Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
“Little one.”
Her shoulders hunched. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Papa,” he corrected gently. “You are to call me Papa when we are in this room. And other times, that you will come to learn.”
Her eyes stung. She nodded, though she could not make her mouth say it yet.
“You stomped your foot at me.”
She swallowed. “I know.”
“I know, Papa,” he reminded her.
“I know, P-papa,” she said, and a thrill went through her as she said it. A Papa. Her Papa.
Papa smiled at her and caressed the side of her face with his palm. “I have longed to hear you call me Papa since the first time I saw you in the garden at Talcott House.”
“Truly?” she asked. She was still stunned that he had chosen her.
“Yes, truly,” he said, his expression softening and a warm glow filled his eyes. “I have waited a long time to find the perfect Little girl.”
“I am far from perfect, Papa,” she whispered, her gaze going to the floor.
He tipped her chin up so that she was forced to look at him. “You are perfect for me.” Still holding her chin, he leaned down and captured her lips with his in a gentle kiss that left Mari breathless when it ended.
“Oh, Papa,” she whispered.
“I know, little one,” he said. “Your kisses thrill me as well.”
Mari’s heart nearly burst with happiness. Her kisses thrilled her Papa.
“Now,” he said, turning serious, “let us get on with your punishment so that we can put that aside and enjoy the rest of our wedding day.”
“Papa?” She tilted her head to the side.
He tapped his finger to the tip of her nose.
“You are utterly charming and adorable and I cannot wait to make you mine, completely.” His eyes darkened with desire and Mari felt a coil tighten in her tummy.
“However, I would be a poor excuse for a Papa if I allowed you to get away with bad behavior.”
Mari’s shoulders slumped. “I know, Papa. I am sorry.”
“Hush now. No more apologies. I have already forgiven you. Now there is only the matter of your spanking. Come along.”
He took her hand and led her to a straight-backed chair which he sat upon and then drew her gently over his lap.
Oh heavens. His body is so hard. Everywhere.
Her skirts rustled as he adjusted her across his thighs and Mari’s tummy fluttered again.
He pushed her skirts up and through the flimsy fabric of her chemise she could feel a rush of air.
“Papa?” she asked.
“This is punishment. We are man and wife. In future, you will receive all spankings on your bare bottom. As this is your first, and we have not yet consummated our marriage, I will allow you to have your chemise over your bottom. But this will be the first, last and only time that is permitted. Do you understand?”
She swallowed heavily. Spankings on her bare bottom. “Y-yes, Papa.”
“Good girl,” he said, resting his palm over the center of her backside.
Mari jolted at the contact. No one had ever touched her in such a private place. Papa kept his hand on her bottom for a few seconds and then he started to rub little circles all over her rear end. Perhaps he did not mean to spank her after all, Mari thought, and her shoulders began to relax.
Then Papa’s hand lifted and came down in the center of her backside with a resounding smack.
“Oh!” she gasped.
“A spanking is meant to get your attention, little Mari.”
“It has, Papa,” she replied.
“It is unacceptable to stomp your foot at Papa or anyone else for that matter. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Papa. I do.”
His hand came down on her backside again. She grabbed hold of his pant leg to steady herself.
“It is disrespectful,” he said, and though his tone was firm, there was no anger in it. “Respect is the root of trust. Without it, we cannot have the marriage we both wish for.”
She clenched her hands on his pant leg tighter. “Yes, Papa,” she whispered.
“What concerns me even more, though, my little bride, is the fact that you felt overwhelmed and needed help but you did not ask me to help you. To take care of you.”
Mari turned her head and looked up at him. “I-I have never asked for help before. Or not for a very long time. It-it never occurred to me to do so.”
Papa’s gaze softened and he smoothed the hair around her ear. “I am sorry that you have never had anyone to take care of you. But I am here now. Your Papa and your husband. Always come to me when you feel overwhelmed or frightened or anxious. I will carry those burdens for you.”
Mari stared, trying to comprehend what he had said. “You want to help me? Why? Should I not be able to do things for myself? I would never want to be a burden.”
His hand continued to stroke over her hair and a couple of tendrils came loose from her wedding day hairstyle. “You could never be a burden. I know this is all new to you, but it is important that you come to me when you are worried and I will help you. Promise?”
“Yes, Papa,” she said with wonder. “I promise.”
“I will never be angry at you for telling me your troubles. In fact, I will be angry if you do not. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Good girl,” he said, then put his hand back on her derriere. Mari stiffened.
“I-I thought the spanking was over,” she said.
Papa chuckled. “No, my dear. Not yet. This is an important lesson and I want to make sure it makes an impression on you.”
“Oh,” she said and turned her face back toward the floor.
“Three more swats,” he said softly. “To remind you to bring your worries to Papa.”
His hand descended—firm, but not harsh. A sharp sting, then another, then a final one.
He gathered her into his arms at once, lifting her to sit across his thighs, pressing her to his chest.
“Shhh,” he soothed, stroking her hair. “There now. Papa’s not angry. Only teaching. You are safe with me.”
Tears she hadn’t known she was holding back slipped free, dampening his coat. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“I know, my darling girl.” He tilted her chin, brushing away her tears with his thumb. “All I ask is that you trust me enough to let me take care of you. Can you do that?”
She nodded, trembling, but managed a tiny, “Yes, Papa.”
His smile softened, radiant with pride. He kissed her forehead, then tucked her against his shoulder. “Good girl. That’s all I wanted.”
Marigold nestled against his chest, her tears finally slowing. His heartbeat was steady beneath her cheek, a rhythm that made her feel safe. Protected. Wanted.
Safe in her Papa’s arms, Mari found herself relaxing. They sat that way, quiet together, for a few moments until Papa shifted her around so she was on his hip, then stood and carried her to the other side of the room and sat on the bed with her on his lap.
Stretching, but still keeping her close, he reached beneath the bed and pulled out a brown paper wrapped package.
“I have a present for you,” he said, setting the parcel in her lap. She looked up at him and he seemed…almost shy.
“Papa,” she said, holding it in her hands. “You have given me so much. I do not need gifts.”
“Ah,” he said, kissing her temple, “but I have longed for a Little girl to spoil so I am afraid you will have to learn to tolerate my gift-giving. Do you think you can do that? For me?”
Mari gazed into his blue eyes. “But,” she said, “I stomped my foot at you. I behaved very badly and I am certain some of the servants saw me. I have not started out well as a duchess. I do not deserve gifts.”
Papa tapped the tip of her nose again, it seemed this was a favorite bit of chastisement for him.
“You will receive gifts because I want to give them to you. As your Papa, it is my prerogative to dote upon you. There is no deserve or not deserve about it. You are my wife, my little duchess. Now, open your gift.”
“Thank you, Papa,” Mari said, reaching for the ribbon holding the paper around the package. Her fingers shook as she tried to untie the bow.
Papa covered her hands with his and guided her through the task. When the paper fell away, he removed his hands so she could open the box herself. When she took off the lid, Mari gasped.
“A bunny!” she exclaimed, pulling the soft animal out of the box. “It looks just like the one from the garden at Talcott House.” She squeezed the toy to her chest and then looked up at him. “The one I let loose from your cage.”
Papa smiled broadly. “I was hoping you would make the connection between this bunny and the one you let escape. I was not mad at you. It was charming. And, if not for that bunny, we might not have met.”
She looked up at him, eyes wide. “Oh, Papa. I am so very glad that we met. And this bunny will always remind me of that day.” She hugged the rabbit to her chest, then leaned back into him. “Thank you, Papa. You are too kind.”
His arms tightened around her, rocking her gently. “There’s my good girl. I’m proud of you.”
For the first time since stepping into the grand halls of Willowmere Estate, Marigold felt the knot of fear in her belly loosen. She was home—in his arms.