Papa's Rules by Sue Lyndon & Celeste Jones

Author:Sue Lyndon & Celeste Jones [Lyndon, Sue]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sweet Savage Press
Published: 2018-01-26T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

Cammie could scarce believe the mistake she had made. She had never kissed a man before and clearly did not know what she was doing, why else would her papa react in such a dramatic manner? Had she behaved like a doxy and shocked and shamed her papa?

She hopped off the stool, rushed into her bedroom and crawled onto the bed, buried her face in the pile of lace pillows and sobbed.

She had no idea where the wave upon wave of sadness came from, but they swept over her in a rush and, before she knew it, she had nearly soaked one of the pillows through. Her nose was running and she sat up to look about for a handkerchief when one magically appeared and she glanced up to see her papa standing over her, sadness and concern etched on his face.

“What is wrong, little Cammie? Did something frighten you?”

She reached for the monogrammed square of linen, but he ignored her movements and sat on the bed next to her, taking her upon his lap and holding the soft fabric to her nose. “Blow,” he said and she complied with a noisy honk that made him chuckle. “Good girl.”

“Now,” he said, situating her upon his lap, “why the tears? Did you not enjoy kissing me?”

“Y-you said a foul word, Papa.” She stared at the frilly coverlet of her bed and worked some of the fancywork edging between her fingers. “Oh, Papa. I-I must confess something to you. It is something I have never told anyone before, but I feel I must tell you before you commit yourself to me forever.”

Papa’s eyebrows shot up and his head tilted to the side, but he quickly composed himself and set her out upon his knee so he could get a proper look at her face. “If you have something important to tell me, Camellia, then I shall give you my full attention.” He brushed a wisp of hair away from her face. “What troubles you, my little bride?”

She studied his features and her heart cracked with pain, but she forced herself to confess the thing that had been niggling at her conscience. “Papa,” she whispered, “I-I have memories of my mama and...and...I think she was a-a p-prostitute.” She said the word and then let out a giant breath she had been holding. “Wh-what if I am like her? I cannot control my urges, even after all the years Miss Wickersham spent making a proper lady out of me.”

There was a long pause during which Cammie felt certain her papa was trying to figure out how to get her out of his house as quickly as possible.

Perhaps she ought to have kept quiet, but already she loved her papa too much to let him suffer the shame of her vulgar bloodline.

To her surprise, Papa pulled her close to his chest and buried his face in her hair, then tipped her face up so he could look into her eyes as he spoke. “Thank you for trusting me with your secret.

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