticed that only three beads had been pushed to the right. If he recalled, she had stuck her tongue out at Mrs. Canon in a fit of pique. He smiled to think of the punishment he had planned for that little stunt of hers. Her jaw would have ached for days and she definitely would have thought twice about using her tongue so recklessly. He never got a chance, the next morning she had scared him and the entire household by falling ill.
Ever since that morning, he had not touched her. Worried she was still too ill. Too delicate. Too breakable.
A hard glint crossed Lucian’s black eyes. His shoulders tensed as he threw his head back to sniff the air, like a beast tracking its mate.
His little bird had just sent him a message.
She was ready to play again.
The hunt was on.
Corinne’s heart raced as she crouched in her hiding place. She could hear Lucian’s shout when he discovered her gone. She was pretty sure despite its enormous size, the entire castle could hear Lucian’s shout at that moment. Not for the first time she hoped what she was doing was right. She hoped Papa understood. Otherwise, she would have risked his wrath for nothing.
Crouching lower when she heard a loud bang out in the entry hall, Corinne tried not to sneeze as the beast’s fur tickled her nose.
Lucian paced the entry hall. He had instructed the servants to retire to the servants’ hall early this eve. He wanted the castle free of prying eyes. After doing so, he had searched all the upper bed chambers. Nothing. She had never even set foot in the east wing, so he was fairly certain she must be in a room she was familiar with off the entry hall, which left the dining room…or…
A tiny sneeze emanating from behind his study door caught his attention.
Lucian smiled.
He had trapped his little bird.
Opening the door slowly, he surveyed the darkened interior. Since he spent most days and nights in his master chamber by her side, the servants had not bothered to set the fire in this room. There was a dark chillness to the space. He took a step inside then closed the door, deepening the darkness.
And waited.
There was an inhalation of breath coming from behind the black bear.
Placing his hands on his hips, he turned to speak to the darkened corner.
“Come out, little one. You are well and truly caught.”
There was a soft rustle then Corinne hesitantly crawled out from behind the stuffed hunting trophy. Fitting she would choose this room to hide in, he thought.
When she tried to rise, he stopped her.
“Stay on your knees.”
She bit her lower lip but did as she was told.
“You were told to stay in bed.”
“Yes, Papa.”
“You are to return there directly…you are still not well,” he ordered. His voice stern.
Corinne’s shoulders slumped slightly. Her disappointment obvious.
“After…you are punished, of course.”
The face she turned up to him glowed with hope…anticipation…and fear.
He’d missed this.
Reaching down, he grabbed her by her loose curls and dragged her over to his desk. Ruthlessly bending her over its surface, he kicked her legs wide. He tore her thin, linen nightgown in his haste to raise it above her hips and expose the creamy expanse of her pert bottom.
“You were very naughty, little one. This will call for a particularly harsh punishment. I believe a hard spanking on that disobedient bottom of yours followed by my cock forced up your dry, tight hole should be sufficient to remind you of your place.”
“Yes, Papa,” she whispered. Her body racked with tremors.
“And what is your place?” he asked as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing strong forearms.
“I am your plaything.” Her answer was muffled against the hard surface of the desk.
“What do you say before I begin?”
“Papa, may I take your cock inside my unprepared bottom?”
He saw her cheek curve on a smile as she asked his permission to punish her.
He was going to enjoy wiping that smile from her lips…and so would she.
The End
About the Author
USA Today and International Best Selling Author in Dark Romance
We are all attracted to the forbidden. Addicted to the rush we get from reading something naughty...something kinky. We love to lose ourselves in the fantasy. The powerful lord who sweeps the lady away to his remote estate to ravish her. The cowboy who takes the sassy city girl over his knee to teach her a lesson. The devilishly charming pirate who seduces his beautiful captive. I write those dark fantasies.
Dark Romance Historical Titles
The Submission of Little Emmie
Disciplining the Maid
Penelope’s Punishment
Chosen to be His Little Angeline
The Duke’s Possession
Captive
Papa’s Little Pain Princess
His Dark Obsession
Papa’s Prey
Contemporary Titles
Worth Fighting For
Ride Hard Historical Western Series
The Cowboy’s Revenge, Book One
The Gunfighter’s Pursuit, Book Two
The Rebel’s Secret, Book Three
Box Sets
Little Victorian Ladies
A Little Submission
The Dark Forest Anthology
Check out Zoe’s Website at www.zblakebooks.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/zblakebooks
Twitter: @ZBlakebooks
Instagram: ZBlakebooks
Pinterest: ZBlakebooks
Sneak Peek of Daddy’s Home
Chapter One
How deep does a grave have to be?
Wasn’t there something about animals?
Chloe gripped the small, metal heart charm which hung about her neck, taking solace as the metal warmed beneath her hand. The blue-white beam of her flashlight bounced off dark tree trunks and the thick bed of wet leaves and twigs which covered the ground.
Would the rain make digging easier or harder she wondered?
The sound of crunching gravel alerted her to a car traveling up the long driveway even before she saw the headlights. Turning off her flashlight, she ran back towards the cabin, trippin
g over a half-buried log in her haste. Throwing open the rough wooden gate that separated the forest from the clearing, she raced across the yard, ignoring the ice cold water that seeped into her sneakers as her feet sunk into the rain-soaked grass. Cringing at the loud squeak the back screen door made as she carefully opened it, Chloe crouched low as she crossed the study into the kitchen. Keeping her head down, she reached up and turned off the small lamp she always kept lit on her kitchen table. Without the soft warm glow, the cabin felt cold and still.
Chloe held her breath, straining to hear the sound of any movement outside. A car door. The sound of an engine turning off. If there was a god, the sound of gravel as the car turned around and left.
Silence.
The anxiety of not knowing was too much. Chloe crawled across the linoleum, around the kitchen island. She paused and listened.
Still nothing.
Trying to calm her beating heart, she crept closer to the front door. Her knees ached from crawling on the hard floor. Her damp jeans chafed and clung to her hips with every movement. She could feel mud squishing between her toes inside her sneakers. All she wanted was to take a hot shower and forget this night ever happened. But that wasn’t possible…she would never wash away the horror of this night.
Grimacing as small pebbles, tracked inside from the driveway, cut into the palms of her hands, Chloe slowly crept into the mud room. The front door was straight ahead. It had an open window pane so she kept low and to the shadows. Just beyond was the small porch and the gravel drive. Leaning against the wall to the right of the door, Chloe tilted her head and listened.
