Rebellious Bride

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  Looking about her, at least the day was a clear cool one at eight in the morning. Aaron was at the mill, she was tending to her work. Hopefully as the days passed, she could clear her mind and let her troubles fade into memory. Breathing deep, she let the morning air fill her lungs. She sighed and looked toward the clear blue of the sky and the gently moving trees in the distance. Then bending down she was about to take another sheet from her basket and fix it to the line.

  “Pssst, pssst,” Abigail heard the sound call her from her pleasant moment, “Abby,” the whispered voice was unmistakable. She jerked around.

  “Darcy!” Abigail exclaimed.

  “Shush.”

  Abigail heard the woman’s raspy voice, but she could barely see her. The redheaded Darcy Greenwood was at the edge of the house, hidden by a tall hawthorn bush.

  “What are you doing?” Abigail gasped, seeing her friend’s weary face, and tom clothes.

  “Shush!” Darcy repeated. Abigail could see the concern in Darcy’s expression as the woman motioned Abigail to her side.

  “Whatever is going on?” Abigail asked as she moved several paces to where Darcy was crouching down at the ground trying to stay out of sight.

  “He could be anywhere,” Darcy said.

  “Who?”

  “You know. That guy that wants me. Burt.”

  “Did he follow you?”

  “I think so.”

  “Darcy, this looks a lot more serious than you told me when you left,” Abigail exclaimed.

  “It is. But I can’t explain now. You have to help me. I need food and some clothes, that’s all. I’m staying in the old barn just off the road.”

  “At the burned out house?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why don’t you stay here?”

  “No! Never! I’m not going to get you involved in this.”

  “I already am.”

  “Abigail, don’t be stupid. All I need is a little help, and I’ll be on my way.”

  Looking down at her, Abigail could see that Darcy’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes were without the piss and vinegar that she always associated with her friend. “Are you okay?” she asked, reaching down to feel her forehead.

  “Yeah, I’m okay.” Darcy shook her off.

  “I’m all right, this has been going on since I left. It’s due to break soon.”

  “Well, you’re not going back to a drafty old barn. You’re staying here.”

  “No, I’m not!” Darcy shot back. “I just need to you to dress me up in a nice dress so I don’t look like myself, and then get me some food.”

  “Well at least come inside while I’m getting your things.”

  “No. I’d rather wait here.”

  When Darcy was stubborn, she was impossible to reason with. And she was being impossible now.

  Caught up in Darcy Greenwood’s sordid life once more, Abigail’s heart was beating fast, knowing for certain that no good would come of this foolishness. But, as usual, she couldn’t deny Darcy what she wanted. Casting a furtive glance about her, to see if anyone was watching them, she decided that they were quite alone, and she moved swiftly toward the porch. After scurrying about the house for several minutes gathering the things that her friend needed and a few she’d forgotten to mention Abigail returned to the old hawthorn bush to find Darcy practically sleeping against the side of the house.

  “You can’t be serious about this, Dare,” Abigail whispered to her. “You come inside, and I’ll take care of you.”

  “No, I won’t,” Darcy said waking up. She grabbed the bundle of things from Abigail’s hands began dressing in the old, but very feminine frock that Abigail had brought her.

  “I though the bonnet might help?” Abigail said. “Hide your hair.”

  “Yeah, that’s great, just what I need.”

  “I don’t like the looks of this at all,” Abigail said shaking her head.

  “I know, and that’s why I’m going to put as little burden on you as possible. I’ve already gotten you too involved.”

  “I want to help, Darcy, I just want to do it right.”

  “Believe me, you’re doing the right thing. Now if you could just casually walk with me to the road, like we’re two old friends.”

  “I’ll see you to your hideaway, thank you,” Abigail said indignantly. “You’ll see I can be stubborn too.”

  “Okay, but that’s all,” she replied. “So how do I look?”

  The wisp of an urchin woman stood up, looking much more fashionable and demure than she would ever look if it had been her choice. Abigail wanted to chuckle seeing Darcy looking so commonly attired, but the seriousness of the moment prevented that first feeling to surface.

  “You look like a regular church going young woman,” Abigail replied with a smile. “Though you also look terribly sick.”

  “Yeah, I just need to lay down. Let’s go.”

  The walk to the old barn was little more than a mile down the main road. The two women struck out looking like old friends going for a morning stroll. Reaching the old barn, it was clear that Darcy had stayed there every night since she’d left the Barrow home. Tucked away in the corner of the sagging building there was a spot of fresh hay where she’d made her bed, along with a few things that she’d been traveling with. Making certain she’d be all right, Abigail stayed with her awhile, finding water to cool her forehead and quench her thirst. Time past, Abigail not thinking about how long. She hated to leave Darcy there, especially when she was sick. But nearly lunchtime, she had little choice but to leave, lest Aaron discovers she’d been away without his knowledge.

  “I do have to go,” she said, drawing away from Darcy.

  “I’ll be all right,” the redhead assured her.

  “But I am coming back this afternoon to check on you,” Abigail said.

  “No, please,” Darcy pleaded in her weak voice, though she hardly had the strength to protest. The woman was tired, her body limp from the exertion of the day, and she let her head fall back against the pillow of straw, drifting off to sleep.

  Seeing how sick she was, Abigail was determined to return that afternoon. Making that resolution, she left the barn. And closing the door quietly behind her, she briskly made her way down the road home. To Abigail’s dismay, the moment she crossed the doorway into her kitchen she knew she was in for trouble. Aaron was there with eyes flashing, and a terrible grimace on his handsome face.

  “Where have you been?” he blared.

  “I, I uh … ” She stumbled over her words. Oh! Why hadn’t she gotten her story clear in her mind? She mourned silently to herself. Aaron was never there at 11:00 in the morning, and finding him home left her totally flustered for some reasonable excuse. Though none came.

  “Since that escapade of yours to Old Hannah’s, I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t be going anywhere without telling me?” Aaron reminded her.

  “But Aaron …” she started.

  “Don’t but me,” he seethed. “You still think you can take off without letting me know, my fair brat, you have another thing coming.”

  “Aaron please,” she tried to protest.

  But Aaron only motioned toward the kitchen table. “You know exactly what you’re getting. I don’t care what great excuses you have.”

  “Aaron,” she pleaded in a singsong voice, which only made her husband look more stern. “Over the end of the table and raise your skirt,” he ordered.

  “Don’t you want my explanation?” To that point, Abigail still hadn’t thought of something, but perhaps on the spur of the moment something inspired would come to mind.

  “No, I don’t,” Aaron said unexpectedly. “Over the table.” The stare he leveled at her was chilling, so she was shivering in her shoes, and scared to move. But Aaron’s next command changed all that. “You want the cane too?” he barked.

  “No! No!” she cried.

  “Then skedaddle,” he roared.

  Abigail was in tears, but compliant. How could this ke
ep happening to her? For an instant she almost ignored his command, hoping she could spit out the whole shameful tale of Darcy’s woes, but by the look in her husband’s eyes, he would hear none of it until she’d been thoroughly punished. Moving toward the kitchen table, she bent over, while out of the corner of her eye, she watched Aaron remove his belt from around his waist. She turned away, too scared to look anymore, and reaching for the far end of table, she grabbed on for dear life.

  Abigail having not raised her own skirt, Aaron reached for the hem of his wife’s dress and tossed the long garment up over her behind. All her naked glory showed. The two white orbs of her bottom were gleaming, ready to be blistered red by his leather belt. Standing back, Aaron eyed Abigail’s behind for a few seconds. How many ways he lusted after her fine rear flesh, though on his occasion, it was only the lust of righteousness that moved him, as his anger with her swelled. He was glad for the right to punish her, since it seemed to be the only thing that would get his message through to his rebellious bride even if he had to periodically repeat it.

  Doubling the long leather in his fist, Aaron reared back and then let the belt fly.

  Smack! The first strike, a nasty one, was a prelude to the entire hotfired whipping. Abigail jerked hard at the blow, and cried out something she rarely did with a first smack. As the smacks rained down, her feet were dancing a frenzied jig, each strike stinging so profoundly, her only recourse was to let some of the pain free with her squirming and the impassioned howls. Though she was in an agonizing fix, pleading with him at every strike, Aaron didn’t say a word and didn’t change his ruthless pace. With a determined methodical precision, he laid the strap across the two jiggling orbs, not pausing even once, until they were red from top to bottom.

  “Yeow! Gawd no! Please!” She stomped her feet in their staccato dance, jerked her bottom as if she could get away, but that only caused the descending leather to hit her tender sides where the sting made her agony worse yet. Her pointless efforts for some display of mercy were met only with more strikes, though at least for one instant Aaron paused.

  “How could l possibly deserve this?” Abigail wondered in the all too brief moment. “Such a small offense.”

  “Please Aaron, I can’t take anymore,” she let out her best protest. “Please no.”

  He stopped for an instant. “No, you say? I think I’ve been too easy on you,” he finally spoke. “But not anymore.”

  “Yeawww!” One especially hard strike whipped about her ass cheeks, the tip of the belt catching not her hips this time, but the high on the front thigh quite near her sensitive pubic mound.

  “You, my little lady, are going to behave yourself, or you’re going to find yourself with a bottom so sore, you’re never going to want to sit.” He was finally letting up the smacks as his lecture took over. “I’m not going to keep repeating myself, do you understand?”

  “Yes,” Abigail managed to sob.

  “I have very few rules, but I expect them to followed. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, yes it is.”

  Aaron leveled a final smack right in the middle of her sore behind. She jerked once more and then collapsed against the end of the table, realizing that her husband was finally finished.

  Usually after she’d been punished, Aaron Barrow’s anger was spent, and there was some kind of comfort in the aftermath. But this time, as her husband pulled Abigail up to standing, it seemed his expression was as severe as it had been when he first began.

  “I’m sorry, Aaron, I really am,” Abigail said as she wiped her tears away.

  “Good,” he said, though his face didn’t change a bit.

  “I am sorry, my love. Is something else wrong?” she asked, worried by his expression. Abigail stared at her hus band’s waist as he was replacing the leather belt. It made her shiver to see it, horrible, strange and even sometimes wonderful feelings were ignited by just looking at the formidable thing. Unfortunately, at the moment, the tension between she and Aaron was worse than ever, and there would be no sweet passions this time.

  “Yes, Abigail there is something wrong,” Aaron replied to her question.

  She looked up at his face now more troubled than grim.

  “Please tell me.”

  He cleared his throat obviously uncomfortable with his next words. “There’s a shortage in the accounts at the mill,” he said.

  Abigail’s eyes widened. “A shortage?”

  “Yes. I hate to think that I have a thief in my employ, but if I can’t figure this out in the books, I’ll have to assume … .” He didn’t finish.

  “You suspect someone?” she asked.

  “No. I don’t. That’s just it.”

  “Perhaps you were robbed by some intruder?”

  He shook his head. “There’s no evidence to point to that.” The more Aaron considered the matter, the more it was clear he was disturbed. He eyed his wife and then looked away, then eyed her again, as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. “You don’t suppose that Darcy … ” he began.

  “Aaron no!” Abigail exclaimed. “How could you ever…”

  “Very easily, considering her past.”

  “But that was the past.”

  “I just don’t know, I just don’t know.” He shook his head and breathed out a heavyhearted sigh, then walked toward the door. At the last minute he turned about and leveled another penetrating stare.

  “If you know anything, Abigail, you’d better tell me,” he said.

  “You know I would,” she said meekly in response.

  Did he hear how her voice quivered, or see how her knees were knocking under her skirt, or how her whole body tensed up at his warning? Leaving straightaway, she hoped that all those clues to her guilt passed him by.

  And with the stew he was in, she imagined they had. But once alone, Abigail broke out in tears, thinking of her whole horrible morning, and the awful dilemma she was faced with. Her lies, her deception, stolen money, a sick friend and a husband that was watching her every move. At least for the moment there would be no going anywhere. Strange, he hadn’t even asked her where she’d been certainly that was a slip of the mind. When he finally did think to ask her, she’d need a better answer than her earlier tonguedtied attempt.

  Aaron returned for lunch just an hour later. His mood had not lightened, and the couple ate in silence, until he pushed away from the table and rose to leave.

  “I have to make a delivery up the mountain. I trust you’ll behave yourself while I’m gone?” he asked.

  “I wouldn’t dare not to,” Abigail said with a faint grin, and she reached around and felt her still sore behind.

  “Good,” he nodded, and he turned and left.

  Ah! It was the chance she was looking for. There should be plenty of time to get to Darcy’s barn and back before Aaron returned from his trip of the steep mountain trail. He wouldn’t likely be home until at least five that evening.

  A half hour later, just to make certain that there hadn’t been a change of plans, Abigail put several oatmeal cookies in a bundle and dashed toward the mill where she could see with her own eyes that Aaron was indeed leaving for the afternoon.

  “Here. A little peace offering,” she said, handing him his favorite cookies. “You forgot them at dinner.”

  “Thank you,” he nodded. He gave her his first smile since early morning.

  “And should I plan our supper late?”

  “No, I should return by four, by five if the high road is bad, but I don’t suspect so.”

  She nodded as if she was happy to hear that news. “Then I’ll see you in a few hours.” Her most charming grin was melting his dour mood even more. And leaning over he gave her a kiss on the mouth. If there weren’t so many secrets between them right now, she would have been heartened by the affectionate gesture. She expected that her unsuspecting husband would be good company in bed that night, she could even feel herself swoon a bit letting the strength of his nature, which always aroused her, tickle he
r body in a delicious way.

  Abigail waited at the mill while Aaron hitched the horses to the wagon, and then waved gayly to him as he pulled out of the mill yard. Once he was out of sight however, she made her way straight to the house, and gathered a few things together, knowing that she would have to move fast to make the trip back to Darcy without being found out.

  “My, you’re looking better,” Abigail exclaimed as she watched Darcy sitting up, sipping the mug of soup that she’d brought her ailing friend.

  “I am feeling much better. The fever broke. Though I imagine, I should sit tight another day.”

  “I would say so,” Abigail said sternly. “You still don’t look very well.”

  “So how did you make out with being away?” Darcy asked.

  “What was that?” Abigail would rather have avoided the question.3

  “With Aaron, you dummy. He didn’t find out you were gone?”

  Abigail blushed before she could lie. “He caught me, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh, drat! I’m sorry.”

  “It was just a little licking he gave me.”

  “He whupped you too? That nasty varmint!”

  “I deserved it, Darcy. You remember his warnings about my gadding about anywhere I want?”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry I’ve gotten you into this, I really am.”

  “I know. But some things you just have to do, even if the consequences are bad.”

  Darcy gave her an appreciative smile. “But you better be getting home now,” she said.

  “You’re right about that, I won’t be late this time.”

  “You’re a real friend to help me, Abby. But you get on now, before you get your behind blistered again.”

  “I will.” Abigail stood up and looked down at Darcy. She did look much better, enough for Abigail to think that the worst of her woes were over. Grabbing for her bag, she headed for the barn door. But opening the creaky old thing, she immediately stopped short.