When Lord Warren finished stretching, he sat forward on the seat. “Would you like me to light the lamp?”
Josephine agreed that she would like that, for she still felt leftover anxiety from her dream. She knew there were no tigers here, and no danger. Well, not the sort of danger she was used to. She stared at Lord Warren’s thighs as he reached to light the candle in the glass lamp and hang it overhead.
You’ve been spanked over those thighs
, she thought. She couldn’t stop thinking about that whole affair, or the kiss that had come afterward.
The candle filled the traveling compartment with a soft, warm glow, illuminating velvet pillows and gilt trim. It illuminated him too, so she could see his features and the fine gold embroidery on his coat. He touched her hand, just for a moment, and she remembered the way he’d clasped her in the woods. She remembered the leashed strength in his body, and the way they’d kissed. What did that touch mean? Had the honeymoon begun yet?
“I am curious about Warren Manor,” she said.
He seemed pleased at that. “What are you curious about? Would you like me to describe it?”
“Yes, that would be wonderful.”
He settled back on the seat. “Let’s see. Warren Manor is south of Oxford and west of Cowley. It lies on four hundred or so acres of land, and has been in my family for nine generations. Which means it’s rather old, but it’s been updated at various times. The home itself has four wings around a central courtyard, and two towers on the south side, along with stables and a servants’ residence which was added during the latter part of the previous century.”
“I imagine a house of that size has a great many beds.”
He gave her a quizzical look. “Yes, it does. Warren Manor is full to the brim with beds. Of course you shall have your own suite of rooms there, to decorate and furnish as you wish. You’ll have a dressing room and a sitting room, and a bedroom of your own.”
She felt a wave of relief. “Oh. That sounds wonderful.”
“Yes. This marriage thing won’t be such a trial. You’ll see.”
He spoke a bit more about Warren Manor, and his parents who had died in that tragic carriage accident. She prayed he wouldn’t inquire about her parents, and he didn’t, only talked about furnishings, and architectural styles, and refurbishments, and household staff, and a lot of other things that Josephine had trouble following after a while.
“What is a honeymoon anyway?” she interrupted, when it appeared he would not finish talking about his house anytime soon.
He raised a brow. “Do you mean, what happens on a honeymoon?”
“Well, I understand that in a general sense.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Otherwise we shall have to have a rather lengthy conversation before we reach Warren Manor.”
Josephine picked at a fold in her skirt, then looked back at him. “So, the honeymoon will not begin until we arrive at Warren Manor? It will not commence tonight?”
He gave her a long look. “Are you afraid? Because there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
What a ludicrous statement. There was everything to be afraid of.
“Are you afraid of me?” he pressed. “Are you afraid to be intimate with me? Is that what all this marital reluctance is about?”
“No. It’s not about that at all.”
“Then why? Why were you so unwilling to be married?”
“I told you why. Because I wished to live alone.”
“Why did you wish to live alone?” he asked, in a great show of patience. “It’s not as if we’ll be in one another’s pockets. You’ll have plenty of private time to do anything you want.”
Josephine thought a moment, watching the candle’s flickering shadows on the walls. “But you’ll expect me to do public things too, like go to dinner parties, and attend balls, and go about in society.”
“Well, yes, but you’ve been doing those things already, haven’t you?”
“Only because Lord and Lady Baxter thought I should. But I’m bad at them. I don’t like to be among people.”
“We can’t live as hermits,” Lord Warren said with his crooked smile. “I’ll ask you to do those things sometimes, those dinners and balls, but I also understand you’re not at ease in society. I don’t expect you to be a glittering pillar of the
ton
from the start.”
“I don’t even know what that means. I would rather have had my cottage.” Her throat felt tight and hot. She stared out the window and thought of her private, peaceful abode, the dream she would never now have. “I don’t know anything about anything, which you will discover shortly. You’ll come to wish you’d left me in those woods.”
She knew she sounded whiny and overdramatic. She couldn’t bear to look at him, though she could sense his steady regard.
“I would never have left you in the woods,” he said after a moment. “And lonely cottages aren’t the paradise you envision.”
“How do you know? Have you ever lived in one?”
“Don’t snap at me, if you please.”
“I’m not snapping. I’m only explaining my side of things. Not that it matters, since no one of the male persuasion will listen to me, or the female persuasion either. No one listens to my plans or opinions. I don’t know why I even bother to talk.”
He tilted her face to his with a frown. “You sound as if you’re feeling very cross and sorry for yourself because you’ve been made to do something you didn’t want to. Do you know what’s good for fixing surly dispositions?”
“No,” she said in an extremely surly fashion. “I’m sure I don’t.”
Before she knew what he was about, he had lifted her and tossed her across his lap. She tried in vain to hold down her skirts; they were soon bunched up about her waist, along with her petticoats. He gave her two sharp, stinging spanks on either side of her bottom. The sound echoed off the walls as she threw an arm back to shield herself.
“Please don’t spank me again,” she cried.
“Are you finished being peevish?”
“Yes!”
“Answer
Yes, my lord
when you’re being scolded. It sounds much prettier. Look up at me and say it.”
She couldn’t meet his eyes, not while she was in this ignominious position. Her shoulders trembled, and she tensed, fearing he would hit her again.
“Look at me, Josephine,” he said.
She twisted to look up at him, and finally managed to meet his cool, blue gaze.
“Good. Now say it like you mean it.
Yes, my lord
.”
She forced out the words he demanded. “Yes, my lord.”
“Because if you don’t mean it, then you’ll require more spanking, which I’m only too happy to provide.”
“I don’t want to be spanked anymore,” she said in as apologetic a voice as she could muster.
Just as I don’t want to be married to you.
How many spankings were in her future, considering all the things that were wrong with her? She couldn’t bear to think about it. His palm still rested on her backside like a threat. His other arm held her fast across his lap so she couldn’t move. “Will you let me up please? My lord?”
“In a moment.” His voice sounded rough. Josephine tried to stop shivering, and stayed as still as she could while dangling over his thighs. She didn’t want to anger him when she was trapped in this position—for whenever he was angry, her posterior seemed to pay the price.
*** *** ***
Warren knew he ought to release her. She was scared. She trembled beneath his hands, but he wasn’t finished with her yet. He traced a fingertip across the fading switch marks on the backs of her thighs. Her trembling turned into a shudder.
“Be still,” he said. “I am…checking the marks.”
Yes, he’d put marks on his wife before she was even his wife. He had her over his lap now, her bottom bared for his own desirous enjoyment. He moved his fingers up the back of her leg, to the alluring curves of her rounded cheeks. He ran his thumb up over one of them, marveling at her smooth skin, stained pink by two solid spanks. He could feel her breathing change when he did it. Ah, God, she was so sensitive.
The things he could do with that sensitivity… He couldn’t wait to exploit it, expand it. Revel in it. He ached to slide his palm down between her legs, and thrust fingers into her tight, virginal opening. He wondered if she was wet. He was dying to know, but he wouldn’t allow himself to touch her right this moment, because if he found her ready, he’d take her to the floor of the coach and show her the world was an even scarier place than she already believed.
And he didn’t want to do that yet.
Soon, but not yet, because she was afraid. Not only afraid of being married, which she admitted, but afraid of him. He could see it in her eyes, in the way she held her body, that he frightened her. Of course, this both dismayed and excited him, because he was both a civilized man and a beast. Sometimes he would let the beast out to play with her, and she would enjoy it for all that. But tonight, their wedding night, in this carriage with her shaking in terror, he would be the civilized man no matter the beastly thoughts crowding his head.
He gave her tantalizing backside one last caress, and pulled her skirts down. “Sit up now, and behave. No more grousing about being a married lady. We’ve a nice, relaxing honeymoon to enjoy, and you’ll be pleased to know it won’t involve anyone else in society. Only you, and me.”
“Oh,” she said, smoothing down her skirts with palpable relief. “That’s good to know. And as you’ve said, there are plenty of beds.”
Lord save him from innocents. He stifled a sigh. Lady Baxter apparently hadn’t offered his bride any parting words of marital advice. “I perceive you are not very knowledgeable in the affairs of men and women,” he said.
If she smoothed her gown anymore, she would wear a hole in it. “I only know they should not be in bed together.”
He raised a brow. “Ever?”
“It’s best that way, yes. I understand that gentlemen sometimes entertain…wild humors.”
“Wild humors? My goodness.” He nearly laughed at this revelation, but she looked so serious he composed his expression. “Tell me about these wild humors. Do all gentlemen have them, or only certain types?”
She looked at him warily, as if he mocked, but he was taking this conversation very seriously. “I don’t know,” she said, biting her lip. “I only know that women and men are not supposed to go to bed together because…”
“Because why?” He was almost afraid to ask. “Because a man might be seized by wild humors?”
She swallowed hard. “I don’t wish to speak of it.”
“Because you’re afraid, which I find very vexing.”
“I’m not afraid. It’s only that… My mother always told me men were not to be trusted. That they could be aggressive, and harm you.”
His eyes narrowed. “Some can, I suppose. But it’s hardly an intrinsic male trait. Have I harmed you yet?”
“You spanked me just now,” she pointed out. “And before, in the woods, you used a switch on me, and that really hurt.”
“Yes, and I stopped after five middling strokes, because you were teetering on the edge of utter disintegration. At any rate, you needed to be punished because you’d done a bad thing, and you felt terrible about it. There are logical, practical reasons behind the act of corporal punishment. Sometimes a man’s got to dole out a spanking or switching to make a fussing woman come around.”
“A fussing woman?” She ruffled up like an angry cat.
“Do not become peevish again, Josephine. You remember what happened, oh, five minutes ago.” The wretched thing went back to smoothing her skirts again, while he thought what a puzzle she was. “My dear, you must admit that you felt better after I spanked you. Expiated and all that. It would have been the end of the whole matter, if Baxter hadn’t found us on the way back.”
“But he did find us.”
“Yes, and I married you, which he wanted from the beginning. It has happened and we must resign ourselves to it. Come here, would you? Stop picking at your skirts.” He hauled her onto his lap and clasped her restless fingers in his. “Listen to me. There are men with whom you can feel safe, and men with whom you decidedly cannot. I promise you will always be safe with me, no matter how aggressive and wild you imagine men are. That’s not to say I won’t demand my marital rights.”
She stiffened in his arms. “What does that mean? That you’ll spank me whenever you like?”
He laughed, then sobered when he saw her expression. “Oh, my sweet, confused girl. Do you think we’ve been talking this entire time about spanking?”
He watched the flush spread across her cheeks. “I don’t know. I’m sure I don’t know what we’ve been talking about.” She tried to escape his lap, but he pulled her back and circled her in his arms, and made her face him.
“Do you even know what marital rights are?”
“I don’t want to know,” she said, shrinking back from him.
“I suppose you believe they involve wild humors. Whatever the hell those are.” He shouldn’t curse. He should look at her innocence as an opportunity. Above all, he mustn’t frighten her any more than she already was. “Marital rights are best explained in the moment,” he said. “I’ll tell you more about them tomorrow, once we’ve settled in at Warren Manor. Unless you’d like to start our honeymoon tonight?”
“Oh. Well. No, I would rather…” She stared past him at the wall, then turned toward the window as the carriage slowed. He could see the lights of the inn blazing in darkness. “I suppose Warren Manor will be soon enough.”
It wouldn’t be soon enough for him, not by any stretch, but he’d give her one night of respite. He hoped she would come around, not just in the bedroom but in her other misgivings. His friend Townsend had fought tooth and nail against the constraints of marriage, and was now blissfully wed, so Warren felt a calmness about the whole thing. Eventually they would grow comfortable with one another and figure out how to go on, and if he must be married, he preferred the interesting, complex Baroness Maitland to some simpering milksop.
If only she were not
quite
so complex.
They arrived the following afternoon at Lord Warren’s grand ancestral seat, comprised of acres of fields and forests, and a pretty, tree-lined drive that swooped about to the front of the house. No, it wasn’t a house. More like a mansion, or a palace, with rows of gleaming windows and a crenellated roofline, and yes, two round, pointed towers. When Josephine stepped out of the coach to gawp at the towering stone edifice, she came to understand how rich and esteemed a person her new husband was.