Pleasing the Colonel

by Renee Rose

  She couldn't help it. Her sensitivity to Miss Watson's moods had increased since they'd arrived at the country manor and now she found herself readily at the defense every time the lady opened her mouth. Indeed, between being on the defense of Miss Watson's barbs and trying to avoid any criticism from the impossible-to-please Colonel, she was becoming quite high strung herself.

  Her only escape was in walking and she took advantage of being in the country by going on long, solitary walks in the afternoons, enjoying the fresh air and nature. She had received a letter from her sister Anne that day, forwarded from the London apartment. Though Anne didn't complain, she could read between the lines enough to know that she was not happy at all in her new position. She sounded extremely lonely and homesick. Mandy had been more resolved than ever that she should have employment in case her sister's did not last, so she'd sent off a few letters of inquiry about governess positions. If the Colonel was going to dismiss her after her probationary period, she needed to have options.

  As she walked that afternoon, the sky grew overcast. The Colonel had said at lunch that she ought to skip her walk in case of rain, but determined to have her only peace, she'd gone anyway. Now it seemed he had been right. She hunched her shoulders as the first drops began to fall. She was still a long way from the house. When the rain started to fall steadily, she stopped and huddled under a tree to wait for the precipitation to abate. Instead, the sky opened up in a drenching downpour, and the tree she'd chosen to huddle under offered little protection. With a sigh, she gave up trying to avoid getting wet and started walking again, keeping her head ducked under the pelting drops. The sound of the rain hitting the tree leaves and the puddles on the ground was so loud that she didn't notice a horse and rider approaching until they had ridden right up to her.

  “Miss Downy!”

  She looked up in surprise. “Colonel!”

  He reined in the stallion and turned the large horse around so that his left side faced her.

  “What are you doing, riding in the rain?” she asked in astonishment.

  “Looking for you!” he exclaimed and she felt a rush of guilt that he had felt it necessary to come and rescue her. She should have listened to his advice on the weather. Would he hold it against her that she hadn't?

  He reached down and caught her around the waist, easily lifting her to sit side-saddle in front of him. His strength took her breath away—he was a large, muscular man. She sat stiffly, too surprised to speak. His arm was wrapped around her waist, his left knee supporting her legs. He drew her closer to him. She had never been so close to a man in her life. But that wasn't true—there was the time when he held her after the whipping. And when he'd protected her from falling rubble during the carriage accident. Thinking of both those incidents gave her an unusual fluttering feeling in her low belly.

  “You're freezing!” he accused.

  She was shivering—there was no denying it. She stammered, “No, I'm fine. But thank you for coming for me, I am truly grateful.” She didn't feel courageous enough to look over her shoulder at him, considering how close his face was to hers.

  “You're welcome. Curses, you're really cold. I should have brought your cloak. Here, lean into me and see if you can't gain some warmth that way.”

  Slowly, uncertainly, she leaned her back against his large chest, relaxing into his form and the motion of the stallion as he loped back. Her wet dress and petticoat stuck to her skin, providing no barrier at all to the heat of his flesh, which felt exceptionally warm against her chilled back.

  “Is that better?” he asked, his mouth so close to her ear that she could feel the heat of his breath. His voice was low and rumbling. She had found it gruff before, but now it seemed deeply masculine—the embodiment of male strength and virility.

  “Yes,” she managed to say, realizing she left the “sir” off and wondering why it sounded so right. His arms felt solid and strong encircling her as they supported her and guided the horse at the same time. It was an odd feeling—despite the awkwardness of riding in such close quarters with a man she should not be so near, she felt comfortable—safe and cared for, somehow.

  At dinner that night, Miss Watson chided her for walking. “I can't believe you went for a walk when you knew it might rain.”

  “Not all of us feel like sulking about in our rooms all day just because we're in the country and not with the London ton,” she snapped. She had spent a cozy afternoon drinking chocolate and watching the rain run down the windows with the children, but now Miss Watson's words nettled her.

  “Enough.” The Colonel gave the command softly, hardly looking up from his plate, but it had the effect of freezing her in her place. Her eyes flew to his. He gazed back with a tired expression.

  “Forgive me,” she murmured.

  When the meal was finished, the Colonel said, “Miss Downy, in my study please.”

  Her heart quickened. Was he angry that she'd walked when he'd warned her not to? Or was it about snapping at his sister? Dread prickled across her skin as she followed him into his study.

  It was much like the study in his London apartment, and a massive oversized walnut desk stood in the middle, with two wooden chairs facing it. There was a velvet covered settee and a plush sitting chair off to the right. He sat down behind his desk and indicated that she should sit in one of the chairs across from him. She sank into the seat, fidgeting with her silver locket and looking at him expectantly.

  He just sat and regarded her for a moment. Then he said, “Miss Downy, I realize that you were not welcomed with the appropriate level of warmth and friendliness by my sister during my absence.”

  She was stunned. She had never expected any acknowledgment of the kind.

  “I was hoping that she would come to it on her own, but if it would make you feel better, I will require her to apologize to you.”

  “Oh, I—uh, no, that won't be necessary,” she stammered, feeling her face grow hot. She suddenly felt quite silly for harboring resentments. She remembered how she'd complained that night of the carriage accident, and felt certain the Colonel remembered her bitterness.

  “I want you to know that I have spoken to Lucinda about her behavior.” He was silent a moment, regarding her. She opened her mouth to thank him, but he waved her to silence. “She has been making an effort all week, but now it seems to me that you may be the problem.”

  Mandy found she couldn't breathe. She felt a wash of hot and cold run through her body. She could not speak.

  “Living with the two of you has become unpleasant for me. I can't enjoy my meals in peace without feeling tension and hearing waspish comments. It must stop. Immediately. Is that perfectly clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” she choked, her mouth feeling dry, disappointed that she had displeased her employer again.

  “Good.” He opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a ruler. Oh no. Her eyes widened, fearing she knew what he had in mind. “I spanked Lucinda and I'm going to spank you, too,” he said matter-of-factly.

  She would have gasped if she were able to breathe at all. Instead she made a tiny little squeaking noise. The Colonel stood up and walked calmly to the settee, where he sat down.

  Chapter Four

  “Come here, Miss Downy.”

  Miss Downy had stood when he did, but now looked as though she were rooted to the spot as she stared at his position on the couch, probably realizing that he expected her to lie across his lap for her spanking. She made another tiny unintelligible sound.

  “Come. Now,” he said firmly.

  She obeyed him, walking over and stopping to stand before him, looking doubtful. He offered her his hand and guided her across his lap, helping her situate a small pillow under her upper body for comfort. He pulled up her skirt and petticoat and blinked, overcome by the urge to caress the soft skin underneath them. He squeezed his eyes closed and shoved the thought firmly away, arranging the skirts in a business-like manner, out of the way.

  He could sense that
she was holding her breath, her entire body stiff, listening. He was starting to regret having her over his lap. He'd chosen it because he meant for the punishment to be mild, but she wasn't his wife and this position put her so very close to him, her soft flesh pressing against his hard thighs in an intoxicating manner. It was impossible to be unmoved by the sensuousness curves presented precisely for his chastisement. In fact, it was pure, delicious agony.

  Well, all he could do was mete out the punishment as properly as possible and get it behind them. He picked up the wide wooden ruler and brought it down sharply across the low center of both her cheeks. He continued striking, watching as she flinched and squeezed her cheeks together. He brought the ruler down in the same place a dozen or so times, knowing it would really cause the burn to set in. The lovely governess was really squirming, still squeezing her cheeks and trying to hold herself stiff as a board.

  He paused and gripped her bare thigh—the one closest to him—and pulled it toward him, parting her legs so he had better access to strike the tender flesh there. She gasped and he realized she must feel quite vulnerable with her thighs parted, as it showed the sweet little pink slit of her sex. He paused to take in its full glory. Oh Lord. He shook his head and tried to clear it, bringing the ruler down on the back of her thigh.

  He brought it down again and again, trying to ignore the way his body was responding to the beautiful sight of her bared and undulating bottom. She wriggled and writhed in a vain attempt to get away from his stinging blows. He held her waist firmly, but her hips still managed to dance about, bucking and twisting as she cried out. Her wriggling over his manhood was unfortunately causing him to become more than a little aroused.

  Like an idiot, he stole another peek at her sweet little sex and could swear he saw moisture glistening there. Her writhing stilled and he feared that she could feel the stiffened member below her. He pushed her hips away from his, moving her closer to his knees, where she was not as stable. His arm couldn't hold her waist as securely this way and he knew that she could probably throw herself off his legs if she wanted. He brought the ruler down on her reddened bottom even harder and faster now, hoping to distract her from his arousal. Or distract himself by applying himself to his task. Or something.

  When her bottom had turned a deep red, he stopped. He wanted to rub those cheeks for her, to show his appreciation for the way she submitted to her spanking, but of course that wouldn't be proper. Instead, he smoothed her skirts back down and lifted her to standing, then guided her to sit next to him on the couch. She had shed a few tears, but more than anything she appeared completely flustered. She hissed a bit as her full weight came to rest on her tender backside. He handed her his handkerchief, which she used with enthusiasm, hiding her face from him.

  He thought he saw her eyes dart a glance at his lap, but fortunately, he'd distracted himself enough that his shaft was no longer tenting his pants. They sat stiffly next to one another as she recovered her ragged breathing. He turned to her and cupped her chin, lifting her face to his. She looked terribly vulnerable as she met his eyes and it emptied him of any sternness—real or feigned. He wanted to hold her and comfort her and tell her she was forgiven. But again, he couldn't.

  “From now on, if I hear either you or Miss Watson snipe at the other, I will bend you both over my desk and strap you soundly. Is that clear?” The words he spoke were stern, but his tone was quite mild; he couldn't bring himself to treat her harshly.

  She nodded quickly. “Yes, sir,” she whispered.

  “Go on, then,” he said gently.

  He watched her go and then leaned his head back on the couch with a groan, the image of her squirming bottom, her parted thighs, and her sweet, delicate sex seared forever in his mind.

  * * *

  At lunch several days later, the Colonel handed her a letter. At first she thought it might be a job offer from the letters of inquiry she had sent out, but instead it was from her cousin Joseph Belford, the relative who had taken over her father's estate without helping her family in the slightest. She felt that familiar ire rise in her as she opened the letter.

  Dear Miss Watson,

  I am writing to you, as you seemed to be the only female in your family capable of handling any business affairs. I believe I have given you enough time to come to some arrangement for the remainder of the property belonging to your mother; namely, the pieces of furniture and the two ponies that you requested I not sell. I simply cannot continue to board your ponies here at Helmcamp. It is absurd that you should have requested such a thing. Likewise, we have moved the furniture into the old stable, but cannot continue to keep it either, as we will be purchasing new horses and will require the use of both stables.

  If you cannot collect these belongings within the next two weeks, I will sell them and send you the proceeds. Please respond at once.

  Sincerely,

  Joseph R. Belford

  Mandy blew her breath out with a huff, her hand squeezing the letter so tightly that it began to crumple. She pressed her lips tightly together and blinked back the tears burning in her eyes, her mind whirling with angry thoughts. The Colonel's outstretched hand appeared before her, and without thinking, she handed him the letter. Then she started, realizing what she'd done, and looked at him with dismay. She should not allow her personal problems to appear to affect her ability to conduct herself professionally.

  The Colonel read it in silence, then stretched out his hand for the envelope. Again, she found herself automatically handing it to him. He studied the return address. “I would guess this is a half-day's drive from here,” he said, considering her. “We'll go tomorrow.”

  She looked at him, stunned. “Wh-what?”

  He nodded definitively. “We'll go and get your furniture and ponies and bring them here.”

  Tears filled her eyes and spilled over before she could stop them. She dashed at them with the back of her hand, completely overcome. “Colonel Watson—” she brushed at her tears again and swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thank you, sir,” she managed.

  “It is nothing,” he said dismissively. “Let's eat, shall we?” he said, waving to the table.

  The following day, true to his word, he called for the carriage as well as an empty wagon, hitched to a second team of horses. They set off, the two of them alone together on the journey to the home that was no longer hers. It did cross her mind that it was unseemly for her to travel unchaperoned with the Colonel, but then she immediately dismissed the thought. He was nothing if not of the utmost propriety, and there was the driver of both the carriage and the wagon attending them, so she was not truly alone with the man.

  A variety of thoughts flitted through her head as they sat silently in the carriage. She remembered vividly the fateful carriage ride she'd first shared with the Colonel—the one which had nearly ended in disaster. He'd not said more than a word or two on that ride, either. She hadn't liked him when he'd joined their carriage. He had seemed so very stuffy and formal and the atmosphere in the carriage had quickly become stifling.

  But then he had been so very capable during the emergency, whilst she had acted like a little fool, drinking brandy and letting her tongue fly loosely. How different he seemed to her now that she knew him. She could see the kindness underneath the stern exterior, though in retrospect, she should have seen it that night, too.

  She considered the way he had wiped clear the debt of the advance she'd taken to visit her mother, how he'd come to collect her in the rain, and now this favor, which was overwhelming, really. He was giving her the day off, taking the trouble to personally escort her, providing his carriage and wagon, and offering to keep her furniture and ponies indefinitely. It was truly more than generous. It actually made her uncomfortable to think of him in this light. She'd preferred disliking him as the rigid military man who'd punished her at the end of a leather strap.

  She studied the planes of his handsome face. He had a large, square jaw that seemed to go perfectly with his tall
, imposing frame. His eyes were dark, the same brown as his hair, which was generally well-kept.

  He glanced up and caught her staring. Her breath hitched in her throat and she could not seem to make herself look away—as if her eyes were magnetized to his. A strand of his brown hair had fallen out of place and was hanging over one cheek and her hand actually lightened in her lap as if she were going to stroke it back. With great effort she wrenched her gaze away from his and stared out the window, praying she would not blush as she was prone to do.

  They arrived at her family's former home by noon. It produced such an odd mixture of emotions to return—joy at the familiar landscape and the memories, and pain at the reminder of her father's death and the knowledge that this property would never again be hers to enjoy. She closed her eyes and turned her head away from the window to find the Colonel's eyes resting on her face, with a look that vaguely resembled sympathy. She forced a bright smile. “We're here at last.”

  “Indeed.” He looked out the carriage window. “No wonder you like my property so well.”

  “What? Oh! Yes, the landscape is quite similar, isn't it?”

  Mr. and Mrs. Belford both stepped out of the house after looking out the window to see their arrival. Mr. Belford was a tall, arrogant man and his wife was a plump, high-strung, self-centered lady. They were both surprised to see the fine carriage and the two teams of horses arrive, complete with a wagon in tow. She smiled a little, thinking that they probably never dreamed she would be able to respond to their demands.

  “Miss Downy!” Mrs. Belford exclaimed when the Colonel handed her out of the carriage. “What a surprise!”

  She greeted them politely and introduced the Colonel as her employer. For once, she appreciated his cold demeanor, as it seemed to fluster the Belfords. “Won't you come in for luncheon? The cook was just preparing some cold sandwiches, I believe.”