by Golden Angel
“But we’re not in private,” she protested.
“Closest we’ve come all week.”
He sounded rather disgruntled, and Vivian looked up at him in surprise.
“I thought we weren’t supposed to be alone before our wedding . . .” Her voice trickled off as Gabriel growled.
“My sisters are a plague.”
But the dance ended before he could fully explain why he took issue with his sisters, and the marquess came up to claim Vivian’s hand for the next dance, a quadrille. After him, she danced with her father, then Diana’s husband, then Henrietta’s, and then the other guests began to fill in the rest of her dance card. She saved the waltzes for Gabriel, but the rest of the slots were quickly filled.
Unaware of the way her beauty had riveted the attention of the men in attendance, Vivian assumed they were being kind to her because it was her engagement ball, or because they were Gabriel’s friends. She didn’t realize that many of them were curious about the woman who had tamed the Earl of Cranborne—or that they were attracted to her in their own right. Gabriel did, so as he did his turns with Audrey, his sisters, and Vivian’s mother, he made sure to stay close to wherever Vivian was dancing.
More than one man received the unspoken message that the earl was quite possessive over his fiancée. Henrietta twitted him about grinding his teeth, although that was in part because when he was dancing with her, Vivian was dancing with Lord Marchland.
And he didn’t realize Vivian’s attention rarely strayed from him. She was truly enjoying this ball, as she’d never had a come-out or a season. Content with that, she was still thrilled by the attention and the glittering ton. She barely noticed when her feet began to hurt or when the ballroom became stifling.
It wasn’t until she stumbled while she was dancing a simple country dance with Viscount Rawlings that she realized how out of breath she’d become.
“Careful, Miss Stafford,” said the viscount, looking worried as he assisted her over to the sidelines of the dance floor. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m so sorry,” she said, fanning her face with her hand. “I don’t know what came over me . . . Is this what they call a ‘crush’?”
The viscount laughed, his boyishly handsome face coming alight. “It is indeed, in fact I’m quite sure that your engagement ball is going to be proclaimed one of the highlights of the season.”
“Oh.”
“Are you sure you’re all right, Miss Stafford? Perhaps we should step out onto the terrace to get you some air.”
“Oh yes, please, that sounds lovely.” Vivian felt almost pathetically grateful as Rawlings escorted her from the dance floor and over to the doors leading to the terrace. The gardens of Salisbury House in London were not extensive, although they were quite beautiful, and she knew they were open for the guests to wander if they wished.
On Rawlings’s arm, she allowed herself to be led down from the well-lit terrace towards the gardens as they exchanged the polite small talk that was expected. Already Vivian was feeling much revived, as well as more aware of her sore feet.
“I heard you graduated from Mrs. Cunningham’s Finishing School,” Rawlings said, leading her down one of the garden paths.
“Yes, I was lucky to be able to attend,” Vivian said with a smile. The viscount was not the first to obliquely comment on the fact that Gabriel was marrying her basically straight out of the school room.
“It has quite an interesting reputation.”
Something in Viscount Rawlings’s voice made Vivian feel uneasy, and she found herself shifting away from him. He was a handsome man, but in the moonlight and shadows he looked more threatening than attractive. It suddenly occurred to her that she was, for all intents and purposes, alone with Rawlings even though they were out in the gardens and there were other people milling about the pathways. There was no one on their current pathway.
Gabriel was not going to like this.
“It’s a very good school,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she felt. Taking a step back the way they’d come, she looked around, hoping to see someone so she wouldn’t be truly alone with a man who wasn’t her fiancé. “We should probably go back inside. I’m feeling much better now.”
“Not so fast,” Rawlings said, grabbing her arm and pulling her into his body. Vivian gasped, her hands on his chest as she tried to push him away. “I want to see what you learned at school. I’ve heard it’s very good at teaching brides to . . . behave.” The sneer in his voice made Vivian quiver with fear, but she struggled and opened her mouth to scream, anyway.
“Unhand her. Now.”
The dark voice cut through the night, alive and thick with the threat of violence, before Vivian could even utter the tiniest squeak. With another sneer, Rawlings pushed her away so hard, she almost stumbled. Luckily, an arm wrapped around her waist and jerked her back upright.
“You should have done a better job choosing your bride,” Rawlings said derisively. “The chit was begging for it. Or maybe you’re just not man enough to satisfy her.”
“That’s not true!” Vivian protested, clinging to Gabriel. He put his hand over her mouth and she turned her face away, burying it in his shoulder as tears welled up in her eyes. What if he didn’t believe her?
“Get out. I don’t want to see you within ten feet of her, ever again.”
Menace seemed to emanate outwards from Gabriel, although the arms circling her were completely gentle. Vivian trembled; she’d never heard anyone sound so cold, so threatening. If he turned that awful voice on her, she didn’t know what she would do.
Thankfully Rawlings didn’t say anything further in his defense; she heard the click of his shoes on the pathway as he retreated away from them.
Pulling her head away from Gabriel’s shoulder, her face wet with tears, she looked up at him, hoping he would realize she hadn’t meant to go against his orders, and she certainly hadn’t thrown herself at Rawlings. “What he said wasn’t true, Gabriel, I promise. I was just so overheated in the ballroom and he suggested we go outside and I didn’t realize we were alone until . . .”
“I know,” Gabriel murmured, holding her securely with one arm while he drew a handkerchief from his pocket to dry her tears. Gently he wiped them from her face. Rage still surged inside of him—she could have been hurt tonight!—but he managed to contain it. “I know he lied, sweet. You aren’t the type.” He could feel her relax in his arms, sighing with happiness as she leaned against him. That trusting sweetness could have been turned against her tonight. The very thought made him want to chase after Rawlings and pound the man into the ground, but Vivian needed him more right now. “Did he hurt you at all?” “No,” she said immediately, to Gabriel’s relief, shaking her head. “He frightened me, though.”
Gabriel blew out a long sigh of breath, trying to contain his fear and anger. “You should not have left the terrace with him.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I tried to turn around once I realized we were alone. I’m so sorry, Gabriel.”
Those big wet eyes lifted to his again, pleading with him to understand. And he did. But even though she had come down into the gardens with Rawlings out of ignorance, Gabriel was determined that in the future she would think before stepping away from any gathering with a man who wasn’t him. Now that he was assured she was unharmed, he would have to deal with her disobedience. Later, he would find a way to deal with Rawlings.
“What did I tell you I was going to do if you went off alone with another man?” Gabriel asked, holding her firmly about the waist with one hand and using his other to tip her chin up to look at him.
The way he was bending down kept his eyes hidden from her in the shadows, making him look like a creature of light and dark, so very attractive and yet frightening. Vivian shivered.
“You said you would belt me,” she whispered. Emotions flicked through her, every one of them evident on her face—fear, excitement, wariness. Heat flooded her core at the thought. It
had been too many days since she’d been punished or pleasured. She hadn’t touched herself after the first night alone, realizing that teasing herself without the hope of climax only made her feel more anxious. And she wasn’t going to disobey Gabriel and bring herself to climax.
“And so I shall. When you retire tonight, dismiss your maid and do not get into bed. I will come once she has left your room.”
Anxiety threaded with arousal trembled through Vivian as Gabriel lowered his lips to lay a very gentle kiss on her. It was sweet, tender, until her lips parted and he tightened his arms around her, kissing her more desperately. The idea that she had been in danger, at their engagement ball, had adrenaline pumping through him at high speed. But there was naught he could do now; Rawlings would have quit the field already, and he wouldn’t punish Vivian until after the ball was over. She should be able to enjoy the rest of the evening, now that Rawlings was gone.
Pulling himself away, he grimaced as his body protested. But if they didn’t return soon then his father and Audrey would be after them, and he doubted Vivian’s parents would be very pleased either.
“Come,” he said tersely, forcing himself to ignore the way his cock throbbed. Just a mere kiss and he was randy as a callow youth. “We need to return.”
Quietly, Vivian put her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her back to the ball. She couldn’t decide whether she wished time would pass slower or faster before the evening ended. The idea of Gabriel belting her, punishing her for the first time outside of the school, was both frightening and exciting.
She clung close to his side for the rest of the evening. The next morning the gossips would be chattering about how very devoted to each other the soon-to-be-wed couple obviously was.
While Vivian waited nervously in her bedroom, Gabriel had a quick word with his father to tell him what he would be doing that evening. His father just gave him a look and told him that he’d better not anticipate their wedding night under his roof. That was an easy promise to make, since it wasn’t part of Gabriel’s plan anyway; from the beginning he’d wanted to keep Vivian virgo intacta until their wedding night. Despite the circumstances under which he’d arranged their marriage and her training, she deserved to come to her wedding night as other young women had.
Of course, that didn’t mean he would go without pleasure tonight.
His emotions were running too high to deny himself that. Absolute fury at Rawlings, for trying to accost Vivian where she should have been safe. If Rawlings knew what was good for him, he would quit London for the rest of the season, because if Gabriel saw him again he was not going to be able to contain his ire.
It grated on him that Vivian had been frightened on his father’s property, during her own engagement ball, when she should have been utterly safe. Although he supposed in some ways he should feel grateful; he doubted that after tonight she would make such an innocent mistake again, and it was almost better that she had been lured away tonight when Gabriel’s entire attention had been on her for the whole evening. He’d come following almost immediately, making his way across the ballroom and into the gardens after them. On another night, in the future, perhaps he wouldn’t be quite so obsessed with knowing where Vivian was at all times.
Or perhaps he would be.
But tonight it had served him well. Vague images of what could have happened, had he not followed them, only exacerbated the emotion. Of course, it wasn’t Vivian’s fault that Rawlings and other men of his ilk were such bastards, but he’d be damned if he didn’t do everything in his power to keep her safe.
When he reached her room, he lay his head against the door frame and took several deep, calming breaths, forcing his tense muscles to relax. The important thing to remember was that she was safe, nothing had happened, and he wouldn’t allow anything to happen in the future. She had disobeyed him by going out alone with Rawlings, although he understood she hadn’t exactly meant to disobey him, and she wouldn’t be making that mistake again. For the next few days, possibly even up to the wedding, every time she sat she would be reminded of her mistake and why she should not repeat it.
Back in control of himself, Gabriel pushed open the door.
Vivian was seated upon the cushions of the room’s window seat, across the room. Immediately her head whipped around, green eyes glinting in the candlelight. The night rail she wore was very modest, billowy white fabric with lace at the high throat and wrists, which only made him want to strip it off of her completely. She was so wonderfully innocent in moments like this, so beautifully pale and wraith-like, and fragile-looking.
But he knew her bottom could turn as red as a cherry and the pink flesh between her legs would weep with her honey as it did.
“Vivian.” They both studied each other for a moment, across the room. “Come here.”
Slowly she got to her feet, walking across the room to meet him. The fabric of her night rail flowed around her—there was enough fabric in the garment to make two perfectly respectable gowns. Gabriel made a face.
“I hope your trousseau is not comprised of garments like this,” he murmured, tugging at the silk ribbons holding the throat closed. “Not that you’d have much opportunity to wear them, anyway.”
“I think it’s pretty,” she said, a little defiantly, although her hands remained at her sides, unresisting as he loosened the top of the gown.
“I think there’s too much of it,” he retorted, glad to see that she’d gotten some of her spirit back. While he’d enjoyed the way she’d turned to him after he’d sent Rawlings on his way, he liked Vivian obedient to him, not complacent. Grabbing handfuls of the garment, he pulled it over her head.
She was completely bare beneath it; those dusky rose nipples already standing out proudly at attention. Palming her breasts, Gabriel ran his thumbs over the little buds, teasing them as Vivian shivered with the attention. The way she looked at him when he touched her . . . Such avid admiration and adoration, it was enough to bring a man to his knees, to strive to be worthy of such a look. Giving her nipples a pinch hard enough to make her gasp, he let his hands fall away.
“Help me take my jacket off.”
Vivian’s hands trembled as she raised them to the buttons of his jacket. She’d never helped a man take his garments off before. It felt strangely exciting to help him with the fashionably tight sleeves of his jacket, revealing the emerald brocade of his waistcoat and the white of his shirt. How odd that removing this one item of clothing, which still left him almost completely dressed, could make her feel so much more unsure than being completely naked in front of him.
Loosening his cuffs, Gabriel began to roll up the sleeves of his shirt, a movement as exciting as it was anxiety inducing. “Go and bend over your bed, with your legs spread.”
She didn’t know if desire or fear was causing all the trembling in her limbs as she turned and made for the bed, moving quickly as if her own fleetness of foot would hurry along the process. Behind her she could hear the soft rustling of fabric as he continued to work on his shirt sleeves. Arousal curled in her belly as she wondered what she must look like, bent over and completely exposed to him. The bed was low enough that her legs had to be spread fairly wide for her to be comfortable laying her upper body across it. Cool air flowed across the heated flesh between her legs, making her uncomfortably aware of how wet she was.
Not that she was looking forward to being belted, she absolutely wasn’t. She could only imagine how much it would hurt—she was sure it would be worse than a regular spanking. But she also knew how much pleasure it would bring him. And she was excited by Gabriel’s presence, by the hungry look on his face, by her nudity in front of him, and the fact that he was going to punish her. Pain and pleasure, two staples of her life that had been missing since she left Mrs. Cunningham’s.
She craved his touch, whether it be harsh or tender. Knowing she was going to be punished for her transgression was almost a relief, because once it was over she wouldn’t feel so horribly guilty for d
isobeying Gabriel’s order. Lord Rawlings had proven himself a complete scoundrel, and while she knew not all men would be like that, she shouldn’t have gone off alone with him anyway. Gabriel had told her not to. She didn’t blame herself for Lord Rawlings’s behavior, but she did blame herself for disobeying Gabriel’s directive, however innocently it had been done.
“So beautiful. And all mine.” A tinge of awe touched his voice as he approached and ran his hand over her bottom. Vivian’s entire body felt like a fire that had just found some prime tinder, sparks flaring at his touch. “I’m going to spank you, first with my hand, then with my belt. Twenty strokes with each.”
vivian sucked in a breath a little fearfully, but she could feel her insides clench with excitement. While she hated to have disappointed him and she wasn’t looking forward to being punished, she couldn’t help but be aroused that he was here, in her room, and touching her. Finally.
Smack!
His hand came down hard directly in the center of her left buttock and Vivian cried out, muffling the sound in the mattress as she pressed her face into it.
Smack!
The blows were hard enough to sting, to throb slightly afterwards, but she knew very well they weren’t nearly as hard as he could spank. This was a mere warm-up, a prelude to the true punishment, which would come when he was done with his hand.
Her legs began to ache with the effort of staying still, her bottom bouncing as the burn penetrated through layers of skin. Gabriel hit so much harder than Mrs. Banks! And perhaps, after only a few days, she had become unaccustomed to receiving any kind of punishment.
The swats rained down on her bottom, marching up and down the curved cheeks, covering them completely and turning her heart-shaped rear a bright pink. Gabriel’s cock pressed insistently against his breeches, his self-control straining to contain his desire the same way the fabric was straining to contain his arousal. Vivian’s muffled cries filled his ears and he could see nothing but her chastened bottom, slowly darkening in color. She jerked with the blows, especially when his palm found her sit-spot, but there was nowhere for her to go with her hips pressed against the bed the way they were.
