The Connaghers Series Boxed Set

by Joely Sue Burkhart

Sliding her left palm around the back of his head, she gripped his nape firmly, letting him feel the strength of her hand in a subtle way that wouldn’t embarrass him in front of Mama. He might never want to wear a collar, but she watched the emotions flickering across his face. Desire, yes, fading to surrender. No expectation, no demands—just a quiet acceptance and appreciation of the strength she gave him.

  “Yes.”

  20

  Who was the idiot who thought that getting married the day of another important formal event was a good idea?

  Disgusted with her own nerves, Mal tried not to explode as Vicki and her assistant fluffed and prodded her into her new gown. It felt like she’d been standing here in Vicki’s workshop for hours.

  “Usually this would be a quick fitting,” Vicki said around a mouthful of sharp pins. “But we’re identifying issues and fixing them in one fell swoop. I’m sorry, I know it must be frustrating to stand here, unable to move without getting poked. Luckily I got pretty close since I’ve sewn for you before.”

  “It’ll be worth it,” Mal grumbled. “My frustration is with myself not you.”

  “I can sympathize.” Vicki stood and stepped back, tilting her head as she walked around Mal, examining the dress from all angles. “I’ve got some news to break and I’m so nervous about it that I’m nauseated.”

  “Oh?” Interested piqued, Mal lasered in on her. Vicki had been back together with Elias for a couple of months now. Not to mention her young man. The ring on her finger promised commitment for all to see. Other news that might be difficult to break… “Could it be the news itself that has you nauseated?”

  Pale, Vicki looked away, avoiding her gaze. “How do you tell someone life altering news that they may not welcome?”

  Mal reached out and pulled the other woman into a hug. “You ask for help. You trust that love is enough.”

  “And if it isn’t?”

  Mal blew out a long breath, answering the question for herself too. “Then it wasn’t the kind of love you need.”

  Vicki hugged her, finally meeting her gaze. “Do you have the kind of love you need with Colby?”

  Mal nodded, her eyes filling with tears at the thought. But it was happy tears. “Baby Jesus in a manger. I hate to cry. So sappy.”

  “You’re a beautiful sap.”

  “Thanks, but it’s your magic. All I’m doing is standing here. So…?” She didn’t ask outright, in case she didn’t want her assistant to know. The woman had stepped over to the machine to sew a finishing hem on the veil.

  Vicki nodded. “I screwed up my pills. It wasn’t planned. At all.”

  Mal hugged her again. “Congrats, honey. I’m sorry for throwing this huge dress project at you with so little notice. I’m sure it’s been overwhelming.”

  “Honestly, it was exactly the distraction I needed. It got me out of my head worrying and kept me busy. I haven’t felt too badly yet, just a little tired. Elias hasn’t even noticed, though Jesse keeps looking at me worriedly and asking if everything’s okay.”

  “I know they’ve been working hard on the cartel thing, and now Colby’s leaving him holding the bag.”

  “Even if he wasn’t working eighty hours a week, I still don’t think he’d notice,” Vicki said, her mouth turning down in a brittle frown. “And don’t you dare worry one second about Colby leaving. Be glad. We are, really. Even Elias. He’s been worried about the kid, as he calls him, a long time.”

  “Then Elias needs to get his head out of his ass and pay attention to what’s going on in his household.”

  Vicki snorted. “I’m tempted not to say anything at all and see how long it takes him to notice. My luck, though, I’d be at the hospital calling him to come get us and bring us home.”

  She laughed, but it quickly turned to tears. Mal drew her back into a hug again, rubbing her back, as she’d done for her that night in the hospital.

  “It’s stupid, but I’m so worried that he’ll hate me and the baby because he won’t be sure it’s his. And we can’t be sure, honestly, not without a DNA test, and then what does that say to Jesse? That his baby might not mean as much to me as Elias’s? Oh, God, Mal, what am I going to do?”

  Mal squeezed her tighter, rocking her gently with her body. “The first thing you need to do is to take care of yourself right now. Stress and worry aren’t good for you. And second, I suspect that Elias may not be as opposed to Jesse as you might think he is.”

  Vicki looked up at her through her tears. “It was really hard for him to accept Jesse from the beginning. We broke up over it for a bit. Hours, maybe, but that’s when we heard the cop was killed and I literally thought he was dead. I thought I’d lost him forever, and he’d left hating my guts.”

  “His pride might have been speaking louder than his heart then. But I saw his heart talking at the hospital. Give him a chance, hon. I think his heart will speak louder than his pride this time around.”

  “And if not?”

  “Then kick his ass out and marry Jesse. He’s fully devoted to you, of that I have no doubt. But honestly, give Elias a chance. I think he’s going to surprise you this time.”

  Sniffing, Vicki wiped her cheeks. “I hope so. Look at me, sobbing all over your lace on your special day.”

  “Sob away, honey. That’s what friends are for.”

  The assistant brought the ridiculously long swath of lacy, airy material back. It didn’t look like much. Just a huge rectangle of material. But with a few pins and twists, they stepped back and Mal could tell by the look on their faces that she looked good. Damned good.

  Holding her breath, she slowly turned around and faced the full-length mirror Vicki had set up in her workroom.

  She hadn’t been too sure about the color at first. It wasn’t white, which was a travesty in the South, and the off-color ecru seemed… Old. Not a good old, but musty and stained by age. But against her skin, the antique color took on a hint of soft yellow that made her skin glow.

  The old fashioned cut hugged her body and then flared out in a gentle fall to the floor. Lace and ruffles and teeny tiny buttons and a bodice so tight and small it looked like she wore a corset. The dress stepped off a late Victorian fashion plate. The veil floated around her head, softening the strength in her broad shoulders and muscular arms that she’d honed over the years as a Mistress. She almost looked…

  Delicate. It would have pissed her off, if she didn’t love it. In a million years, she’d never guessed that she’d feel this kind of magic and hope and wonder from a single dress, even though it was a one-of-a-kind dress that had been for her.

  “Oh my God.”

  “You got that right,” Vicki said, her voice soft with awe. “Colby’s going to have to pick himself up off the floor when he sees you.”

  Now that’d be a sight she’d like to see. Her soldier boy. On the floor. Preferably naked, tied up, waiting for her. Probably not for the actual wedding ceremony though.

  Vicki held out a bouquet of yellow roses. “Ready?”

  Fuck yeah. The Mistress of Dallas is getting hitched.

  When she saw him standing in the front of the room waiting for her, Mal was the one that had to pick herself off the floor. Dressed in his navy dress uniform for the Policeman’s Ball tonight, her soldier boy looked good enough to eat. He took one look at her in her dress, and his eyes went fierce. He snatched her hand and pulled her to his side, braced for battle. Like he’d take on every drug cartel in town with his bare hands just to keep her right there beside him.

  Their friends and family stood around them. Victor and Shiloh; Vicki, Elias, and Jesse; Mama; and Colby’s parents, both of his married sisters and their husbands, Amelia, and his other sister.

  They’d asked for a few modifications to the exchange of vows. Mal swore to love and honor Colby, but as he repeated the oath back to her, he slipped in obey, just for her. Even with his family there. Elias smirked and the justice’s eyes went wide as he choked back a laugh. The man had probably married hundreds of
couples over the years, but she guessed he’d never had a man swear to obey the woman. The ring went on her finger, his grip on her fingers too hard, but she didn’t mind. Not when his eyes blazed with so much emotion.

  “I pronounce you husband and wife. You,” the justice looked at Mal, his eyes twinkling, “May kiss your husband.”

  So he’d caught the way the wind blew with their oath changes. Smart man. Mal reached up and gripped Colby’s neck, digging her fingers in as hard as he was gripping her hand. Yeah, his eyes went smoky and his shoulders relaxed under her grip. She might get him into a collar yet. But it didn’t matter to her either way, because he was hers, now. They had a lifetime to play Mistress games.

  It was over so quickly. Their lives changed forever in the span of fifteen minutes. Colby kissed his mother’s cheek and promised to come by the ranch as soon as they got back from their honeymoon. She handed him a covered dish. “I thought you might not have a wedding cake, so I made your favorite.”

  Blackberry cobbler. Colby choked back a laugh and gave her another kiss. Oh yeah. They were going to have fun with that later.

  Victor gave Mal a hug and told her to take all the time she wanted. They both knew time was precious with the new season preparations in full swing, but he trusted her to figure out the best way to handle it. Mal gave Vicki a lingering hug and shot a hard look at Elias. “Take care of her.”

  He struggled a moment between surprise and aggression, his shoulders tensing up for a fight, but he wrapped an arm around Vicki’s shoulders and drew her close. “Always.”

  We’ll see about that, Mal thought as the three headed home.

  “Ready?” Colby asked her, still clutching her hand like she’d disappear if he let go.

  At her nod, they walked outside to her car. The sun was setting, the sky a glorious canvas of pink and purple, but it was the man opening the car door for her that took her breath away. The driver’s door. Even now as her new husband, he wasn’t presumptuous. She stepped closer, slipping an arm around his waist as she leaned into the hard shelter of his body. “I love you, Mr. Wade.”

  “I love you, Mrs. Wade.” His pressed his cheek to hers, his breath soft and warm on her skin. “You didn’t have to take my name.”

  “I know. I wanted to.”

  “I’m tempted to ask you to skip the ball so we can head to the shore this very moment.”

  They’d found an out of the way cabin in Galveston for the honeymoon. She couldn’t wait to roll him around in some sand, but he was supposed to get an award tonight after being wounded. “You’re not missing it, so get that gorgeous butt in the car.”

  “Five minutes, and then we’re leaving.”

  “You have to stay longer than that,” she replied after he got in and shut the passenger door. He grimaced, probably envisioning hours of standing around watching people dance, when they could be alone together. “At least ten minutes.”

  He flashed a cocky smile at her. “Deal.”

  21

  Standing in the bathroom of their honeymoon cabin, Colby stared at himself in the mirror. He didn’t recognize the man staring back at him.

  He stood there, nude, fully erect—even though she hadn’t touched him. Hair growing out from the military buzz cut he’d worn for years. A fresh, tender scar on his abdomen, still held together with medical glue and God only knew how many internal stitches. Out of necessity, he’d been forced to abandon the wedding tradition of carrying his bride over the threshold, for fear he’d tear something open. Mal had promised to let him do it at some point, once she decided he’d healed enough.

  Once she decided. Not him. Not even his doctor. His wife. His Mistress. His sun.

  Because his whole world revolved around her now. Happily.

  She’d told him to go into the bathroom and stay until she called. And he’d gone without a single word of complaint.

  “Come on out, sugar.”

  He gave one last, lingering look at himself in the mirror, searching his face for any trace of indecision or regret, but he saw only a dark gleam of eager hunger shining back at him. Opening the door, he did pause a moment to drink her in. She wore another unexpected gown, this one made of a light, thin white material, still very old fashioned looking, with ribbons and ruffles and buttons, mostly left undone down the front to bare the soft, paler skin of her full breasts. He’d thought Mistresses wore black latex and corsets with thigh-high boots. And yeah, maybe he ought to ask for that, because Mal would look hot in anything. But right now, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the outline of her curves in that gown.

  “You like?” She asked softly, giving him a slow twirl. “Vicki made it, inspired by Victorian shifts and petticoats.”

  His tongue felt swollen in his mouth, making his voice sound strange. “I didn’t know you liked Victorian clothing.”

  “I didn’t either, until I saw it. Vicki did a million sketches to distract me while you were in surgery. I’m going to ask her to design all the costumes for Pony Games, if she’s up to it. I think it’ll be fun.”

  She came toward him, a slow, sexy stroll that hypnotized him. If he hadn’t already been hard, he’d have probably passed out from the blood rush to his groin. He fisted his hands at his side, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her. His fingers burned to see how far down the buttons ran down the front, and how far he could get before the whole nightgown just slipped right off her body to puddle on the floor.

  “You remember what I told you that first night at the restaurant?”

  Like when she’d given him those first orders, to eat his food. Or when she’d asked him why he was there. But he had the feeling that she meant… “You said you’d get to be the woman to break me.”

  She didn’t reply or move a muscle, but stared back at him, silent and firm and he knew what she wanted.

  The dog sat at his mistress’s feet, because that was where he chose to be. Not because she forced him.

  It was easier than he’d ever dreamed to bend his knees and sink to the floor as he stared up at her. The wood floors were cold beneath him, but her smile warmed him to the core.

  “How do you feel? Truthfully?”

  On his knees, it was harder to mouth back a cocky response full of male ego, which was probably exactly why she’d put him here. He listened to his body, feeling for any internal twinge or pain. “Good. Tender, like I wouldn’t want to take a punch to the stomach. I wouldn’t want to run too far or too hard. Unless you were waiting at the end.”

  She frowned, biting her lip, as if she didn’t think he could take whatever she’d planned. Risking punishment—which alone should be enough to reassure her that he felt fine—he leaned forward and rubbed his face against her stomach. Her arms came around his head, her fingers stroking over his skull and shoulders. “Are you sure? The last thing I want to do is hurt you, let alone put you back in the hospital, on our honeymoon, no less.”

  Rolling his eyes up to see her face, he lipped the thin linen of her gown, playfully tugging at it.

  “Hmmm. I think you should have dessert first.”

  Happily, he muzzled his way toward the vee of her thighs, but evidently that wasn’t what she meant at all.

  “Stand up and come over here, sugar. I’ve got dessert set out for you.”

  She offered a hand to him, which he took as he stood, any excuse to touch her without risking the Mistress’s wrath. He followed her to the kitchen. At the bar, she’d scooted the two stools out of the way and set out the pan of blackberry cobbler.

  “Hands behind your back.”

  He crossed his wrists in the small of his back and she bound his hands. Good. Maybe she was going to feed him. Even better, maybe she’d just scoop a big pile of cobbler onto her pussy and let him eat it off her. Double the dessert.

  She must have read those thoughts on his face because she chuckled softly, shaking her head. “I’m not a fan of food mixed with sexy times. For one thing, someone’s gotta clean up the mess later, and another, I j
ust want to eat my food and enjoy it.”

  “I’d still enjoy the hell out of it.”

  She arched a brow. “Maybe. Until I got an infection because of food where it shouldn’t be.”

  He grimaced. “I didn’t think of that.”

  “A man wouldn’t.” She scooped out a nice helping onto a dish and set it before him. But no silverware. Eyes narrowed, he watched her as she walked away, back toward the bed. She picked up something but kept it behind her back as she returned. “Do you trust me?”

  “With my life.”

  She brought her hand forward, holding what looked to be a medieval flail. Long leather straps cascaded off the end.

  Instinctively, he tensed, but probably not for the reasons she might suspect. He didn’t really think she’d hurt him. But by God, he didn’t want her to use something on him that she’d used with that red-haired submissive on the show. The one who’d punked her.

  “I don’t need this. I’m not a sadist. I don’t need your pain to find satisfaction. But I like to warm up a sub’s skin with a little light punishment. It makes the pleasure all the more explosive when we get to it.”

  “You like it, then you’ll have it.” he growled out. “But answer me one thing first. Did you give this to Andy?”

  Her eyes flared. Holding his gaze, she lifted the flail up to his face. A test of trust? He wasn’t sure. But he could smell the leather, and it brought back that visceral memory of his childhood. Riding horses. Peace. Finding beauty in the sunrises and the gentle lowing from the cattle.

  “To my knowledge, no one’s skin has touched this, other than me petting it. Certainly never Andy. Patrick is a consummate horse master who uses only the best. He had this custom made ages ago but never used it, because he fell in love with his whip.” She trailed the leather straps over his shoulders. “Once I saw how soft the leather is, I couldn’t resist. Usually I’d go for a velvet flail on a beginner, but this is soft enough I think it might break you in real gentle like.”