Free Maggie Mine by Starla Kaye Page A

for her.
    He cocked an eyebrow at her, obviously unhappy with her attitude. “The bed. Lean over it.”
    She didn’t want to do this; she wanted to have time alone to think about what she’d discovered. He desired her. How did she really feel about that?
    “Now!”
    Maggie huffed, truly disgusted. Then she strode toward the bed, ben t over to place the palms of her hands on the straw mattress. Her bottom was thrust high, but she hadn’t pulled up her skirt. If he wished to punish her uncovered bottom, then it was up to him to raise her skirt. Oddly, she trembled at the idea of him doing that, at him looking at her—even her bare bottom—at him touching her.
    He stepped beside her and she drew in his scent: of leather, fresh air, and pure man. A spot low in her body quivered. She didn’t understand what was happening to her lately, but when she was close to him , her body came alive in ways that were new to her.
    “I’d hoped to not have to discipline you for a while.”
    “Then dunna. Nobody needs to know you didna.” She glanced back at him. “I will stay here as ye already ordered.”
    His eyes mirrored frustration. “And as you chose to disobey.” He reached down to raise her skirt over her back, but he didn’t lift the chemise. He stood there looking down at her , breathing raggedly. The bulge in his breeches seemed larger.
    “Nicholas,” she whispered, a strange ache growing inside her. “I…I need….” She had no idea what she needed, but knew that it involved something to do with him.
    Her statement snapped him out of his daze. His jaw tightened and he shifted into position, raising the too-familiar paddle. “ ’Tis time to s et your bottom on fire . ”
    “ Ye are no’ going to bare m y bottom? ” Why had she asked that? She didn’t want it.
    He drew in a breath and shook his head. “Nay, not this time. But this thin cloth will not keep you from feeling the sting.”
    Probably not. Resigned, s he turned her head away just as he brought the paddle swiftly down.
    The first crash of the hard wood against her bottom took her breath away. She sucked in air, froze for a second, and the urgent burning spread from where the paddle had landed all across her buttocks. The paddle could be wicked.
    “I am the lord here. When I give a command, I expect it to be obeyed.” The paddle came down fast and furious twice.
    She yelped, leaned down hard onto her hands. “’Twas the first time I—”
    Another swat ended her protest, had her arching downward.
    “You do as I ask when it pleases you. I have been more than tolerant lately.”
    Pulling in a steadying breath, she raised her head and asked, “When have I no’ obeyed ye since coming here?” She thought she’d done all he’d asked of her, except for this confined to her bedchamber situation.
    He rested the paddle against her throbbing bottom. “You have not trained Lady Stanhope, as you were told to do.”
    “She lies to ye. Canna ye see that?” She craned her head around to glower at him. “She makes a fool of ye.”
    His brow furrowed and he looked thoughtful, angry still, but curious. “I will have a talk with her later.”
    “What she needs is a sound walloping. Use this paddle.” His eyes smoldered and she thought she’d pushed him too far.
    “Lower your head, Lady Urquhart.” He lifted the paddle once more. “At the moment you are the one to receive a sound walloping .”
    She dropped her head and clamped her teeth together. “Be done with it then.”
    He put a hand on her lower back to hold her in place, a sign it was about to get much worse. She braced for it. As she’d done many times in the past, she tried to think of other things besides the slam of the biting paddle against her bottom.
    He paddled her methodically and firmly on one cheek and then the other. She curled her fingers into the fur covering her bed. She needed to check on the gardens tomorrow. Another biting set of smacks fell. The gardens! Check on the