Indiscreet Page 11
"I went to school to get my teaching certificate, and I'm really good at it, Doyle. Please let me do it!"
Overall, he didn't really put his foot down too much, and he always tried very hard to be very fair when he made a decision that he knew she might not like, because he expected her to abide by it, regardless. And she was not the type to constantly ask for things. Heck, she'd gotten terribly upset because he'd torn a dress that he could have bought her a thousand of without ever noticing the difference.
Doyle stepped up and straightened his back, knowing that she needed him to be firm and sure of himself. "I will think about it and let you know what I decide. When are they going to decide who replaces her, do you know?" he asked.
She got very excited again, as if he'd said yes and he hadn't, so he told her to calm down, and he knew she was doing her best to obey him—as she almost always did—but she was much too wound up for her own good.
"No, I didn't ask. I just came back here as soon as I could."
"Well," he said, keeping his tone very calm, "I'll find out the details and make sure I've made my decision in a timely fashion. But I want you to relax and calm down, honey, or I'm going to have you fetch my bath brush."
The change in Rissa was almost comical. She went from being unable to stand still to almost—but not quite—placid.
"Yes, Doyle."
He smiled. "There's my good girl."
Rissa did her best not to bother him about how he was feeling about what he had learned about the position, although it was very hard not to do. He'd gone to town the next day—because he was always true to his word to her—and came back and told her that they were going to be accepting applications for the next week while one of the mothers filled in. Although she had no certificate and so she wasn't going to get the job permanently—but that, if he allowed her to apply, she'd have to do so again in the summer when they posted the position in the area papers, so there was the possibility that she could have it for several months but then lose it again to someone else.
And she didn't think that little piece of information would work in her favor at all, not that there was anything she could do about either that or his decision.
All she could do, she knew, was submit herself to his will. And, so far, to her great surprise, it hadn't been all that hard to do—and she found she was happier with him than she had ever been in her life. He took wonderful care of her. He was understanding and empathetic and patient with her, as long as he could see that she was trying to do what he asked of her.
But when she was deliberately willful or disobedient, Heaven help her.
A week later, almost to the day, he went to town again, and then, that evening, once they'd gotten into bed, he turned to pull her into his arms, saying, "Rissa, I've come to a decision about whether or not you may teach."
She held her breath, her heart pounding in her chest, but, at the same time, as she'd been experiencing since they'd been engaged, she could feel parts of herself—those that were the most feminine—begin to open and relax the way she knew he wanted them to. Her body—with or without the consent of her brain—was surrendering its will to him, making her ready to receive him and the decision he'd made for her, knowing that he always had her best interests—their best interests—foremost in his mind as he deliberated.
And it was rewarding her for doing so with pleasure. She could feel herself seeping onto her nightgown. Her responses to him over time had only become incredibly stronger, which was something she knew he took great pride in.
"Now, keeping in mind that it's a very short few months to work before the school year lets out."
This didn't sound good for what she wanted, and she tried to steel herself against the disappointment she knew she would feel if he decided not to give her his permission to work, knowing that, if that was the case, that he would be very understanding about her sorrow, but also that he would not bend once the decision was made, and that railing or whining about it would only earn result in her being very thoroughly punished for having done so.
"And the fact that you'd be gone a lot and not here when I come home for lunch and want you, as any man wants his wife, and you'd likely have things to do during the evenings rather than see to me, too, perhaps even things on the weekend that would cut into my time with you."
Rissa hung her head and almost stopped him there, knowing where this was going and not needing to hear the rest of it. It would just upset her. But she didn't like to interrupt him.
"So," he said, looking as if he dreaded to tell her. "I'm sure you'll understand when I tell you that—"
He paused and cupped her cheeks with both of her hands to see that she was already crying.
"I love and adore you. And that all I want in this whole world is to make you happy. And that the position is yours if you want it. They won't even post it in the summer. The job is yours to have until you become 'Old Mrs. Caldwell', fifty years from now."
Rissa couldn't believe what she was hearing, until it sunk in a little, and she screamed, shattering Doyle's ear drums and those of anyone within a five-mile range. "I can teach?" she asked, over and over again. "You're sure? What about all those reasons you just listed?"
Doyle kissed her tenderly. "How could I not want that which makes you so very happy? I have to admit, though, that I've strung you along a bit."
Her brow furrowed in puzzlement. "How do you mean?"
He looked a bit abashed. "Well, when I went into town that first time after you found out about Mrs. Carey, I told them then that you wanted the job. They contacted your principal from your last position back East, and he gave you a glowing review, so I told them that if they were going to take you for half a year, that they'd damned well better take you on a permanent basis. And they agreed."
Rissa threw her arms around her husband and sobbed, and he held the most precious thing in his life tenderly in his arms, arranging her on his lap and just holding her until she was ready to come up for air.
"Y-you said, too," she began shyly. "That you love me?"
"I do. Very, very much. You have made me incredibly happy, and I can only hope that I've brought some small amount of happiness into your life."
"I love you, too, Doyle. Thank you for everything you did. I know it might not be exactly what you want—"
"You are exactly what I want. After that, the only thing I need to know is that you're happy."
And with that, he kissed her, and Rissa melted into her husband's arms.
* * *
The End
Carolyn Faulkner
The words “spanking” and “discipline” have always sent a shiver up Carolyn Faulkner's spine. She knows she's not alone.
Writing started as a way to explore her feelings. Soon short stories flowed from her pen featuring reluctant heroes taking the leading lady in hand, but always for her own good.
Today Carolyn is the author of dozens of books. She writes from her home in Maine, where she lives with her husband and leading man.
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Captured by Time (w/ Alta Hensley)
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Her Guardian Don
Her Knight in Faded Denim
The Rod of Correction: Taken and Tamed
Taken by Force
Skye’s Submission
Sheik’s Desire
Reject Ranch
Nola
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More Than a Man
Man of Her Dreams
Love Will Find a Way
Fools Rush In
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Blood From a Stone
Angel of Sudden Hill
All of Her
A Piece of Heaven
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