Dealing With Discipline (44 page)

It wasn't until she darted up the
stairs to a house and immediately went in without knocking that he
realized she'd just entered his mother's house.

Hell and
damnation!

Apparently he'd just met his ward. His
incredibly attractive ward. Who squished very nicely against him
and was dressed like a doxy.

Bloody hell.

Look for book 3 in
the
Domestic Discipline
Quartet
,
Punishing
His Ward
, now available for sale on
Amazon.com. For now, enjoy this small (unedited) excerpt to whet
your appetite:

Chapter 1

Out of all the words in the English
language, Cynthia's absolute favorite was "don't."

One could learn what the most
interesting things in life were if one always listened to what they
were told not to do and then promptly did it.  That was how
she'd learned that climbing trees was great fun and so was swimming
in the lake.  It was how she'd learned breeches were more
comfortable than skirts and riding astride much more exciting than
riding in a lady's sidesaddle - although she could do both.
 Kissing was another great fun that she would have missed out
on if she listened to that word, "don't."  

The moment Cynthia was told "don't" do
something, she immediately felt the strong urge to do it.  And
it led to such wondrous discoveries!

As she'd grown older those discoveries
were what gave her life sparkle after her parents died.  Of
course she missed them very much, she did, but that didn't mean
that her life should always be sad.  She was sad when she
thought of them and she'd mourned them very properly and during her
mourning period had tried to behave as the perfect young lady that
she hadn't been able to be during their lives, but once she'd
thrown off the black she'd thrown off that shroud of gloom as well.
 Life was just more fun when one was attempting all the things
one wasn't supposed to do.

Which was how she'd ended up sneaking
out of Lady Spencer's house in Bath to go meet with the scandalous
Mr. Carter.  According to her ladyship, Mr. Carter was a
rogue, a rake, a dissolute braggart and a man completely without
honor.  Her ladyship's clear instructions had been "don't ever
even talk to him, avoid him at all costs."

How was Cynthia supposed to ignore
such temptation?  She figured that Mr. Carter must know even
more wonderful things that one wasn't supposed to do than Cynthia
did herself.  And she had to admit that she rather thought he
cut a dashing figure with his air of indifference, those lazy brown
eyes and that mop of golden curls that was always slightly mussed.
 So of course when he'd coaxed her onto the terrace during one
of the assemblies she'd gone willingly, only to be interrupted
moments later by an irate Lady Spencer.

Fortunately he'd found her in a shop
this morning, her hovering chaperone nearby but not within earshot,
and had murmured that he'd like to meet her.  She'd whispered
back that she'd meet him at the nearby park in the afternoon, when
she knew Lady Spencer would most likely be entertaining.  At
first her ladyship had tried to include Cynthia more often in her
'at-homes' but Cynthia quickly grew bored of sitting, drinking tea,
and listening to viscous old ladies exchange gossip.  Although
she did perk up whenever any of them had anything to say about her
ladyships sons.  

She'd become great friends with
Matthew and Vincent Spencer, and while she hadn't met the Earl of
Spencer yet she rather enjoyed hearing stories about him.
 Most of the best stories weren't told in Lady Spencer's
presence, but a few of the old dragons would whisper the juicy
tidbits to each other while the Countess was occupied, and Cynthia
had managed to overhear quite a bit.  Gambling, tumbling other
men's wives, gallivanting about town... it all sounded quite grand
to her.  They said he was as handsome as the devil with a
twinkle in his eye that could make the most chaste lady turn up her
skirts for him.

Cynthia knew that she wasn't supposed
to know what that meant, but she did.  When she was ten her
mother had tried to keep her away from the fields where her father
was breeding his horses, which of course had only meant that
Cynthia had immediately snuck out there.  Later, clandestine
observations of the household staff as well as visiting house
guests had added to her education.  When she was told not to
go into her father's study unless he was present she'd quickly
discovered why; he had quite a collection of erotic etchings and
some very informative books which had been very
useful. 

Perhaps the most delightful "don't"
she'd ever received was "don't touch yourself between your legs."
 Combined with her observations, the books and the drawings,
she'd quickly managed to discover exactly why touching herself
between her legs could be quite wonderful, although she still
hadn't discerned why it was a "don't."

Mr. Carter had wanted to
touch her between her legs today, but she hadn't allowed him to.
 She didn't think they could take that much time, although she
certainly planned on touching
herself
 there as soon as she
was able.  His passionate kisses and wandering hands had quite
aroused her.  But she had remained cognizant of the fact that
Lady Spencer couldn't remain shut up in her room forever, even if
the woman had thrown quite a fit when she'd realized that her
charge and the roguish Mr. Carter were standing far too close to
each other in the store.  She'd dragged Cynthia home
immediately, told her to stay in her room until the Earl arrived
there this afternoon to "deal with her" and then immediately took
refuge in her own room.

Of course Cynthia wasn't going to stay
in her room, not when she wanted to know what Mr. Carter could show
her, but she had known that she only had a limited amount of time.
 Then they'd almost been caught by a pair of gossiping girls
who were talking in high-pitched excited voices about how both the
rakish Lord Hyde and the Earl of Spencer had been seen in
town. 

Still, it had all been rather
wonderful even if she had to rush home now.

Unfortunately, just after pushing
through a group of rather rowdy young men she ran straight into the
poor man that was walking behind them.  She thought it was
unfortunate because he seemed like a very fine specimen of a man,
even taller than Mr. Carter and with a harder body - she knew
because it felt like she'd just smashed herself against a wall -
and he was very handsome, but she didn't have time to make any kind
of introduction or discover his direction.  It also wasn't the
kind of impression she wanted to make on a man as attractive as he
was, but it couldn't be helped.

"Oh I'm so sorry, I beg your pardon!"
she blurted out, before darting past him.  Hopefully he
wouldn't get a good enough look at her to remember her if they were
to meet later; she'd rather he remember her as anything other than
a rampaging harpy dashing through the street.  Hurrying up the
steps to the house she went immediately into the front door, hoping
that Manfred might be in one of the other rooms doing whatever it
was he did when he wasn't watching her with disapproving eyes and
that no one else was in the foyer.

Unfortunately her hopes were in vain.
 Not only was Manfred standing in the center of the foray,
there were several other servants running in and out of the room as
well, including her maid Julie who looked to be rather teary-eyed.
 Cynthia glared at Manfred.  If he'd been taking Julie to
task over Cynthia's disappearance then she would have words with
him.  How could a maid be expected to keep tabs on her?
 

Manfred ignored her as the front door
opened behind her again.  Shockingly, something like relief
flickered across his normally blank face.  

"My Lord.... your ward has
returned."

Oh dear.  So not only was the
Earl of Spencer certainly here, he knew she had been missing.
 Well, Cynthia had always been one to face up to her misdeeds
without flinching.  After all, they were almost always well
worth whatever repercussions came from ignoring the word
"don't."

Taking a deep breath for
fortitude, she turned to face the Earl and gasped.  It was the
same man she'd bumped into outside!  Now that she could get a
better look at him she realized why she would have never expected
him to be an Earl, he didn't at all look like one.  Even
though he'd been described as a rogue and a devil, she still
expected him to look like the other rakes amongst the
ton
 that she'd met.
 This man had tanned skin, like a laborer, and his brown hair
was long and unruly, falling in waves down to the collar of his
shirt.  A shirt which was anything but pristine and his cravat
was crooked too.  Besides which, he wasn't even wearing a
waistcoat!  What kind of titled nobility went anywhere without
a waistcoat?

She was so busy gaping at him that she
missed seeing the amusement that flashed across his face.
 

About the Author

About me? Right… I’m a writer, I
should be able to do that, right?

I’m a happily married young woman, no
kids so far, and I like tater tots, small fuzzy animals, naming my
plants, hiking, reading, writing, sexy time, naked time, shirtless
o’clock, anything sparkly or shiny, and weirding people out with my
OCD food habits.

I believe in Happy Endings. And
fairies. And Santa Claus. Because without a little magic, what’s
the point of living?

I write because I must. I live in
several different worlds at any given moment. And I wouldn’t have
it any other way.

You can follow along with
my blog at
http://goldeniangel.blogspot.com/
. I try to update it regularly.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope
you enjoyed the story… and don’t forget, the best thing you can do
in return for any author is to leave them feedback!

Stay sassy.