“I’m brainstorming,” she defended herself, draining her glass in defiance.
“You’re ranting, and I might say entirely irrationally,” Witt replied rising.
Cara stomped her foot.
“We don’t know for sure what Mead is doing back there. Hell, we’re not even sure that Laurie Dixon is the right woman. We can’t be positive,” she continued, rubbing her forehead. “I’m going back.”
“What?” Witt demanded in outrage.
“I said I’m going back. I want to see with my own eyes what the fuck is going on.”
“Cara,” he warned darkly.
“Well, why not? I mean, we know we can do it. Why shouldn’t I go back and see if I can hurry things along? At the very least, I could get a sample of Laurie’s DNA and see if it fits.”
“Then ask Morgan to send you something, a lock of hair, something with her saliva on it. If he does it right, we can run the tests.”
“Since when does he do anything right? Look at the situation and take off those damn rose-colored glasses,” she hissed.
“Better to have on rose-colored glasses than see everything through doom and gloom,” he replied a bit sadly. “I have to keep hope alive, Cara Mia. I can’t even entertain the thought of being separated from you.”
Cara’s shoulders slumped; a tear ran down her cheek.
“Then let me do something about it,” she pleaded, her voice cracking.
“No! Absolutely not! I will not allow you to go back and put yourself at risk. Anything could happen to you,” he insisted.
“What are you afraid of, that I’ll disappear like you did? Are you afraid you’ll have to go through the anguish I’ve experienced, not knowing if I would ever see you again, ever be in your arms?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m afraid of, and I won’t let you do it. Not to mention, you could make matters worse.”
“How? How could things be worse?”
“So far, your time travel calculations have proven to be spot on, but things change all the time. The universe is always going through…adjustments. What if you couldn’t get back? What if you were there, stuck, and I was here, separated by hundreds of years?”
Cara snorted.
“That won’t happen,” she stated confidently, pouring another drink and moving to stand before the fire. She turned her back on him and stared into the flames.
“Are you sure?” he asked softly, coming up behind her.
“Yes!”
“Then I can add lying to the list of what you’re getting spanked for.”
“Like hell,” she said with a bitter laugh. Spinning around, she shoved his chest and threw her glass onto the concrete, where it shattered into tiny shards.
Shaking his head, Witt reached for her. Cara tried to dodge past him to no avail and in an instant she was over his shoulder and being carried into the house. He slapped her ass with each step he took as he made his way upstairs to their room and dumped her on the bed.
“I can see that I’ve been much too lenient with you over the last few months,” he calmly stated as he took a seat beside her, trapping her with his powerful arm. “I know what you’ve been going through. I’ve been struggling too, but that’s no excuse for foul language, and your defiance is over the top. You will not disrespect me, nor will you disobey me without consequences.”
Pulling her over his lap, he pulled her shorts and panties down easily as she kicked her feet, struggling to get away.
“No, Witt! I’m right about this,” she screamed.
“Possibly,” he acknowledged, placing his big hand on her bottom cheeks and covering them both. For a moment, he paused. Then he began to spank her. “But I am right about this spanking,” he stated with conviction as he continued to pepper her behind with stinging swats.
“Oh stop,” she pleaded frantically. “This is so unfair!”
