by Chera Zade
She couldn’t help but swear at the impact, a coarse word that she’d overheard from one of the stablehands.
“Well, well,” she heard a deep, and now familiar, voice. “It appears I had an audience.”
“N-no,” she squeaked, realizing he must be standing quite near. “Not an audience. I didn’t see anything.”
“Didn’t see anything?”
“I really wasn’t trying to--”
Suddenly a strong arm was pulling her out of the shrubbery.
“Well, well, my peeping Thomasina is just a chit in her nightclothes. A chit too eager to put the schoolroom behind her. Wait until you’re older.”
“I’m already older,” she said, drawing herself up to her full height, and thrusting her shoulders back. “I’m no chit. I’m no schoolroom Miss either. I'm a full twenty-two years.”
“Fuller than I expected,” he said, looking her over again, this time much more slowly.
She felt her skin heat under his gaze, and a blush stole over her face.
“Who was that woman you were with?”
“I thought you said you didn’t see anything?”
“I-- I thought I heard a woman’s voice.”
“And likely more than that. It isn’t very respectable to intrude on consenting adults like that.”
“How dare you? It was the two of you that weren’t respectable. Why, I’ve a mind to go tell--”
“If what I did wasn't respectable, it also isn’t very respectable to sneak about the shrubbery in your nightclothes, peeping in on other people’s dalliances. Or perhaps you were looking for one of your own? Am I keeping you from a pre-arranged tryst?”
She shook her head.
“Or perhaps you set out looking to ensnare some gentleman with your ripe curves? Is that what this is? Was I your prey for tonight? Is this what you were looking for?”
The words that she began to murmur were swallowed up by his kiss, two, firm, practiced lips attaching themselves to hers, his hands binding her body to his.
The effect was intoxicating. She had never been kissed before, and this man knew how to kiss. Skilled, confident, powerful, he took his time with her.
And with a sigh, she yielded to him, letting him between her lips, his firm tongue exploring her.
When she tried to catch it with her own, he grunted, his hand going to her bottom.
She gasped, but didn't try to escape. If anything, she wanted him to hold her tighter, wanted to feel more of him pressing against her as she felt him stirring against her belly.
She was exciting him? It didn't seem possible, and yet, there was the proof at her belly. Considerable proof, based on its continued growth.
And still he kissed her, their tongues moving faster, his self-control ebbing, their movements growing more heated, more frenzied.
She felt the inexplicable urge to rub herself against him, but for what purpose?
When he finally let go, he let one hand linger at her waist, while the other went to to her breast. “Oh, you are a ripe one, aren’t you? If I weren’t due back inside the ballroom— he grabbed her hard, and gave her a long, punishing kiss.
“What a naughty thing you are, wandering around the gardens in your nightdress. Any rake worth his druthers would--”
“Would what?”
“Are you really out of the schoolroom?”
“Of course I am. I'm well over a score!”
“Turn to your right please,” he directed her.
“I don’t see why I should,” she replied.
“Because the clouds have passed by, and the moon is visible in the heavens. And it appears that celestial bodies aren’t just visible in the sky,” he said, his eyes darkening as his gaze raked over her.
She gulped, folding her arms over herself. “How visible?”
More than enough to earn you a good spanking. “Or a good--”
“Or a good what?” She asked, her lower lip trembling.
His hand went back to her waist, pulling her close, too close, her soft body pressed up against his solid muscle.
He tilted her chin upward again.
She had never felt so scared yet so excited at the same time. Something was happening. Something momentous and life changing. And it was going to be with this man who had seemingly emerged from her dreams.
“I don’t think I should tell you, he said, his voice thick and husky. No matter how amusing that might be.”
Show me, then?
He chuckled, a low, deep sound. “That, I certainly shouldn’t do. Go back to bed before we both get into trouble.”
“What if I want to get into trouble... with you?” She asked, surprising herself with how saucy she sounded.
Suddenly his whole body tensed. “What kind of a little hellcat are you? Do you often roam the gardens for random assignations?”
She shook her head. “Never. It was only that I couldn’t sleep, and I was quite bored and lonely abed, and I wished to hear the music better and--”
“And do you hear the music now?”
“Yes, of course, it’s lovely, and I--”
“And you aren’t bored anymore?”
She shook her head. “I've never felt more excited in my life.”
“You belong in your bed,” he said, his voice suddenly stern.
“Maybe I belong somewhere else,” she said, looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.
“Yes, you damn well do, he said, his hand tightening around her waist. You belong--”
He gave her a long stare, his eyes blazing down at her in a way that set her body to a quiver. She was certain he was going to say something very warm, very rakish.
“I’ve never taken a maiden yet,” he said, his voice hoarse. “And you’re a very naughty maiden indeed to try to tempt me otherwise.”
“What happens to naughty maidens?” She whispered up at him.
“Among other things, this,” he replied, his other hand suddenly crashing down against her bottom, the hard spank pushing her even closer to him.
She cried out, but he spanked her again, his grip on her waist too tight for her to wriggle away.
“Oh no,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You’ll take your well deserved spanking, my naughty miss. And then I’ll give you something to help you fall asleep. Be careful what you say to a man, my naughty little miss, or it won’t just be a hand pounding against your soft, sweet bottom.”
She cried out again, his hand spanking her hard, as his mouth seized her own.
How was it possible, to be kissed and spanked at the same time, her body so close to his that she could feel every muscle of his body, including the large, throbbing one that maidens weren’t supposed to know about.
His hand was far from gentle, and so was his mouth, his lips firmly demanding her submission, his tongue taking her own in a hot tangle.
Her bottom throbbed, her lips were swollen, and she didn’t want it to end, sighing softly when his grip loosened and he pushed her away.
“Get to your bed,” he ordered her. “Now. Before I make us a bed of leaves.”
But she didn’t move, her body still trembling.
He turned her around, delivering one last spank. “Now, my naughty miss. I’m not used to playing the gentleman. Fare thee well, then, my peeping Thomasina,” he said, stroking her face, “fare thee well.”
And just like that, he was gone, a gloriously masculine figure striding purposely across the lawn. He made the terrace in one leap, and soon had the door handle firmly in hand.
All she could do was watch. Watch as her poor body struggled to breathe normally, and her poor mind tried to make sense of the encounter. But the poorest part of her was her heart, for it seemed she had just irrevocably lost it to this self satisfied stranger.
Chapter 4
Lord Carrington
Lord Carrington stormed through the open door, and then turned around and stormed right back out again.
It was only when he reached the edge of the terrace
that he froze, forcing himself to stay in place, letting only his gaze and his mind follow her as she turned back toward the house.
She was relatively well hidden from view, but he remembered where they had been. Standing where he was, he could follow her every movement.
No, he growled to himself. You are not going to take an innocent maiden. You never have, and you aren't going to start now. His cock twitched, arguing that she wasn’t likely to stay innocent for long. Not if she had a habit of climbing out of her bedchamber in her nightdress. Not with curves like that. And not when she kissed like that.
Her first kiss, he was sure of it, she’d been too artless, too unreserved... and too clearly affected for it to be otherwise.
It had been painful to break off their kisses, but it had to be done. He couldn't trust himself.
He closed his eyes, willfully denying himself the knowledge of which room she was climbing into. It was necessary, otherwise he couldn’t trust himself not to join her.
His hand was warm, a pleasantly aching throb to his palm. And that soft bottom that curved perfectly against his palm.
He took a deep breath. Where had that come from? Not bottoms, he’d always liked those, but the pleasure, the arousal that he got from spanking her, that was beyond anything he had experienced before...
He'd given Lady Matterly a few quick spanks tonight, and it hadn't felt anything like what he had felt with the maiden.
Had it been the change in position then? Of holding the maiden to him as he spanked her? Certainly the feel of her lush body pressed up against his... and the sounds she had made— those sounds that went straight to his cock. Hell, he hadn’t thought his bollocks could get any tighter.
If this innocent maiden could respond like that—
He looked up, but she had already climbed back inside, leaving no trace of where she had gone.
It was probably better that way.
It wasn’t her, he told himself. It was merely a very male reaction to an unexpected interaction.
It wasn’t her, it was just the thrill of acting on sudden impulses.
It wasn’t her, and yet he looked up at the house, longing her to come to the window. Longing for her to come back to him.
Damn it, he was no saint, he swore, lunging forward toward the house.
He’d gotten so far as the bottom of the trellis when he felt a hand clap against his shoulder. “A fine time for you to take a long smoke. If you don’t return to the ballroom, I fear the ladies will run riot looking for you,” a smooth voiced older man said.
“Esterly,” he said, turning to the Duke in acknowledgment.
“I've my own reasons for wanting you back in the ballroom as well,” the Duke said, grinning.
“Lady Matterly?”
“I'm going to make the announcement. I hope you'll stand up with us at the wedding. You've made us both very happy, you know.”
“Anything for fellow Club members. You will suit each other very well,” he said, forcing a cordiality that he didn't feel. It wasn't Esterly's fault of course, he quite liked the man, it was just that his thoughts were with the naughty wench that he never should have let go.
***
He was, now and always, his own man, but one did not walk away from a wedding announcement by the Duke of Esterly.
As soon as the toasts to the Duke of Esterly and his bride-to-be were over, he took one of the footmen aside.
“There's a maid that has something of mine,” he said. “But I don't remember her name.”
“Theft, Your Lordship?” The footman asked, suddenly solicitous concern.
“Theft? Oh not at all. Something she's holding on to for me.”
“I can retrieve it for you, Your Lordship. Can you tell me her name?”
“I'd prefer to see to it myself. But I don't know her name. If I describe her, perhaps you can tell me her name.”
And so, in carefully chosen words, words that did not convey even a hint of the desire her felt for her, he described his bewitching maiden, and slipped the footman a sovereign for good measure.
And the footman looked back at him, a confused look on his face. “I beg your pardon, Your Lordship, but there are no maids here that answer to that description.”
Disappointed, but not without hope, Lord Carrington asked the next footman, and then the next.
By the time the ball had ended, he was both without answers and without coin.
Hang the money, he swore, there's plenty of that. It was only the girl that he wanted.
And he had been truthful when he said she had something of his.
She had his heart.
And she could keep it, could keep it forever, as long as she was willing to give hers in return.
But, if she wasn't a servant, who was she? She certainly wasn't one of the five Shreve girls- he'd been introduced to all of them. The only other possibility was that she had been a guest at the ball. It was odd that a guest would not have been in the ballroom with everyone else, but he could see why it would have been tempting to have begged off with a made-up headache.
Well, that left him in an unfortunate predicament- if he wished to see her again- which he absolutely wanted with everything he had, then he was going to have to do the unthinkable- attend every single society function until he found her. Yes, he would be flinging himself head first into the social ridiculousness that doubled as the marriage mart. It would mean night after night of dodging enterprising girls and their formidable mothers while he looked for the naughty maiden that had set his heart on fire. It was enough to make any sane man quite ill. But he wasn't a sane man anymore, was he? No, he'd lost his mind as soon as he'd held her in his arms. And his fate had been sealed the moment he'd kissed her.
He had to find her.
Chapter 5 -Several Months Later In Town
Charlotte
“I should like a good waltz,” Charlotte Langsdale declared, bursting into the library, interrupting her Guardian's after dinner drinks with Lord Standish, their friend and neighbor.
“Has waltzing become a euphemism for other activities?” Her Guardian, Lord Wycombe, asked, arching his brow at his twenty year old Ward.
“I wish to dance. Vertically.” She said.
“Certainly the same rhythms can be employed vertically as well as horizontally,” Lord Wycombe replied.
“Not to mention diagonally,” Lord Standish added. “The lowly wheelbarrow has lent its name to some very fine positioning.”
“You are both impossible. I am in want of a ball!”
“If you wish for a ball, my dear, Standish and I are well equipped to give you what you need. And for as long as you need it.”
She threw a cushion at his head. Lord Wycombe responded by grabbing his ward and pulling her over his lap. In one smooth motion, he secured her to him with his other leg. She took a hard breath, knowing what was to come next, bracing for his hand, yet also wishing it near.
“There’s some sort of do over at Shreve House, if you’re interested,” Lord Standish said as Lord Wycombe adroitly deflected a scratch. “The done thing of course is to reply in the affirmative at a reasonable time beforehand. However, the Shreve's have far too many daughters, to turn away an unexpected Marquess and Earl, regardless of whether one of them happened to bring his Ward with him.”
“A distinct possibility. However, you will have noticed that my Ward threw a cushion at me.” Lord Wycombe said, one hand on Charlotte’s wrists as she wriggled against him.
“Indeed.” Lord Standish replied, letting his gaze rake over Charlotte's squirming body, his eyes following a path from one set of curves to the next.
“And not for the first time, I might add. Cushion throwing seems to be one of my Ward's favorite activities of late.”
“Yes, it seems as if Miss Langsdale’s aim has improved considerably. Practice does that.”
From upside down, a quick burst of laughter escaped Charlotte’s lips.
“Can’t very well simply reward the b
rat for throwing a cushion, though.”
“Certainly not. What well run household would?” Lord Standish agreed.
“It is my duty as Guardian to make sure Miss Langsdale is a good, obedient young lady.”
“But of course,” Lord Standish said. “Surely you don’t expect me to disagree with you on that score,” edging his chair closer. “But, if Miss Langsdale takes her punishment on her bottom, like a good young lady, it would not be necessary to also deny her a ball.”
“Or two.”
“A sound strategy.”
“Oh, I think it shall be quite sound,” Lord Wycombe said, his hand clapping against his Ward’s upturned bottom.
Charlotte let out a hiss, a hiss that included a few choice swears.
“Complete with its fair share of sounds,” Lord Wycombe said, spanking her again.
“Pity, I thought Miss Langsdale had made great progress with her French, but I believe that sounded more like cant to me.”
Lord Wycombe nodded. “Standish has a good point, Charlotte. It is quite unbecoming behavior. If you are to be so unladylike as to swear, it would be preferable to at least do so in a manner that emphasizes your skills in other languages. Quite a shame for the granddaughter of an Earl to sound like a common sailor.”
“I shall take that under advisement, My Lord,” she replied facetiously.
“And you shall take something else. Skirts up, Charlotte, and lets give that arse of yours what she deserves.”
She took a deep breath, lifting her dress faster than usual. Normally she would tease them both, but there was little time for it, not if she was to take her spanking, enjoy her dancing, and close the night, or really, the morning, in the delicious decadence of the Infernalis Club. For, after watching her dance with so many eager gentleman, Lord Wycombe would quite enjoy watching her take her deeper pleasures with them at the Club.
Her bottom bared to both men, she took a deep breath and waited for the fun to start. A few quick, hard spanks and she'd have a lovely flush for the evening.
Damn him, if she had been eager to get the spanking done quickly, her Guardian seemingly wasn’t, applying long slow strokes, his hand drawing out each clap, each throb, until her body trembled more with desire than with pain, and half of the pain was from unquenched desires, her nipples uncomfortably hard, her thighs damp and squeezing.