"One moment, my dear." Richard stalked forward and wrapped long fingers around her upper arm. His hand was hot against the chilled flesh and burned through her dressing gown.
"I'm afraid I am very busy today. I—"
"You will apologize for your diatribe. You will go over my lap for the spanking you clearly need, and then you will have breakfast before you attend to your tasks. I will see for myself if you will be allowed to keep the gelding."
Elizabeth bit her lip as she thought of a way to escape her coming punishment. Richard's large body blocked the door, but she had nowhere to go even if she managed to evade him. "Very well, my lord. I am sorry for my outburst. I shall endeavor to keep my temper in the future."
"Good girl. Thank you." He walked to the chair and sat down before patting his knee. "Now for the rest of it. Please remove your garments and put yourself over my knee."
"I'm sure you can spank me quite well without—"
"Now, Elizabeth."
Richard's scowl sent a shard of fear into her belly, and she unbuttoned her dressing gown with shaking fingers. His eyes darkened, flashing black for an instant before lightening to icy blue, and she shook her head at the discomfiting sight, knowing it was a product of her imagination. Gritting her teeth, she pulled her nightdress over her head and laid it across the other chair, along with her dressing gown.
Her feet dragged as she trudged across the bathing chamber, and she stopped a few feet away from him. He reached out and grabbed her hand then pulled her closer.
"Over my knee, wife. You know what to do."
Holding in a sigh of resignation, Elizabeth obeyed and bent forward to settle her torso across Richard's lap. He pulled her closer and she felt his member grow hard under her. He laid a hand on her bottom, stroking the flesh with his warm palm. Despite her ignoble position and worry, she relaxed at the gentle touch.
The first blow fell to her backside, and she nearly bit off her tongue trying to hold back her pained cry. She would not give him the satisfaction and vowed to remain silent for the entirety of this humiliation. Over and over, his large hand fell, painting her bottom with pain.
When he turned his attention to the tender crease between her thighs and buttocks, she forgot her vow and cried out. Tears streamed from her eyes as she sobbed in pain, yet he continued abusing her tender flesh.
"I'm sorry!"
Her choked words brought respite, and Richard ceased his punishing blows. The touch of his palm on her abused flesh made her shudder as he stroked her.
"Good girl." He pulled her up from his lap and wiped her face with a cloth before standing up. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he led her into the bedchamber and to the bed.
Her feet stalled, but he pulled her forward until her knees hit the mattress. She obeyed Richard's unspoken command and climbed on the bed, even though she wanted to refuse. He had done nothing wrong, according to the law. It was his right to punish her disobedience, and take his ease from her whether she wanted it or not. No one would say a word against him if she complained.
She got to her hands and knees, lowering her head to the pillow as she remembered her father's last few words to her. Sir James would be delighted to know that she was being spanked. Even if he cared about her, he did not have the power or finances to battle the Earl of Shepton.
Richard stroked her back as he knelt between her thighs, nudging them apart to give himself room. Bending over her body, he brushed her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck as he reached a hand down to her core.
He chuckled when he found damp flesh, her cunt weeping moisture as the heat from her spanking traveled deeply into her body.
"I think I might have to find a different punishment. You seem to enjoy being spanked, my dear."
She refused to answer such an outlandish comment and closed her eyes as he stroked her. He could not be right about such a thing. His spankings did not arouse her, but the evidence between her thighs told its own truth.
Richard nipped the back of her neck and straightened, his hard member seeking and finding her woman's flesh. She closed her eyes and tried to relax against the intrusion, fully expecting him to take her violently.
Yet when he entered her slowly, giving her time to adjust, she let out the breath she'd been holding and softened her body. He groaned and clenched her hips as he penetrated her fully, his hardened flesh seated deeply in her channel. Slowly, languorously, he moved within her and she tightened around him, unable to resist the sensation.
His cock twitched and he gasped. "Elizabeth!" Groaning, he fell over and kissed the back of her neck, nuzzling deeply into her hair to find flesh to kiss and nibble.
Shocked speechless that he'd used her name instead of Angeline's, she attempted to tighten around him again, desperate to find out if his reaction was a fluke or if it could be controlled and repeated.
After a few false starts, she figured it out and managed to clench him tightly enough that he cried out, his shout echoing to the rafters as his cock swelled inside her. He grabbed her hair, pulling her back as he thrust, his tight grip on her unrelenting.
With a feral growl, he pressed into her a final time. He cursed, and she felt his warm seed bathe her channel. Drops of his sweat fell to her back and he lowered his head into her hair, his breath hot against her neck. After a moment, he collapsed to the side, his arms splayed out as he tried to catch his breath.
Elizabeth did not care that she hadn't reached her delight. She'd found something better. Turning her head so Richard couldn't see her smirk, she whispered to herself, "I win."
Leaving him panting on the bed, she got up and sauntered to the bathing chamber to wash and retrieve her dressing gown. It was time for breakfast.
Richard was gone when she returned, but she did not care. Knowing she was alone, she picked up a spoon and the serving dish of scrambled eggs and sat by the window as she ate. Her newfound insight was too delicious, and she grinned as she shoveled food into her mouth, uncaring that it was cold. She ignored the twinges of pain from her abused bottom. It would fade. She had more important things to consider.
Could she tempt Richard away from his mistress? Did she want to? Despite being married nearly a month, she knew nothing about him. If he stayed, she could decide what to do about it, but she would not make that decision until she'd learned more about her husband.
She returned the serving dish and spoon to the table and swallowed a cup of tepid chocolate. Opening the wardrobe containing her clothes, she considered her schedule.
Counting linens seemed an utter waste of time. Most of what she'd found in the linen chests was so moth-eaten and stained it was unusable. The carpets were atrocious, while the drapes were so fouled with dust and insects she could barely bring herself to touch them. The servants did the bare minimum of work. Everything looked wonderful on the surface, but the simple act of opening a curtain or moving a rug revealed the hidden dirt. Even the dimwitted Nan in her father's house had done a better job.
Why, just a few days past, she'd found a nest of infant mice in one of the library armchairs as she was plumping the cushions. She made a note to herself to see about getting a cat or two.
It was almost worse than her father's house. That house bore its decay on the outside. This house reminded her of a rodent's nest she'd found in an old wardrobe that had been relegated to the attic. It had been lovely on the outside. Inside, it had been chewed, fouled with droppings and carcasses.
She straightened her spine. If Lord Shepton had deep enough pockets to have such a splendid bathing chamber, he certainly had enough wealth to finance some redecorating.
Chapter 6
The chain of wedlock is so heavy that it takes two to carry it - and sometimes three.
Heraclitus
After finishing her correspondence, she dressed in her pretty riding habit and gazed at herself in the mirror. With her feathered hat and beautiful dress, she looked every inch the smartly dressed countess. Sighing, she chuckled to herself. It
was merely window dressing, fine decoration for the daughter of an impoverished knight who had sold his only child. Still, it was fun to pretend for a day.
She walked down the stairs, her heels clicking a tattoo on the wooden floors as she gathered her cloak and gloves. The day was brisk, but weak sunlight shone through the clouds. It would be a fine day for a warmly dressed rider, and the small village was only a few miles down the road.
She had little hope of finding everything she wanted, but things could be ordered. It was also important to her that she give the village her custom wherever possible. These people were her neighbors and tenants. Their prosperity reflected that of the Shepton estate.
Roland saddled the stallion for her, but she declined a groom. His face set into lines of disapproval, he nodded and helped her mount. She didn't have the heart to tell him she was quite capable of managing the task on her own. Nor did she tell him that he was the only person who had ever helped her sit a horse.
"If Lord Shepton asks after me, you may tell him I went to the village. I should return before tea."
"Yes, my lady. Have a safe ride."
"Thank you." She gathered the reins and chirped at the stallion, setting off at a walk toward the lane. She was trotting before she eased her horse through the gate and cantering well before she reached the road leading to the village. Her laughter rang, spurring her horse into a faster gait, his joy matching hers.
Too soon, she reached the outskirts of the village, and she drew on the reins to slow the stallion into a sedate hack more befitting a lady. He huffed his irritation as he slowed, and she patted his neck in thanks. She promised herself she'd behave for the trip back to Richard's estate. Such pleasurable activities as rides by one's self should be made to last.
She stopped at a rather large shop with bolts of cloth piled in a neat stack in the front window, deciding that it would be a good place to start.
It was well after tea by the time she finished, but she had carpenters ready to build new furnishings to order, masses of new linens, and a few swatches of carpet and drapery fabric she could order at her leisure. She hadn't yet decided what colors she wanted, but they would be elegant and fashionable.
Perhaps she should send away for a few catalogs for ideas. She tapped her chin thoughtfully as she walked back to the tavern where she'd left her horse. No, she would decorate to suit herself. Richard didn't appear to entertain, and she hadn't received a single caller, save the local vicar who had invited her to Sunday services. It was best to create a home in which she would be comfortable. Especially since it appeared she'd be occupying it by herself most of the time.
Most importantly, she'd made all her purchases in the village, ensuring their loyalty and respect. It didn't matter that she would have to wait several weeks for most of it, though the linens would be ready within a fortnight. She would need their regard when Richard left her alone to be with his mistress.
A groom helped her into the saddle, and she thanked him before returning home, her pace slowed by her determination to make the ride last a bit longer, and by her unwillingness to spar with her husband. Too soon, the gate loomed in front of her, the wrought iron spikes surmounting the stone pillars threatening despite the innocuous surroundings.
As she made her way down the lane, she stopped to contemplate the dower house. It was more a cottage, but looked like it might be very comfortable. She would live there one day, God willing, and resolved to have a look at it another time. She was already late for tea.
The stallion pranced impatiently as she approached the stable. He was still out of condition and was anxious to get to his warm stall and a bin of oats. She laughed cheerfully and patted his arched neck. Her laughter died away when she saw who approached to help her dismount.
Richard held out a hand, helping her from the saddle. "Did you have an enjoyable ride, my lady? I was beginning to grow worried when you didn't return for tea."
"It was lovely, thank you, and I am sorry I'm late. My errands took longer than expected."
He blinked as if he was surprised by her apology and looked the stallion over. "He looks very fit. I confess I didn't believe you."
"You made that clear, my lord. He still has some work to do before he's half the horse Storm is. He doesn't make it halfway to the village before he's blowing and damp. He's a bit lazy, but he's very sweet and well-behaved."
He narrowed his eyes. "You went to the village? What for?"
"Yes. I ordered new linens and plan to choose new carpet and drapes."
"I see." He was silent for a moment then took her hand and tucked it around his arm. "Is there something wrong with what we have? Or are you simply spending money for the sake of it? I must also ask why you thought it appropriate to do such things without permission."
"I was brought up to be thrifty with my funds, my lord. I don't spend money without cause, and you asked me to take care of your home not an hour after our wedding. The linens are moth-eaten. I found a nest of mice in an armchair in the library. The carpets are almost worn through, and I don't even want to discuss the draperies."
"What's wrong with the draperies? They only need to cover windows."
She shuddered, nearly pulling her hand from his arm. "Spiders, my lord." She put a hand over her mouth and shivered once more. "Lots of spiders. I could have tolerated the clouds of dust and the mysterious stains, but not that. I have already discussed the situation with the servants, but I'm afraid everything needs to be replaced. Everything has been neglected for so long that it's beyond repair or cleaning."
To his credit, he winced. "I apologize. I was unaware of their condition. You may replace whatever you see fit."
"It's already done. I bargained wisely, and the villagers won't cheat you, but you should expect several large bills coming shortly."
"Why didn't you just send away to London for everything? It would have saved you the effort."
She held her tongue for a moment. That very attitude was one of the great failings of the aristocracy. When she thought about such things, she was often surprised that British commoners hadn't done something like the French had to their own nobility during their appalling revolution. Of course, as the daughter of a knight, and now a countess, she would have been included in that horrible purge.
Drawing in a deep breath and praying for patience, she said, "I chose to take my custom to the village because many of those people are your tenants. If I pay them for goods, they are able to pay their rents back to you. I prefer to enrich the people close to me rather than some London shop I may never visit that has no impetus to remain honest."
Staring at her, his mouth hung open for a moment, but he soon closed it and nodded. "That is very astute of you, my dear."
"Thank you. If I may be so bold, there is a lovely copy of Adam Smith’s work on such things in your library. I will fetch it for you after tea."
Ignoring her comment, he gestured around at the drive swept clean of snow and the burlap covered rose bushes surrounding the front steps. "Was this all your doing as well?"
She stopped at the top of the steps, making him jerk to a halt. "My lord—" Her voice sounded testy even to herself. She took a deep breath and tried again. "Richard, if it looks different than you remember, it was my doing. I am hopeful my efforts will please you."
Removing her hand from his arm, she strode into the house, leaving him alone on the landing. He chased after her, catching her in the foyer as she removed her cloak and gloves.
"Where did you find the time to do all this?" He waved his arms, gesturing to the newly waxed floors and the windows, bare of coverings but sparkling clean.
"I haven't done nearly everything I've wished to do, but you were gone for over three weeks, my lord. Industrious hands and a half dozen servants make short work of even the most onerous task. Shall we have tea?"
His teeth clenched together in irritation, but he gave her a sharp nod. She wondered if she would be spanked again tonight. She had been quite ill-tempered with h
im, but honestly, the man had no sense! Yet she couldn't help the pleasurable twinge in her belly as she thought about being laid over his lap for another spanking.
"I'm almost afraid to ask what else you plan."
"That is surely the most sensible thing you've said all day."
∞∞∞
Days later, her new home flourished under her care and the attention of the now industrious servants. She'd ordered new carpets and drapes, along with several new pieces of furniture, and she only waited for warm spring days to have the rooms painted. Everything was polished to a high gloss, and the house smelt pleasantly of lemon oil and beeswax.
Best of all, there was no scent of boiled cabbage and tobacco smoke, and her husband seemed pleased with her efforts.
Elizabeth couldn't fault her husband's recent treatment of her. She never refused his attentions in their bedchamber, no matter the time of day, and she found him a considerate and gentle lover. It was so utterly different from her wedding night and the day he'd returned from his absence; she kept waiting for him to revert. She could see it in his face, and in his hungry gaze as they went about their day. It was only a matter of time, and she found herself wishing it would never come.
He also hadn't spanked her. She didn't know whether to be pleased or disappointed at the lack, but she'd made it a point to control her behavior after he'd spanked her the day he'd returned from his mistress. She wasn’t sure whether to believe his tale about attending Parliament, but she was sure he’d visited Angeline during his absence.
That worry in the back of her mind grew smaller and smaller each day, though. She enjoyed his company. He was well-spoken and had traveled to many fascinating places. She liked hearing his stories of India, and he was an entertaining and charming companion on their rides around his expansive property. She played the pianoforte for him, and he even taught her to dance a waltz.
Wicked Deception (Wicked Magic Book 1) Page 7
