Abel straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin.
"Look at me, sweetheart."
It took a moment before she actually heard him, but finally, she looked up.
Abel's voice was gentler now. "Did she succeed?"
"No."
"Excuse us." Nick's voice filled the room. Abel didn't release Cicely but did turn to look at him.
Nick was standing beside them, holding Phebe in front of him. "I believe," he said, over her head." Miss Watson has an apology to make."
The room grew quiet. All eyes were on Phebe, with her stooped shoulders and crimson face.
She paused, looking up at Nick with pleading eyes.
"Go ahead," he said firmly. "Now."
Phebe glanced up at Miss Hazel and then Miss Constance, standing next to her. "I'm sorry. "I sort of told these ladies that we would not be needing the food and…" She looked down. "The cake."
"Sort of?" Nick's voice interrupted her.
"I did say that," she said slowly. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Cicely."
Cicely swallowed hard. "It's Miss Hazel, Miss Constance, and the staff that you should apologize to. How could you?"
Her voice was rising, and Abel leaned down into her ear. "Cicely," his voice dropped in pitch and held warning.
Phebe looked up at them. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
Nick nodded and turned Phebe toward the door. "Come with me, you little brat," he said gruffly. He stopped and looked toward the housekeepers. "Again, ladies, I apologize." Then he turned back toward the girl, who was dragging her feet.
Phebe's voice was pleading. "No, Nick. Please. Let me go!"
"Not a chance." His voice was low, but heard by everyone else in the kitchen. "Not until I've managed to teach you some common decency."
Miss Hazel spoke to the staff in her barky voice, "Out. Everyone out."
The room emptied within seconds.
Cicely, still pinned to the wall, managed to raise her gaze to Abel's piercing eyes. She blinked. "I'm sorry I became so upset," she whispered.
"Are you?"
She nodded.
"Are you calm now?"
"Yes, sir." She looked away. His face was extremely close.
"Do you think you can go in and bid our guests goodbye? Gracefully?"
"Yes, sir." Her voice was very small now.
Abel lowered his head and spoke into her ear, "I hope you realize, you are not out of trouble, young lady."
She closed her eyes and lowered her head, and Abel pulled her into his arms.
"All right. We'll go say goodbye to our guests. And I'll address your behavior when I get you home. You may expect that."
Cicely could barely remember saying goodbye to anyone. She was terribly embarrassed. But there weren't many left in the room.
Father Michael had come down just as Abel was about to take her to the carriage. The priest put a hand on Abel's shoulder and one on Cicely's. He didn't speak for a long time. When he did, his voice was soft. "Remember," he said softly. "Let not the sun go down upon your wrath. Especially on this day."
"Thank you, Father," Abel nodded. "I will remember."
Father Michael turned to Cicely and smiled. "You, too, Cicely. Everyone deserves a second chance. Even Miss Watson."
Cicely looked down. "Yes, Father," she whispered.
She helped pick up some of the plates and cups before leaving, taking them into the kitchen. Abel helped. But when he found his bride inside the kitchen, the housekeepers had cornered her.
"Go home with your husband, darlin'. He needs you. And you need him. We're just fine here. And now we know better than to listen to anything Miss Watson tries to say."
Cicely turned, looked up to see Abel, and walked into his arms.
"Come, sweetheart." Abel turned toward the housekeepers and mouthed a, "Thank you," before taking her outside.
Putting her into the carriage, he brought them down the street. He had turned off the main street and Cicely thought for a moment they were headed out of town. Cicely had not yet seen his house. Her eyes widened when she saw the Second Empire French two story house. It had a recessed entryway on its left side. A two and a half story bay window went upward, and it had a mansard roof with cast-iron cresting. A small dormer protruded from the roof.
When Abel stopped in front of it, Cicely sucked in her breath. "You live here?"
"Do you like it? Geoff built it for me, a year ago. I liked the area. It's quiet back here. I thought he went a bit extravagant with it. But he stayed in my budget. I'd been saving since I was a kid. There is a stable in the back, but not as nice as yours."
"It's lovely!"
He set her down and then carried her inside, over the threshold, and turned to the right.
"This is the drawing room. Mrs. Morgan has probably left us something to eat in the kitchen." He lit the lantern and then stoked the fire. When he turned back toward her, she had her gaze averted.
"I'll put Mazy up. Feel free to look around the house and I'll be right back." He stopped in front of her and lifted her chin, as if he dreaded as much as she did, what was going to happen. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "I love you, my darling."
She nodded. Her gaze was pleading, when she looked up into his eyes. A moment later, he turned on his heel and was gone.
Cicely took the lantern and wandered around the house. It was extremely lovely. The furniture was dark wood, polished and beautiful. When she heard his footfalls behind her, she turned. Her eyes were wide.
He closed the distance between them and brought her into his arms. "Don't be afraid of me, sweetheart. I want you to relax and see the house before we go upstairs."
She nodded.
Abel lit the lamps over the hearth and around the house. Before long, the lower floor was bright and cheerful. The library was lined with shelves and laden with leather books. The parlor would be a perfect place for her to have Polly for tea. The bedroom on the first floor, with an adjoining bath, was perfect for a couple. Her eyes grew excited as he took her upstairs and showed her the second floor. It was much like the first.
"This is our bedroom, my darling girl. The lower one is for guests. And this one," he said, showing her the next one down the hall. "Is for the nursery, when we have children."
Cicely looked around it. It was designed much like the nursery on the east wing at Pembroke had been, and she loved it.
But he continued. "The top floor is nice, but we'll look at that tomorrow, when it's light outside." He studied her a moment. "Let me show you the kitchen. Mrs. Morgan keeps it stocked for me. She'll be putting meat on your little bones, too, before you know it." He grinned. "Let's see what she left us to eat."
"Abel? I don't think I could eat right now."
He stopped and studied her, bringing her into his embrace. Tears were gathering. She tried to force them back.
"All right. Shall we get this over with?"
"No?"
He brought her closer. "Young lady," he said gently. "The thing is, I can't let this go. It must be addressed. If I hadn't caught you this afternoon, I don't know what you'd have done. Nick was standing in front of Miss Watson. Hopefully, he'd have stopped you. But you're my responsibility, and I can't let you get away with outbursts such as that. You were completely out of control. Do you understand?"
She nodded. A single tear trickled down her cheek.
Abel brought her back into their bedroom and lit two lanterns, setting them on the hearth. He stoked up the fire and warmed the room before he turned her around so she faced away from him. She stiffened. He brought the tulle head piece back and freed her hair from it, first. Then, he brought her hair into his fist and to his face.
"Your hair smells like honeysuckle," he breathed. "It was so beautiful today."
"It was supposed to be worn up, but…"
He paused, as he worked to undo the tiny buttons on the back of her gown, bringing it downward and away from her shoulders. "But what?"
"But the combs
disappeared when Mother was trying to fix it. So, we left it down and used the ribbons instead."
"Disappeared? How?"
"Phebe took off with them."
He turned her to face him. "She took them while your hair was being done?"
She nodded. "She brought them back later. And tried to take the ribbons, but Mother stopped her."
Abel led her over to the bed and sat down, turning her to face him. Her eyes were wide. She'd been held between his knees like this just before being spanked.
"Cicely, what else happened today?"
She told him about the conversation, just before Nick came to get Phebe.
"And," he said. "Tell me about what happened on Thursday. Before she went to visit Miss Hazel and Miss Constance?"
It was when she finished imparting the events of the week prior to him, that he reached for her waist and pulled her closer. She had seen that expression on his face many times, throughout the years she had known him. Like her father, Abel thought things through. He pondered them carefully, before coming to a final decision. Finally, he tucked her head under his chin.
"Abel? What are you going to do?"
He took her by the shoulders, caressing her collarbone with his thumb. "I can't afford," he said softly. "To let this go completely. I feel as if I must punish you. But it won't be as harsh as I had thought you deserved, at first. You've been through a lot, sweetheart. And you have been robbed of a lot since she's been here. I'm going to reduce your sentence to ten strokes. That will put this behind us."
"What were you going to give me?" Her voice raised a notch in fright.
"Twenty."
Her eyes widened.
"But I'm going to relieve you of your garments first. And you're going to count for me."
She knew, as he turned her back to face away from him, that he was being more than fair, merciful, even. She'd been so angry that afternoon, and she had indeed been out of control. She might even have strangled Phebe had she reached her.
His hands worked their way down the back of the dress. First, the corset, followed by her shift, and she felt the cool air touch her skin as he took her waist and helped her step out of them. Then he pulled her back and tugged on the ribbon of her pantalets, letting them fall.
"Come here, my little recalcitrant girl." He turned her to face him, only to see that she had covered her breasts with one arm as much as she could and had the other hand in front of the apex of her thighs, to hide as much of herself as possible.
"Cicely. Move your hands."
She swallowed, hard. "I can't."
Abel turned her away, once again, and brought his hand down hard, on her bottom. When she squealed, he spoke in a warning tone, "Hands behind your back, young lady. There is no hiding from me." He turned her back to face him and crooked a finger at her. "Come here and lie over my knee. No, don't look up at me with those reproachful eyes. You know you deserve this. Do you not?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then come here."
She inched a little closer to him, and he lifted her over his lap, arranging her so her bottom was high in the air.
"Are you ready?"
"No."
"I'll give you one minute. After that, I'll proceed, whether you are or not. Now. A few things I'll explain to you. You are not to put your hands back, for any reason. If you do, I'll start over. Understood?"
She whimpered, and he rested his hand on the soft, bare cheeks of her bottom. "Next, if you forget to count, I'll start over. If you miscount, what will I do?"
"Start over?"
"Yes. He began to rub her backside gently for a few more seconds. "Now. Are you ready?"
"No."
"That's all the time you get, young lady. It's time to start."
Cicely had been spanked before, but only once had she been spanked with her bottom bared. Her head came off the bed at the first blow, and she shrieked.
"I'm waiting." His voice was deep. She reached down and held on to his leg to try to keep from reaching back.
"Cicely, shall I start over?"
"What? No! One!"
"Try, 'one, sir.'"
"One," she said and quickly added, "Sir!"
"Back to one."
"No, that's not fair, Abel!" She almost reached back, but caught herself.
The next blow, when it fell, made her gasp.
"Ow! You're hurting me."
"That is the idea, young lady. Are you going to count, or shall I just keep spanking you the rest of the night?"
"No. Sir. I mean, "Two, sir!"
"I believe that was one."
She howled in protest.
"All right." Abel's voice held a hint of exasperation. "I've changed my mind. I will not require you to count. If I do, you may still be here this time tomorrow night. Be still." He waited a moment, until she answered.
"Yes, sir. But I think you're mean."
"You've been saying that since you were seven. I should have spanked you back then." His hand began coming down, peppering her bottom and upper thighs with his large, hard hand, until she slumped over his lap.
A moment escaped, and he heard a little voice say, "Ow."
"Now, are you ready for your last three?"
He heard a gasp, followed by a no. Giving her bottom another swat, he lifted her onto her feet.
"Bend over the bed."
She blinked and looked up at him.
"Shall I add more for being slow to respond?"
"No." She hurriedly moved to the bed and leaned over it.
He looked at the enticing sight she presented and shook his head. He moved to the high boy and opened the drawer. But as he approached the bed, he saw her peeking at him over her shoulder. When her eyes caught sight of the strap, they grew extremely wide.
"Wrap your hands in the bedsheets so you aren't tempted to reach back. Because if you do, it will mean extra swats. Do you understand?"
She nodded and fisted her small hands into the covers.
Leaning over her, he kissed her ear. "There are only three of these, sweetheart. Keep your hands away."
She heard the whistle of the strap through the air before she felt it—and then heard a scream before she realized it was coming from her own throat.
"Oh! Oh! Oh! Please, Abel, I promise I'll never lose my—" She screamed again as the second one cut across her backside.
"Oh, Abel! This hurts!" she wailed.
He paused. "Only one more, angel. I want you to take a deep breath. Are you ready?"
She shook her head but remained silent.
Abel leaned down behind her and drew a finger across each of the stripes he had inflicted. "Cicely Allison?"
"Yes. Sir?" She peeked over her shoulder.
"Only one more. It will hurt. I want you to take a deep breath."
She obeyed and then buried her face in the covers and waited.
When he struck, a plethora of sobbing began to escape from her.
Abel sat down on the bed by her and rubbed her back with one hand, while he examined the stripes he had inflicted with the other, as her crying began to slow.
"Do you understand that punishments are not something to be taken lightly, sweetheart?"
She stifled a hiccup, and he picked her up and cradled her in his arms. "I never took it lightly," she whispered.
"Do you still think I'm mean?" he asked softly, into her hair.
She shook her head. "No, sir. But it hurt."
"Yes. And it will hurt more the next time, if you lose your temper like that again. I hope you remember that."
Her face was buried into his chest, now, and she remained silent.
"Cicely?" he changed his position, so he could see her face more clearly.
She was asleep.
Awakening to Kisses
Cicely was lying on her belly. Something that felt like butterfly wings was making its way slowly down her neck. Then, it began to move down her spine. She sighed contentedly.
The lantern was still lit, and sh
e opened her eyes to look over her shoulder. They widened. Abel's large, naked frame met her eyes. His broad chest narrowed down to slim hips and powerful, muscular arms. She raised her head, trying to see more of him.
He grinned at her. "You fell asleep. Just as I planned to make love to you."
Cicely gulped. She had no clue what she should say. Slowly, she rolled over onto her back. But immediately, her eyes grew wide. With a whimper, she rolled back and looked up at him.
"Ow."
"You may be sore for a few days. Here." He took two pillows from the bed and put them down next to her hips, one over the other. Lifting her so she was lying face-down on top of them, he leaned down and kissed her temple.
"Wait!" she cried out. Putting out her jaw, she flashed emerald green eyes at him. "I want to see you, Abel Carter. Stand up."
"Bossy little thing, aren't you, for a young lady who has just had her bottom striped?"
She leaned up on one elbow and made a circling motion with her finger. "And turn around." When he gave her a look of warning, she said, trying to have an air of authority, "Sir? You've seen all of me. I want to see all of you."
Abel sighed and made a circle, before crossing his arms over his chest. "Satisfied?"
But her eyes were on his member, now, and had gone from demanding to uncertain.
"Abel, you're…" She gulped.
"Yes?" He leaned forward, until his face was inches from hers.
"Beautiful," she whispered. "But I don't think you'll fit."
A slow smile spread across his mouth. "I think we'll fit together just perfectly, my sweet girl. I'll show you." His voice was the one with the authority now.
Cicely took a deep breath as she watched him move over behind her. "What are you going to do?"
"Shall I tell you?" When she nodded, he smiled. "All right, then. I'm going to start by kissing my way up your back."
She shivered as he began. The lightest feathered kisses began traveling slowly upward, moving over toward her side. He brought her arms up above her head. "Don't move, young lady. This time, I have complete control. Just enjoy it." He turned her on her side slightly and began to kiss his way up the sides of her breast and up the inside of her arm. Reaching around her, he took her nipples and gently circled them, rolling them between his fingers.
Judging Cicely (Strasburg: The New Generation Book 1) Page 9
