Lilly Blossoms (Lessons in Submission Book 3) (7 page)

"What?"

"About our tea? The bench or the blanket?" he asked.

That's right, he'd sensed her hesitancy about the bench.
The bench where… no, not going to revisit that memory
. Not knowing exactly how to get past her embarrassing reaction, she discovered help was within her reach.

"What do you think, Miss Bushy? The bench or the blanket?" After a moment, she nodded. "Yes, I agree, the bench is indeed a perfect place for our tea party." Feeling a bit silly, she met his eyes and saw the amusement reflected in the silver specks.

"The bench it is," he said, and she felt a pang of regret as he gently helped her off his lap.

"May I help?" she asked, when he reached for the blanket that was sitting atop the basket.

"No, you are my honored guests," Phillip said, unfolding the blanket and spreading it out between the bench and the trunk of the tree. "You and Miss Bushy just sit and let me get everything ready."

"But I can help—"

"I know you can, sweetie, but it would make me very happy if you let me serve you." When she began to protest again, the sight of his right eyebrow arching had her tummy flipping.

"Umm, all right."

"That's my good girl," he said, his expression softening as he smiled. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving!"

Lilly sat on the blanket, the squirrel in her lap, and watched as he removed one item after another from the depths of the basket. She looked around. "Are your… um, niece, and her… her father joining us?"

"What?" he asked, pausing as he lifted an actual teapot in a quilted cozy from the basket.

"I just wondered if you were expecting additional guests," she said, her hand sweeping in front of her. "You prepared enough food for an army."

His chuckle made her giggle even as he shook his head. "That's exactly what I said to Belinda, but she insisted that she had far more experience in preparing a proper tea than I."

Belinda? Was that the name of his wife? It didn't sound like the same name that woman had offered that day. Had she told him about her part in Lilly losing her job and this… this tea party was some sort of apology?
They don't need to apologize. I steal their flowers and… and I don't take charity!

"You are doing it again."

His words jerked her head up. "Doing what?"

"Disappearing into your own thoughts," he said. Though she'd expected him to take a seat on the opposite side of the bench, he dropped down beside her. "And if you are thinking of making an escape, forget it. Please promise me that you won't leave me here alone and make me have to explain to Eleanor's cook why I returned with all this food. I'm quite sure Belinda wouldn't hesitate to take a wooden spoon to my backside."

Flushing a bit at her incorrect assumption, Lilly tilted her head. "She wouldn't, would she?"

"Oh, I assure you she would," Phillip said. He went up onto his knees and began to fill a plate with a variety of items that had been wrapped in linens. "That woman has a heart as big as the sky and yet keeps a tighter rule on her kitchen than Queen Victoria does on her monarchy." He finished filling the plate, only to begin another. "I've heard tales that Miss Summers' students would rather write a million lines on the chalkboard than serve even one hour on kitchen duty. Not that she paddles them—well, not always—but have you ever had to peel pile of potatoes taller than yourself?"

Was this another silly story like the one he'd told her to keep her attention away from the terror of their descent from the tree? It didn't seem so, and yet… Remembering one phrase, Lilly said, "Lines?"

"Yes," he said, glancing back over his shoulder. "Haven't you ever had to write lines to reinforce a lesson?" When she shook her head, he returned to his preparations. "Well, little girls who have done something naughty are often required to write out lines. It helps them remember not to repeat the same bad choices. It can be something as simple as 'I'm sorry for being naughty', or as complicated as listing all the rules they have been given by their papas."

Fascinated and yet confused, she could only nod when he gave her another quick glance. "Sugar, lemon or milk?"

"What? Oh, the tea. Sugar and milk, please."

She watched as he added a large spoonful of sugar and then poured a measure of milk from a real china pitcher. "Are you comfortable enough to scoot up a bit, or would you prefer to eat off your lap?"

"Oh, the ben—table is fine. I'd hate to drop anything and have it break." She took his hand and allowed him to guide her the few feet to the bench. She giggled and finally, truly relaxed. "You are too kind, sir. Miss Bushy gives her thanks as well."

"She's certainly welcome," Phillip said after she'd set the stuffed animal on the bench next to the plate that contained two acorns. "And, as promised, not a single bug is on our menu."

"Ah, the birds might be disappointed, but this looks wonderful." She smiled when he chuckled. She could barely believe the spread before her. Her plate was piled high with a variety of small sandwiches. A small bowl sat next to it was filled with strawberries that had her mouth watering. Steam wafted from the china cup on its saucer. She was fighting back tears when he startled her by placing a napkin in her lap. "Thank you," she managed as he sat down beside her.

"No, thank you, Lilly," he startled her again when he bent and kissed her cheek before sitting back. "I meant what I said, you know?" She was about to ask what he meant when he grinned. "If you'd have run, I'm afraid I would have looked quite the fool following." Popping a strawberry into his mouth, he swallowed and shook his head. "I shudder to think how my arse would be wiggling about sticking out of one side and my head out of the other. Nope, you saved me quite the embarrassment of looking like a hedgehog who has feasted on too many insects and became too chubby to fit through that little hole in the hedge." He had to wait until she stopped giggling before she could bend forward to accept the small berry he was holding to her lips. It was delicious, and yet, she found his company and his ability to relax her with silly stories the true treat.

Still, as they continued to enjoy their tea, her thoughts returned to the bits of his tale that she was positive weren't a figment of her imagination. She yearned to discover more of what happened within the walls of the house but didn't know where to begin. Perhaps he hadn't realized that he'd told of things that she was quite sure were meant to be hidden. Shaking her head, she bit into another strawberry, closing her eyes at the sweetness of the fruit, and then felt her mouth and chin being dabbed with another napkin.

"Oh, um, thank you," she said, reaching for the cloth only to have him shake his head and place it beside his plate. He then reached for her hand and gently extended her arm.

"I'm very glad to see that the scratch is almost healed."

When he pressed his lips gently to the injury, she felt a burn, far hotter than the soap and salve had felt on her wound. Her breath caught at the look in his eyes, and the burning was joined by a tingling that was spreading through her body. What was he thinking? Was this just a tea party, albeit the most wonderful tea party she'd ever attended, or was this the start of something more? Though too far away to be seen, she looked back towards the house. "May I ask you something?"

"Ask me anything," Phillip said softly. "I might not be able to give you an answer, but if I can, I will, and I promise, little one, I will never lie to you."

She didn't ask if he were positive about that promise. Somehow she knew she didn't need to. Yet, what would he think of her questions?

"Why don't we take a little break before dessert?" he suggested, reaching to remove the napkin from her lap and taking her hand. She didn't pull away as he moved until he could sit with his back against the tree trunk, nor did she protest when he pulled her down to sit on his lap.

Instead, the moment his arms wrapped around her, she laid her cheek against his chest and said, "Tell me, what really happens in that house?"

"It's not just a house," Phillip began. "It's more of a school."

"Like a finishing school?"

"I suppose it could be considered as such but it's not like any you've probably heard about." Leaning his head against the tree, he clarified. "Eleanor, that's Miss Summers, owns the school. She told me she'd met you that day when you lost your job."

"Oh, I remember that name… Miss Summers. I didn't know her name was Eleanor. She's a very beautiful woman. I-I thought she might be your wife… or maybe the other woman, Belinda," Lilly confessed.

"No, little one. First of all, I'm not married, and second, if I were, I promise I would not be entertaining another woman with tea. Mrs. Yardley, Belinda, works for Miss Summers. Eleanor is a friend and a very remarkable woman. She had a dream a long time ago and worked hard to make it come true. She wanted to offer a place where special women could stay in a safe place and learn how to let themselves be the true people they are inside."

"I don't understand."

He looked down when he felt her head lift from his chest. "I'll try to explain but first I must ask you to make me a promise."

"All right."

"No, don't agree so quickly. What I'm about to share with you is to remain between the two of us. This is the sort of promise that, if broken, would not only destroy the trust I have in you, but might have the power to hurt others. People like Rachel and more that you don't even know." He watched as her nose crinkled and without thought moved his hand to pat against her backside. "And, little one, if that promise is broken, I would find it necessary to turn you over my lap and give you a lesson."

Her eyes widened, their green growing a bit darker. "A very tangible lesson?"

"Yes. I assure you that by the time I let you up, your little bottom would be burning and you'd find it very uncomfortable to sit down." He waited, ready for her to jump up and tell him to go to hell but praying that she would remain exactly where she was. His heart filled when she nodded.

"I understand, and I promise not to speak of anything we discuss. I swear it."

He patted her bottom again, not to give her a warning, but because the feel of her soft globes against his palm just felt right. "I believe you. Rachel is actually one of Miss Summers's students."

"Why would she go to school? I mean, yes, she does look very young but… well, when that man untied her bloomers… um, I saw…" He adored the flush that suffused her cheeks and the fact that she couldn't quite seem to get her words out.

"You are right. She is actually a year older than you." He saw her disbelief and chuckled. "Yes, I assure you she is. I attended her birthday party only a few months ago. As I already told you, the man you saw is not her father, but is her papa—again, by choice. Rachel is also not my niece by blood, but one by choice. The students here are all of legal age and are all here by choice. Some have agreed to attend at the behest of their fiancé, or even a few attend though they are already wed. And occasionally, a woman will find her way to this school on her own, hoping to find the sort of man who is seeking the type of woman they desire to be."

"What do they desire?"

"Submission." He paused again, allowing her time to consider his answer, knowing it was a subject few people ever even considered.

"I'm afraid I don't understand. Are you talking about how the Bible states a wife is to submit herself to her husband?"

"That's part of it, but it goes much deeper than that for some women. Submission is to yield to the desires of another without struggle or resistance. In this school, they learn that they are not alone in their need to offer themselves in complete submission, and that they can find the greatest satisfaction and pleasure when they offer their gift to the right person."

"How is that different than what I said?"

Phillip gave it some thought and then said, "When you think of submission, are you thinking of a man and a woman close to the same age? Adults who are married?" At her nod, he shook his head. "Your original thought isn't really off the mark. These women might not be girls any longer but, in their hearts, they find the greatest contentment in assuming the role of a much younger child. They seek the freedom to be without responsibility for at least a portion of their lives. Their partners—their papas—find their greatest contentment in taking care of their every need."

"So it is all just play?" Before he could answer, she straightened to sit up and turned to face him fully. "No, I don't believe that is true. I saw Rachel and her… her papa. I saw her submit to a spanking and yet I also saw what happened when he was holding her afterwards. I saw his hand between her… her legs. I knew she wasn't a young girl the moment he pulled down her drawers and I knew he couldn't really be her father when he touched her… down there."

"Again, you are right. Douglas, that's Rachel's papa and my friend, is one of those men I was talking about. He fell in love with both the little girl who lives inside Rachel's heart and the grown woman she is on the outside. He accepted the gift of her submission and the responsibility to guide her along the path she has chosen. That includes spanking her when she is naughty and, Lilly, it includes comforting her when the punishment is done."

"By comfort you mean more than hugging or kissing, don't you?"

"Yes. I mean that after the little girl has been corrected, her papa, who is her fiancé at the very least or her husband, knows that his girl has womanly needs. They share their pleasure intimately, though most wait for the full consummation of their joining until after they've wed. Both parties know that they are safe from censure for their desire to live what is called a submissive lifestyle. While a great deal of wives submit to their husbands on some level or another, the women here and their chosen papas, live what is referred to as an age-play dynamic." He wondered if she realized that she was squirming a bit on his lap, that her cheeks were flushed and she was breathing a bit harder.

"Rachel was naughty and knew she would be getting a spanking. She knew to expect her papa to have her lift her dress, and knew that he would pull down her bloomers to bare her bottom. Nothing you witnessed was new to either of them. Yes, Douglas spanked her quite thoroughly and though it might be difficult to believe, I assure you that Rachel would have been disappointed if he hadn't. Eleanor's pupils might have struggled against feelings they considered wrong or deviant, but I promise, they are true feelings. Once embraced, Eleanor and her staff help them through the process, learning that though discipline will be meted out, they will never go to bed wondering if anyone really cares they exist. They go to bed knowing that even if they are sleeping on their tummies because their bottoms are burning, they are no longer alone and that they are very much loved."

"Is that what your friend meant when he told Rachel he might give her a treat? Did he—"

"That is a question I can't answer," Phillip said. "What a couple does behind closed doors is only for the two of them to know. All I can say is that I'm positive that by the time Rachel went to sleep, she felt not only totally forgiven but very content."

Lilly remained quiet for a moment and then asked her next question in almost a whisper. "I know you said you aren't married, but are you… I mean do you… have a little girl? Is that why you were there that day?"

"Oh, no, Lilly," he said quickly. "I have neither a wife nor a special little one." He saw what he hoped was relief in her eyes and remembered he'd sworn to be honest. "I don't have one but I am hoping that some young lady is seeking her own papa and that one day, she will offer me the most treasured gift I could ever imagine."

"What… what if she has nothing to offer? I mean, I know that finishing schools aren't cheap and can't imagine the price of attending such a special school as this…"

"Not a single penny is paid by the students at this school. Some of these girls come from wealthy families but, Lilly, several of them currently here or those who have already graduated come from very different backgrounds. Though I've known of a few Countesses who have spent months in this school, once a woman steps through those doors, there are no titles. Each woman becomes a sister to the others and bonds form that are far stronger than those of blood. It takes courage and strength to toss aside what most of society accepts as proper and to find happiness in submitting every part of you… your heart, your soul, your trust and yes, your body, to a man for the rest of your life."

Lifting her into his arms, he returned to sit at the bench, settling her back in his lap when she made a move to return to her previous place. "No, sit still," he said, pleased when she instantly settled. "I'm just a bit thirsty." He poured them each another cup of tea and though it had cooled considerably, it was still refreshing.

"Is Rachel a countess? She is so very beautiful."

Phillip chuckled. "She'd be thrilled to hear you think so. Oh, not that she has a vain bone in her body. I mean that you'd think she was some titled woman. No, while Rachel will become Lady Rachel Martingham in a few weeks when she weds Douglas, she wasn't born into privilege."

"Really?"

"Really," he said, tapping the end of her nose with the tip of his finger. "I promised not to lie to you, little one, remember?"

"Yes."

Phillip wasn't a man to miss an opportunity. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Try 'yes, sir'," he suggested. He had to wait for two or three beats of his heart but she nodded.

"Yes, sir, I remember."

"That's my good girl," he said, giving her a hug. "And remember that I am a man of my word. Now, how about some dessert? Mrs. Yardley is known for her baking skills." He saw her hesitation and felt her slight wiggle. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Lilly, little girls who tell fibs not only skip dessert, they get their bottoms warmed." Her face flushed a deeper pink, her mouth opened and closed and her eyes widened and yet she made no effort to remove herself from his lap. "Understand?"

"Yes… yes, sir."

"Good, then tell me what is wrong? Don't you like biscuits?"

"I love biscuits but… well, I wanted to bring something to the party to thank you for the invitation."

"Ah, that is a lovely thought."

"It is?"

"Yes, it is. Did you bring something?"

She nodded and put her hand into her pocket, opening it to reveal two small candies siting on her palm. "It's not much…"

"Oh, my favorite!" he said, bending to kiss the top of her head. "How did you know that I adore peppermints?"

"I smelled you," she said and then slapped her hand over her mouth.

He gently pulled her hand free and loved the sound of her giggle as he inhaled deeply before shaking his head. "Smelled me?"

"I mean, when I was on your back when you climbed down the tree, I could smell peppermint."

"Ah, my secret is out," he said, "I have a bit of a sweet tooth."

"I'm glad," she said, pressing one of the wrapped treats into his hand. "If I hadn't smelled you then I would have eaten them all myself the day Jimmy gave them to me."

Phillip's hand paused before he popped the candy inside his mouth. Forget the unfamiliar sensation of being nervous earlier, the surge of jealously at hearing her mention another man's name took him totally by surprise.

"Perhaps I should have asked you a few questions. Are you married, Lilly, or perhaps just promised to this Jimmy?"

"Oh no," she said, then giggled as she didn't hesitate to pop her peppermint into her mouth. She spoke around the bulge in her cheek. "Jimmy owns this little shop and his wife, Matilda, is going to have a baby soon. He is just a very nice man who gave me the candies. He likes to spoil me a bit."

Spoil her? Did she truly believe that a few peppermint sweets would spoil her? Realizing that from her perspective, she did, he nodded and finally placed the candy in his mouth. When he'd savored the flavor for a moment, he too tucked the round ball in his cheek and spoke, but only after cupping her head between his palms and bending forward until his forehead rested against hers.

"Thank you for the treat, my sweet one, but if it is all right with you, I'd like to be the one to spoil you in the future." Her eyes widened but her only answer was a soft moan as his lips met hers in the gentlest of kisses.

* * *

His lips were as soft as the fingers he was stroking down her cheeks. The scent of peppermint was strong and she wondered if the taste of it came from her own lips or from his. She moaned as his tongue slid along the seam of her lips and his lips became a bit harder. Not demanding and yet almost as if coaxing her to… ah, to part her lips and invite him inside. She felt the slide of his tongue against hers and the butterflies in her tummy took wing. She'd never been kissed before. Not like this. No knight or prince in any story had readied her for reality. This was a man of flesh and blood—a man whose lips and his tongue were evoking incredible sensations throughout her body. She gave a soft mew when he pulled away but was glad for the chance to replace the oxygen his kiss had stolen.

She couldn't help feeling disappointed when he lifted her off his lap and settled her next to his side. However, when he reached for one of the biscuits, she understood that their tea party was drawing to a close. Determined to end it on a happy note, she broke off a piece and ate it.