Undercover Sir. Carolyn Faulkner

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 Daniel 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