Perhaps she was dreaming.

Cynny almost pinched herself, because she could scarce believe the events of the past few hours. In fact, she wondered if her heart would ever cease its frantic pounding in her chest, or if the nerves in her stomach would eventually calm enough to allow her to fully appreciate and enjoy her abrupt change in circumstances.

She cast a shy glance at Lord Grayson seated next to her in the carriage and felt herself flush hotly when his dark gaze collided with hers.

Her husband. He was her husband now, and her papa, too.

Through an incredible series of events, her day was turning out vastly different than she’d anticipated when she awoke this morning, after spending a night tossing and turning.

In a rather short period of time, she’d gone from thinking she was about to marry Lord Kensington, to fearing she was about to be arrested and jailed for her thievery of the pocket watch that had been intended as a wedding gift for Lord Kensington, no less...to finding herself suddenly married to the handsome Lord Grayson, owner of said pocket watch and a constant fixture in her thoughts ever since the day he’d approached her in the gardens.

Oh, heavens. Why had she stolen the watch? If she hadn’t done that, everything might be absolutely perfect on this day. Guilt and fear filled her heart suddenly, because she’d trespassed against her new husband, her new papa, and now she dreaded him finding out the truth.

What would happen if he learned she’d stolen from him? Would he still think her eyes were like the morning sky?

She felt faint with increasing worry. What if he regretted fighting for her and promptly returned her to Miss Wickersham? The very possibility left her heartbroken. And such a fall wouldn’t only affect Cynny. If she was found out, her grave blunder would forever tarnish the reputation of Talcott House as well. She made a mental note to stealthily place the pocket watch in a random part of his house at the first opportunity, where no doubt it would be found by happenstance and he would simply assume he’d misplaced it.

Yes, that’s just what she would do, and then all would be well and she could have her happily-ever-after with the intriguing Lord Grayson who’d shown up at Talcott House to oh so romantically fight for her hand in marriage. With a large sum of money and a pistol, no less.

She studied him, admiring how rugged he looked compared to the first time she’d met him in the gardens of Talcott House. His wavy shoulder length hair, dark blond with brown undertones, was swept back over his shoulders but wasn’t as neatly styled as the last time she’d seen him, as if he’d repeatedly run his hands through his disheveled locks in a fit of frustration. His jacket and trousers were a tad wrinkled, but she would not have noticed had he not been so finely dressed during their meeting in the gardens. His eyes were alert and his stature confident as ever, though she occasionally saw flashes of fatigue in his dark depths.

Well, she supposed his slight ruggedness was a result of his hurried, apparently last minute, trip to the country to try and prevent her wedding to Lord Kensington. Her insides fluttered at the thought of his hasty yet impassioned decision to claim her as his wife. He’d arrived at Talcott House with great urgency, his carriage barreling down the lane, having traveled from London during the late hours of the night.

The companion who’d come along with him, Lord Caldwell, was apparently returning to London this afternoon in the company of Lord Kensington, for which Cynny was grateful. Lord Caldwell’s presence would have made their post-wedding carriage ride all the more awkward, and perhaps the gun-toting man would be kind enough to make sure the lord to whom she was formerly betrothed wasn’t too upset over her decision to marry Lord Grayson.

Oh, please don’t let Lord Grayson find out about the watch, she prayed silently. Please let us fall in love and be happy forever and ever. Please let this marriage be the fresh start I’ve so desperately been seeking. I’ll be good and never steal again, I promise.

She glanced down at her hands and realized they were shaking in her lap, and she quickly folded them tightly together and hoped her new husband hadn’t noticed.

“You needn’t be afraid of me, Hyacinth,” Lord Grayson said, and his use of her given name rather than calling her Miss Heathrow, spoken in his deep masculine voice, made her insides flutter as a pulsating warmth affected her nether area. But she wasn’t Miss Heathrow anymore, she realized with a start. She was a lady now. Lady Grayson. She almost pinched herself again, for this twist of fate seemed too good to be true. She wondered if she would ever recover from the surprise of today.

She squirmed delicately in her seat, puzzling over the odd but not unpleasant sensations that were unfurling within her, then took a deep steadying breath before peering up at her Papa.

“I am not afraid of you, my lord.” Yes, I am. I’m terrified. You might get rid of me or have me arrested if you find out the truth about me. In this moment, she vowed to let him continue disbelieving the tale she’d told him about belonging to The Weasels. If he questioned her about her past again, she would simply claim to have once been nothing but a boring, homeless orphan taken in by Miss Wickersham.

Lord Grayson slid closer to her, until his thigh was touching hers. His nearness overwhelmed her, and her entire body came alive, some parts of her heating and tingling, while other parts of her, like the area between her thighs, began to throb. Her ninnies felt weighted and achy in the confines of her bodice, a garment she wasn’t accustomed to wearing. She almost reached for her bosom, but unfolded her hands and then curled her fingers tight around the skirts of her bridal gown and tried to remain as still as possible, lest she lose control and shame herself in front of Lord Grayson.

“You’re trembling, little girl.” He reached for her, tilting her chin up and forcing her to gaze directly into his eyes. A shiver ran up her spine and her bottom cheeks clenched. Would he be a strict papa? Given the firm set of his jaw and the serious gleam in his eyes, she got the sense that he wouldn’t kindly abide any amount of naughtiness from her. She wondered if he would really punish her for spying on him in Miss Wickersham’s study. We shall see to your discipline once we are married. His words came back to her now and made her kitty clench up with delicious sensation. But she didn’t know him well enough yet to determine whether he’d been serious or only teasing when he’d said that.

“I’m not trembling, my lord.” She tried to withdraw from his touch, but he leaned over her, crowding her against the wall of the carriage and leaving her with nowhere to look but him.

“You will call me Papa from now on, Cynny, unless we are in public or entertaining guests. In those settings, you will address me as sir or my lord.” He stroked one of the golden curls that framed her face. “Now, little one, I want you to be a good girl and sit in Papa’s lap.”

She swallowed hard, past the sudden dryness in her throat. Papa. He wanted her to call him Papa. She couldn’t think of anything else she’d rather do in this moment. She drew a deep breath as she continued staring at him, her heart contracting with warmth at the tenderness that was now glimmering in his beautiful dark eyes. Had she ever seen eyes so lovely on a man before? She didn’t think she had, though perhaps lovely wasn’t a word she ought to use to describe any part of Lord Grayson. The man radiated masculine power, and a quiver raced across her bottom cheeks as she again wondered if he would discipline her for spying.

“Yes, Papa,” she finally said. “I would love nothing more than to sit in your lap.” She smiled at him and allowed him to lift her onto his firm thighs.

Finally. Her spirits danced with joy. She finally had a papa of her very own.

The handsome Lord Grayson.

* * *

Grayson revelled in the feel of the petite blonde beauty in his arms. Miss Heathrow, who he’d only a short while ago learned had the first name of Hyacinth, or Cynny for short, was now Lady Grayson. His new bride. His sweet little girl. And he was now her papa and her husband.

He planned to take his duties as both her papa and her husband very seriously. Most of all, he would lavish her with affection, attention, and praise, but as he understood the way of things it was also his obligation to guide her and even punish her when she was naughty.

Spying through a peephole into Miss Wickersham’s study had been quite naughty indeed, though he didn’t plan to spank her too hard for the indiscretion. A scolding, a few quick smacks on her bare little bottom, and that would be the end of it. Lesson learned. He imagined taking her over his knee for the short disciplinary session and flipping the skirts of her wedding gown up and parting the folds of her drawers. He would stroke her behind for several minutes while imparting to her the importance of good behavior—well-behaved little girls do not sneak about and spy on others through peepholes—and then he would deliver a few slaps to her upturned bottom before…

“Papa?”

Hyacinth’s sweet voice interrupted his lascivious thoughts, and he glanced down at her and tightened his arms around her. “Yes, little girl?”

She squirmed in his lap and he almost growled at the wicked sensation of her grinding her behind over his hardening shaft. “Papa, I-I…” her voice trailed off and she plunged her face into her hands.

Worried, he pried her hands away from her face and placed a finger beneath her chin, then gentled his expression as he held her anxious gaze. “What is it, little girl?”

Storm clouds brewed in the depths of her pretty blue eyes, and for a moment he feared she might burst into tears. But she gulped hard and took a few deep breaths, and that seemed to help her settle. With his free hand, he rubbed up and down her back, hoping to soothe whatever fears were assailing her. But he didn’t release her chin. He didn’t want her to fall into the habit of hiding from him. He found he wanted all of her—her sweet smiles as well as her sorrow. If he didn’t know when she was sad, he wouldn’t be able to make it all better. And he wanted to make it better, no matter what was ailing her. Finally, she spoke.

“Papa, it’s just that when you arrived at Talcott House, you came at a most inopportune time. You see, Miss Wickersham was about to tell me what happens between husbands and wives, and I think she was also about to tell me what a cock looks like, and it was at that very moment that your carriage pulled up and she had to rush out of my room to see what was going on. Now I’ve come to you woefully unprepared, I’m afraid. I hope…I just hope you will not be disappointed by my dire lack of knowledge. I hope you will be patient with me, because I am oh so nervous about what will happen between us once we arrive at your home. I-I want to be a good wife to you, Papa.”

“Come here,” he said, drawing her further against his chest. He stroked his hands through her silken golden locks and hoped he was succeeding in comforting her. To his delight, she sighed and relaxed in his hold, and after a few seconds wrapped her arms around his center, hugging him back. “Little girl, my sweet Hyacinth, I do not expect you to know anything when it comes to marital matters. I intend to teach you all you need to know, and I vow to be most patient with you.”

“It pleases me to hear you say that, Papa. I feel much better now. Thank you.” She pulled back slightly and met his gaze. “I must confess, I think it was very gallant and romantic of you to arrive in a carriage only minutes before my wedding hour, prepared to fight for my hand in marriage. As long as I live, I shall never forget it.” A smile touched her lips and her eyes shone with pleasure. “But I must ask. What would you have done if Miss Wickersham had insisted I marry Lord Kensington?”

He leaned down, until his gaze was level with hers. “I would have knocked Lord Kensington to the floor, then I would have tossed you over my shoulder and carried you out of Talcott House as my stolen bride.”

“Oh my. That sounds most scandalous, Papa.” She giggled, and the sound of her laughter warmed his heart.

“Then I would have gotten us a special marriage license and tracked down a vicar so we could be properly wed before I took you to my estate in the country where I could hide you away from all others.”

Her breath caught and she wiggled in his lap for the umpteenth time. His cock quickly hardened, as he was no longer able to control his passions. God, he wanted her. His blood heated and he fought to restrain a growl as the carriage hit a pothole and she bounced in his lap.

“What would happen next, Papa? Oh, this is the most exciting story I’ve ever heard,” she said, peering at him from underneath her lashes as a blush stole over her delicate features.

“Well,” he said, “I would have to keep you locked away, just in case anyone decided to come looking for you. You would be my little prisoner, but of course I would not hurt you. I would only give you pleasure. That is, unless you were naughty. If you were naughty, I suppose I would have to discipline you.”

She exhaled a shaky breath and squirmed again. “How-how would you discipline me, Papa? What would you do?” Her eyes widened with excitement.

He ought to stop this nonsense. But he couldn’t. Not when she was so very thrilled with his story and couldn’t cease wriggling on his lap and rubbing herself on his engorged manhood. Did she realize how she was affecting him? In her sweet innocence, likely not. He took a deep breath and hoped his next words didn’t scandalize her too much.

“If you broke a rule, little girl, Papa would have to give you a good scolding. Then I would have no choice but to take you over my knee, bare your little bottom, and give you a well-deserved spanking that would no doubt leave your behind a deep shade of crimson.”

She gasped, but she didn’t appear frightened. Not in the least. If anything, she seemed…giddy at the prospect of receiving his discipline. No, not giddy. Aroused. His blood heated further and he was suddenly stifling hot in the carriage.

“Papa, I find your story so exciting I can scarcely catch my breath.”

“What part excites you the most, little girl?”

“Oh all of it! The part where you steal me away from Talcott House, the part where you keep me locked up like your prisoner, and even the last part.”

The last part. The spanking. He stared down at her, thinking he must be the luckiest man in the world to have gained this lively and beautiful creature as his bride. Passion flared in the depths of her eyes, and he found he could no longer hold himself back from tasting her.

He grasped her face in his hands and captured her lips in his, delving his tongue against hers and thrilling at the act of claiming her in this way. She squealed in surprise but didn’t attempt to pull away, and her acquiescence pleased him beyond all bounds.

She eventually gave a soft moan and pressed her tongue to his in a timid manner that nearly left him undone. Still kissing her, he released her face and placed his hands firmly on her hips. Then, holding her in place, he ground his hardening cock up against her bottom.

This elicited another squeal from her. “Papa,” she said breathlessly once they came up for air. “Papa, is that your cock I feel?”

Perhaps he should scold her for such bold language, but right now his thoughts were a bit muddled as all the blood in his body rushed south. God’s teeth, he had never known such heightened desire in his whole life, as if he teetered on the brink of madness. He wasn’t a rake by any means, but he had visited a bawdy house now and then. Most gentleman did. But unbridled passion—that was the only way he knew how to describe his current feelings toward Hyacinth—he had never known such a fierce emotion before.

Yes, he would have planted a facer on Lord Kensington and stolen her away from Talcott House if he’d had no other option to make her his wife. Truth be told, he would commit acts far more atrocious than physical assault and kidnapping on her behalf.

Treason. Murder. Heresy. He didn’t care, as long as the end result was Hyacinth belonging to him forever. He stared at her, wondering if perhaps he should be aghast at the dark turn his thoughts had taken. He had always thought he would take a wife of his social stature, a bride of convenience with whom he was well-matched in every way, and enjoy a cordial relationship with her that mayhap one day led to tender regard, though perhaps not quite love. He’d never thought love and passion were a necessary ingredient in marriage, so long as an heir to the earldom of Shively was produced. Damn and blast, he’d had it all wrong, and he suddenly pitied all the members of the ton who settled for convenient, passionless marriages.

“Papa?” she asked again, and he responded by pressing her down on his lap even harder.

“Yes, little one,” he finally answered. “Yes, that is your papa’s cock you feel. But, we must try to contain our excitement for one another until we arrive at Grayson House.” He glanced out the window of the carriage. “Ah, it appears we are nearly there.”

A minute later, the carriage came to a stop. Grayson’s heart pounded and he tried to compose himself in quick order. He gently lifted Hyacinth from his lap and pressed a kiss to her forehead. The carriage door was opened and the afternoon sun beamed into the conveyance, gleaming on his little girl’s golden curls. He took her gloved hand in his, giving it an affectionate squeeze.

“Welcome to Grayson House.”