Then he’d made a fire and they’d roasted their catch, there by the stream. They had napped on the blanket he’d brought along. The rest of the afternoon had passed in sparkling sunshine and happiness.
They’d spent an afternoon without sex and been as innocently happy as two children who had run away from their nanny. And she had felt so close and connected to him. Now the knots twisting in her stomach wouldn’t let her sleep.
Yet today had been perfect.
Too perfect.
She laid her hand over her stomach and willed herself to relax. Yet she lay wakeful as the hours till dawn passed slowly.
* * * *
In the little courtyard of the cottage, Anne stood as calmly as she could manage whilst watching Ruel walk Sally towards her. Sunlight gleamed on the mare’s sleek, muscular lines, accentuating the power of the animal. It was their third Saturday here. The sight did not frighten the wits out of her as it would have done not so long ago. However, she’d be lying if she said she was completely comfortable either. Her palms were already damp and her stomach churned uneasily. Several times they had taken short rides in the carriage that had come from Eastwood. But she couldn’t cope with such rides for very long at all. She knew he was worried about her progress. He kept talking about extending their time together over the winter at his hunting lodge in Scotland.
He thought to use her lack of progress to gain his way.
However, she was far more worried about her lack of progress. She knew her trip to meet her sister would come soon. She’d have to bear far more than a short ride in a carriage.
He said the root cause of her fear was likely the horse itself. She must become used to being around the powerful animals once more. His logic made sense. She trusted him in this.
But she still couldn’t overcome her terror.
“We shall ride once about the yard,” he said.
She bit her lip, her stomach sinking to the ground as he swung into the saddle.
He patted the space before him. “You will sit right here and I’ll hold you steady. It will be over before you know it.” He reached a hand down to her. She opened her mouth to tell him she’d changed her mind, but she found herself swept off her feet and hoisted onto the horse. “You are lighter than air,” he said, helping her to settle then pulling her close to his strong, hard body.
After all these months, she was sitting on a horse.
On a horse!
“Oh, God,” she said. Shaking queasiness assailed her with a vengeance.
He tightened his arm on her waist. “I’ve got you. You are perfectly safe.”
She glanced over the side. Heavens. So far down. She had forgotten that. Fear sprang from the pit of her stomach and a thousand imaginary spiders went crawling over her scalp. “But what if she decides to gallop off all of a sudden?”
What if Ruel dropped her? And what if the horse trampled her before she could move to safety? And what if—
He gave her a quick squeeze. “Stop worrying. I’ve got you and the situation is completely under my control.”
He made a soft clicking noise and the horse moved. Everything became all bouncy. Her heart beat sickeningly up into her throat.
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
Cold sweat had broken over her brow. She had to get off. Now.
“Sapphire,” she said.
Without a word, he stopped the horse and slipped from the saddle. He lifted her down. Nothing had ever been sweeter than the ground under her feet. She held her hand to her throat.
“All right?” he asked.
She flicked a glance at him but saw nothing but reddish swirls. All the blood left her head.
“Bend down.” He touched her head and gently urged her to lean over at the waist. He held her shoulders. “Now breathe deep and slow.”
With blood rushing to her head, she struggled to breathe slower. But her heart raced. A stomach-churning invitation to fully fledged, humiliating panic. Eventually, she brought herself under control.
“Better now?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
He eased her upright.
Crushing despondency overtook her. She’d failed. Utterly. Completely. She glanced up at his face and his soft expression only reinforced her crashing spirits. He remained so kind, so patient. But he had to be disappointed. Tears wetted the corners of her eyes and she blinked hard. “You despise me for my weakness, don’t you?”
He made a sibilant sound and enfolded her in his arms. “I think you’re very brave to keep trying.”
“Oh please, do not patronise me.” She gulped back against a lump in her throat.
“Did you cry when he died?”
“What?” she asked, bewildered by the change in topic.
“Did you allow yourself to show weakness then?”
“I never cried for William. I couldn’t.” Her voice sounded stark in her own ears.
“Well, then, cry now.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. Come now, I’ve got you.” He pressed his hands more tightly against her. “It is perfectly safe for you to cry here, alone with me.”
But the tears were dry now, burning her throat like acid. “I failed.”
“You mean you failed to save him?” he asked gently.
“No… I mean I don’t want to speak of the accident. It happened. It’s over.”
“It might help to speak of it. Maybe it would unlock the real reasons you are afraid.”
“I only meant that I have failed here today. Today is the only thing that matters now.”
He leant back and tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. His expression was both tender and serious. “There is no failing here.”
“I don’t understand why someone like you can be so brave and I cannot. I wanted to understand that most of all. If only I knew how, I could do it too.”
“Anne, it’s not a failing of yours. It is the difference in our natures. You think about everything, deeply and theoretically. I do not. I simply act when action is needed.”
She frowned. “Yes, that is difference. How do you manage that?”
“I decide upon the most expedient way to and implement it as soon as possible.” He released her chin and traced a fingertip between her eyes, down the bridge of her nose. “You can’t do that. You must look at each situation from every possible direction and examine it within the broad scope of your imagination. You get lost there, my lady.”
He smiled, his eyes glowing with something that tugged at her heart. However, she couldn’t focus on that now. She was too upset by his revelation. His knowing of her. He sounded so certain. “But you-you could teach me to be more like you.”
“No, I am afraid I can’t. And even if I could, I wouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
He caressed her cheek, a gentle brushing of his fingertips. “Because I adore you—just as you are.”
Her shoulders sank even more. “So I shall never be brave.”
He put his arms about her and hugged her. “You are brave—in your own way. You must be patient. It will come.”
“But what now?” she asked, her insides all cold and deflated with her defeat.
“We simply try tomorrow.”
* * * *
Deep in the woods, Anne’s boots crunched on leaves and twigs as she trudged alongside Ruel. They’d spent the morning in the courtyard while he taught her how to load, aim and fire his shotgun. Then he’d taken her along with him and bagged her a quail. But even the prospect of a hare-less supper couldn’t cheer her. She’d failed for the third day in a row to even get near enough to Sally to mount in the saddle.
It was hopeless. She was hopeless. She would never overcome her fears. She was flawed in a way other people were not.
“I adore you just the way you are.”
Ruel’s words—spoken the day she’d first felt sure enough to walk onto the stable. She’d been too consumed with her own thoughts and feelings on that day to hear him. Yet s
ome part of her had heard for now those words came back, haunting her. Taunting her with her deep, aching need to believe them.
But he’d meant them lightly.
He likely adored all the women who graced his bed. And he likely did adore them for a time. But he’d lose interest eventually. Probably sometime during the middle of that Scottish winter, if she were foolish enough to allow such a thing.
Ruel stopped and squeezed her hand. “Stop for a moment.” He tilted his head, as if listening intently. “Do you hear that?”
“I hear something.”
“It sounds like whimpering. A dog maybe.” He let go of her hand. “You stay here and I’ll have a look.”
She nodded, then watched him hurry off down the path.
Jon advanced towards the sound, peering closer into the small ravine off the side. Up ahead, a sable and white sheepdog was caught in a trap. He couldn’t tell how badly the creature was hurt.
He knelt down. Even from here, he saw extensive damage to the left rear leg. He compressed his lips. With a former cavalryman’s practicality, he knew the poor creature would be better off put out of its misery.
Christ, Anne was with him.
He whirled about and faced her as she hurried to him. “Go back to that clearing we were at earlier. Take the path and don’t deviate from it.” He squeezed her arm to emphasise his point.
“Why, what’s wrong?”
“Go back and wait for me.”
The dog whimpered louder, as if roused by their voices.
“It’s a dog.” She glanced up at him, her eyes wide and accusing. “What do you intend to do?”
“Go back, Nan.”
She pushed to go past him but he stopped her. “Don’t look, Anne, it’s too gruesome.”
Wasted words, for next he heard her sharp inhalation. Her body weakened against his.
“What can we do for it?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said flatly.
“We could try and free it. And take it back to the cottage to tend its wounds.”
“Anne, it would be kinder to end things here. That’s why I asked you to go back to the clearing.” Her sapphire eyes wouldn’t let his go. Something twisted in his guts and he sighed. “All right, I can try to set it free, but, I don’t know how it will react.” He released her. “Wait for me here.”
“But I can help you.”
He lost all patience. “If I wanted your help, I’d ask for it. I already told you what I need from you—I expect to be obeyed.”
He pushed her aside and went to see what could be done for the animal. He was utterly vexed with himself. In the dragoons, if a horse or a dog were injured badly, they simply dealt with the situation. It was the kindest and most expedient thing to do. Today, he’d given in to a wholly emotional impulse and he feared it would only drag out the cruelty done the animal.
* * * *
That evening, still convinced of his folly, Jon sat near where the dog lay on a blanket by the warm hearth. He’d treated and bandaged the wound as best he could. Now he stroked the shaggy head, frowning. All this fuss and bother and Anne would be hurt twice as badly when the damned dog died anyway. He pulled the saucer closer to its snout, then watched the spotted tongue lap up the water.
“We should give her some of the quail,” Anne said.
“It’s better if she doesn’t eat tonight.”
“But the poor thing must be starving.”
He cut his gaze to her. “Trust me, I know about animals and injuries. The best army surgeons say to let her lick her wounds and fast a bit. There will be less chance of infection.”
“What shall we do with her?” she asked.
“I shall take her back to London when I go, she should do fine in the carriage.” A harmless lie to spare her. No use dwelling on the negative any longer this evening. The dog had bled on him while he carried the animal on the long walk home and so he had already changed into his banyan. Now he wanted to get pleasantly drunk and forget the whole miserable day.
He was failing Anne. He’d honestly thought he could earn her trust enough that she would be able to at least ride on the horse with him. He’d thought if he could prove her capable of that, she would consider travelling to Scotland with him for the winter.
But she wouldn’t trust him. She submitted her body but still refused him the whole of herself.
The clatter of plates came from the table. He turned and saw her gathering their dirty dishes. “Leave them for the morning. Why don’t you go to bed? I shall stay up for a while.”
“I can wash them now and you won’t have to bother in the morning.”
“We discussed this before, Nan. I forbid you to wash a single dish.”
Her chin lifted in defiance. “Very well,” she said, and dropped the plates. They fell to the floor and smashed. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Four more days and you will no longer have any say over anything I do.”
The truth of that seared into him. He’d dominated her body. Over and over again. Nevertheless, he’d been unable to reach her protected little heart. If he didn’t find a way to soon, she would slip away. And he didn’t want to let her go. Not yet.
“Yes, but I still have four days,” he said.
The haughty defiance drained from her face. She took a step back.
He took three steps towards her. “Four days of your obedience.”
Her eyes went glassy and her lips parted slightly. Then it came to him that while he’d been reacting out of his feelings, she’d been testing him. Then he knew exactly what he’d have to do to break through her walls. He’d been too easy on her. Thrown by her novel intellectualism. Distracted by his own burgeoning and unfamiliar emotional attachment to her. A strong-minded duke’s daughter, she was also a woman who craved to submit to a man while also fearing it. He needed to act accordingly if he wanted to reach her.
“You disobeyed me today. Several times. I have been patient and lenient with you but that’s at an end. Come now.” He held his hand out to her.
Chapter Fifteen
Anne stared at Jon’s hand, her heart pounding.
“H-how is it done?” Her throat went very dry and her breath came very short, so that she could barely speak. She’d been exasperated with his arrogance, his tyranny over her. She’d wanted to push him away. Now his firm refusal to budge sent a curl of warmth through her chest, something that utterly confused her. Why should she feel so tenderly towards him when he intended to punish her?
“Go into the bedchamber get ready. Undress,” he commanded in hard tones. She’d never heard him speak so. Never had anyone spoken so to her.
She jerked her gaze to his. Something about his resolute expression made her want to obey. But her feet were frozen. “I can’t seem to move.”
He nodded and closed the distance between them. He took her hand.
She felt such bonding to him that pure fear swept through her and she pulled her hand away. “No, I-I can’t…”
His expression softened and he pulled her into his embrace, caressing her back in slow, circular patterns. “Yes, you can. I am prepared to be lenient this time.”
She breathed a relieved sigh and relaxed against him. He was going to forget this madness.
“I shall strike you only ten times.”
She caught her breath. Apparently, his idea of being lenient differed a great deal from hers. In a rush of dizzying heartbeats, she clutched his shoulders. “Please don’t do this… I’ll do anything. I shall be good, from here on out.”
“I know you will, for I intend to help you.”
Dark desire stabbed straight through to her core.
He tipped her chin up and forced her to look at him. Oh, it overwhelmed her to look into his sympathetic eyes and know he fully intended to carry out his threat. Her bones had liquefied and her legs were shaking from the erotically tinged anticipation.
He held her up. “You want me to help you with this.”
“I-I…”
His stare
seemed to strip her to the bone. “You want this, don’t you?”
“Yes.” The word slipped past her lips, stunning her. Even more stunningly, she sensed that she did want his discipline.
He walked with her a few steps to the nearest chair, stopped and let her go. He sat, waiting. She knew what he expected but she couldn’t make that last move.
He touched her hand and pulled on it. “Come, you can do this.”
At his gentle but firm tone, all her muscles unfroze and she dropped across his lap.
Her skirts flew up and cold air kissed her buttocks. She swallowed tightly. She hadn’t expected that so fast. She sobbed so stridently that her whole body trembled with it.
“What? I haven’t even started yet.” He stroked her bare bottom.
“I know, but no one has ever laid a hand on me—not like this.” She didn’t recognise her voice, so strained and trembling.
“So the servants spoilt you that badly?”
“Yes.”
“Exactly as it should be. Little girls should never be spanked. They should be spoilt and cosseted.”
His words surprised her. She’d never even thought of him as a potential father. But right now, it was hard not to think about him as a doting and indulgent parent. But sire to whose children? Hers? For a moment, she forgot about what was about to happen.
“However, spanking big girls, well that is whole other matter.” His voice pulled her back into the moment. This trembling, terrible moment. “I shall start now.”
He struck her left buttock. Harder than she’d even imagined. She flinched and sucked the pain inside herself. The next one came right on top of it, harder yet, the pain sharper. She bit her lip, bracing as the third descended. The bright, swirling Turkish carpet on the floor grew blurry. No, she wouldn’t—couldn’t cry. The fourth strike came harder yet and she cried out. She breathed in and the sniffling sound mortified her. She held her breath, trying to hold the sobs back. Finally, the last stroke hit. She swallowed mightily, holding herself together.
A Measured Risk Page 18
