Once Upon a Christmas Wedding

by Scarlett Scott

  The children argued over who should go down first. Holly interrupted the heated discussion and decreed that Kitty should go first, followed by herself and Clemmy, and lastly, Libby.

  Kitty seated herself on the toboggan, and the others gave her a push. She was off, gaining momentum as she sped down the slope, whooping with joy.

  “Why did you leave me until last?” Libby suddenly asked.

  Holly glanced at her eldest stepdaughter.

  “Because you are the eldest and most adult of your sisters, and I knew I could rely upon you to accept that going last was no insult,” she explained.

  Libby nodded but made no further comment.

  Kitty arrived a while later, slightly out of breath, having trudged back up the hill towing the sledge.

  “This is why we need one each,” she informed them.

  Holly ignored her and positioned the toboggan, seating herself as far back as she could, gesturing for Clemmy to join her.

  “Why can’t I go down on mines own?” the child whined petulantly.

  Holly was determined to remain patient. “You can do, after this first time, but it would be best we go together to begin with,” she suggested.

  Clemmy clambered in front of her and sat, whereupon Holly wrapped one hand securely about the child’s middle and gripped the steering rope with the other.

  The start of the ride was slow, but their combined weight and gravity did the rest. Soon they were both shrieking with glee as the bottom of the hill raced up to meet them. They came to a halt and tipped sideways into a flurry of powdery snow. Clemmy laughed so infectiously that merriment bubbled up, and Holly giggled at the child’s antics.

  They were met halfway back up the hill by Libby and Kitty. Libby grabbed the rope of the sled and ran upwards, away from them, towing the toboggan behind her.

  “My bootlace is undone,” Clemmy grumbled.

  Holly hunkered down beside her to rethread her boot. There was a shout from above, and Kitty jumped up and down, waving her arms frantically.

  “Stay here,” Holly commanded the child. She struggled through the snow, and at the top of the rise she was met by a tearful Kitty.

  “Libby wouldn’t listen! She went down the wrong way and she hasn’t got up!” the child gabbled, pointing towards the woodland situated on the other side of the summit.

  Holly squinted down the hill to where a jumble of sledge and child was visible. Libby lay still, resting against what appeared to be a high bank of snow.

  “The fence!” Holly cried, recalling Silas’s warning. “Dear lord, no. Libby!” She yelled.

  There was no response from the prone child. Holly turned to Kitty.

  “Quickly, go and fetch Clemmy. Take her and run to find help. Try where we spoke to Silas, and if he is not there, run to the house and fetch your father, or any adult.”

  Not waiting for a reply, Holly slithered and stumbled as fast as she dared down the much steeper slope to where her stepdaughter laid still and unmoving.

  “Libby, Libby!” she called, reaching the girl’s side.

  “Ouch, my legs hurt,” Libby mumbled tearfully.

  Holly sent a prayer of relief that the child was conscious. Stark red blood stained the pristine snow.

  Holly straightened Libby’s legs gently, one at a time. Deep gouges had ripped into the flesh above each of Libby’s knees. She packed snow over the wounds in an attempt to halt the bleeding. The toboggan lay tilted on its side; it had collided with the fallen fence which was hidden, buried beneath the fresh fall of snow. Holly shifted Libby’s head onto her lap and stroked the child’s forehead. Libby sobbed quietly and complained of being cold.

  Help finally arrived in the form of a horse-drawn sleigh, handled by Gregory himself accompanied by two footmen, one seated, another hanging off the back to balance the vehicle on turns.

  “Libby, are you all right?” Gregory called and leapt down from the driver’s position.

  “P-Papa, I-I am s-s-o c-cold,” his daughter cried, her teeth chattering.

  Gregory grabbed a rug which he threw over his daughter. The footman clambered down in order to help move the child, but Gregory slipped his arms beneath Libby and scooped her up. Cradling her against his chest, he carried her to the sleigh.

  “Holly, climb up here and sit down. You shall support Libby’s head,” he ordered.

  Holly needed no further urging. Gregory gently lowered the child’s head onto her lap. One of the footmen added a pile of furs and blankets to the plaid one already covering Libby.

  “I am most displeased with you, young lady.” Gregory scolded, casting a steely glare at Holly.

  Once back at the house, she followed her husband as he carried his daughter through to the withdrawing room. He yelled for someone to go and fetch Doctor Powell using the sleigh.

  Gregory settled his daughter on a chaise longue. Kitty and Clemmy were already seated side by side next to Nanny, on one of the upright sofas. The girls sipped steaming cups of hot milk.

  Mrs Lane approached with a bowl of hot water and a cloth which Holly took from her. She asked the housekeeper if she had a recipe for a poultice. When the housekeeper answered in the affirmative, she sent her to make one.

  Libby whimpered as her father carefully unlaced and removed his daughter’s boots. The long scratches across the leather indicated that her wounds would have been far worse had she not been wearing her calf boots. Next, Nanny helped pull off her shredded stockings, revealing a cut to each leg just above the knees, which looked angry and deep. Holly stepped forward with the bowl of water.

  “Give those to me and go to your chambers,” Gregory suddenly barked.

  “What? No! This is not my fault…”

  “Not your fault? I specifically told you not to take the girls tobogganing.”

  “Papa, Papa! Honestly, it was no fault of Holly’s. This is all my own doing,” Libby interrupted, highly distressed. “Silas warned us not to go down the steeper slope, and Holly reminded us of that, but I didn’t listen. I wanted to show her that I was not a little girl anymore and that I could manage it. I’m s-so s-sorry,” she apologised, weeping.

  Holly went and knelt beside the child. “I understand, and all is forgiven. You can prove that you are a very grown up girl in a moment because this is going to sting like the very blazes.”

  Before Gregory could interfere, she gently dabbed the two wounds with the wet cloth. Libby shrieked and kicked out, but Gregory immediately leant in and held his daughter’s legs still, so that Holly could do what needed to be done to clean the cuts. Nanny crossed quickly to Libby’s other side and took her charge’s hands within her grasp, cooing reassurance.

  “The cuts seem to be bleeding even more now that Libby has warmed up. I wonder… You there, would you send someone outside to fill a pillowcase with snow—the lighter, powdery stuff. I think the cold might slow the bleeding,” Holly called across the room to where a footman hovered by the door.

  “Holly,” Libby whimpered.

  “Yes, darling, I am here,” she answered.

  “I am s-so sorry. I didn’t mean to get you into t-trouble. Ouch…my legs hurt-t!” she ended on a wail.

  “Nanny, take the younger girls up to the nursery. It is nearly time for their lunch,” Gregory ordered.

  “No, Papa, I want to stay with Libby,” Kitty argued.

  “I don’t; I is very hungry,” Clemmy stated firmly.

  Nanny brooked no refusal and took the complaining Kitty in one hand and Clemmy with the other. She led them both away.

  The room felt calmer and less crowded once they’d left.

  The footman returned with a pillow sham filled with snow which Gregory took and placed gently over Libby’s legs.

  Mrs. Lane returned with a warm poultice. “I have discovered some laudanum downstairs, if you think a half dose might help the young lady, milord?” the housekeeper suggested.

  “Yes, please, I think that would be a great help,” Gregory replied, just as Holly spoke.<
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  “That would be very helpful, thank you, Mrs Lane.” She smiled across at Gregory, but although he glanced at her, his expression remained stony.

  Libby slept after she took a teaspoon of the drug, and Gregory dismissed the butler and housekeeper, asking them to keep a look out for the doctor.

  With just the three of them remaining and Libby sound asleep, Gregory turned to Holly.

  “Your hoydenish behaviour is the cause of this. I order you to your chamber where you will remain until I come and mete out the punishment you deserve.”

  “Gregory, I…”

  “NO! Enough! Do as I bid,” he stated, drawing himself to full height, towering over her.

  With a sob in her throat, Holly swept from the room.

  Chapter 13

  She considered journeying to her parents in London but she instinctively knew they would send her back to Gregory, post-haste. There would be no excuse acceptable to them that warranted a wife leaving her husband. Besides, the inclement weather prevented all hope of travel.

  Having paced her room, Holly crossed to the window to admire the panoramic winter landscape of the parkland. Snow was falling once again, fusing the line betwixt land and sky in a soft white blur. Even if she wanted to leave, travel would be impossible. She guessed the blanket of snow to be at least a foot in depth.

  There was a tap at the door, and Matilda entered.

  “The master sent me, milady,” she explained, bobbing a curtsy.

  “Oh?”

  “He asked me to help you disrobe.” Matilda coloured up with embarrassment.

  “What on earth for, it is nearly luncheon?” Holly asked, perplexed.

  “It wasn’t my place to ask, milady, but since it is still your honeymoon…” Matilda’s voice trailed off. It was clear to Holly she felt uncomfortable.

  She shivered. The fire was out and would not usually be relit again until nearer nightfall.

  “You’d better light the fire first, Matilda, it is very chilly in here,” she stated, changing the subject. She very much doubted her maid’s assumption that her husband was in a loving mood and resigned herself to whatever Gregory had planned.

  By the time she was down to her drawers and chemise, the fire was blazing. “I shall leave the rest of my undergarments on until the fire has heated the chamber.”

  “Why don’t you hop into bed, milady, that will help you stay warm,” Matilda suggested.

  Thus Holly was sitting up, nestled into a pile of plump pillows when Gregory arrived some ten minutes later.

  He looked at her but did not speak immediately. Removing his smoking jacket and waistcoat, he hung them on a chair back and then crossed to the foot of the bed.

  “Last Friday, what was it you promised me, in oath, before God and witnesses?” he asked.

  “To love, honour, and obey,” she replied, frowning, mystified by the question.

  “What did I specifically tell you only yesterday about my daughters going tobogganing?”

  “That you didn’t want them to…but Gregory I…”

  “No. No ‘buts’! You blatantly disobeyed me, and the consequence of that disregard caused Libby to be severely hurt. I cannot overlook your flouting of my authority. Get up.”

  She scrambled off the mattress feeling utterly miserable.

  Gregory seated himself on the edge of the vacated bed.

  “Come here.”

  Holly remained where she was. There was something she had to know. “Please tell me what the doctor said about Libby’s injuries?” she implored.

  “He put sutures into both cuts. She was immensely brave, but I could see they were painful, and she wept. The doctor ordered her to rest in bed for a couple of days to allow the wounds to knit. He left some laudanum powders to help her with the pain. I shall send the sleigh into the village to fetch him at the end of next week. That is, if there is snow still upon the ground, and he will remove the stitches then.”

  Gregory crooked a finger at her.

  “Now then, no more prevarication. Do as I bid you, come here.”

  She met his eye; although stern, warmth and affection lit his gaze. His lip quirked with a stiff smile, and she knew instinctively he would never harm her.

  Reluctantly, nervously, she obeyed. He reached for the bow at her waist and released it so her drawers fell about her ankles. She kicked the garment free.

  “Give me your hand.” He held out his own, and meeting his eyes, she placed a trembling palm in his. The knowledge that he would not hurt her did nothing to calm her quaking nerves.

  With a tug, she found herself tilted across his lap. She whimpered. Her hands landed palms down upon the floor. Humiliation rose, and she contemplated her predicament, laid bare-bottomed and facedown over his thighs.

  “I hope that this will be the deterrent required to bridle your wilful hubris.”

  “What are you doing?!” she cried, even though she understood his intention full well.

  “Spanking you,” he replied firmly, landing a hard slap on her squirming posterior.

  Holly squealed at the sting.

  He laid down several hard smacks before speaking.

  “If I tell you to do something, I expect to be obeyed,” he told her, his hand once again connected with the quivering flesh of her creamy buttocks.

  “Your daughters need fresh air and they need to play!” she dared to argue.

  “I shall decide what is best for my children and for my wife. You will respect my wishes, I am your husband,” he replied, adding another flurry of thwacks to her churning backside.

  “You are beginning to hurt me. Let me go!” she demanded.

  He laughed dryly. “Beginning to hurt, eh? It seems that we have a long way to go then, young lady. Settle down and accept my discipline. I can always fetch a strap if you intend to fight against my right to chastise you,” he threatened.

  Holly had never been spanked in her entire life. She was fully aware that hers was an unusual situation, having overheard a number of discussions among her friends about their governess’s and father’s methods of corporal discipline. The single slap Gregory landed to her posterior the other night had actually titillated and excited her. This punishment, however, was not at all the same thing.

  Her bottom stung with every glancing blow her husband delivered. The searing heat of her rear end bloomed to such a scalding pitch that she could no longer contain her tears. Blubbing, she fought to be free and, balancing on one hand, she flung back her other to protect her stinging behind.

  “Stop it, you beast!” she cried.

  He captured her hand and held it fast. The resulting volley of slaps made her wish she’d not attempted to intervene.

  “I’m so sorry,” she called, desperate to appease him.

  “No doubt.” His insensitive reply infuriated her.

  “You are a cruel and pompous oaf,” she shrieked, livid.

  “Yes, I am aware of your opinion of my character. You phrased it quite succinctly yesterday. I console myself that I am not a spoiled little hoyden like you, my dear wife,” he retaliated.

  “How dare you! I am not!” she yelled.

  “Yes, you are, but fear not, I shall soon rectify the flaw,” he informed her.

  He redoubled his efforts, her burning nether flesh paying the price for her outburst. Genuine tears of discomfort and remorse leaked from her eyes, but this time she remained silent, accepting the spanking. Finally, she understood that nothing she said or did would change the outcome. Gregory would make that choice, and the knowledge that her husband wielded power and dominion over her, helped with her decision to accept her situation. She submitted.

  He had the right of it; she had, in fact, promised him in front of witnesses that she would obey him as her husband. He owned her, was responsible for her health and wealth, he was even accountable for any debts she incurred. It was the law, and also the norm. Holly embraced her role as Gregory’s wife.

  This chastisement was humiliating and unpleas
ant in the extreme, but ultimately, she knew he would not harm her. It did, however, sting and burn her nether flesh. She continued to weep until she was sobbing, apologising profusely for her error of judgment.

  With dizzying speed, she found herself suddenly right end up, seated upon Gregory’s knee.

  “Good girl,” he said simply, kissing her forehead.

  She felt inexplicably proud. He hugged her. Fishing out a clean handkerchief, he mopped up her tears. She relaxed against his chest.

  “Now then, into bed, minx, and rest. I’ll instruct Matilda to fetch a tray of tea in about an hour. She can help you dress in time to join me for afternoon tea. No doubt you will be rather hungry by then, having missed your luncheon.”

  He pulled back the bedcovers, and she slipped between the sheets, relishing the cool of the cotton against the flesh of her flaming behind.

  “I’m to have no luncheon?” she asked tremulously.

  “No, I am afraid not. You shall remain here and contemplate your disobedience. I hope that in giving you time to reflect, I shall not have to address this problem again.” He leant down and lightly grazed her lips with his before straightening. “However, you are forgiven for today. Uh, there is one other thing…” He coughed, sounding unsure how to form his next words.

  “There is to be no pleasure after punishment, understood?” he asked. Confusion must have shown on her face because he added, “No touching yourself.”

  No touching myself? Whatever does he mean?

  “Holly, your word on this, if you please.”

  “I um, no… I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she blurted.

  “No pleasuring yourself,” he explained.

  Heat flooded her cheeks.

  “Uh, yes… I understand,” she added hastily. It would never have occurred to her to do such a thing.

  Gregory seemed satisfied by her answer. He nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Holly shifted in the bed. Her bottom prickled at the movement, and all at once she knew why he’d asked that of her. A shaft of desire ignited betwixt her thighs. Her quim felt slick. Placing her hand between her legs, Holly found that she was drenched. Without conscious thought, she stroked her folds, moving her finger over a nubbin of raised flesh from whence the most intense and delightful sensation radiated. With a few flicks of her fingers, joy washed over her as an orgasm broke, and cascading waves of pleasure shook her frame.