by Renee Rose
"You ended it. Not she."
"Tomi, you're making a choice to feel this way. It has no basis in reality. The only reason Celia fights you is because you're not being a strong leader to her. When you're not sure, your woman can't be sure, and that makes her act crazy."
Tomi said nothing.
"I never had sex with her. Ever." He thought it might do Tomi some good to hear that.
Tomi looked up, arrested. "So...what did you do?"
He shrugged and ran his hand through his hair. "She plays the second." This was a very awkward subject. "You know, we just used hands and mouths."
Tomi grimaced like he hadn't wanted to hear that but then sighed, and it seemed like something in him relaxed.
"She's interested in you, Tomi. You need to claim her for your own."
Tomi still didn't answer, so he left him there, rearranging barrels.
That afternoon, he received a message that prompted the need to travel to Florence. He decided to leave Tomi in charge, hoping that maybe they would work things out while he was gone.
"I received a decent bid on marble for the addition," he told Tomi at the evening meal.
"Oh?" Tomi seemed to jerk himself from his thoughts.
"Yes, the whole lot for 20 florins. It's in Florence, so I must go and make the purchase there."
Tomi straightened, as if realizing he was telling him something important.
"I'll leave tomorrow. You are in charge here. Ladies?" He raised his voice to interrupt their conversation. They broke off and gave him their attention. "I must go to Florence tomorrow. I am leaving Tomi in charge."
"Take us with you!" Celia blurted out; then tempered it with a hopeful smile.
"No," he answered shortly.
"Oh please, Marco?" Lucia chimed in.
He frowned. There was no way he was going to drag his vomiting, pregnant wife to Florence with him. "No. Absolutely not. Don't ask me again."
The sisters looked sulky.
"Now, listen to me. When I say Tomi is in charge, I mean he is in charge of you two, also. You will obey him as you would me. Is that perfectly clear?"
Lucia nodded reluctantly, but Celia merely glowered.
"Celia?" He sharpened his tone.
"Yes, my lord," she mumbled.
He stared at her for several beats until she sighed in concession. Only then, did he turn back to Tomi and go on with instructions. "I will be sure that all the servants understand you are in charge. Lucia can handle anything related to the running of the household, but the servants may try to sidestep her and go to you instead. Do not allow it. Refer everything back to her and don't ever overrule her in front of a servant. Capiche?"
Tomi agreed. Noticing that the two women had finished eating and were waiting for them, he said, "You may be excused from the table if you like. I just have a few more things to discuss with Tomi."
The sisters left, and he went on. "You may open any messages that arrive for me and answer them if they are urgent." He paused then, waiting until the ladies had shut the door. "One more thing. If you lay one hand on Lucia, I will personally rip your arms off."
* * *
"What is it?" Celia asked, peering over Tomi's shoulder at a message that had just been delivered. Her father had never taught her or Lucia to read, which had always been a source of frustration.
He shrugged and opened it, his eyes skimming over the blurred ink on parchment. "It's a cheaper bid for the marble the count went to buy. That's too bad; it would have saved him ten florins."
"You should ride and tell him, then. Send a message back that he wants the marble and then ride to Florence to stop him from purchasing it there."
"No, he left me in charge here, I can't leave."
"Then send one of the servants. Come on, Tomi, the count doesn't have money to waste."
Tomi glowered when she mentioned the count, as he always seemed to lately. "No. It would be too late by now. If he needs more, then we'll know where to look next time."
She glared at Tomi, feeling her ire rising like the blush that crept up her neck. She hated him now. She truly did. She hated him because of what he'd offered her and then retracted. Everything about him now made her want to tear his eyes out. Since there was nothing she could think to say to him, she blew out her breath in exasperation and stalked off.
Upstairs, she found Lucia embroidering a baby blanket. "If it's a boy, I'm going to name him Dominic," she said happily.
"That's a sweet name," she said. "Listen, Tomi just received a bid for the marble at half the price. I told him he should ride to Florence to tell the count."
Lucia set down her embroidery.
"Of course, he said no, because anything I suggest he automatically rejects," she complained. She knew she was acting like a child because of the soothing, patronizing noises Lucia was making. "Well, I'm going to ride and tell him."
"No, you're not."
"Yes, I am. The count deserves to know. He needs that money for the rest of the addition to the villa."
"Don't be ridiculous. Marco would kill you for riding out to tell him that."
"He would kill me, and then he would thank me. Just like in Florence, last time."
Lucia shook her head, starting to look perturbed. "Celia, no. It's not safe., It's stupid. And both Tomi and Marco would have your hide."
"I'm going. Don't tell Tomi until you absolutely have to."
Lucia jumped to her feet. "No, Celia!"
She went to her room and threw together a bag of things, ignoring her sister.
"How do you think you're going to go? On horseback? Or in the carriage?"
She shrugged.
Lucia cursed. "We'll go in the carriage," she said tightly.
She turned and gave her sister a little twist of a smile. "Thank you."
Lucia rolled her eyes. "You'd better thank me. We're both going to get thrashed for this."
Regardless of the inevitable thrashing, Celia felt a thrill of excitement at defying Tomi and the new adventure ahead of them. She was cheerful as she made their preparations, packing them food and provisions. Tomi had returned the dowry money to her, and she'd hidden it in her room rather than return it to the count, enjoying the freedom of having her own coins for once in her life. She took some of the florins out now for their journey.
Lucia called for a driver and the carriage, so when she came downstairs, they were ready to go. They told no one they were leaving and hoped that it took Tomi some time before he noticed they were gone.
But an hour into the adventure, Celia already regretted her hastiness. Lucia was sick, vomiting out the window of the carriage, and she was beginning to realize that the count may not thank her at all for taking his pregnant wife away from the safety of the villa. But at that point, she'd rather face punishment at the hands of the count than Tomi. Of course, if they turned back immediately, he may never know what she'd had in mind. She could say they simply wanted to go for a drive. But then, the thought of his narrowed eyes when she mentioned the count filled her with a burning anger again, and she set her jaw and said nothing to Lucia about going back.
At nightfall, they found a small inn. Lucia had vomited the whole time and was pale and wan. The driver took care of the horses and carriage in the stables, and she pushed her way into the inn. The innkeeper looked her and Lucia over, and then craned his neck to peer around them, as if looking for the man who ought to be accompanying them.
"We need a room for the night," she told the innkeeper. "The count of Parma will be meeting his wife here soon," she said, indicating her sister.
The innkeeper's face cleared. "Yes, of course, my ladies. Follow me. We have only one room unoccupied, will that suffice?"
"It will have to, I guess," she said as if she were put out, winking at Lucia when he turned his back. He led them upstairs to a small room with one bed in the middle. They put their belongings down.
"Is it too late for some supper?" Celia asked. "The countess hasn't been feeling well,
and I think some food might help."
"No, my wife would be happy to make you both some dinner. Just come downstairs and have a seat at one of the tables. I will let my wife know you are hungry."
"Thank you," she said, giving him a gracious smile. He bowed and left.
"Ugh," Lucia said, throwing herself down on the bed. "I don't feel like eating."
"I know, but you have to. It will help, I promise." She let Lucia rest for several minutes and dampened a cloth in the water basin to bring to her to wash her face and hands of the grime of travel. Lucia accepted it with a sigh.
"I'm really sorry I got you into this, Lucia," she said softly. "I know it was a colossal mistake."
Lucia simply grunted in reply.
"Come on, let's get you some food."
They went downstairs and settled themselves at a table. A young girl brought them wine and bread, and she pressed Lucia to get some bread down, even though it was too dry. The door opened, sending a draft through the room, and she looked up and met the eye of the man who stood there, looking at them with a burning gaze.
Tomi had arrived. And he looked ready to skin them alive.
* * *
He was so relieved he had found them. Now that he knew they were safe, he was furious. He strode across the room and threw himself into a chair at their table. Lucia looked frightened, and even Celia looked cautious. The three of them looked at one other without speaking. A little serving girl appeared with a glass of wine for him and asked him if he was having dinner.
"Please," he said shortly.
"I'm sorry, Tomi," Celia said, surprising him. He hadn't expected an apology. "I know I acted rashly. I want you to know that Lucia had nothing to do with it. She came along to protect me from my own stupidity.
He nodded, keeping his face devoid of any expression.
The innkeeper came to their table. "Welcome, Count. As I told the ladies, I only have the one room available tonight. I apologize for the inconvenience."
"I'm not the count, but thank you. We will make do with what you have." The innkeeper nodded, giving him a curious look, but he didn't satisfy him with any more information. The serving girl brought out plates of food, and the three of them ate in strained silence.
Lucia, who had eaten very little, finally broke the silence. "If you will excuse me, Tomi, I will go upstairs to rest." She did look terribly fatigued.
He nodded his agreement.
When she had gone, Celia spoke. "For what it's worth, I realized what a horrible mistake I'd made an hour into the trip."
"Then why did you not return?"
She swallowed. "I was faced with the choice of punishment at your hands or the count's, and I chose the count."
The familiar surge of jealousy scorched him. "Why?" He had to ask.
"I'm more afraid of you," she whispered, a vulnerability showing on her face that made all his bitterness leave as quickly as it had come. Her lower lip trembled, and she couldn't quite meet his eye. He reached across the table suddenly to take her hand.
She looked up with startled eyes.
"Why?" he rasped.
Her eyes filled with tears, and she pulled her hand back, shaking her head. His heart constricted painfully.
"If you want me to leave Parma, I will," he spoke quietly.
A strong emotion swept over her face, whether it was more grief or rage, he could not say. She clumsily jumped to her feet, knocking her chair over in the process. She bent to pick it up. "Can we go upstairs now?" Her voice choked with tears.
"Yes." He waited for her to finish with the chair and ushered her forward with a hand on her low back. She walked upstairs with her head lowered. There was a humility there he wasn't used to seeing in her. It made him feel fiercely protective. He marveled at how the woman who – that very morning was a fiery hellcat – had turned into a vulnerable kitten. His own responses to her were as varied – he alternated between wanting to throw her over his knee and spank her, take her into his arms and kiss her, or never see her face again. The pain of it all made his chest ache.
He entered to find Lucia lying on the bed looking rather wan. There was one wooden chair in the room, and he sat down on it. Celia sat on the bed facing him, and Lucia sat up next to her. They looked like two children who knew they were about to be chastised. All the wretched, worried hours he'd ridden by horseback in order to catch them, he'd been planning a harsh punishment for them. But now, after hearing Celia say she was afraid of him, and seeing how miserable they both looked, he felt no desire for vengeance. He felt only a sad heaviness at the prospect of spanking them. It seemed no lecture was needed; they both seemed to clearly understand their error.
"Come here," he beckoned to Celia after a long moment of considering them. He stood up to remove his belt. It was a narrow, thick piece of leather, still stiff because it was new. Celia came as bidden. On the ride, he had imagined bending her over the bed so he could get a good swing with his arm, but now he wanted her over his lap. He craved some kind of closeness with her, to feel her soft body on his legs, to hold her tightly around her waist. He didn't care about how hard he could spank. He guided her over his lap, and her hands reached for the rung of the chair to stabilize herself. He bumped his knees to adjust her so her bottom was perfectly angled for correction. Slowly, he slid his hand up the back of one of her legs, starting at the ankle and traveling up the soft, smooth curve of her calf, dragging the hem of her skirts up as he went. He continued up her shapely thigh, reaching the sensuous curve of her bottom and exposing it completely for her spanking. Her breath came in little pants making the back of her ribs expand and contract.
He wound the buckle side of the belt around his hand several times so he was left with a shorter strap with which to strike her. He brought it down sharply across both cheeks. She jerked and clenched her cheeks together. He struck her several more times quickly, then settled into a slower rhythm. The stiffness of the belt, or perhaps it was the narrow size, made it a harsh implement. Raised red welts appeared quickly where he had spanked.
She struggled, jerking and flinching under the bite of his strokes.
He held her firmly around the waist and continued to punish her bottom, striping the porcelain white skin as he traveled down to the backs of her thighs and then up again.
She cried out, gasping and grunting at the pain of it, but she did not beg or plead. She started crying soon after.
He continued until her poor bottom was flayed a dark crimson, and she sobbed.
He dropped the belt on the floor and gently pulled her skirts back down. He helped her to lift her torso up and then pulled her to sitting on his lap, tucking her in against his chest, cradling her until her cries quieted.
She pressed her head against his shoulder,more firmly than just resting it, as if she were drawing strength from him.
He stroked her arms, back, and hair, savoring the gift of having her body so close to his, the gift of her turning to him for comfort.
Lucia still sat on the bed, watching it all with big eyes. When Celia had recovered to just sniffling, he lifted her away so he could see her face as he said, "You are going to spank Lucia now."
This took a moment to set in, and then a slow shock spread on her face. "What? No," she shook her head quickly. When he didn't answer, her jaw took its usual stubborn set. "That's not fair, Tomi."
He shrugged. "It's not about fair. The count told me he'd rip my arms off if I touched her."
"Well then, wait for the count to spank her. And you may be assured he will. But you can't make me do it."
But he was resolute. "I can, and I will." He picked up the belt from the floor where he'd dropped it and handed it to Celia. "Lucia, bend over the bed and lift up your skirts."
Celia looked panicked about it, but Lucia seemed to reassure her with her eyes. Lucia obeyed him, bending over the bed and pulling up her skirts to reveal her beautiful bottom and legs, identical to her sister's except that her skin was still white.
"Go
ahead," he prompted. "I'll tell you when to stop."
Celia took a weak swing at Lucia.
"Harder."
She tried again, a little harder, but not significant enough to leave a mark.
"I said harder."
Celia swung it again, and the leather slapped Lucia's cheeks smartly. Lucia cried out, and Celia started crying. "Tomi," she said, turning to him with a pleading face.
"Go on," he said firmly.
Celia's shoulders sagged, and she turned back. She gave her sister three more smacks with the belt before she turned back to him. "Tomi," she spread her hands before her, still clutching the belt. "She's pregnant!"
Oh God. He jumped to his feet in alarm. He'd had no idea. "Well, why didn't you tell me, for God's sake?" he demanded.
"It's considered bad luck to tell others before the quickening."
He rolled his eyes. "But this is important. Lucia, go lie down, please," he commanded, pacing around the room and running his hands through his hair. He felt horrible. And what would the count say? And why on earth would she get in a carriage to travel across the country unescorted while in the early stages of pregnancy? He marched over to Celia and grasped her arm, pulling her back to the wooden chair where he sat down and pulled her back over his lap. He flipped up her skirts. Her bottom was still beet red with puckered skin and raised marks. He gave her ten more hard spanks with his hand and then pulled her back to stand before him.
"How could you drag your sister out here like this while she is pregnant?"
At that, Celia burst into tears, clearly not from the spanking but from his words. Her own shame was visible in her anguish. He stood up and pulled her roughly to him, holding her tightly as she cried. He led her, still bawling, to the bed and tucked her in next to her sister. He crouched next to the bed and smoothed her hair.
"I hate you, Tomi," she said between hiccupping sobs. "I really do."
His heart constricted in pain. He took a deep breath. "I will leave Parma."
At that, her sobs increased, and Lucia leaned up on her elbow and glared at him. "You're a coward, Tomi," she muttered and then flopped over before he could respond, facing away from him.
