Read Online Lilly Blossoms (Lessons in Submission Book 3) by Maggie Ryan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Maggie Ryan
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was some sort of… of deviant? Her strangled gasp had him pausing a few feet from the bench.
"Lilly, look at me."
She couldn't. The moment he saw her flushed face or looked into her eyes, he'd know she was not only a flower girl… she was a girl with very naughty thoughts.
"Lilly, I know that something is wrong. I can't help fix it if you won't talk to me." When she shook her head and released his arm, he had her hand before she'd managed even a half-turn. "No, not this time. I'll not have you running again." Before she knew what was happening, she was being lifted off her feet and into his arms.
"Put me down!"
"Again, not this time," he said, his arms tightening a bit. "You are a very strong, capable woman, but it's time to stop running. Now, I want you to talk to me; tell me why you went from smiling to looking as if you'd seen a ghost. Do I frighten you?"
She buried her face against his jacket and when she took a deep breath in preparation to give him an answer, the scent of peppermint instantly calmed her. Yes, he'd think her a fool but she couldn't allow him to think she was frightened of him. He'd been nothing but kind to her.
"No, you don't frighten me," she said softly.
"I'm very glad. Will you please tell me what happened?"
She ran a few scenarios quickly through her mind, desperately trying to find something that could possibly make sense. Anything was better than the truth. Perhaps she could say she thought she saw… what? A monster? No, that was ridiculous. She wasn't a little girl who was afraid of monsters. But, perhaps a bug? No! A snake! Yes, every girl she'd ever known had been terrified of the reptiles! As she embellished the story in her head, she squeezed both Miss Bushy and his jacket lapel, each offering a sense of security. She nodded, satisfied with her tale, and then sat up to tell it. It was only then—only realizing that she had indeed sat up—that she realized he was already sitting—sitting on the bench holding her on his knee, almost exactly as Rachel's papa had held her after he'd reddened her bottom.
Her fabricated story slithered away like the snake she'd created and she finally looked up to see dark blue eyes studying her. She saw the line appear on his brow as he said, "It's not the bench, is it?" When she gasped and dropped her gaze, his finger lifted her chin. This time she saw the lines had disappeared and his dimple deepened with his smile.
"It's only a bench, little one." He paused and then bent forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I promise it can't hurt you. But, if you'd rather, we can spread the blanket out beneath the other side of the tree to have our tea."
She was surprised at his ability to garner her feelings about the bench, and very glad that he could not possibly know how his terms of address were affecting her. Why did his endearments make her feel as if she were safe, protected, cared for… cared for by him? Don't be a fool, Lilly! He means nothing by it. He probably used the forms of address simply by rote. After all, he is Rachel's uncle .
Shaking her head as if to clear her mind, she considered that those words weren't endearments to him… well, not when directed at her. But now, he had to know she was an adult…
Why does he have to know? I didn't tell him and… and I actually brought a stuffie to tea. Sweet Lord, here you are thinking naughty, ridiculous thoughts and he thinks he is… what? Entertaining some poor waif who trespasses?
"How old are you?"
Make that a poor, rude trespasser . "I'm sorry…"
"There's no reason to apologize. I'm twenty-seven."
In for a penny, in for a pound, right? You've already proven you are rude… might as well get it all out.
"I just meant… well, you call me little one or little girl… why? I don't know how young you think I am… I mean, I know I look younger and I'm not very… um, filled out but—"
"I apologize if I've made you uncomfortable…"
"No!" Could she just slink back through the
"Lilly, look at me."
She couldn't. The moment he saw her flushed face or looked into her eyes, he'd know she was not only a flower girl… she was a girl with very naughty thoughts.
"Lilly, I know that something is wrong. I can't help fix it if you won't talk to me." When she shook her head and released his arm, he had her hand before she'd managed even a half-turn. "No, not this time. I'll not have you running again." Before she knew what was happening, she was being lifted off her feet and into his arms.
"Put me down!"
"Again, not this time," he said, his arms tightening a bit. "You are a very strong, capable woman, but it's time to stop running. Now, I want you to talk to me; tell me why you went from smiling to looking as if you'd seen a ghost. Do I frighten you?"
She buried her face against his jacket and when she took a deep breath in preparation to give him an answer, the scent of peppermint instantly calmed her. Yes, he'd think her a fool but she couldn't allow him to think she was frightened of him. He'd been nothing but kind to her.
"No, you don't frighten me," she said softly.
"I'm very glad. Will you please tell me what happened?"
She ran a few scenarios quickly through her mind, desperately trying to find something that could possibly make sense. Anything was better than the truth. Perhaps she could say she thought she saw… what? A monster? No, that was ridiculous. She wasn't a little girl who was afraid of monsters. But, perhaps a bug? No! A snake! Yes, every girl she'd ever known had been terrified of the reptiles! As she embellished the story in her head, she squeezed both Miss Bushy and his jacket lapel, each offering a sense of security. She nodded, satisfied with her tale, and then sat up to tell it. It was only then—only realizing that she had indeed sat up—that she realized he was already sitting—sitting on the bench holding her on his knee, almost exactly as Rachel's papa had held her after he'd reddened her bottom.
Her fabricated story slithered away like the snake she'd created and she finally looked up to see dark blue eyes studying her. She saw the line appear on his brow as he said, "It's not the bench, is it?" When she gasped and dropped her gaze, his finger lifted her chin. This time she saw the lines had disappeared and his dimple deepened with his smile.
"It's only a bench, little one." He paused and then bent forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I promise it can't hurt you. But, if you'd rather, we can spread the blanket out beneath the other side of the tree to have our tea."
She was surprised at his ability to garner her feelings about the bench, and very glad that he could not possibly know how his terms of address were affecting her. Why did his endearments make her feel as if she were safe, protected, cared for… cared for by him? Don't be a fool, Lilly! He means nothing by it. He probably used the forms of address simply by rote. After all, he is Rachel's uncle .
Shaking her head as if to clear her mind, she considered that those words weren't endearments to him… well, not when directed at her. But now, he had to know she was an adult…
Why does he have to know? I didn't tell him and… and I actually brought a stuffie to tea. Sweet Lord, here you are thinking naughty, ridiculous thoughts and he thinks he is… what? Entertaining some poor waif who trespasses?
"How old are you?"
Make that a poor, rude trespasser . "I'm sorry…"
"There's no reason to apologize. I'm twenty-seven."
In for a penny, in for a pound, right? You've already proven you are rude… might as well get it all out.
"I just meant… well, you call me little one or little girl… why? I don't know how young you think I am… I mean, I know I look younger and I'm not very… um, filled out but—"
"I apologize if I've made you uncomfortable…"
"No!" Could she just slink back through the
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