Renaissance Discipline

by Renee Rose

  "Celia, the competition with Tomi has to stop," he said and slapped again.

  She gasped.

  "Let him lead you." Another spank.

  "I think you'll find things will get easier." Two more hard spanks.

  She cried out. She was not sure at all what the count was telling her, but she didn't want to prolong their 'conversation' so she kept her mouth shut.

  "And you will not…" He began spanking her fast and hard, and she panicked, struggling desperately to avoid his punishing hand. "...directly disobey me again!" He finished up with several more very hard spanks.

  "Capiche?"

  "Yes, Marco, please," she pleaded, the tears starting now.

  "I'm finished." His voice gentled.

  He scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the head of the bed, where he tucked her in and kissed her forehead. "Good night, Celia," he said tenderly.

  She grasped his hand as he stood up to leave and brought it to her lips. He smiled at her fondly.

  Let him lead you. She lay in bed and pondered that advice. Though her mind could not seem to bring any order to her thoughts, she somehow felt that he was right. Things had been easier between them after Tomi had punished her. She had let him lead – deferred completely to his judgment as they added the sugar to fix the wine – and there had been a peace between them she hadn't noticed before. But she also wanted to hide from Tomi. She didn't know how she was going to face him tomorrow.

  * * *

  How to win Celia's affection?

  That was the question foremost in Tomi's mind over the next few days. Meanwhile, the beautiful lady in question had made herself scarce. She was quiet at meals – not sullen – just subdued. She still smiled and murmured charming things, but she didn't spar with him the way he was accustomed to, and she didn't visit the winery. She and her sister seemed busy suddenly with female activities like embroidery.

  The wine had recovered somewhat. It wasn't what he had hoped, but it still might make a decent sale in Florence the next fall. It was bedtime, but he was hungry again. He went down to the kitchen to see if he could scrounge a bit of a snack. Angelina, the saucy kitchen girl Celia had sent in to disturb his tryst with Alessandra, was alone in there. Unfortunately, she seemed to think he was there to see her. She gave him a broad smile with her hands on her hips.

  "I've just come for a little snack," he said. "Is there any bread left? Or a little cheese?"

  "Of course, let me make you a plate," she purred. He sat down on the tabletop to wait. Since the spanking in the bath incident, he had avoided all four of the serving girls involved, taking to heart the count's advice on the matter. Angelina, it seemed, had not lost interest. When she brought the filled plate to him, she pressed herself against his side and rested her hand on his knee.

  "Thank you," he smiled, moving to slide off the table and away from her advances. She was too quick, however. She stepped in front of him, between his two knees and smiled up at him with a flirtatious look.

  "So, did you ever get even with Lady Celia for that trick she played on you in the greenhouse?"

  He took a bite of bread and chewed slowly, then shrugged.

  "If you ask me, there's something strange going on between the lady and her sister's husband."

  Tomi felt the familiar flare of jealousy in his chest. Calm yourself. This was only servant's gossip. "I'm sure you're mistaken," he said shortly. Then he looked up, past Angelina, and was startled to see Celia leaning in the doorway, her lips pressed together into a thin line, her eyes burning with murder. When she caught his gaze, she whirled on her heel and withdrew. Quickly extricating himself from Angelina, he put his plate down and got to his feet.

  "Thank you for the food," he said as he rushed out the door. He ran to catch up with Celia. From what he could tell, she was dressed in nothing more than her robe, her bare feet running across the marble floor of the great hall to the front door, where she stopped to tug at the heavy ring to open it.

  He caught her there, placing two hands on the door and trapping her between his arms. "Celia."

  Still facing the door, she didn't turn around.

  "Where are you going?" he said to the back of her head. Her shoulders were moving with her breath. "Are you angry?" he asked softly.

  "Go to hell, Tomi," she said in a defeated voice, still not turning.

  "That's my girl," he said, stroking her hair back from the side of her face, trying to see her better. He was not surprised when she jerked her head away, but she did finally whirl to face him.

  "I am most certainly not your girl."

  "I know, but I want you to be." He hadn't backed away at all, and now that she faced him, her face was quite close to his. He looked at her lips, his breath quickening with the thought of kissing them.

  A look of confusion flitted across Celia's face, but then the hellcat returned. "Yes, me, and every other pretty girl in this villa," she spat out with venom.

  He shook his head. "No. Just you."

  Celia rolled her eyes and pointed her hand in the direction of the kitchen with an accusatory look.

  He shook his head again. "I haven't touched another girl since that day I spanked you in the bath."

  "I just saw you!" She looked shocked he would deny it.

  "That wasn't me – she threw herself all over me. I was trying to get away. You just saw me at precisely the worst moment."

  "You were talking about me." Hurt bled into her accusation, her lower jaw thrusting forward.

  "No." He lunged to catch her as she tried to escape. With both arms wrapped around her, he held her tight against his body. "No, Celia. I would never do that. Angelina was talking about you because she's jealous."

  Her firm breasts pressed against his chest through her thin robe, and the image of their naked glory rose in his mind. His eyes strayed down to her lips again.

  She looked at him full in the face, as if to determine whether he spoke the truth.

  "Why haven't you touched another girl since...that day?"

  "I told you. Because I want you to be my girl." He bent his head and brushed his lips across hers.

  She responded after a moment, sweetly moving her lips against his, her tongue just barely teasing.

  He tightened his hold on her and let his own tongue explore, parting her lips with his tongue. After a moment, he drew away and looked lovingly into her eyes. "Will you?"

  She looked at him quizzically.

  "Be my girl?"

  She stared at him, a blush creeping into her cheeks. Then she bowed her head and leaned it against his chest. It wasn't a yes, but it was a surrender of sorts. He would take it.

  "Tell me something, dulcezza."

  She looked up.

  "Were you going to run outside in the middle of winter in your robe and bare feet?"

  She flushed again and shrugged.

  "Is that something you do often?"

  She shook her head.

  "Good. Because if it were, I might think about turning you over my knee again."

  The corner of her mouth twitched into a smile at that, and he cracked his own grin.

  "Were you headed to the kitchen for a snack?"

  She looked startled, as if remembering. "No, I was going to make a draught for Lucia. She's not feeling well."

  "Well, let's go to the kitchen then." He saw reluctance on her face and knew she wondered if Angelina were still there. "Come on, I'll be right beside you."

  They entered the kitchen. Angelina was still there. Her mouth tightened when she saw them together. She finished what she was doing, slamming cabinets and banging pots and pans around, then stomped out without a word.

  He looked at Celia and rolled his eyes.

  She stifled a giggle.

  He leaned his forearms on the counter and watched as Celia filled a kettle with water and set it on the embers of the fire to warm. "What do you think your father would say about the two of us?"

  Celia's face clouded. She came and matched
his pose, pressing her shoulder into his a little bit. She smelled sweet, like baking bread. "I honestly don't know."

  He traced the grain of the wood of the counter with his fingertip. "He wouldn't have thought me worthy of you before."

  "No," she agreed. "Despite the fact that you are exactly like him."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, you're a man who started with nothing but intelligence and a desire to succeed, and you will one day be as wealthy and successful as my father."

  His throat closed. Tomi couldn't speak for a moment; he was so moved by her assessment of him. "You think so?" he whispered.

  "I know so. Tomi, you are already the better man at winemaking, and you have just as clever a head for figures and business dealings as he does. I have no doubt you will take the wine-making world by storm someday soon."

  His heart swelled with pride and gratitude and he was not surprised to realize how much her opinion of him meant. There was no one in the world whose regard meant more to him.

  The water she had heated boiled, and she removed it from the fire and poured some into a cup. "I need to bring this up to Lucia," she said. She hesitated, facing him, a small, demure smile on her face. "Good night, Tomi."

  He reached out and brushed her cheek. "Good night, sweet Celia."

  Chapter Four

  "My lord?"

  "Yes, Celia?"

  "Do you remember the money you set aside for my dowry?"

  "Yes. Why?"

  "I was wondering if I could use it for something else."

  "For what, Celia?"

  She scuffed her toe a bit and hesitated. "To repay Tomi the bonus I lost him by damaging the wine."

  "Ah." The count sat back in his chair and regarded her with a faint look of amusement. He considered her without speaking for so long she thought he was going to refuse, but then he simply said. "All right."

  "Yes? Truly? Thank you!"

  "How much do you want?"

  She hesitated. "I don't know. How much do you think I've lost him?"

  "Thirty florins, perhaps."

  "May I have it?"

  He looked even more amused. "Yes." He opened a drawer and counted out the florins, placing them into a leather purse for her. "Here you are."

  She beamed at him. "Thank you, my lord."

  "You're quite welcome, Celia."

  She found Tomi in the winery. He and Enzo were talking by one of the vats. He broke off when she came in, and Enzo excused himself.

  "I brought you something." Shyness overtook her.

  Tomi's eyelids lowered slightly, and she felt heat flare in her low belly at the way he looked at her.

  She unceremoniously flung the pouch at him.

  The quick action surprised him, so he had to scramble to catch it with a laugh.

  He looked inside and then back at her quizzically. "What is this?"

  "That's the profit sharing I cost you."

  "Where did you get it?"

  "I withdrew it from the dowry the count started for me this past fall."

  Tomi's eyebrows shot up.

  "He was able to get money out of the Duke of Tuscany for spoiling my virtue – only God knows how – and then he added the profits we won through the sale of the wine to Papa. So anyway, I asked for it, to compensate you for the loss I caused."

  Tomi's face was twisted into a strange look. He set the money down on a barrel and took hold of her two shoulders. "Celia, amore mio, thank you for this, but you owe me nothing. The reason I was upset about the bonus was that I...well, I was hoping to earn enough so I could have the means to properly court you, and...if you seemed amenable, petition for your hand in marriage."

  The shock of that revelation ran through her body like hot lava pouring from Mt. Vesuvius. Her heart swelled.

  Tomi watched her closely. Was he holding his breath?

  She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "Well, is it enough, then?"

  He smiled slowly. "Will you marry me?"

  She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with the passion erupting from her soul. All her girlish dreams had featured this man as her husband. Every time she had practiced kissing on her own arm, it was his lips she had imagined. When she had pleasured herself with her fingers, his face was in her mind. The emotion of having those forgotten dreams coming to life now overwhelmed her.

  She pushed him back against the vat, pressing her body against his.

  He responded to her enthusiasm with a skill and desire that heated her flesh. His hands ran all over her with building urgency. He rolled their bodies and shoved her back against the vat. His mouth found her neck, and his hands cupped her breasts.

  She lifted one leg and wrapped it around his hips, pulling him in tightly.

  He groaned and pulled her skirt up, his hand cupping her bare bottom. Lowering his head, he shoved her blouse down and licked a circle around her nipple, then sucked it into his mouth.

  She gasped, feeling an answering tug in her core.

  His brushed his fingertips over her sex, then stroked there, spreading her moisture. The silky petals bloomed under his touch, opening for him.

  Her head fell back, and she closed her eyes, moaning softly at the sensation.

  "You're so wet," Tomi whispered in her ear.

  "Yessss," she murmured back.

  His finger penetrated her opening and curled inside her, and she gasped. Flushed with desire, heat made her dress seem far too constrictive. Tomi's erection pressed against her, and she sought it out with her hand. He groaned when she found it and then turned her quickly around, throwing her skirts up.

  "Ahhh." A sound escaped her. The position reminded her of when he'd spanked her, which made her even wetter. She loved the vulnerability of being bent over to his mercy. He slid into her, and she gasped a little at the pain. Other than losing her virginity to the Duke of Tuscany, she had not had sex, so her sheath was still quite tight.

  Tomi held still.

  "You're so tight, Celia," he said huskily.

  "Sorry," she gasped.

  He laughed. "I like it. You feel so good."

  His encouragement brought on a new flood of moisture, and she relaxed, pushing her hips back against his.

  "That's it, bambina," he murmured, moving slowly in and out.

  She panted, rolling her pelvis backward to fully offer herself to him.

  He glided within her with long, slow strokes.

  She reached down between her legs and used her fingers to scissor his length as it glided in and out of her, to add to the sensation of tightness.

  He exclaimed and drove harder, gripping her hips and building his rhythm.

  The slap of their bodies echoed in the room and heightened her excitement. She climaxed with a spasm, and Tomi waited, deep within her until she finished, then found a rhythm again that built and built until he too reached his peak and shuddered, calling out her name and holding himself tightly against her.

  "Oh Tomi," she murmured.

  "Yes..." He pulled his pants back up to his waist and fastened them. She smoothed her skirts down and sighed. A flare of conscience struck her as she realized she'd just had sex in the winery where anyone could have seen her. She remembered the count's request that she ask his permission first, before she took a lover.

  "Oh God," she groaned. "The count…"

  At that, Tomi froze and then pulled back from her with thunder in his face. "What about the count?" he said dangerously.

  Something about his anger made her defensive, especially when she was feeling so vulnerable right after having given herself to him. It showed he was still disturbed she'd been with the count. "Why are you so angry?" she asked, hurt.

  Tomi's expression grew even stormier. "What. About. The count?"

  "He's my guardian, that's what!" she said, shoving Tomi with two hands on his chest. It was about as effective as shoving a horse, and it only served to fuel his fury. He caught her wrists and yanked her in close to him. "What does he mean
to you?" he gritted through clenched teeth.

  "The real question is what does he mean to you? You judge me. You judge me because I've shared his bed. Meanwhile, you've rolled more girls than I have hairs on my head! Well, go to hell, Tomaso Turia. Go. To. Hell!" With that, she wrenched her wrists free of his grasp and fled the winery, running back to the villa as fast she could.

  * * *

  "What in the hell is going on between Celia and Tomi?" Marco demanded of Lucia when they were alone. For several days, both women had been giving Tomi the silent treatment, and meals at the villa were getting very uncomfortable.

  "Tomi quarreled with Celia over you," Lucia said indignantly.

  Damn. He sighed. He'd had a feeling Tomi would guess at the odd arrangement they'd had, but he'd hoped by ending it and allowing things to unfold organically between Tomi and Celia, it might be glossed over. Apparently, that had been wishful thinking. The trouble was Tomi's insecurity. Marco could tell Celia wanted Tomi, and he wanted her, but Tomi hadn't stepped forward to claim her affections with any confidence. Perhaps jealousy was the reason. It certainly must be a contributor.

  "Can you fix it?" Lucia's big brown eyes pleaded, a look he adored on her face.

  He treasured her trust in him, her confidence that he could fix any problem. It made him proud to be her husband. He smiled fondly at her. "I will do my very best, amore mio."

  He found Tomi in the winery, moving barrels around, reorganizing. The younger man did not acknowledge him when he entered.

  "I haven't touched her since you arrived, you know."

  Tomi stiffened and looked at him, his jaw clenched.

  "Did you think I had?"

  Tomi shrugged, sullenly. "I wasn't sure." He dragged another barrel over and then stacked an empty one on top of it. "She has feelings for you, though."

  "No, she doesn't," he contradicted. "She never has. If she had developed any, I would have ended it immediately. It has always just been about experiences and pleasure, nothing more."

  Tomi gave him a hard look and dragged another barrel over.

  "Listen, I sensed something between you two so I ended it. It was time for it to be over, anyway."