The Westerfield Trilogy

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The Westerfield Trilogy Page 35

by Renee Rose


  “Yes, my lady. I will have the men make the change. Anything else in this room?”

  She looked around, then shook her head. “No, how about the study? It would be nice to give Lord Darlington a room he feels is his own.”

  “Do you think he will mind?” Mrs. Timball asked, returning. “I should not like to upset him.”

  She considered. True, the study was hardly her domain and therefore should not be subject to her redecorating. But it could be the place his father inhabited most, in which case should be the first to change.

  “I will accept full responsibility,” she said. If Andrew was angry, she would take the spanking for it.

  The three women moved into the study after Mrs. Johnson informed the men of the furniture changes for the dining area and they removed all the former Lord Darlington’s belongings from the desk, boxing them up and taking them to the attic for storage. They also decided to move the location of the desk and settee, changing the layout of the room.

  She led them through all the rooms of the house, giving orders for changes, then she slipped outside in search of her errant husband.

  She walked the perimeter of the manor, but did not find him. She investigated the old stable, then followed a path toward the sound of water. Crossing a rickety footbridge, she continued along the path until she saw him, sitting on the bank of the creek, his shoes and stockings off, his feet in the water.

  “Eliza,” he croaked when she approached. His eyes held more pain than she had ever seen.

  * * *

  Eliza said nothing, simply walked to his side and removed her shoes and stockings, sitting beside him and slipping her feet into the water. Her face held no anger and she had a serene air to her, as if she were the Virgin Mary herself, come to soothe him.

  “I am not fit to be your husband,” he choked.

  She made a scoffing sound. “Do not be ridiculous. You made a fine husband in London, it is just at Stenwick where you have fallen short.”

  The casualness with which she spoke nearly drew him out of his panic, but he gave a shake of his head. She did not understand.

  “No, listen. I am not fit. I am just like my father. We have not been here one day and I struck you in anger.” His throat closed, strangling his words.

  “So you are properly horrified. It will not happen again.”

  This time her down-to-earth assessment did draw him out of his mood. He turned to stare at her. “Eliza…”

  She reached out and laid her small palm on his face, her thumb caressing his lips. He covered her hand with his own, drawing it across his mouth to kiss.

  “My whole life I worried I would turn out like him. I never even wanted a wife, for fear I would do terrible things to her.”

  The memories of the whippings he had given Eliza melded together with the sick feeling he now possessed, turning it all into a horrible mistake.

  “You will not,” Eliza said firmly.

  “I already have!” he cried.

  She flushed and averted her eyes, staring into the water. “If you refer to the spankings you have given me, I did not find them so terrible.”

  She looked at him from under her lashes. “I do not think you did, either, except for this last one, which we have already agreed was a mistake.”

  Her tone, her look, her blush held the reminders of the intimacies they had shared, and his panic receded. “What if I ever hurt you?”

  “Andrew, do you drink too much?”

  “No.”

  “Have you ever struck me anywhere but on my backside?”

  Just the thought of her backside cheered him. He gave her a little smile. “No.”

  “Then I do not believe you will ever hurt me.”

  “I am so sorry about earlier—”

  “I know you are,” she interrupted. “Promise me you will never spank in anger again.”

  He pulled her hand to his heart. “I swear on my mother’s grave.”

  “I forgive you.”

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “Oh, yes, terribly.”

  Alarm ran through him until he reasoned she jested. “Pressing your advantage will only land you over my knee for a proper spanking,” he warned.

  She gave him a naughty smile. “Please?”

  He laughed and pulled her up to sit on his lap, their feet tangling in the cold stream. “I love you so much, dear Eliza. I am sorry I have been such an ogre.”

  She turned and kissed his lips. She had never before initiated intimate relations between them and the thrill of it roused his passion. “Perhaps I had best take you back to the manor and teach you a little more about the sort of wifely duties I expect of you.”

  “Perhaps you should,” she purred, pressing her décolletage under his chin. He raked his lips across her bare skin, the softness of her breasts exciting him.

  “Come, Lady Darlington. We have a new bed to break in,” he said, helping her to stand on the bank and replace her slippers.

  He walked back, the desperation he experienced earlier evaporating in his wife’s compassionate presence, though his chest still felt heavy.

  They entered the manor, and Eliza tugged him toward the dining room, her hand tightening on his arm.

  Sensing her tension, he murmured, “I will not throw the Johnsons out, dear. I am sorry. You were right.”

  She did not answer, but continued to lead him into the room. He stopped short when he reached the entryway, staring. The room had been completely transformed, bearing no resemblance to its former state. Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Timball gathered at the door from the kitchen, looking at him anxiously.

  “I asked them to move some things. I wished to redecorate,” his wife declared with an exaggerated haughtiness, her chin jutting forward.

  It came to him in a rush why she had ordered the changes and how difficult it might have been for her, and he blinked rapidly to recover from the emotion washing through him.

  “Yes,” he said, allowing his voice to carry to the housekeepers obviously awaiting his approval. “Of course you should,” he agreed. “It looks marvelous. Thank you, all, for your work.” Then, directing Eliza back out toward the stairs, he murmured, “Now come, let us survey the bedrooms together.”

  Eliza stifled a giggle, allowing him to whisk her up the stairs and into the master bedroom, where he locked the door.

  “Now what will I spank you for,” he asked, shucking his jacket and waistcoat, “when you are too angelic for reprimand?”

  She smiled, serenely.

  He reached out and plucked a pin from her hair, then another and another, until the dark waves tumbled across her shoulders. He turned her around and began unbuttoning her dress. “Could you not attempt to refuse me? Give me some cause to scold?”

  She laughed, the honeyed tones filling the room with warmth it had never known, chasing away the few memories he had of it.

  He turned her back around. “Remove your clothing, wife,” he challenged, doubting her ability to obey him with daylight filtering through the windows when she could barely comply in the near-darkness of night.

  She met his eye with a seductive glint as she removed her dress, then corset, drawers, garters, and stockings, standing naked before him. Her cheeks had colored and her chest heaved unnaturally fast, but she continued to hold his gaze with her head held high.

  He allowed his eyes to roam the length of her body, tracing the tantalizing curve of her neck to shoulder, following it down to the stiffened tips of her breasts, the flat slope of her stomach and lower, where her delicate thatch of curls announced her most private area.

  “Sit on the chair over there and spread your legs,” he ordered.

  Her eyes widened, but she complied, sitting on the edge of the chair and parting her knees, adjusting her feet farther open to give him the full view of her charms.

  Heat flamed through his body, prickling his skin and stiffening his throbbing cock. In a flash he fell upon his knees before her, bending his head to lick into her delic
ate folds. She gave a cry of surprise, her thighs closing on his ears.

  He pulled back. “Open your knees or I will spank you,” he threatened with a wicked smile.

  She made a squeaking sound and parted her legs, closing her eyes as if his pleasuring her provided too lurid a scene to watch. When he slid his tongue into her entry way, finding her sensitive nub, she thrust her hot core at him, moaning.

  “Do you like it, Eliza?”

  “Mmm,” she whined.

  He withdrew. “Do you?” he asked sharply.

  “No… yes!” she exclaimed, opening her eyes with a dazed expression.

  “Ask me for more.”

  “No…” she moaned.

  “No?”

  “I mean, yes. Please, Andrew?”

  “Good girl!” he exclaimed. “I did not think you could do it. You are determined to avoid punishment, are you not?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  He returned to his studious application of his mouth to her sex, sucking her nub, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bits.

  “I’m going to teach you a new position today, my dear,” he said when he had brought her to a near frenzy. “Climb down from the chair and get on your hands and knees here on the rug.”

  She obeyed without a hint of protest, sinking to the described position. He loosened his trousers and freed his ready cock, moving to stand on his knees behind her.

  “No, wait—” she gasped. “This is not punishment.”

  “I know, dear. I am not going to use your naughtiest hole,” he said, brushing her back pucker with his thumb. He rubbed the head of his cock along her slick opening, smearing her juices along the length of her slit. She braced herself and pushed back at him eagerly. Without any resistance at all, he slid deep inside her, the heat of her tight channel causing him to shudder with pleasure.

  “Oh, Eliza,” he crooned, his eyelids flickering with the delicious sensation of moving inside her. He pumped in and out, bringing her to a state of excited whimpering until he reached climax, pumping his seed deep in her as she spasmed all around him.

  When he recovered his senses, he eased out, helping her to her feet and pulling her to lie in his arms on the bed.

  “Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmured into her hair. “For everything. Thank you.”

  She nestled closer. “I am so happy to be your wife.”

  His heart lurched. “You are the most spectacular wife a man could possibly have the fortune of marrying,” he murmured, kissing her hair.

  She pressed her lips to his chest. “Little by little, you help me believe so,” she said.

  “Know it. I treasure you and I expect you to shine in your full glory.”

  She giggled. “Or else you will spank me?”

  “Yes, dear,” he said, running his hand over her bottom. “But do not avoid all your spankings or I shall be forced to invent more difficult rules for you to follow.”

  “I shall shine in my full glory, but break enough rules for you to spank me as you see fit,” she promised, smiling.

  He rolled her to her back and covered her body with his own, kissing her deeply, showing her the full extent of his affection.

  The End

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  More Stormy Night Books by Renee Rose

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  The colonel soon learns that in spite of the deceitful manner with which she obtained the position, Miss Downy is an excellent governess and is much loved by his children. After a firm dose of the leather strap on her bare bottom, he lets her know that she may keep her position as long as she is truthful with him in the future. As time passes, though, the colonel finds himself thinking of Amanda as he has not thought about any woman since his beloved wife passed away. Though he has no intention of ever marrying again, he cannot deny his growing need for her.

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  Captured and carried off for questioning, she finds herself prisoner to Sir Ferrum, an enormous knight who bears the scars of an old injury upon his face. She finds Sir Ferrum to be firm and unyielding, but his treatment of her also reveals a gentleness which she has difficulty reconciling with his harsh discipline. To her dismay, her feelings for him continue to grow, and Dani must decide whether to continue her plans for escape or accept her new role as Sir Ferrum’s woman and Seer to the Red Fox.

  Under Siege (Included in the book Lords and Ladies: Two Medieval Spanking Novellas)

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  Yet when a devilishly handsome knight by the name of Sir Balen rides to her rescue, she is reluctant to turn over the control she has become accustomed to wielding. The attraction between them is palpable, but his arrogant assu
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  The Devil of Whiskey Row

  Forced by miserable circumstance to work in a gold-rush brothel, Cora Underhill hates what her life has become. When a fire sweeps through, she welcomes death as an end to it all. But then Jake Diggory crashes through her window for an unwelcome rescue, offering her shelter and a paid position at his establishment. She accepts, in spite of Jake’s fearsome reputation as ‘The Devil Diggory,’ and soon sees another side to Jake—the firm but caring side of him which led his girls to name him ‘Daddy Diggs.’

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