Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“Good. Perhaps we can row on the lake tomorrow,” he said, meaning to make peace. “The two of us, with a footman to help push the boat out.”
“I can push it out. I’m strong enough.”
“You might be.” He raised a single brow. “But don’t go alone again. The same with the fields and forests. No long walks without a maid and footman to accompany you.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then shut it. “Yes, my lord,” she answered with delicious pique.
He stared at his wife’s pouting lips, picturing unwholesome things he might subject them to. He hadn’t imagined she’d tempt him so much.
Chapter Twelve
A Husband’s Preferences
Elizabeth sat at needlework in her private salon, letting her mind wander. Now and again, she was obliged to switch position, as her backside was still sore from her husband’s discipline. She stabbed crossly at the fine fabric, crafting an outline of flowers. The project had begun as a means to celebrate their marriage, with their names and anniversary inscribed, but she was in the mood to embroider skulls and crossed swords instead.
“Lady Augustine?”
She lifted her head at the butler’s voice. “Yes?”
“Lady Marlow has arrived for tea.”
Elizabeth jumped to her feet. “Rosalind is here. Thank goodness.”
The servant gave her a sympathetic look. As butler, he’d doubtless overheard the earlier goings-on. “Indeed, my lady. She awaits you in the Cornflower Parlor.”
August’s country manor had four parlors on the first floor, the Cornflower one being her favorite. It was named for the cornflower-blue color of its wallpaper and upholsteries, and it boasted the softest, most comfortable chairs, which was important, considering…
“Oh, my dear friend!” Elizabeth flew across the room and into Rosalind’s outstretched arms. In her warm embrace, she utterly lost her composure, bursting into uncontrolled tears for the second time that day.
“Goodness me.” Rosalind hugged her tighter. “Whatever’s the matter?”
Elizabeth pulled away and hid her face in her hands, but there was no disguising her watering-pot tears.
“You must tell me what’s amiss,” said Rosalind, increasingly agitated. “Whatever has gone wrong? Is it only today? Or your whole marriage…?”
“Not the whole marriage…oh, not really…” Elizabeth sniffled, not realizing the depth of her upset until she looked into her friend’s sympathetic gaze. “It’s only that…Lord Augustine p-punished me this morning.”
“Oh, dear. Husbands do that sometimes. I suppose he spanked you?” Rosalind handed her a handkerchief as Elizabeth nodded. “Why, Lisbet? What did you do?”
“I went rowing on the lake without…without letting anyone know. I ought to have told someone for safety’s sake, I suppose, but I didn’t think it would matter so much to him.”
Rosalind patted her back. “A lot of things matter to husbands, things you wouldn’t expect. I like to believe it’s because they care.” She hugged her friend again, and whispered, “Was it a bad spanking?”
Elizabeth nodded, sobbing again.
“The first time?”
“No, but…” Elizabeth pulled away, swiping at tears. “The other spankings were not so hard. He…he used a paddle, a very stout one. It hurt.”
“Oh, no. Come sit down with me, dear. If you can sit,” she added with a wry grin. “I have had some hard paddlings, too. They’re never fun.”
“It went on forever,” said Elizabeth, taking a seat in the softest chair. “Truly forever.”
“Goodness, with you barely wed. How dare he?” Rosalind sat close and held her hand. “You must have frightened him. Husbands can be so protective. If you think of it that way…that they punish you because they care…”
“If he truly cared, he wouldn’t spank me at all, would he?”
Rosalind sighed. “If you wished to avoid that fate, I fear you’ve married the wrong gentleman. He and his friends are gluttonous for disciplinary pursuits. I thought marriage might temper Marlow’s appetite for it, but it has not.”
She emphasized the word not, giving a small shake of her head. Elizabeth could sense a strange push and pull within her friend, desire mixed with dread. Somehow, she understood.
“How do you cope?” Elizabeth asked. “How do you face him afterward?”
“It’s not difficult. I find Marlow is considerably more composed after he’s spanked me. The activity endows a sort of release to these men, to know they’ve asserted themselves and brought us into line. I don’t try to understand it. Of course, it’s unpleasant while the spanking is going on, but after…”
Elizabeth studied her friend’s subtle blush. “What do you mean, ‘after?’”
“After, things are better. Sometimes things are…romantic.”
“Romantic?” Elizabeth crossed her arms in front of her. “It’s hard to have romantic feelings for August when I was made to stand facing a corner with my skirts up at my waist and my throbbing backside on full display. It was humiliating.”
“You mustn’t think of it that way,” Rosalind said after a moment. “They do not mean to humiliate, only correct. It does get easier with experience.”
“I don’t know if I wish to gain that experience.”
Rosalind sighed. “You may not have a choice. Even if I endeavor to behave perfectly, Marlow finds an excuse to wallop my bottom at regular intervals.”