She did so admire him, she thought, watching the carriage he was in disappear down the drive. She waited until he was completely out of sight, and then went back indoors, her brother beside her.
‘So, he’s quite a chap, isn’t he, Elizabeth?’ her sibling said.
‘Yes, James, he certainly is,’ she concurred.
‘You need a strong male partner like him,’ he went on, unwittingly echoing her very thoughts. ‘The usual type that simper around you are no good at all.’
The old Elizabeth would have turned on him and told him off, insisting he mind his own business, and if she chose to spend time with those ‘simpering’ others, then she would.
But the new Elizabeth nodded agreeably, and turning to look at her brother, agreed utterly. ‘Oh, James,’ she said with an intensity that surprised even her, ‘you’re so right. To think I might have wasted myself on any one of them!’
James almost hugged her. He would certainly shake Lord Michael’s hand when next they saw each other, for in a matter of mere days in his company his sister had turned into a good-natured, well-mannered, very pleasant young lady.
‘Would you excuse me, dear James?’ she said, completely unable to contain herself. ‘But I’m so thrilled about tomorrow night I simply must start preparing myself now.’
Still stunned by this remarkable turnaround, he did not quite know how to respond to such a polite and fervent request, and was even more shocked when she didn’t dash off, but stood politely awaiting his response.
‘Do you mind?’ she prompted.
‘Elizabeth, it is such a delight to see you this way,’ he said. ‘Of course you may go, and if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.’
She smiled and thanked him, then disappeared up the stairs. James, still disbelieving, made his way to the study.
‘She’s a different girl, father,’ he said, as he sat in one of the large leather armchairs.
His father raised his head from the newspaper and nodded. ‘She is indeed. I can only hope my good friend will continue in his affections, and perhaps even one of these days make an honest woman of her.’
‘I hope so too,’ James agreed. ‘For all our sakes, I hope so too.’
Up in her room Elizabeth was going through her dresses. She wasn’t happy with any of them, and over the course of the evening, interrupted by a very quick dinner, chose four, discarded those, and finally settled on a royal blue silk that highlighted her skin tones, and brought out the colour of her eyes.
With Grace’s help she also decided upon a hairstyle, and by the time she had bathed and was climbing into bed, she was exhausted.
In the darkness she wriggled under the covers. She missed him. She missed the stinging of her bottom, of him making love to her, of curling up next to him, totally spent, feeling safe and warm, but most of all, she missed being under his complete control.
She was being such a good girl, learning to follow his orders immediately and without question. But then she furrowed her brow, for this being the case, would she never again feel the painfully exquisite sting of his discipline?
And why did she crave such excruciating attention? But even as she asked the question, she knew she may never know the answer. She just did; she craved to be punished, made to behave, then taken and driven to the heights of passion. Was there anything better in the whole world?
The questions flittered through her mind. The only answer, she decided, was to purposely misbehave, so he would have no choice but to continue keeping her within the bounds of acceptable behaviour by the use of corporal punishment.
The thought made her tremble a little; the memory of how the hairbrush stung her cheeks and how the crop bit into her flesh made her shudder. Did she really want this? She touched between her legs, feeling the wetness there. Yes she did. The memories of his discipline spurred her on until the moment was upon her, and she released her joy with small cries of pleasure.
It was the first time she had experienced an orgasm without him. The first time, alone in the dark, she had found her own satisfaction. It wasn’t the same, but it helped, and she was finally able to sleep.
When she awoke the following morning she did so determined to find a way to misbehave at dinner. It was the only thing she could think of to ensure a trip across his knee, or over the sofa, or tied over a pillow. Just the thought made her positively tingle, and pleased with herself, she made her way to the bathroom to ready herself for the day, and the exciting evening that lay ahead.
Chapter 11
Lord Michael watched Elizabeth intently as she eyed the decadent dessert. They were seated in the dining room of an elegant London hotel, the admiring glances being cast their way pleasing them both.
It was clear she was still in need of much training. Her spoiled past and wilful nature could not be completely corrected in such a short space of time. Though he had to admit she had behaved admirably when they arrived back at the manor, and so far this evening he had nothing about which he could complain or correct her for.
He recalled the many times he had observed her over the past few years, and how frequently in that time he wished he could put her over his knee. His dear friend, her father, had been absolutely correct when he said she was a handful, but he knew he was more than up to the task, and she was responding exactly as he had hoped and judged she would. Besides which, despite her tender years compared to his he had to admit the little minx was under his skin. Since leaving her the day before he had thought of her constantly.
She knew she was not permitted to eat until he signalled her to do so. It was her favourite desert, hot apple pie and cream, and it seemed an age since the steaming dish had been placed in front of her. She looked at him, the previous expression of innocent pleading replaced by coolly controlled frustration.
This was her opportunity, she thought to herself. This was the perfect chance to misbehave. So heart pounding, she said, ‘How long do you intend to keep me from eating my dessert?’ Her tone had a petulant edge to it that she knew would rankle with him, and she was meeting his stare with a challenge in her eyes. For a moment she thought he was on the back foot, but she should have known better.
He placed his coffee cup on its saucer with a dangerous, calculated precision, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘Have you completely lost your mind, Elizabeth?’ he asked coldly, noting with relish the flicker of uncertainty in her lovely face. ‘Have you completely forgotten your place when in my company?’
‘I…’ her confidence quickly ebbed, ‘I… it’s just that…’ Perhaps her little game was ill advised after all, she thought, attempting to convey a sense of self-assurance she was suddenly no longer feeling.
Lord Michael studied her. Something was amiss. She knew better than to test him this way. He furrowed his brow and cocked his head to one side.
The silence and gesture made Elizabeth decidedly nervous. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Surely he would have to spank her for such a childish outburst? But he did nothing, simply remained silent, frowning at her.
Feeling she’d already gone too far and could not turn back, that she had little choice but to force the issue, she compounded the situation by blurting, ‘My apple pie is getting cold and it will soon be ruined, so I will commence eating now anyway, with or without your consent,’ and so saying she picked up her dessert spoon and fork.
‘I don’t believe you, young lady,’ he said, his words instantly halting the movement of her cutlery.
‘W-what do you mean?’ she gasped.
‘I mean, you know better than to behave this way, so I don’t believe you. I think there’s more to this little scene. I don’t believe you’re worried about your dessert spoiling at all.’
The rising flush in her cheeks told him he was right, of course. She was attempting to manipulate him. She had fallen in love with the ritual of punishment, with the joys a sound spanking could offer, and she wanted to instigate one. And rather than ask or convey her feelings and yearnings, she ha
d all too easily returned to her old habits, using manipulation and contrivance to get her own way.
Without a word Lord Michael opened his wallet, withdrew the notes needed to cover the bill, then rose majestically and with purpose. Elizabeth, knowing she’d lost control and that her mischievousness had not been appreciated whatsoever, felt the recently arrived flush drain from her face. Although a spanking or chastisement of some sort had been her goal, she knew she had overstepped some sort of marker and the mood between them was not what she’d planned or wanted.
He took her by the forearm, his fierce grip making her wince, and pulled her ungracefully from her chair. She attempted to speak, to gush a discreet protest, but he shot her a look so stern the words never even reached her lips. Well at least she was to be punished, she thought ruefully as a member of the restaurant staff brought their coats, but then she shivered, worried about the severity of what was to come, worried that she’d overdone her little ploy.
He maintained his unnerving silence on the carriage ride home, and when they pulled up outside his house he turned and addressed her. ‘Elizabeth, I am utterly disappointed in you,’ he said, his few words cutting her to the core. ‘After all my attention, after all the time and effort I have invested in your education, this is how you repay me?’
Elizabeth felt the tears well up in her eyes, panic rising from her stomach until she felt quite queasy with despair. ‘But, sir—’
‘Be quiet!’ he snapped. ‘I do not wish to hear anything you have to say or any of your feeble platitudes. Your pathetic attempt to manipulate me is hurtful indeed. Do you think I am one of those foolish young lads that you manoeuvre to get your own spoilt way? You wanted to be spanked, to be firmly taken in hand, and rather than confess your longings you tried to trick me. Shame on you, Elizabeth. Shame on you.’
Shimmering tears began to spill down her face. ‘Sir, I’m so very sorry,’ she wailed. ‘How can I make it up to you?’
‘You cannot,’ he stated adamantly. ‘You wanted to be punished? Well, now you will be. You will receive the ultimate punishment; I shall have nothing more to do with you.’
Elizabeth’s expression froze as his cruel words hit her.
‘To think I was seriously considering becoming your master,’ he added.
‘Oh please, sir,’ she begged desperately, her head in a spin, trying not to accept the reality of what he was saying, cursing her earlier folly. ‘Please, I beg you to reconsider. I am a foolish girl, still learning from you. Oh please, I do so want to serve you. I beg you, please give me another chance!’
He glared back at her, unmoved by her hysteria. ‘Tonight you will be staying here at my house,’ he told her. ‘Nancy, my housemaid, will see to your needs, and you will return to your home tomorrow. I, however, will spend the night at my club. This is goodbye, Elizabeth. Certainly for the foreseeable future.’
‘But…’
Before she could say any more he climbed determinedly from the carriage and strode quickly away into the night. Elizabeth collapsed in desperate tears. How foolish she had been. How could she have been so stupid as to think she could play games with one such as he and get away with it? She could not stop sobbing, but finally realised she should get out of the carriage and inside the house.
The housemaid answered her timid knock, and when she saw the tragic state the poor girl was in, immediately dropped any formality and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. She offered to make her a hot cup of tea, but Elizabeth was inconsolable. Regardless, she brewed one, and brought it into the sitting room where Elizabeth was sitting on the couch, still in her coat, still crying.
‘Miss Elizabeth, I know Lord Michael can be strict, but surely whatever’s happened he’ll forgive you.’
Elizabeth shook her head. ‘I don’t think so,’ she managed between sobs. ‘He said he wants nothing more to do with me.’
‘He probably just spoke out of anger,’ Nancy said, trying to reassure her. ‘Can you tell me what happened? Perhaps I can help.’
Elizabeth shook her head adamantly. How could she possibly explain such a thing to anyone, let alone someone she didn’t know, and a servant at that?
‘Give it some time,’ the pretty housemaid suggested. ‘Men are forgiving creatures, and I know he thinks a great deal of you.’
‘He does?’ Elizabeth looked up at the girl, boosted by a faint ray of hope. ‘How do you know that?’
‘He told me a little about you,’ Nancy confided, ‘when he informed me there’d be a guest staying tonight. It was obvious he was looking forward to your stay here immensely.’
Elizabeth put her handkerchief to her face and dabbed at the tears, and Nancy took the break in the weeping to remove Elizabeth’s coat and offer her the cup of tea. Elizabeth drank it gratefully, fixating on Nancy’s last remark.
‘When you leave tomorrow, do so believing it will only be a matter of time before he misses you and sends word,’ the housemaid told her, and Elizabeth nodded, suppressed the new wave of tears that threatened, and managed to finish the revitalising cup of tea.
‘Thank you, she said,’ passing the cup and saucer back and managing a smile of appreciation. ‘You’re so kind. A beast like him doesn’t deserve you,’ she added spitefully, not really meaning it.
‘Well, I’ve been with Lord Michael for many years,’ the servant informed her. ‘Since I was thirteen, in fact, when my mother came into service for him. He’s been very good to us. He made sure I learned how to read and write and taught me a great deal. I could do other things, but I’m happy here.’
‘Yes,’ Elizabeth said, nodding. She could imagine Lord Michael doing such a thing, giving a girl the opportunity to better herself.
Nancy accompanied her up to the guest bedroom, and Elizabeth could not help but think had she not been so impetuously guileless, so bound to have her way, that she would have been spending the night in his room, in his bed, in his arms.
Once under the covers of the comfortable bed Elizabeth cried some more, then tried to sleep. She tossed and turned, and prayed and hoped, and in the early hours of the morning, overcome by tiredness, she eventually drifted into a fitful sleep.
When Nancy woke her the following morning Elizabeth felt as though she’d been thrown from her horse. Her body ached, her head ached, and when she looked in the mirror the eyes that stared back at her were puffy and red, with dark bags beneath them. She looked as miserable as she felt.
She attempted to eat the breakfast prepared for her, but she had no appetite and merely picked at it for a while with her fork. She drank half a cup of tea, then thanked Nancy and headed home, the carriage ride back to the manor seeming long and lonely, and the tears kept threatening.
When close to home she attempted to compose herself, not wanting anyone to see what a state she was in. She certainly would not be able to explain herself. What could she possibly say? But when she arrived home she was grateful that her brother was nowhere to be seen, and her father was working in his study.
She hastened up to her room, and once inside locked the door. Then she collapsed on her bed and cried a fresh flood of tears, but a knock on the door forced her to stop crying and try to gather her composure. She heard Grace’s voice.
‘I’m resting,’ she called. ‘I won’t be down for dinner. I’m tired. Tell father, and don’t bother me again until morning.’
Sitting up she wiped her face and made her way to the bathroom. She decided to fill the bath, sprinkling in some rose scent. It reminded her of the last time she’d done just that. How alarmed she had been, and then strangely stirred, when he’d touched her so intimately that night…
A new set of tears threatened, but with a deep breath she willed them away. Stripping off her clothes she stepped into the steamy water and sank down. The soothing heat and fragrance really helped, and she closed her eyes, recalling his face. Despite his age she was in love with him, she decided. Totally and unequivocally, and more than anything else she wanted to serve him. She wa
nted to call him her master.
She opened her eyes, a sense of purpose welling up inside her. She would not lose him, no matter what. She didn’t know how but she would win him back, and by the time she stepped from the bath with a new determination and resolve she felt much, much better. She would regroup, and then take some definite, honest, and forthright action.
Lord Michael was back at his house. He was not just angry with Elizabeth, but grossly disappointed. Up until that point he was sure she would prove to be a more than worthy and long-term student, but one thing he would not tolerate was deceit. How could he possibly trust her after she’d played such a silly game on him? She had belittled everything he’d taught her and in doing so insulted him utterly.
All afternoon he paced in his study, important papers lying unattended on his desk. Try as he might he could not get her out of his mind. Then late in the day Nancy appeared, carrying a tray of tea and scones. Carefully she set it on the side table and then turned to face him. His mood was dark.
‘Sir?’ she began, hesitantly.
‘Yes?’ he responded absently, not looking at her.
‘I just thought you should know, sir,’ the maid ventured carefully, ‘that she was inconsolable, and I know she cried throughout the night. Whatever her crime, she is truly repentant.’
Lord Michael looked at her. It was not her place to speak of things so personal, but she had been under his discipline for most of her life, and he knew she would not do or say anything unless she felt it to be for the best.
‘Thank you, Nancy,’ he said. ‘That will be all.’
Knowing she could say no more she curtsied and left, hoping she’d done the right thing.
Lord Michael poured himself some tea and sat down. He pondered Nancy’s words. He had to admit, he did want to forgive Elizabeth… the naughty, brazen girl!
In his mind’s eye he saw her delightful smile, and suddenly wanted to smell her hair, to touch her skin. The truth was he wanted to guide her through the many layers and peaks and troughs of submission. He wanted to be her master.
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