Grayson House was larger and more lavish than Cynny could have ever imagined. Lord Grayson’s London residence was an impressive four story expanse with two wings, and though he’d yet to give her a full tour, she imagined it contained dozens upon dozens of rooms. Not little rooms either, but huge rooms with high ornate ceilings, if the rest of his house was anything like the room they currently occupied. In fact, the entirety of Talcott House could have fit into the drawing room, which is where they both now sat, enjoying a late afternoon luncheon.

She had thought her new papa might take her to his bedchamber immediately upon their arrival and teach her exactly what happens to married people, given the intimate turn their conversation had taken in the carriage, but when he’d heard her stomach growling loudly after they exited the carriage, he had insisted she take refreshment at once, hinting that she would “need her energy” with a waggle of his eyebrows.

After he’d taken her into the drawing room, within minutes two servants had appeared with a tea tray that also contained little sandwiches, cakes, and other delicious morsels for them to dine upon. Though she was impatient to continue the intimacies they had started in the carriage, she was appreciative of the meal, as she’d been too nervous to take more than one bite during breakfast.

“Everything is quite delicious,” she said. “Thank you, Papa.” She took another sip of tea and smiled at him over the rim of her cup.

“I am glad you like it. Cook, as well as the rest of my staff, will be pleased there is finally a lady in house.” His eyes darkened. “But none will be so pleased as me.”

A heated flush spread up her neck and covered her entire face, and in a bout of shyness Cynny glanced down at her tea cup.

“You’re adorable when you blush, little Cynny,” he said, addressing her by her nickname for the first time. “I think making you blush will be my new favorite activity.” He moved closer, and the heat of his body wafted against hers as the tension between them swelled. He took the cup from her suddenly trembling hands and set it on the table in front of the couch.

She became aware of the moisture between her thighs when she squirmed in her seat and wished she’d worn a pair of drawers. She felt her face grow hotter, knowing her papa might soon discover the wetness in her kitty. He would take her clothes off soon, surely, now that they were husband and wife. She tried to remember everything Cammie’s letter said, but as she gazed up at her handsome papa, all coherent thought fled from her mind.

“As much as I want to strip off your gown and ravish you here on this couch, Cynny, I shall endeavor to not be so beastly. You are a sweet little girl and you deserve every bit of the patience and gentleness I have promised you. Though I will claim you soon as my wife in truth, it will be in my bed after we’ve both had some time to recover from our travels.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Papa. I-I suppose it would be nice to refresh myself.”

“I’ve sent a maid upstairs to prepare your bedchamber, which is adjoined to mine. I will take you there now and she will help you prepare for the evening to come.”

The evening to come. Her stomach did a little flip at the serious note in his words—four little words that held so much power and promise. She wondered how a man as large as Lord Grayson would manage to be gentle. Part of her wished he would treat her with a bit of roughness, though she couldn’t understand where such thoughts were coming from, particularly given that she had no experience in the marital bed.

“I appreciate you and your staff making me welcome on such short notice,” she said.

He gave a playful tug on one of her curls. “The short notice is my fault. I should have stolen you away from Talcott House as my bride the first day I met you.”

“Ah, but you told me your bride awaited you in London,” she said in a teasing tone, though she hoped he hadn’t been betrothed to a certain lady in particular and broken his engagement. She imagined such a faux pas would involve lots of scandal and she would have a difficult time as it was being accepted into polite society, though she planned to make every effort to build a rapport with Lord Grayson’s peers. Her heart pounded as she awaited his explanation.

“I want there to always be honesty between us, little Cynny. No secrets ever, and certainly no lies,” he replied with just enough sternness to make a quiver race across her bottom. “That is why I must confess to you that I never had a bride waiting for me in London. Not precisely. I went to London at the start of the season and I attended many balls and partnered with many ladies on the dance floor, in an attempt to find the young woman who would become Lady Grayson, but I found I could not stop thinking of you. Every time I blinked, I saw a vision of you sitting on the bench in the gardens of Talcott House, smiling and fidgeting with your hat, your golden curls gleaming in the sun and your blue eyes sparkling with life. I heard your laughter and your sweet, soft voice at the most inopportune of times, so frequently that several times I feared I was going mad.”

His confession warmed her all over. She supposed she should be honest in return, at least when it came to her feelings toward him. She would decide how to resolve the situation with his pocket watch later, after she’d had more time to ponder her options. Stealing was one thing, but he apparently detested lies and secrets even more.

“Papa, your words please me more than you could imagine. In fact, I’ve had a similar problem since I first met you. Every time I thought of you—which was quite often—I felt warm and tingly. I’ve been harboring a secret, tender regard for you in my heart, and when you announced that you wanted to marry me it was the happiest moment of my life.” She leaned closer to him, inhaling his spicy masculine scent. “I hope we will make one another happy. I vow I will try my very best to be a good wife to you, and a good little girl for you.”

He grasped her hands one at a time, sliding off the delicate lace gloves that matched her wedding gown. Then he gathered her hands in his, and the heat of his bare skin against hers made her gasp. She curled her fingers in his and stared at their joined hands, shaken by the intensity of her longing for him.

“Come, my little bride, and I will escort you to your room.”

“Yes, Papa.”

* * *

Grayson surveyed the large bedchamber that had always been intended for the future Lady Grayson with satisfaction. In a short matter of time, the maid, Mrs. Hennely, had prepared the room for Hyacinth’s arrival. Her trunks sat at the end of the bed, and he was glad she’d come into the marriage with a few belongings, since he’d had no time to make the proper provisions for a bride or commission a new wardrobe for her.

As soon as could be arranged, however, he would take her to the most fashionable shops on New Bond Street to get her outfitted in a wardrobe fit for a lady of her stature, and he would spare no expense in the process. He wanted to dote upon her, to give her the finest dresses, shoes, hats, and jewelry, and he found he was rather looking forward to dressing her up like the little china doll he’d compared her to when he’d first glimpsed her at Talcott House.

“Papa, is this really my room? It’s so big!” She walked ahead of him and stopped in the center of the room, then spun in a slow circle, her blue eyes widened and her mouth slightly parted. “It’s so beautiful, too!” She eyed the bed and a mischievous grin spread across her face. With unrestrained excitement, she ran full speed at the bed and jumped on it, bouncing on her bottom and then laying back and running her hands over the coverlet.

Grayson’s heart swelled to see her so carefree and animated, like when he’d glimpsed her laughing and playing hopscotch, on that fateful day when his life changed forever. Meeting her had changed him. He’d once had a practical view of marriage and believed it to be the necessary next step in his life, now that he was the Earl of Shively, because he must fulfill his responsibilities to the earldom and produce an heir. But to have a sweet girl like Hyacinth by his side, to spend the rest of his days with, buoyed his spirits and left him eagerly anticipating all the moments they would share. Marriage was no longer a duty, but a pleasure. As he stared down at his beautiful little bride, still spread out on the bed and stroking the coverlet with a smile on her face, he silently vowed to make her as happy as she would no doubt make him.

Mrs. Hennely emerged from the large closet, where she had apparently been cleaning something, and bobbed a curtsy. “My lord.” She rose up and took a deep breath. “On behalf of the entire household, I would like to offer you my most sincere congratulations on your nuptials.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hennely.” He moved to the bed and assisted a blushing Cynny to stand up, then guided her closer to the maid. “Hyacinth, I would like to introduce you to Mrs. Hennely. She is one of the most capable and valued members of my staff. She was my late mother’s lady’s maid, and now she shall be yours.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hennely.”

“The pleasure is all mine, my lady. Welcome to Grayson House. I am overjoyed by your arrival and think it’s splendid Lord Grayson has finally taken a wife, especially one as lovely and endearing as you.”

Though her little speech was a bit forward for a servant, Grayson simply smiled at Mrs. Hennely. She had known him since he was a small boy, after all, and he was glad she would take care of Cynny when he wasn’t able to. Most of the time, he planned to dress her and bathe her himself—he was her papa—but after riding hard for Talcott House and then the return trip to London, he very much needed to surrender himself to the skillful care of his valet before taking Cynny to his bed.

He regarded her wedding gown, and while he’d entertained visions of stripping it off her, he supposed she would appreciate having it removed soon, as well as the restricting bodice she was wearing underneath—which he’d glimpsed when he stared down at her bosom while she was seated on his lap in the carriage.

“Lady Grayson has had a long journey, Mrs. Hennely, so I am leaving her in your capable hands for a while.” He turned to his bride, then brought her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss upon her soft flesh. “I will return for you soon.”

“Yes, Pa—my lord.”

“You may call me Papa in front of any members of my staff, little girl. In fact, I must insist upon it.”

If Mrs. Hennely thought his statement odd, she gave no indication, for she stood there in polite silence.

“Yes, Papa,” Cynny finally said, with her face turning red.

Pleasure washing through him, Grayson spun on his heel and headed for his bedchamber. As soon as he entered, his seasoned valet, Finnick, immediately set about preparing him to receive his bride. A half an hour later, he stood in the doorway separating their rooms and was delighted to find Cynny seated on the edge of her bed, wearing a thin nightdress. Her golden tresses were brushed out and flowing over her shoulders. His cock thickened as he approached her and took her into his arms. She shuddered in his embrace and peered up at him from underneath her eyelashes, his beautiful little angel.

He guided her into his room and closed the door that separated his chamber from hers, just in case she got it into her mind to run from him. She was trembling and obviously nervous, and while he planned to be gentle as he claimed her innocence, he intended for them to consummate their marriage today. Perhaps it made him a bastard, but he didn’t want to leave any doubt that they were indeed husband and wife. He didn’t want her to have the option to leave, particularly if Lord Kensington got any noble ideas in his mind, though Grayson doubted the jilted man would come calling.

A wave of violent possessiveness for the sweet little blonde in his arms surged through him. Cynny was his. His alone. His to love and care for until the end of his days.

He sat on his bed and guided her to stand between his spread legs. Before he claimed her as his wife, there was the matter of her discipline to address. She had been naughty at Talcott House and he had no doubt the other girls who’d joined in her mischievousness had likely been punished. Just because it was her wedding day, did not mean she could escape the consequences of her actions. Her breath caught in her throat as she peered at him with increasing uncertainty spreading across her blushing face.

“Before we go any further, Hyacinth, we must discuss your misbehavior at Talcott House today.” He kept his voice firm.

“But Papa, I couldn’t help it. I was so curious about why you’d arrived unannounced, as were my friends, and there’s a peephole that provides a perfect view of Miss Wickersham’s study, and then one of my friends said she heard you talking about me…and, well, I then had no choice but to spy on the goings on in the headmistress’s study.” She gave him an innocent look, but he refused to be swayed by her words or her cute antics. She’d earned a spanking, and a spanking she would receive, whether it was her wedding day or not. He doubted she would be the first bride to join her husband in the marital bed with a reddened, freshly punished bottom.

“Little Cynny, you were a naughty girl and you will be spanked for it.” He reached around her and boldly cupped her behind cheeks, giving them a squeeze in each hand. “I bet your two little friends have had their bottoms reddened already, and you were just as disobedient as they were.”

She gave a dramatic sigh and to his surprise stomped her foot and crossed her arms. She stuck her lower lip out in an adorable pout. “But Papa! It’s not fair! I’m a married woman now. They aren’t and they must still follow the rules of Talcott House.”

He lifted an eyebrow at her in disapproval. “Little girl, you had better not stomp your foot at Papa again, or you’ll be getting extra smacks. As this is your first punishment at my hand, I was planning to give you a light spanking. However, if you continue to prove uncooperative, Papa will smack your hiney until you’re so sore you can’t sit down. Is that what you want, little Cynny? A bright red, thoroughly smacked bottom?”

She gasped and an authentic look of contrition finally settled over her. She uncrossed her arms and hid her pouty lip, biting it instead as her eyes gleamed with remorse. “Papa, I’m sorry I stomped my foot. I-I suppose if I’m to be punished no matter what, I would prefer a gentler spanking. I don’t want a bright red ouchie bottom. I’ll be good from now on. I promise, Papa.”

“I’m pleased to hear that.” He released her and sat back slightly, patting his thigh. “Over my knee with you, little girl. Papa must teach you a lesson.”