His Runaway Bride Read online

  "No, thank you," they chorused back.

  "Jeez, you've got him well trained," Jayne commented off handedly when he'd safely disappeared into his study, which was well away from them anyway, and there was little likelihood that she'd be heard.

  Brownie smiled. "That was my mom's doing. Dad was the same way. Very solicitous of those he l—cared about."

  Jayne noticed the slip—as if Brownie was going to say "those he loved.” But that was hardly a possibility with her.

  Not long after he'd left, though, he reappeared, asking, "Jayne, can I see you for a minute?"

  Brownie grinned. "Uh oh. Someone's in trouuuu-bullll."

  Jayne flashed a frown at her friend as she got up to follow Pace back down the hall. What Brownie had said did give her a bit of an uncomfortable ache in the pit of her stomach, although she wasn't really sure why.

  "Please sit."

  It was the first time she'd been in this room—it was Pace's sanctuary, and she'd never had any cause to be there.

  He had a big desk in front of the windows that formed the farthest wall, with two chairs in front of it, one, an armchair and the other, a straight-backed chair that looked as if it belonged in a dining room. As she sat down in the most comfortable chair—to which he had pointed—he leaned against the front of the desk, massive arms crossed over an equally massive chest.

  Somehow, he looked even bigger than he did when she was standing. Perhaps it was her proximity to him that made him look larger than life.

  "How are you, honey?"

  Jayne shrugged. "I'm okay, thanks."

  "The bruises have faded, I'm glad to see."

  She put her hand to her cheek then down again, looking anywhere but at him. "Yes, they don't usually last very long."

  Jayne heard his teeth click together at that revealing admission, not that he probably didn't already know that the last time wasn't the only time Jake had struck her. If he didn't, he did now.

  "Do you mind if I ask if he's still calling you?" His voice had a bit of a harder edge to it than it had, but she didn't think that it was aimed at her.

  She looked wary, and he wished he could retract the question. Not that he didn't want to know the answer; he very much did. If he was a different kind of man, he might have stolen a look at her phone every once in a while, but he wasn't about to invade her privacy. That might well be something that her husband had done to her, and he definitely wanted to avoid any kind of comparisons she might make between himself and that asshole in which she found that he was anything but the exact opposite of him.

  "Yes, sometimes."

  He didn't know how often "sometimes" could be, but she was looking tense and he left that subject for another time.

  "So, not too long ago, you went into town to get some groceries, didn't you?" he asked casually, getting up to grab a paper from his desk then coming back to assume the same position he'd been in.

  "Yeah, I did. Did I get something you didn't like?"

  Pace smiled softly. "No, sweetie, this is not about that. And I'm not very picky about what I eat, anyway. Thank you for getting them, by the way.""

  Jake had been very exacting and demanding and only wanted the best of everything, even though they really couldn't afford to buy the best of anything.

  And he never, ever said "thank you" for anything.

  "Good."

  "But, if you'll remember, that morning, I mentioned to you that we have accounts at Meserve's. Do you remember that?"

  Oh. Fuck.

  That was what this was about—she had forgotten all about it.

  But apparently, he hadn't, which was the problem at the moment.

  And she also fully remembered what else he'd said!

  "Yes," she said finally, tentatively.

  Pace had to stop himself from smiling at her hesitance. "This is our bill from the market for this month. I don't see a charge from that day, do you?"

  She didn't bother to read it but handed it right back to him. "I didn't go there. I went into Casper, to an Albertson's, because small town markets are so much more expensive, and I'm used to being a bargain shopper."

  "Well, I certainly appreciate you doing what you can to save money, Jayne. Thank you."

  "You're welcome," she replied, hoping against hope that that was going to be the end of it.

  "Do you also remember why I told you to charge the groceries, honey?" he asked, putting the bill down and crossing his arms again.

  Pace watched her frown. "Because you didn't want me to spend the money—my money."

  "That's exactly right."

  The praise rumbled from deep in his chest, making her feel very warm in several places.

  "I just wanted to make sure that you'd heard what I said."

  Jayne didn't know why, but even though his tone didn't convey that feeling at all, his words sounded like a warning.

  She watched him slowly and deliberately claim the chair next to her, wondering if that shouldn't alarm her, too, but she felt as if she was observing him from a distance somewhat, so it didn't. He was sitting closer to her than he ever had, and yet she still wasn't worried, even though she had a good idea that she was in Dutch with him, and she knew full well what that might entail.

  "I was raised by a benevolent chauvinist."

  Jayne had to smile at the terminology.

  "By that, I mean that my dad, who was the biggest male force—physically and otherwise—in my life, loved women. He openly adored my mom—he was always hugging her and kissing her and doing so frequently just to gross his kids out, I'm sure. And he loved us very much, too. He was the reason we're huggers. My mom didn't grow up in a demonstrative family, but my dad's was loud and boisterous, and they hugged all the time."

  "I've always envied you your family, after hearing all of the wonderful stories you and Brownie tell about it. Mine was not."

  "I know, honey, and I'm sorry for that." He really wanted to tell her that he wanted to make her a part of their little family, but he bit his tongue. There were obstacles they needed to overcome before that became a possibility, and what he was going to do now was one of them.

  "Dad firmly believed that a woman could do anything she wanted to do in this world—hell, even back then, Mom had a better job than Dad did for quite some time, until he made it through school and they wanted to have kids. He even marched with some of the women from around her in the seventies when women were trying to get the E.R.A. passed."

  He cleared his throat—clogged with poignant memories, as it was.

  "But Dad wasn't a pushover for anyone. There were rules, and there were consequences—even for my mom—when they were broken."

  He put his hand out to her at that moment, and Jayne stared at it for a long moment, biting her lip nervously, but eventually, she put hers in his. And he didn't glom onto it. He didn't even close his fingers over her hand. He just let it rest there for a while as he continued to speak in that low, hypnotic tone.

  "When you came out here, you were a friend of Brownie's who I didn't know very well, but I've grown to know—and like you very much—every passing day. You've fit so well into our weird little world that you and Braeden have become a very important and special part of our family, whether that was your intention or not. And as a part of our family, the rules—my rules—apply to you, too, just as they do to Braeden and Brownie."

  His fingers did close gently over her hand at that point as he brought it to rest on his thigh, stroking his thumb over the back of it as he looked down at it. "I told you to use our money because I wanted to make things as easy as possible on you. I always want to do that. And I understand your need to be independent—I do—but when we can do something that's no skin off our nose, like buy groceries for all of us, you must let us. But even if you don't want to, it comes down to the fact that you knew that I wanted us to buy them, and you circumvented me very neatly, probably hoping that I wouldn't even notice there wasn't a charge to the market's account."

  That wa
s exactly what she had hoped, but she wasn't about to admit that to him.

  "So there needs to be a reckoning, I'm afraid. I don't think I come off as authoritarian, at least I hope I don't, making a lot of stupid, useless rules for people to follow."

  "No, you don't," she answered softly.

  He continued, his tone firmer than it had been. "But, Jayne, honey, when I ask you to do something—or not to do something, for that matter—I do expect to be obeyed."

  Her eyes darted to his. "I'm sorry. I just feel so useless around here."

  Pace actually kissed the back of her hand. "You are anything but useless," he chided. "Brownie is so happy to have you here, and you've been cooking for us and cleaning, which you don't have to do, but we're very happy to have you pitch in any way you want to. I confess, I'm very happy to have you here, too, but for other, very different reasons than my sister, I assure you."

  She almost smiled at that, and she did blush. She'd been a beautiful, dusky rose the entire time they'd been talking.

  "I think my sister mentioned to you at some point that I am a believer in spanking—not for children, ever—but for the women in my life whom I have feelings for. I think she might even have let it slip that her fiancé spanks her, with my blessing, by the way."

  "Yes," Jayne whispered, looking at the hand that was left in her lap.

  "I want you to know that when I say 'spanking', I mean just that. I would never, ever raise my fist to you or any other woman. Hell, I try not to fight with men, either, although sometimes—especially early in a man's life—it's not easy to avoid. And I have to confess that there are some men I'd like to beat into a bloody pulp, even now." Pace didn't go any further with that. They both knew to whom he was referring.

  Then he cleared his throat, as if he was nervous, too, Jayne realized with a start.

  And she was right. What he was about to do was very important to him on so many levels, and he knew he couldn't blow it, or he'd lose his chance with her. Perhaps it was too soon, but he meant to start out as he intended to continue. And he intended—if he was given the opportunity—to spank the beautiful Jayne when he felt it was necessary, while at the same time, he was fully aware that he would be expecting a level of trust from her that he hadn't necessarily earned in her eyes.

  He continued. "But I have too much innate respect for women to do anything like that. I would cut off my hand before I hit a woman. But this is something different. This is a—a lov—an affectionate correction."

  Damn. He knew that he needed to do this, but he was terrified that it would set her back—make her truly afraid of him again, make her equate a spanking from him to a beating from her asshole husband.

  "It's not meant to be brutal—it should feel like the exact opposite. It's meant to make you feel cared about. Maybe a little embarrassed, and to be just unpleasant enough that you'll think twice before you do whatever you've done to earn the spanking again."

  He felt as if he'd said a million words since he'd brought her in here, and she'd barely said five. She had spent the entire time looking down, and he had no idea how she was receiving this, although he couldn't really imagine that it was well. There was a fine trembling in the hand he held, although he'd done his best with the patient stroking of his thumb across the back and his generally soothing tone to try to eliminate that tremor, but he understood that it might well be beyond his capabilities at this point. But he vowed to himself, if she let him get closer to her, he would do everything he could to help her feel protected and cared for, even in this kind of situation—especially in this kind of situation.

  So, he drew a fortifying breath and, in one fell swoop, reached his arms out to loop them around her, lifting and placing her as quickly and as efficiently as possible over his lap. Once she was there, Jayne was easier to subdue than he had expected her to be, but he didn't attribute her lack of trying to escape to his words or her compliance.

  She was shaking harder now, all over, and he very nearly just put her back. But he didn't.

  If they ever got to a point where this kind of thing was a regular part of their lives, he would have removed her skirt—which she'd worn to a job interview earlier—and her panties. Spankings should be given on the bare to be the most effective. He did, however, flip her skirt up, drawing a sharp gasp from Jayne.

  He didn't want to traumatize her any more than he could feel that he already was. He'd never spanked a woman who was afraid of it and afraid of him, and if it came down to it, he wasn't sure he should have been doing it now. But Pace believed there should be consequences to people's actions, and he had told her that he would handle her misbehavior differently from Brae's. And his blabbermouth sister had told her exactly what he was likely to do.

  If she had been actively fighting him, he would have been more likely to let her go with a stern scolding. But, for whatever reason, she wasn't.

  As spankings went—especially his spankings—it was very light. But he did deliver enough sharp swats to bring her to tears, his palm smacking crisply down on her rounded behind in a steady, painful rhythm as he watched her bottom become as dusky pink as her cheeks through her panties.

  Pace had worried that she might have been inured to being spanked, considering what else he knew that she had been through, but it appeared that she had not, and he was very grateful for that, although he would bet that she wasn't particularly thankful at the moment. He'd fallen into his usual routine while delivering a punishment and began to scold her, too—again, lightly—reminding and reinforcing the idea that he expected to be obeyed and that she was very naughty to have gone and done exactly what she knew he didn't want her to do. She got a few extra swats for being so deliberately disobedient, and he told her exactly that as he gave them to her.

  Jayne may have been quiet over his lap before the spanking started, but she wasn't when the smacks began to fall. Each of them elicited what was, at first, a muted, almost grunt and Pace had to wonder if Jake had dissuaded her from crying out when she was hurt. It sounded like something the useless bastard would do.

  As he chided her, he mentioned, "You're so quiet, Jayne. You're going to make me think that I'm not spanking you anywhere near hard enough if you can endure it without barely a sound."

  She gave a soft—experimental—squeal on the very next slap and was never as quiet as she had been for the rest of the punishment.

  Her bottom was damned near perfect, and he could have gone on spanking it forever, but Pace forced himself to stick to his plan, giving her a short, somewhat sharp spanking that, hopefully, got his point across without terrifying her.

  When he'd finished, he went to help her up, intending to hold her in his arms as he was a very firm believer in the need—and he always had an intense desire to provide—aftercare. It was very nearly as important to him as the spanking itself.

  But once she felt she could get away from him, Jayne was gone. Pace rose, as if he'd go after her, but his cooler side prevailed—just barely. He didn't think his authority extended to being able to keep her there after the chastisement was over, but he had to physically clamp his hands down on the back of the chair to prevent himself from running after her, so deep was his desire to comfort her after her first spanking.

  Eventually, he headed back out into the living room, and Brownie was still there. "I'm going to head for bed," he announced. "I'm tired."

  Brownie didn't say anything else to him but, "Sleep well," even though she was dying to ask him why Jayne had run past her down the hall to her own room not long ago. She thought she probably had a good idea what had happened, but she didn't think that either of them was particularly eager to share the juicy details—especially with Jayne running away from him.

  She could have gotten up and gone down the hall, but she texted her friend instead. "You okay?"

  It had taken her a while, but she'd answered, "Yeah."

  "Wanna talk about it?"

  "No. Definitely not."

  And she watched as her brother di
stinctly paused by Jayne's door, as if he was listening for the sounds of her crying. But he didn't stay there long before making his way to his own room, so she must not have been. Or she was crying into a pillow or something like that.

  Brownie sighed, wishing there was something she could do to help those two get together, but she wouldn't have tolerated anyone messing around in her relationship with Hank, so she couldn't imagine that either of them would have been happy to have her do that to them.

  She'd brought them together, finally—although, granted, her timing sucked. It was up to them now.

  Chapter 6

  Jayne had not done anything that night but run into her room and bury her face in the pillow—very much as Brownie had imagined—trying to ignore the strong feelings that had stirred within her while he was spanking her. The next morning, she had gotten up, and as she was stepping into the shower, she caught sight of her bare behind in the mirror. It was still quite red, she was surprised to discover and she blushed brightly at the thought of what had happened between them.

  She wasn't at all sure what to expect from Pace in the aftermath, and she was not at all interested in finding out. So, she spent her time over the next few days avoiding him as much as she possibly could. And that wasn't an easy thing to do. It seemed as if every time she turned around, there he was. When she knew that he was working at home, she began to keep Brae in the bedroom with her, rather than joining him as they had been. When he took her son out to the barn, she declined his invitation to join them, politely, but she declined it nonetheless.

  Jayne did everything humanly possible to spend as much time away from the house as she could manage. She went out on more interviews, took Braeden to the park and to the library, deliberately missing as many dinners with both Brownie and Pace as she could, and spending the majority of her free time in her room, rather than out with them.

  Pace was beside himself. As far as he could see, he'd done exactly what he didn't want to do—he'd ruined everything, and he was raking himself over the coals for having been so stupid. He'd gotten used to seeing her everywhere, and now she was nowhere to be found. He'd approached her a few times, trying to get her to talk to him, but she was more elusive than he expected her to be, always dashing here and there, and he couldn't get a word in edgewise.