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  “I think that is best, Sir,” William agreed. “The carriage should be stable enough with just the two of you. We will return as quickly as possible, but it might take quite a bit of time. Are you sure you don’t want Lucy to go with her nanny? I could stay with you.”

  Lucy had listened to the conversation and immediately called out to her husband: “No! Please … I … I want to stay with you, Pa … Sir,” she said. “Please don’t make me go without you.”

  Lucas heard the plea, as well as a note of panic in her voice. He walked to her and took her back into his arms. “You’ll stay with me, Kitten,” he assured her. He spoke to Molly, apologizing for the turn of events, as it would mean she would make her first trip into his home unescorted.

  “There is no help for it, Sir,” Molly said, brushing aside his concerns. “It will give me time to find new clothing for our Lucy. Though Mr. Grover did his best, Lucy’s cloak is filthy. Her stockings and drawers aren’t much better, I’m afraid, and I fear her shoes are beyond repair. I’m sorry to say, my Lord, but your clothes are quite spoiled, as well. I’m sure your staff will be able to help me. We’ll have everything ready to comfort our girl when you arrive.”

  Lucas was impressed with her determined willingness to put aside her own comfort in order to assure his and Lucy’s. The matter settled, William once more lifted Molly and carried her to the wagon. Once she was seated on the high bench, he handed her Cleo’s box before he climbed up beside her. The wagon driver joined them, and Lucy and Lucas watched as the sturdy draft horses struggled to once again pull the load through the squelching mud until the wagon crested the hill and disappeared.

  Lucy turned when she heard the whinny of one of the horses. Lucas heard it as well. “I’ll get the horses. There is no need for them to stand in the mud, and they will need to be unhitched so the wheel can be replaced.” Lucy watched as he stepped back into the road, his boots sinking into the mud. She looked down at her own shoes, which were no longer pink. The entire bottom halves of her legs were filthy, her traveling cloak heavy with mud that was dripping to the ground. She impulsively untied her cloak and dropped it to the grass before stepping into the road. Lucas started unbuckling the straps of the traces to release one horse when he realized Lucy was mimicking his movements on the other side of the team.

  “Lucy, get back. I don’t want you hurt,” he said, even as he watched her reach out and stroke her hand along the horse’s side, calming the gelding.

  She looked up and shook her head. “I want to help, Papa,” she said. “I know horses. They won’t hurt me.” Lucas saw no fear or hesitation in her face, even when the horse shied a bit as a large fly buzzed its face. “Shhh, you are such a brave boy; it’s only a fly,” Lucy crooned as she stroked the horse.

  Seeing the smile on her face and not having the heart to deny her a small amount of joy after her scare, he relented. “You’ll get even dirtier,” he warned, and then grinned when he heard her giggle. The sound was delightful and a far cry from her terrified screams of earlier.

  She lifted one of her feet from the mud and shook it at him. “I’m already dirty, Papa, and so are you,” she exclaimed, with another giggle. Lucas looked down at his own boots, which were buried almost ankle deep in the mire. His trousers and even his coat were both streaked with mud from when Lucy had clung to him.

  “My little one is correct,” he said, chuckling. “Okay, you may help, but be careful.” She nodded happily, continuing to release the buckles that held the horse in place. Once the horses were free, Lucas slogged through the mud, leading his horse towards the fence a short distance away. Lucy shocked him once more by following immediately, the horse looming over her petite frame. Not wanting to startle her horse, Lucas remained silent until he was able to reach out and take the reins. Lucy released them and watched as he tied both horses to the fence. The pair immediately bent to nibble at the succulent grasses that grew along the edge of the fence. Lucas shook his head at the sight of his bride. The churning of the horses’ feet had thrown up additional mud. Her pink dress was splattered, and he wondered what had happened to her cloak. Seeing it in the wet grass, he moved to her.

  “Some little lady needs a bath,” he teased, reaching out to brush his finger along her mud-splattered cheek.

  Lucy giggled again and then laughed at the sight of her usually impeccably-dressed husband. “Some Lord does, as well,” she said, and then flushed as the look in his eyes changed. He stepped forward and picked her off her feet, bringing his mouth to hers in a kiss that seared her very soul. She moaned, the kiss igniting her desires, the last of her scare leaving her, until she wanted nothing more than to cling to him, this time in passion.

  Lucas felt her desire as his own swelled. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, her small whimpers of arousal causing his cock to rise. He walked her to the grass before setting her down. She gave a small whimper when he released her, her arms lifting as if asking to be picked up again. He realized this was the first time they had been truly alone since they wed. They weren’t in a house full of people or a train compartment with Molly next door. There wasn’t another soul in sight.

  Lucas reached out and cupped her face, bending to kiss her again. “Stay,” he said, softly. She watched as he walked to the carriage and awkwardly leaned into the open door. He returned with a thick blanket and the basket of refreshments that his cook had graciously sent with her husband.

  Lucas spread the blanket onto the grass before picking up Lucy’s cloak and draping it over the fence, hoping it had time to dry before it was needed. Before allowing her to settle onto the blanket, he had her hold his shoulders as he knelt to remove her shoes and stockings. The ruffled hem of her drawers was also wet and muddy, but Lucas managed to remove the worst of it with one of her stockings. Lucy shivered as she stood in the wet grass while he attended to her.

  “I’ll have you settled in just a minute, Kitten,” he said, as he finished wiping her legs. “I believe Molly is correct; your shoes are ruined beyond repair.”

  She looked at them, seeing there wasn’t a speck of pink satin showing on either of the drenched, muddy slippers. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

  Lucas looked up from where he was kneeling and gave her a smile. “Don’t worry, little one; they are only shoes.” He was pleased to see her smile and then give a small shriek as he lifted her and then set her down onto the blanket. “Why don’t you see what Mrs. Grover prepared for us?” he suggested, as he hobbled on one leg in order to remove his muddy boots. Lucy giggled again but when he gave her a look of mock disapproval, she clapped her hand over her mouth, her giggles muffled, yet still very pleasant to Lucas’ ear. As he finished removing his boots and stockings, she opened the wicker basket. By the time her husband settled beside her, Lucy had small sandwiches, strawberries and some huge cookies piled onto two small plates. She offered him a plate, which he thanked her for by bending forward to kiss her gently. They began to eat, suddenly very hungry. “I suppose we’ve missed luncheon, but this will tide us over until we get home.” He leaned forward and shocked her by slowly tracing the sensitive surface of her lips with just the tip of his tongue. Arousal shot through her even as he grinned.

  “I suppose I should have remembered your bib,” he teased as his finger moved to gently trace along the front of her bodice.

  Juice from the huge strawberry she had bitten into stained the dress, and she realized that it most likely also stained her lips. She giggled again, shrugging her shoulders as if unconcerned by the condition of her dress. He smiled and fed her another strawberry, following it with another kiss. Lucy was finally fully recovered from her scare and relaxed, offering him a strawberry as well. “Is there anything to drink?” he asked, reaching for the basket. She nodded and watched as he pulled out a jar. He unscrewed the lid and took a sip. “Lemonade,” he informed her and then set the jar down and pulled her to sit on his lap.

  When Lucas tried to hand her the jar, she shook her head, her bladder suddenly maki
ng its need known. Misunderstanding, he teased her. “Come, Kitten, I know you prefer milk, but I assure you the lemonade is refreshing.” She flushed, but again shook her head. Lucas seemed confused until she squirmed a bit on his lap. “Ahh, you need to potty.” he stated, and watched as she buried her face against his chest, shaking her head. Lucas returned the jar to the basket and then cupped her cheeks, forcing her to look at him. “Little one, don’t lie to your Papa. I know you so much better than you think. My little one only squirms about like a little worm when her Papa is teasing her with his tongue or she needs to potty. Since I haven’t undressed you so that I can taste more of your sweetness than your lips, it is not difficult to ascertain the truth.”

  His words caused Lucy’s face to flush hotly as she recalled memories of his tongue and how he used it on her. Thinking of him licking and suckling at her—at her breasts or, God, between her legs, caused her to want to squirm for an entirely different reason.

  “Shall I help you, or do you intend to sit on your Papa’s lap until you can’t hold it any longer and wet yourself, as well as my trousers?” Just hearing him speak so bluntly about something so private made her color deepen. She attempted to look away, but his hands held her face in place. “Am I going to need to turn you over my lap and pull your drawers down to spank your bottom before you admit what you need?” Experience told her he wouldn’t hesitate to do so, and she gave a small shake of her head. “What do you need, Kitten? Remember, I told you Papas want to take care of their little girls. I am here to take care of whatever my Kitten needs. Do you need your Papa to help you now?” She shuddered but finally nodded.

  When he made no movement to assist her, she realized she had yet to verbally answer him. It was one of the many rules her husband was slowly teaching her. If asked a question, she was to answer, regardless of how embarrassing the question might be.

  “Papa, please … please help me,” she said as quietly as possible, not able to meet his eyes.

  Lucas thought it strange that she appeared so shy about her need. After all, he often woke her from her daily naps and changed her wet nappy. During their train travel, he had also escorted her to the water closet and cleaned her after she had done her necessary. Not a man to let an occasion pass that could be considered a lesson, he placed his lips against the top of her head, giving her a kiss, as if to reassure her that she was safe with her Papa.

  “Ask properly, little one,” he said, so quietly that she had to strain to hear.

  He seldom raised his voice, as his tone, facial expressions, and body language were enough to capture her complete attention. She squirmed again, not wishing to discuss such private, humiliating matters, but as her bladder threatened to release, she surrendered. “Papa, I need to pot … potty. Please … please help me.”

  Lucas bent forward and kissed her forehead before helping her to her feet. “That’s my good girl,” he said softly, as he bent and lifted her. He carried her towards a small copse of trees a short distance from their picnic blanket. Though they were on his land and he knew his private roads were seldom traveled, except by himself or his staff, he wanted to provide her with at least a small sense of privacy. Lucy remained silent as Lucas removed her drawers and then held her as she did her necessary. He used his handkerchief to clean her and gave her one swat before smoothing her dress down over her bottom.

  “Thank you, Papa,” she said, quietly grateful it had just been that one swat. If she were honest with herself, she knew he had cause to spank her for her hesitancy—in not only declaring her need, but her obvious lack of trust that her Papa would take care of even her most basic needs without causing her shame. He was doing precisely as he had repeatedly told her he would. He was treating her need as exactly that, a need his little one had for which he could provide a solution.

  “You are welcome, Kitten.”

  He was about to take her hand when she spoke again. “You … you forgot my drawers, Papa.”

  “Papas don’t forget, sweetie,” he said, taking her hand.

  Lucy didn’t know what to say, so she simply walked beside him, her eyes on their bare feet, well aware of her nakedness beneath her petticoats. She didn’t know what to think as he settled on the blanket and pulled her to sit on his lap. A brief moment of anticipation that the one swat had not been the full measure flashed through her mind. Though she was prepared to be turned across his lap, her skirts lifted for a real spanking, she was surprised when he turned her to face him, his large hands moving to place her legs to either side of his waist so that she was straddling him. His action reminded her of the day he taught her how to ride her husband. Her stomach began to tingle and her face to color.

  Lucas smiled, able to read her thoughts; her eyes gave him a window to what she was feeling or thinking. He had seen the slight flash of guilt and knew she was thinking about a possible spanking. He had also seen her eyes grow just a shade darker, their brightness dimmed just the slightest, as he sat her on his lap, spradling her legs around his waist, his huge hands sliding under her petticoats to caress her thighs as he made sure she was seated as he desired. Despite her arousal and her soft moan of disappointment, Lucas removed his hands and once more took the jar, offering her the lemonade. He adored feeling her squirm a bit on his lap and knew that, if his hands had slid just a bit higher, if he had slid a finger between her spread legs, he would find his little one wet for another reason.

  The lemonade was delicious, tart, and yet sweet—refreshing Lucy, as well as giving her a moment to compose herself. “I think I should drink this every meal, Papa,” she suggested, as she passed him the jar.

  Lucas heard her giggle and realized she was teasing. My little one needs her milk,” he chuckled, setting the jar aside. “It helps keep her nice and healthy.” She looked into his eyes as he smiled and bent towards her. Right before he pressed his lips to hers, he whispered, “And healthy little girls get to play.” He kissed her possessively, her mouth soft under his hard lips.

  She grasped the front of his coat, leaning into him as he kissed her. It took her but a moment to realize that she could feel his shaft under her bottom. When he slipped his hand beneath her dress again, she gasped and held her breath. When he began stroking along her inner thigh. before moving to barely stroke against her sex, she moaned.

  “Relax, baby girl. Papa is going to make you squirm again.”

  Lucy quivered and buried her face against his chest, her sex flooding as his fingers found her pleasure bud. “Ohhhh, Pa … Papa,” she moaned, squirming as he had predicted, when he slowly slid a finger inside her. He continued to stroke his finger in and out of her soft, wet heat, his other fingers playing with her rapidly swelling clitoris. Lucy pushed down against his hand, rocking her hips, her arousal spiraling up to a peak as he gave her bud a slight pinch. She was seconds from taking her pleasure when one of the horses whinnied loudly, causing her to freeze, her face flaming as she remembered they were outdoors and not in a sheltered, closed room.

  Her eyes found his, the passion smoldering in the depths causing her to shudder once more. Her eyes dropped to see his free hand lowering to his trousers. “What … what if someone comes?” she whispered, her heart pounding with both the fear of being discovered, as well as the need he had ignited within her. Hearing no answer, she moaned, his silence reminding her of her vows. It was not for her to worry or even to care about such things. She wasn’t to question him; she was to submit to him. Seeing he was having difficulty with the buttons of his trousers, using only one hand as his other was still playing beneath her dress, Lucy dropped her hands from where they had been clutching the lapels of his jacket to lightly touch his hand as if asking silent permission. It was granted as Lucas removed his hand and watched as her small fingers made quick work of the buttons before reaching inside and guiding his rapidly swelling shaft through the loosened fly of his trousers.

  “Stroke me, Kitten. Make me hard, so that I might pleasure you,” he instructed, and moaned when her small hand w
rapped around his shaft, tightening just the slightest as she began to pump his cock, her other hand dropping to lightly cup his testicles. It was only moments before he was fully erect, the head of his cock swelling as blood rushed into his shaft, the very tip glistening as a drop of his seed appeared. “That’s my good girl,” he said, loving the sound of her soft whimper as well as the sight of her small tongue darting to lick at her lower lip, as if desirous of tasting the moisture that the tip of her finger was even now smearing across the head of his cock. Lucas had to consciously force himself back into control, lest her ministrations cause him to erupt before he seated himself within her. He lifted her slightly off his lap.

  “Put Papa’s cock inside your cunny,” he said softly, loving the color that suffused her cheeks as he kept her aloft, his hard hands now spreading her soft thighs even further apart. Her hands were trembling, but she obeyed, quivering as she found her slick opening and felt the tip of his cock brush between the lips of her sex. “Good girl,” he said as he slowly lowered her down onto his shaft until he was completely buried within her velvet depths, loving every sound she made as he filled her. If anyone should pass, they would see nothing except a small woman relaxing against his huge chest. He didn’t thrust, and when she began to attempt to ride him, his voice was hoarse. “No, Kitten, let Papa.” She stilled, and her moan of need made his blood race. He continued to simply rock her up and down and back and forth until she was squirming and panting, her breath hot against his neck, her small whimpers telling of her pleasure. He moved one hand to her sex, stroking and caressing between her legs, his huge fingers tapping, circling, gently pinching and teasing her engorged bud. Just holding her and feeling her quiver, Lucas knew that Lucy’s need to spend was building with each stroke, each pinch causing her blood to race, every nerve ending threatening to explode.