Undercover Sir Read online

  "Oh dear, I'm sorry! I didn't mean for that to sound…well, you know, mean."

  "I know, I know," Ia reassured her automatically, really trying not to think about what she'd said, or she was going to burst into tears.

  But Taffy saved the day by stubbing out her cigarette and guiding Ia back into the living room, where she produced a game that turned out to be absolutely hilarious when played drunk—Life. When they were supposed to go to Millionaire Acres, they started over instead, so they never really finished the game and declared a winner. Instead, each of them ended up literally having a carful of children trailing them around the board, and they had both been most of the possible careers—although Taffy kept saying that she didn't want one, but she did it for the money.

  Surprisingly, drunk Mystery Date was even better, but they didn't finish that one, either. By then, they were getting sleepy.

  Taffy did manage to ask Ia which one of the men—as she cheated and looked through the pictures of the possible dates—was her type.

  Ia colored. "I'm not sure."

  "Well, the the first thing you need to decide is what kind of man you want. Then you know who to set your sights on!"

  She said it as if that was all Ia would need to do to have hordes of men knocking down the door to date her.

  Her sister-in-law was determined to help her, but by that point, it was the middle of the night, and they were hammered. Taffy fell asleep with her cigarettes in her hand, having intended to go out and smoke one last one before retiring. Ia passed out on the couch with her slippers actually on it, which was a testament to just how polluted Taffy was, or she would have been screaming bloody murder at her to get her feet off the couch.

  Chapter 2

  "What in hell is going on here?" The demand was issued by someone who sounded extremely angry.

  "Stop yelling!" Taffy, who, when she lifted her head off the coffee table had at least one little plastic car and several peg people of various sexes affixed to her cheek, whined.

  "Yeah. Pipe down!" Ia added, turning over on the couch to present whoever the rude person was with her back.

  But she didn't remain there for long.

  Both Taffy and Ia found themselves hauled unceremoniously onto their feet by their arms as Daniel pulled them close to him, looking back and forth between them. "Well? Do you two have anything to say for yourselves about the condition I'm finding this house in after leaving you two alone in it for ten days? Or the fact that the two of you obviously drank yourselves into a stupor last night?"

  "You're not supposed to be home!" Taffy would be made to regret that remark, but it was the first thing she thought of, and she was very hungover, if not still reasonably drunk.

  "Yeah. Not 'til Friday!" Ia joined in.

  "Well, believe me, this sorry scene has made me sincerely regret taking the chance to come home early and surprise my wife." He glared fiercely at, first, Taffy, then Ia.

  He sounded angrier than Ia could ever remember hearing him, and it was sobering her up—sort of—quickly.

  "We're sorry. We were just having fun."

  Daniel asked in a clipped tone, "Just how much fun do you need to have, Patricia?"

  Uh-oh! Daniel had never in her memory—except while making his vows to her on their wedding day—used Taffy's real name. They were really in for it. "All of this is making me wonder if I need to hire some kind of babysitter for the two of you, since you're apparently acting like young hoodlums when I'm gone." He sniffed the air then continued to chide them, "You're both still blitzed, and I smell cigarette smoke for some—"

  Then his eyes fell on the pack of Newports and the lighter lying on the coffee table, reaching down to pick them up.

  Ia had never heard him use such a disappointed, accusatory tone as his hand tightened around her arm. "And I want to know, right this minute, whose these are. And I hate to think I have to say this to either of you, but don't even think about lying to me." He looked from Taffy to Ia, and back again, but neither woman said anything.

  Ia's stock with Taffy went up because she held her silence in the face of Daniel's fury, but she didn't want the younger woman to take the blame for something that was her fault.

  "They're mine," she answered quietly, not looking at her husband, but rather at the floor.

  Daniel sighed, throwing the cigarettes and lighter on the table and running his hand through his hair. He finally noticed, in the dead silence, the unmistakable, repetitious sound of his extremely expensive, precious stereo system indicating that it had reached the end of a record some time ago, but the arm hadn't retracted, and neither of the drunkards in the living room had noticed that fact.

  They were loosed abruptly, and after he'd picked his way through the minefield of candy wrappers—some empty, some full—and stray cereal and pretzels from a bowl of Chex mix that had spilled all over the floor, Daniel literally growled when he looked down at the records that were strewn everywhere—some of them his—some half in their jackets and half out. That was not to mention the fact that someone had put their drink down on the nice wooden cabinet without a coaster, which was going to leave a water ring.

  He carefully rescued the tonearm from one of his new favorite albums—Patsy Cline—picking up a Cheeto that had fallen onto it at the same time and just throwing it onto the carpet.

  But he held onto his temper, clenching his teeth with the effort as he turned back toward the girls, who were both looking guiltily at the floor.

  "I'm assuming the two of you know that you are both in a heap of trouble, and I'm sure you realize that by the time I get through with you, neither of you is going to want to sit down for a month or so. But I will deal with each of you in turn shortly."

  Ia lifted her head enough to shoot Taffy a quizzical look. They were both surprised to hear that they were getting any kind of reprieve, and neither of them thought that was going to be a good thing for them in any way. Why hadn't he already sent them to their rooms? That worried both of them. And, as it turned out, with very good cause.

  A bit belatedly, Daniel spotted the girls' robes on the floor, handing Ia hers and practically having to dress Taffy, or she would have ended up in a heap on the floor with the effort. "But before I do that," he began, rubbing the back of his neck agitatedly before he took each of the girls by their arms again to guide them, none too gently, toward the dining room. It was there, they both came to the horrifying realization that a stranger had witnessed everything that had just happened. "I have someone I want you to meet."

  Granted, the man's back was turned to them, and he was politely standing at the end of the room—as far away from their humiliation as he could get without going outside—peering out the sliders at the deck and the back yard. He only turned back around when they approached him, but that didn't make either one of them feel better in the slightest. He'd heard the whole thing, the scolding as well as the—however oblique—reference to the fact that he was going to spank them. Not to mention the fact that he'd likely also seen them in nothing but their nightgowns and underwear.

  Ia's face could not have gotten any redder, if Taffy's was anything to judge by.

  "This is the man I've been working very closely with on the London deal, and to whom I've been bragging, every time I see him, about my wonderful wife whom I love to distraction, and who makes such a beautiful home for us, and my smart, independent sister, whom I also adore, and of whom I have always been so extremely proud."

  "Oh, God," Ia groaned softly, covering her face. She heard the lovely words—rare praise from him indeed. But she couldn't feel anything but embarrassment and remorse.

  Taffy had begun crying softly as soon as he'd mentioned how she'd kept a "beautiful" house.

  But Daniel wasn't going to let either of them off the hook easily "Douglas Martin, meet my apparently delinquent wife, Taffy."

  Since the older woman chose that moment to throw herself against her husband and dissolve into tears, obviously hoping that this was all just an alc
ohol-fueled nightmare, Mr. Martin didn't get a chance to shake hands with her. "A pleasure to meet you," he murmured quietly, averting his eyes.

  Ia had no one to cling to, so she ended up standing there alone in all of her glorious mortification.

  "And this naughty young lady is my sister, Anna Maria, who is more usually called Ia," Daniel intoned in a manner that left no doubt as to the fact that he was severely disappointed in her, too.

  Dear Lord, he'd called her "naughty" in front of a man she didn't know!

  Unlike Taffy, she couldn't just ignore the introduction, much as she might have wanted to at that moment, so Ia gamely put her hand out while keeping her eyes on the man's spotless dress shoes as she fought back tears.

  Her head snapped up, though, when she found the fingers of her cold, nervous hand taken by a large, warm one. But he didn't shake it. Instead, he turned it very gently over and brought the back of it to his lips, lying effortlessly in an impossibly cultured and low, undeniably soothing British accent, "I'm charmed to meet you, Miss Baldwin."

  She pulled her hand back more in surprise than anything, because not only had he done the unexpected in not shaking her hand, but when she'd finally forced herself to meet the man's bright, intelligent green eyes, they were smiling ever so slightly—if fleetingly—as if he had a long acquaintance with situations like this and was quite at ease with them. It was not an unkind or even an overt smile—she doubted that Daniel had seen it—but he was definitely letting her know that he was far from horrified by what he'd witnessed. Instead, he was thoroughly amused by the pickle in which she and Taffy found themselves.

  Ia had no idea what to make of that, or him, or her reaction to him, which went beyond recognizing that he was keenly aware of her plight. When he touched her, when his warm, soft lips were gently, briefly pressed to her hand, she'd felt something she'd never experienced before—something strong and intoxicating and stark that made her heart beat faster and her breath catch more than slightly.

  She dismissed those feelings as fanciful, of course, mere remnants of the alcohol in her system, concentrating instead on his annoyingly accurate intuition about the fact that she was moments from being spanked by her brother. She didn't know how he knew, but he knew, darn him!

  Her first instinct was to dislike him, even though she didn't sense any menace from him. But there was no mistaking that look. Anyone else would have been at least somewhat abashed, and it had been her understanding that the Brits were an extremely reserved, unemotional people.

  Apparently, she had been mistaken, not that she'd ever met an Englishman before.

  So, the discomfort was all hers, and she had more than enough to go around. Perhaps her unusual reaction to him was normal—she wouldn't know the difference, since no man had ever kissed her hand. No man other than her brother, or the occasional assorted cousin, had kissed her anywhere. Ia knew that she should say something as he continued to look at her with that benign but intense stare, although she just couldn't find any words that she thought sounded right.

  As she stood there, feeling like six kinds of dolt and twelve kinds of a fool, twin teardrops rolled down her cheeks, and Ia used the same hand he'd kissed to brush them away, hoping to forestall more of them, because she knew that many more were going to be forcibly conjured in the not too distant future.

  Then she noticed that not only had the stranger brought in a gorgeous, expensive looking leather briefcase that was tucked against the far wall, but he'd also brought his suitcase.

  Daniel had brought him home to stay here while they were working together.

  Ia closed her eyes, losing two more tears. This day could not possibly get any worse, but then she knew that was a lie. She still had a punishment to get through.

  With the formalities out of the way, Daniel pushed Taffy slightly away from him, kissing her forehead gently. "You two are to go to your rooms and wait for me there while I make Douglas comfortable."

  Only too happy to extricate themselves from the awful awkwardness, the girls each made it back to their rooms in record time.

  Ia closed the door behind her and leaned back against it, nearly giving in to the impulse to weep piteously, but she didn't. There was no telling when he was going to come through that door. Would he see to Taffy first? For some reason, she really didn't want to have him find her dissolved in tears.

  Besides, it wasn't as if she didn't know that it wouldn't garner her any mercy.

  Ia walked as if in a trance. Holy moly. This was really happening! And with a stranger in the house, no less! Sinking down on the bed, she put her head in her hands. Darn, the waiting was almost—almost—worse than the punishment itself.

  She still wondered if he would spank Taffy first, but there was no way to know, since she'd never heard him discipline her.

  Chapter 3

  Daniel didn't bother knocking. It wasn't as if she wasn't expecting him; he just appeared in her room, shutting the door tight behind him. Ia stood up to immediately bend herself over the end of the bed.

  He surprised her by tapping her shoulder, and when she stood up, Daniel hugged her tightly, whispering, "I hope you know that I'm only doing this for your own good."

  Ia knew that an "I know" was expected from her, but she couldn't bring herself to say it. She did know that was what he believed, but it didn't help her come to grips with it at all. She pulled away first, assuming the position again without saying a word to him, even as her eyes fell on the sight of the belt that he had put on the bed before hugging her.

  She really didn't hear what he said; she was too fixated on that belt and what its presence on her bed meant. First, it meant that he'd seen to Taffy before her, because he hadn't taken it off; it was already off.

  Secondly, and much, much worse, it meant that he'd most likely been holding it in his hand as he travelled from their bedroom, through the living room, and down the hall to her bedroom, where anyone with any interest in the matter could have seen him doing so. Like the annoyingly amused Mr. Martin.

  And thirdly, as he picked it off the bed to place the folded length against her panty covered cheeks, it meant that there wasn't going to be a spanking beforehand. This time, it was all going to be all leather.

  "I'm not going to lecture you, because you know that I expect better behavior from you, especially as an adult."

  It was only a second or so later that she felt the thud-sting of it slicing down onto her behind. The horrible burning ache jolted an almost surprised, "Yeow!" out of her before she clamped her mouth shut against that happening again.

  And it continued to connect with her tender flesh in an unfailing rhythm that had reduced her to tears within only the first few slaps of that unforgiving leather—partly because of the pain, partly because of the embarrassment, and partly because, beneath it all, she hated the thought of disappointing him, even though she was grown and that shouldn't matter to her anymore, she thought. But it most definitely did.

  Ia wasn't sure if this time was worse than the last, but it certainly wasn't better! It was probably about the same, but for some reason, it seemed to hurt more—much more—than she remembered. Her butt—and the backs of her legs—were on fire. It was more than the original sting of each stroke. A deep ache settled in each time, before the next one fell, and she was utterly miserable long before it stopped.

  And, although she'd vowed to herself that she wouldn't cry out after that first one slipped past her, considering that they had company, Ia was completely unable to meet that goal. To her absolute horror, she was louder this time than last, she was very sure.

  As she imagined him sitting in the living room, Mr. Martin must've been getting quite a thrill.

  When that last, extra hard swathe was laid down on top of all of the others that decorated her rear in varying shades of red agony and she'd debased herself with a full-throated scream while drumming her feet in painful frustration, Ia held herself still and tense, waiting for the next one to fall.

  But Danie
l was busy putting his belt back on; not that she noticed. He tapped her on the shoulder again.

  When she rose, he pulled her into a hug with no concern for whether or not she wanted one this time, not giving her a chance to decline it before he let her go so fast, she questioned whether it had actually happened and whether she had heard him whisper, with no small touch of sadness, "Try not to hate me for this too much more than you already do, huh?"

  He paused at the door before closing it. "Taffy is already cleaning the kitchen. I want you to come out in a few minutes and start on the living room. Don't make me come get you, Anna Maria," he warned.

  Ia closed her eyes at his rare use of her full first name, spoken in that scolding voice as she stood there weeping silently.

  "I want this house made spotless again. Once that's done to my specifications, then you are to go back to your room and stay in it for the rest of the day. You need to think long and hard about what you've done and why you're still getting yourself spanked at twenty-five."

  She whimpered once, softly, at that, biting her lip against making any further sounds.

  "But I expect you to be ready to go out to dinner with me, Taffy, and Mr. Martin at The Bella Roma this evening. Our reservations are for six, so be ready by five-thirty."

  Ia was still reeling from what he'd said—and done—to her, but she answered automatically, "Oh, I don't think I'll feel like—"

  Daniel's brows furrowed darkly as he cut her off, "I promised to take Douglas out for a nice meal with my family his first night here. And I think that, considering the condition of your bottom, it may be wise for you to be ready at five-fifteen, just in case."

  Going out to the living room was one of the hardest things she'd ever done in her young life, but she did it, rather than face more of Daniel's wrath. She could hear Taffy cleaning—and weeping softly—in the kitchen while she tackled the wreck of a living room.

  There was no sign of either of the men, until the sound of a deep male chuckle reached her ears and she discovered that they were on the deck, with the screen slider in place, as if Daniel felt the need to keep track of them.