Page 14 of Surrender Your Grace (Impromptu Brides #1)

Outside of fairy tales and daydreams, Cici never imagined such happiness.

She and Andrew had become inseparable—strolling hand-in-hand, stealing kisses in sun-drenched corridors, whispering and laughing, which drew curious looks from the staff.

They rarely rose before ten, earning raised brows from Mrs. Weatherford and knowing smiles from the maids—looks Cici tried (and failed) to ignore.

She shouldn’t care. Not when Andrew kissed her awake each morning, swept her into passionate embraces whenever the mood struck. He’d already tumbled her in a field of wildflowers, taken her against two sturdy oaks, and once, quite memorably, beneath the lilacs behind the garden wall.

Her kind, teasing husband bore little resemblance to the stern viscount she’d first met in her father’s study. In the two weeks since arriving at Arendale, she’d seen that version of him only once.

One afternoon during a walk, she’d said something—about the flowers, or perhaps the hills. She couldn’t even recall what, only that he seized her hand and led her into the shade of a nearby stand of trees.

“Is something wrong, my lord?”

He stopped short and turned. “How many times have I asked you to call me by my given name?”

“Didn’t I?”

“You did not.”

“I’m sorry. But addressing someone above my station properly was drilled into me from the nursery.I will strive to do better.”

“You will indeed, sweeting. The formality ends now.”He spun her around, his fingers seeking her laces.

“What are you doing?”

“What I should have done days ago to help you remember.” One tug, and her riding skirt dropped to her knees.

Stunned, Cici didn’t resist as he propped a boot on a nearby stump and tumbled her forward over his knee, flipping her skirt up with practiced ease. She regained the ability to speak when his hand smoothed over her backside.

“You can’t mean to spank me in my drawers!” she yelped. “It’s improper.”

“Correct. Which is why they must go.”

“My lord!” she gasped, wriggling as he loosened the drawstring.

“And there it is yet again!” he grumbled, holding her fast with one arm, while parting the linen seam to bare her bottom to his gaze.

Mortified, she reached to cover herself, but he caught her wrists easily and pinned them to her back.

“You can’t!” she protested. “It isn’t done!”

“It most certainly is,” he replied. “You’re an innocent and wouldn’t know that. Fortunately for you, I’m a patient teacher.”

His low chuckle made her bristle.

“This isn’t funny. Let me up.”

He ignored her protest, squeezing the curves of her bottom before tracing the cleft between them. Her outrage battled the heat his touch stirred—especially between her thighs.

“If your father punished you and your sister over your skirts, it’s little wonder it wasn’t effective.”

“Please,” she exclaimed as she struggled. “This is beyond embarrassing. I’m your wife, not a child.”

“A wife is never too old to go over her husband’s knee,” he said mildly. “And when I do discipline you, it will always be on the bare.”

She kicked her feet, half defiant, half unsure. “Do you plan to spank me into submission?” she huffed, cheeks burning.

“Only until you remember my name—correctly, unprompted, and with enthusiasm.”

“That seems excessive.”

She let out a whimper as his palm lightly stroked and then squeezed each of her cheeks. “So is calling me my lord after I’ve kissed every square inch of your beautiful body every night for two weeks running.”

“I suppose Andrew fits better, considering,” she muttered. “But it was a lapse. I swear.”

“I’ve been patient with you, allowing a fortnight of lapses. When I’m done, you’ll be calling me by all my names—and possibly inventing a few new ones.”

He delivered a firm, measured smack that made her jump.

“You’ve earned a swat for every lapse since we arrived.

Let’s see, you my lorded twice this morning while I was buttering my toast. And once, last evening when I assisted you naked and glistening from the tub.

As well as an abundance of times throughout the day.

Let’s call it six per day, just to be fair. ”

Cici did a quick calculation. “That’s seventy-four! Such a number is hardly fair, since I didn’t know you were keeping a tally.”

“Yes, well,” he said lightly, tugging her drawers down her thighs. “I am the lord of this estate, which means I define justice.”

Cici wriggled under his grip, scandalized, seething, and a tiny smidge amused. Dear heavens, she couldn’t actually be enjoying this.

“I am the viscountess,” she snapped. “Have I no rights?”

“You have the rights I allow,” Andrew murmured, trailing his palm over her now bare bottom and thighs. “And you’re forgetting something, sweeting—I shall always outrank you.”

“You should treat me with dignity, not toss me about like a sack of Yorkshire potatoes!”

“I’d never mistake you for potatoes,” he said. “They don’t argue—or sass.”

She huffed, then flinched as his hand struck again, a sharp crack echoing through the trees.

“This is beyond the pale!”

“True,” he agreed, maddeningly calm. “Your lovely backside is pale no longer—it’s the prettiest shade of pink.”

A flurry of stinging spanks followed. Cici kicked reflexively, her boot heel catching his shin.

Andrew grunted, startled. “You little imp! Are you assaulting your husband mid-spanking?”

“I’m making tactical demands,” she retorted. “Release me at once, or I’ll shout so loud the entire village will hear and know I’m being assaulted.”

He adjusted her to keep her firmly pinned. “Go ahead and shout if you’d like an audience. Just remember, come Sunday, seated in the family pew, everyone will know you have a beauty mark on your delightfully curvy arse.”

She glanced back, scowling. “You’re a beast!”

“Perhaps,” he replied, unfazed, “but are you brave enough to test me?”

“Are you, my lord ?” she challenged. “After all, you must sleep sometime.”

Andrew froze, her threat hanging heavy between them, especially with the addition of his title. It gave her the opening she needed.

With a quick twist, Cici slipped free, her skirt falling around her as she retreated. “You should see your face, your lordship, ” she dared to tease, unable to contain her amusement.

He stared, speechless, then lunged—but she was already retreating.

“Oh no,” she sang out, backing away. “If you want to spank this delightfully curvy arse, you’ll have to catch it!”

Whirling, Cici darted between the trees like a fox loosed from a trap, petticoats and skirt fluttering wildly with every step.

Behind her, Andrew let loose a string of expletives. She glanced back, a grin spreading across her face at the poetic justice of him tripping over the very stump he’d propped his foot on. It only briefly slowed him.

“Get back here, Wife!” he called, taking off after her. “You can’t run off mid-spank!”

“Oh, but I can, Husband! Because I just did,” she shouted, her laughter trailing through the trees.

Coincidentally, she also tripped over a root, but it propelled her forward. With her skirts bunched above her knees, tall weeds stung her bare legs. Improper didn’t begin to describe her behavior, which only made it more delicious.

He was gaining on her, his long strides eating the distance. “You little minx!” he shouted, laughing. “What will they say if we’re caught like this?”

“That you married brilliantly!” she hollered back before disappearing behind a thicket.

He rounded it moments later—and froze. She stood there breathless, hair wild, leaning against a tree.

“I’ve reconsidered,” she said sweetly as she plucked a twig from her hair. “I’ll let you catch me, but no more spanking.”

“That’s not how this works,” he growled, feinting left before circling right to catch her around the waist.

She spun into him, her palms flat against his chest. “Oh, no?” she asked, breathless from more than exertion.

His hands trailed up her back then down, thumbs grazing boldly. “No,” he murmured. “This chase ends with surrender.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Both,” he said, leaning in to kiss her.

“Fine with me— Andrew ,” she whispered, rising on her toes.

Their lips met in a fiery kiss, the rustling leaves above them whispering their approval.

“I doubt I shall ever forgive you for this,” she lied when he let her up for air.

“Hush. You’re barely pink,” he replied as he lifted her off her feet. “That was a mere trifling of a spanking, not an execution.”

She gulped, fighting the charm of his handsome face and teasing grin. “If that’s your idea of trifling, I don’t want to imagine severe. Any more would kill me.”

“Now you’re being dramatic. No one’s ever died of a minor spanking.”

He wasn’t wrong. The sting had faded, and his fingers—now roaming under her skirt, caressing her bottom and trailing lower—felt rather nice. Still, she had to ask.

“Will you do this every time I misbehave or ignore your rules?”

“Probably, since you clearly enjoy it.”

She jerked back and exclaimed, “I did not!”

“Do you think I couldn’t tell?” he gently scolded. “When I tell you repeatedly to do something and you don’t comply, you can expect more of what you just experienced. Continued disobedience may require upping the ante a bit until you see the wisdom of my ways.”

She frowned at the unfamiliar word. “What does ante mean?”

He patted her bottom.“Follow my rules, and you’ll never need to know.”

“Andrew!”

He grinned. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Heedless of their surroundings, he laid her on the thick grass, hiked up her skirts, and spread her thighs. Her wetness eased his entry, and he sank into her fully.

Yes, she’d enjoyed the chase—and the spanking—but she wasn’t ready to confess those wicked truths. Not yet. Not until she understood them herself.

Andrew thrust deep, stealing her breath.

Cici dug her heels into his backside, urging him faster.

He complied—eagerly

She sank her fingers into his hair, holding his mouth to hers.

Their joining was urgent, intense, and unrestrained. Soon, their cries echoed through the trees.