by Jenny Plumb
“Hanging round Waterstones, the National Gallery, when it’s open late. It wasn’t all lies,” she added quickly. “I did go shopping last Saturday and to the theatre the other night. I just told Aurora and Sophie that I’d eaten with colleagues.”
“Oh, Lucinda…”
“I know. Like I said, human resources probably had it right.”
“Well, this is the point at which we can start to change things.”
“We?”
“I know I’m your boss, but it’s only for six months till Lisa comes back. I’d like to think we can be friends as well. We are housemates.”
Friends. Housemates. Lucinda felt dejected. Get over it, she told herself. He’s already told you he’s not over Kat. If he liked you he’d have kissed you already; he’s had his chance at least twice in this conversation, and each time he’s chosen to lecture you instead. Lucinda said as casually as she could, “So what plans do you have for me being able to change things, then?”
“Well, I was thinking… What are your plans for the rest of the Christmas break?”
“Nothing, just a New Year’s Eve party at Aurora’s. A real party this time,” she added.
“Right, well, I was thinking that we could go along to the carol service at church tonight. It’s at nine o’clock.”
“Okay.” She hadn’t been to a carol service since she was a kid; she’d always enjoyed singing the old favourite carols. “Sounds good.”
“And we can have Christmas dinner here, provided we can get a turkey. If not, any kind of meat will do. And I’m going to see if we can hire a car on Boxing Day morning. If we can, I thought we’d drive down to your parents’ place.”
“What?”
“Give them something to look forward to. They won’t mind an overnight visitor, will they?”
“No, no, they’ll love it. They hardly ever get visitors. But… it really is boring there, you know. I wasn’t exaggerating.”
“It’ll be less boring having someone different in the house, someone to change the conversation. And you can show me around Worthing.”
“There’s not much to see.”
“Well, there’s a beach, right? We can go for walks.”
“Yeah. We can do that. And there are a couple of good pubs. Well, they look good anyway.” She’d never been inside them, never had anyone to go with.
“Right, so we stay there for a couple of days, and then you can come down to Norfolk with me. We’ll have a couple of days there. Then perhaps I can come to Aurora’s New Year party?”
“Sure. Aurora won’t mind.”
“Okay, then. Tell you what, I’ll make something simple for dinner, like a spaghetti, and look for hire cars, while you head down to the supermarket, see if you can pick up a last minute turkey and some veggies for Christmas dinner tomorrow.”
Feeling cheerful now, Lucinda grabbed her coat and headed outside. The supermarket was a couple of blocks away, and still heaved with customers getting last minute supplies. There was hardly any poultry left, but she did find one small turkey – that would be enough for just two of them. She bought potatoes, carrots and sprouts, and headed out again. It was icy cold, but there was still no snow. Perhaps London would miss out. It often did.
Friends, he’d said. He hoped they could be friends. Even though all he’d wanted to do when he said that was take her in his arms, kiss her, ravish her right there on the sofa.
He knew she liked him too. After all, if she didn’t, she certainly wouldn’t have forgiven him for spanking her. She’d even said it had helped ‘get her back on the straight and narrow’, suggested she’d had it coming for a while. And the look in her eyes… She’d wanted him, as much as he wanted her. He was sure of that.
But he’d backed off, changed the subject. He’d been right to tell her why she hadn’t got the job; she needed that feedback before applying for another promotion. But he’d spoilt everything by talking about being friends, when they both wanted to be lovers.
It was just that she’d been hurt so much this year. And he couldn’t offer her very much – he was only here for six months. And what if they got together regardless, and things didn’t work out? He was going back to Melbourne in May, but she’d have to stay in London, at Clarkson’s, with all her colleagues knowing about their broken relationship.
“Stop being an idiot,” he told himself, as he poured oil in the frypan. “You don’t go into a relationship anticipating breaking up. She likes you, you like her. It’ll work out if it’s meant to, if you both want it to.”
Of course things could work out. He might end up staying in London or maybe she’d even move to the head office in Melbourne. There were all sorts of possibilities.
If the opportunity to kiss her arose again – which it would, surely? – then he was going to take it. Yes, and take her to bed too. Hell, and he’d spank her too, if she gave any indication she was up for it. A playful spanking this time, show her what fun a bit of kink could be.
He’d known when he bought the holly he should have bought some mistletoe!
Chapter 8
“I hired a car,” Broderick announced when Lucinda returned with the turkey and veggies. “We can pick it up on Boxing Day afternoon. So you can call your parents, tell them we’re coming and that we’re staying overnight.”
“Great,” said Lucinda. “They’ll be thrilled.” She put the veggies on her shelf in the cupboard and popped the turkey in the fridge before heading into the living room to make the call.
“Ooh, hello, Lucinda.” Her mother’s surprise didn’t irritate Lucinda the way it usually did. Way better to have her sounding surprised than distraught. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, look Mum, sorry I didn’t get in touch straightaway about the crash. The truth is I didn’t know about it straightaway.”
“I suppose you didn’t. You’d have been trying to make arrangements to catch another train, I suppose.”
“Anyway, Mum, I’m calling because I’m coming up on Boxing Day.”
“Oh, love, you don’t have to. Just knowing you’re all right, all in one piece, that’s enough for your dad and me.”
“I want to come,” Lucinda said firmly. “And is it okay if I bring a friend with me? Broderick, who you spoke to earlier? We’re hiring a car and we thought we’d stay with you for a couple of days before going to Norfolk.”
“Ooh.” Her mother sounded excited now. “Yes, that’ll be lovely. I’ll have to go out shopping early on Boxing Day, get a few more things in. What does Broderick like to eat? To drink?”
“Anything, pretty much.”
“Ah, that’s good. Now, are you absolutely sure you want to come here? Because if you just want to go straight to Norwich, your dad and I don’t mind.”
“We want to come.” Lucinda was surprised to realise she meant it. She loved her parents, wanted to see them, just wanted Christmas with them to feel different, special. And this year it would be.
“Here. Talk to your dad. He’s okay now.”
“Hello.” Her dad’s voice was shaky as usual.
“Hello, Dad. Happy Christmas! I’m coming up to see you on Boxing Day.”
“Yes, I thought you must be. You’re bringing a friend, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Broderick.”
“Isn’t he the one who got the job you wanted?”
“Yes. But he deserved to get it. He’s better at it than I’d have been. Next time the opportunity comes, I’ll have more experience.” And be more mature, she added silently. There’d be no more lies and deception. This Christmas – and Broderick’s spanking – had taught her that.
“They’re delighted,” she told Broderick when she returned to the kitchen. “It was a lovely idea of yours.”
“Well, I’m a lovely guy,” he said, ladling spaghetti into two bowls, “when you get to know me, that is.”
“Did you tell your friends I’m coming to Norwich?”
“Yes. They don’t mind at all.”
After di
nner, they went to church. The candlelit service featured nine lessons and carols, and Lucinda was surprised to learn that Broderick possessed a fine baritone! There were special prayers for the victims and families of the train disaster, and Lucinda and Broderick both uttered a fervent “Amen” at the end, conscious of the fact that Broderick had come so close to being among the victims being prayed for. The tiny woman vicar shook hands with everyone at the end of the service. “You’re welcome to come to a service any time,” she said. “Especially with a voice like that!” she added to Broderick.
“It was a great service,” said Broderick. “At home on Christmas Eve, we have carols in the churchyard. We all sit outside singing, getting bitten by mosquitoes.”
“Well, you certainly won’t be sitting outside tonight,” said the vicar pointing at the main door. “It’s snowing.”
Broderick was like a child on the walk home, enchanted with the snow. He took off his gloves and held his hand out to catch the flakes, kept stopping to wonder at it and take photos. He took a video of it with the lit-up church in the background and sent it to his mum.
“It’s going to be quite deep in the morning,” said Lucinda. “It’s already sticking to the ground. So come on, Broderick – we can’t stay out here all night! It’s absolutely freezing! It’ll still be here in the morning.”
For answer, he gathered up snow from a wall, scrunched it into a ball and hurled it at her. It hit her on the shoulder. She giggled and made a ball of her own, chucking it at his chest. All the way home they threw snowballs, chasing each other and laughing.
“Put your gloves back on,” she warned him. “It really does get painful handling the cold snow.”
“I’m beginning to realise that,” he said. He stood still, put on his gloves.
This was her chance. She scooped up snow, made a dash at him, and shoved it down his neck.
“Aaargh!” he protested, trying to shake it out. “That’s cold! I’ll get you back for that.”
“You have to catch me first,” she said, and ran.
He caught her at the front door. She’d been about to put the key in the lock, but he grabbed her with one hand and opened the door himself. As soon as he’d closed the door, he picked her up and carried her into the living room, where he took off her coat and put her over his knee.
He lifted her skirt.
“Nice stockings.”
“The only type of Christmas stocking you’ll be seeing this Christmas Eve.”
“It’s good enough for me.”
He smacked her smartly on her right buttock, and she wriggled at the sting. He slapped her again and again, six, seven, eight slaps, but this time the spanking was different. There was humour in it, not frustration, and although each smack smarted, Lucinda didn’t really want to get up off his lap.
“Now, are you ever going to shove snow down my neck again?”
“Probably. Depends on whether I’m up for a spanking or not.”
He chuckled, gave her one final slap, then helped her up. Their eyes locked. He took her head in his hands and bent his lips towards hers.
Not many minutes later, Lucinda was where she’d never expected to be on Christmas Eve.
In Broderick’s bed.
“So are we dating now, then?” Lucinda asked afterwards.
Broderick had lit a candle, and they were snuggled up together watching it cast shadows about the room.
“It’s just that I’ve never actually slept with someone I was already living with before,” she added.
He chuckled. “I suppose we are dating. Do you want to go out on some dates?”
“A theatre trip would be nice. Or the movies.”
“Or a trip down the Thames on New Year’s Day?”
“Now, that sounds lovely.” New Year, new start, new boyfriend. New Lucinda. No lies, no silly diets.
“You know what I’d like now?” he said.
“What?”
“A glass of wine. Would you like one?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Are you hungry? We could have a mince pie as well. I’ve got some. I’ll heat a couple up in the microwave.”
“That sounds lovely as well.”
He pulled on his dressing gown and headed downstairs. Lucinda leaned back against the pillows thinking how magical this Christmas had turned out to be and how fortunate she was. She felt happier than she’d been for months. A wine and a mince pie would be the perfect end to what had been an incredible day.
Mince pies. Whoops.
She’d forgotten her little afternoon binge.
She leapt out of bed. Time to go downstairs and explain herself.
But it seemed like he’d already discovered it. “Lucinda,” she heard him call, “have you got something you need to tell me?”
Lucinda grinned.
So far today one spanking had changed the course of her life and the other had led to great sex.
What Christmas gift might the next one bring?
The End.
Bethany Leigh
Bethany Leigh is a writer of domestic dramas and detective stories spiced up with spankings and romance. Her books are: Freedom, set in an alternate Edwardian England; Betrothed, a short prequel to Freedom; At Dead of Night, a contemporary whodunit; and A Cure for All Ills, an anthology of short domestic discipline stories. All are published by Blushing Books.
Bethany lives in Australia. When she’s not writing, she likes hanging out with her family, catching up with friends over wine or coffee, and spotting kangaroos, wombats, kookaburras and other fabulous wildlife in the bush near her home.
Don’t miss these exciting titles by Bethany Leigh and Blushing Books!
Are You Sitting Comfortably?
A Cure for All Ills
At Dead of Night
Betrothed
Freedom
Audiobooks:
At Dead of Night
A Midwinter Marraige
Bryony Kildare
Foreword
Author’s Note:
Note: While the portrayals of European politics in this work are firmly based on the actual dynamics of the early seventeenth century, all individual characters are entirely the invention of the author and do not reflect real historical persons, though this story would take place around the reign of Frederick of Bohemia, whose own foreign princess was Elizabeth Stuart, daughter of James I of England.
Chapter 1
It was cold. The Danish ambassador to Bohemia had joked that they would bring Scandinavian winter with them as part of Margrethe’s dowry, and it was beginning to seem more truth than joke. The horses’ breath steamed in the icy air, and Margrethe was entirely wrapped from head to toe in furs, only able to put her head out the carriage to peer at the snow-frosted pines as they approached the castle. She imagined that if she could stretch out her hand far enough to break a sprig of the evergreen tree, it would snap in her fingers, frozen solid. It was Christmas Eve, but cold even for that wintry season.
“Your Highness, you must mind us,” came a gentle voice at her elbow. “What will you do if King Rupert sneaks into your chambers in disguise and you do not recognize him? We will certainly reach Prague Castle today, and he might visit you this very evening!”
Starting from her quiet reverie, Margrethe pulled her head back in and tried to pay attention to Lady Birgitta, who had spoken to her from out of the quiet chatter of her attendants. “Why should he wear a disguise?”
“So that you will fall in love with him without knowing who he is!”
Margrethe’s brow furrowed as she tried to process the logic. “And he will sneak in?”
“Yes, he will come like a paramour from the old romances of chivalry, to steal your heart.”
“So I shall believe a masked scoundrel has come to seduce me on the eve of my marriage to the king, but I am to fall in love with this masked scoundrel, thus jeopardizing the harmonious relations between our countries by betraying King Rupert?”
“But he is
King Rupert,” Lady Anneka, one of her youngest ladies, explained, her big blue eyes alight with the excitement. “Only you must pretend not to know him.”
“So I must know him – so that I may properly bestow my affections, but pretend not to know him so I may pretend my heart has been stolen by this masked scoundrel? And then, I suppose, show great surprise and pleasure when I learn who he is?”
“Yes, just that!” Anneka exclaimed.
“That sounds very complicated. Should I give him a favor, or just smile and blush? How do I pretend to love him?”
“Give him a favor,” Birgitta said judiciously, “but make sure he knows you know, or else he may think you light in your affections.”
“Yes, you might say, ‘Oh, Anneka, this gentleman has such a regal form. If this is the type of the Bohemian man, how much more handsome surely will my husband the king be,’” Anneka piped up.
Margrethe rubbed her forehead, exasperated in this new, ridiculous entry to the long list of protocols she was expected to remember and abide by. “He does not speak Danish, Anneka. He will not know what I say if I speak to you.”
“Then say it in Bohemian – it doesn’t matter if we really know what you say,” Lady Cristina, Margrethe’s best friend, suggested. “It is only a sort of game.”
“Anyway, this sort of comedy hardly accords with what Lord Hevelsheim has told us about the king,” Margrethe reminded them gently. “He said King Rupert was discreet and solemn beyond his years. There is nothing discreet or solemn about coming to bother your bride only a night or so before you will be able to properly enjoy her.”
There was a good deal of giggling at this delicate description of the marriage bed, and Margrethe let her attention wander again. Already the spires of Prague Castle were just within sight, snow-tipped like the sharp pines, and she squinted at them, trying to guess what kind of rooms – and what kind of people – they might house.
