The Major's Lady

by Mia Easton

  "I'll have something for you in a few days," Mrs. Bateman said in a businesslike tone as she began to collect her things.

  "Thank you, Mrs. Bateman."

  "You're welcome, Miss Gordon." The lady glanced at May and dipped her head before leaving.

  When she'd gone, Liz looked at May. "Thank you."

  "It was nothing," May said with a pleased smile. "What do you want to wear today?" she asked, starting toward the wardrobe.

  "I don't care, but—"

  May looked back at her.

  "Could you loosen this thing first?"

  May tried to keep from smiling. "Turn around," she said as she came toward her.

  Over the next two weeks, the pattern became set. Liz breakfasted at eight and dressed afterwards. Her lessons with Maggie lasted until dinner was served at one o'clock. Afternoons were spent on other pursuits. For Maggie, they were spent making or receiving calls, writing letters or planning the ball. Elizabeth spent afternoons with Wes.

  After afternoon tea, Liz bathed and rested and changed. They all changed clothes before dinner. The four of them then convened in the salon for drinks at six o'clock and then meandered into the dining room when summoned for the evening meal. In the summer, with more daylight hours, she was told the schedule moved back by an hour or more. After dinner, they played games again or talked until John Paul and Maggie retired, leaving her alone with Wes.

  Liz loved every part of the schedule, although afternoons and late nights with Wes were her favorite times. At first, on their afternoons together, Wes had given her riding lessons. A week into it, when she was proficient enough to ride solo, they rode through the countryside having long, sometimes rambling conversations about people or current events or fashion or culture.

  One day, the conversation turned to his experiences in the war. It wasn't an easy topic for him initially, but he quickly warmed to it. She sensed his need to talk about it, and she wanted to know what he'd been through, so she asked questions and encouraged his sharing. When the conversation was not about war, he seemed increasingly lighter hearted than before. He had a sense of humor and he laughed easily with her.

  Late afternoons and evenings were often spent learning various games. Sitting across the card table from Wes, whether he was frowning with concentration or smiling in amusement at a move she'd made, was more far rewarding than actually winning. Every day, the sight of him made her heart beat faster. If there had been such a thing as love from first sight on, this would have definitely been it. It was a good thing she didn't believe in the notion.

  Her biggest frustration was what a gentleman he was. All her life, guys had made moves when they wanted something, but Wes didn't. He didn't touch her in suggestive ways. He didn't even allow his eyes to roam over her body, no matter how low cut her gown or how good she looked in it. Sometimes, when they were preparing to ride or they were walking together, she'd maneuver closer to him and hope he'd close the distance, but she couldn't go farther than that. She didn't want to risk alienating him. It was possible he wasn't attracted to her, but that was a painful thought she usually refused to acknowledge.

  How many times at the end of an afternoon ride had he lingered, not wanting to part from her any more than she wanted to part from him. Long seconds passed with both of them standing there with their breath congealing, longing for a touch, a kiss. Or that's what it felt like to her.

  At night, when John Paul and Maggie had retired, the dynamics changed again. Conversations got more personal. The two of them invariably drew closer in proximity. Not touching, never touching, but not far from it. It was then that she spoke of her life, as best she could, and he shared stories of his. He talked of his mother, a beauty named Clara, who'd passed on when he was eleven, and his father, who'd been greatly influential in his life, and the couple, Arthur and Inez, who worked for them but were like family. He occasionally mentioned his brother, Alexander, but never went into much detail. She sensed both resentment and animosity in regards to Alex. She didn't know why and she never pushed. Hopefully, he would explain it in time.

  No matter which of them was talking or what the subject matter, Elizabeth watched him watching her and she ached with desire. What if he didn't feel that same kind of need and desire for her? How was she going to handle it? It was a question she was asking herself more and more as he kept his distance. What would he do if she kissed him? She wanted to. She longed to, but she couldn't. She was playing the long game. If only she knew exactly what the rules and guidelines of the long game were. The desired end result of the long game was for him to be madly in love with her and ask her to marry him. At the very least, to be the lady he most cared for. If only she could figure out a freaking short cut to get there.

  Chapter 15

  Maggie was delighted with Elizabeth's progress. It had been four days since there had been the least little faux pas in her manners, behavior or language. She was ready for the next step. As the four of them played whist on a cold, rainy afternoon, she said, "I think it's time we introduce you to some people."

  Liz's eyes filled with dread.

  "A small dinner party on Saturday," Maggie added reassuringly. "You're ready. You cannot stay hidden forever."

  "If you feel hidden here," Wes said lightly, "wait until I take you to Pinegrove." He'd said it to get her reaction and he got one. Unless he was very much mistaken, she'd cringed. Good Lord, had she actually cringed? He watched as she dropped her gaze and gave a half-hearted smile. He felt crushed with disappointment.

  In the last few weeks, he'd thought of little else but taking Elizabeth home. Apparently, it had been foolish to assume she'd want to marry him. He'd thought she might feel as he did, but after that reaction, it was evident he'd been wrong.

  "You're not thinking of going home now, are you?" Maggie asked anxiously.

  John Paul looked up for his answer.

  Wes's face and neck felt heated from Elizabeth's rejection. "Soon. Yes. I feel the need to move on."

  "Will you excuse me?" Elizabeth asked in a strained voice. She got up and quickly left the room.

  Wes felt the flush of humiliation. Rejection was a bitter pill. He had dished it out often enough, so perhaps he deserved to get it back in return. He got up and went to refill his glass of brandy.

  Strange vibrations filled the room and John Paul and Maggie both felt it. They looked at each other helplessly.

  Liz paced manically from one side of her bedroom to the other barely holding back hurt tears. She pulled down her hair and ran her fingers through her hair, not caring if she looked like a wild woman or not. Maybe she was! He had made her crazy. Pent-up frustration bested her control, and tears flowed down her face. Wes wanted to be rid of her. He wanted to take her to Pinegrove and leave her. Install her there with the servants who would tend to her needs. What had he said? If you feel hidden here, just wait until I take you there. Then he'd said it was time he moved on. Damn him!

  She plunked down on the bed, grabbed the pillows and squeezed them as a deluge of tears streamed. She'd fallen in love with a heartless son of a bitch who couldn't wait to get rid of her. After she'd chosen him. She'd friggin' switched planets for him.

  When Maggie had said that she couldn't stay hidden forever, she'd almost replied that she didn't feel hidden. In fact, she'd never felt so happy. It was all due to their kindness and acceptance and friendship, only Wes was part of that 'their.' He was the biggest part of it. But now she saw that he didn't care. Oh, he cared enough to deal with what he saw as his responsibility, which was nothing at all like caring for her the way she'd hoped and needed and craved.

  She cried until there were no tears left. She'd spent them all, and she felt spent. So, it was time to think rationally. Unfuckingfortunately for her, she'd survived rejection before. Hell, she'd been born and bred on it. And the fact of the matter was, despite what James Wesley Hale thought, she wasn't his property to dispose of. She was a strong, independent woman and she would damn well survive without him. "
So, there, Major McPerfect." Then she drew in a shuttering breath and felt fresh tears begin again. Apparently, they hadn't all been spent.

  Over the next few days, Elizabeth was as good a student as ever, but she was uncharacteristically quiet and withdrawn. Since Wes was acting similarly, Maggie assumed they'd had words. They would snap out of it soon enough. The two of them were clearly meant to be together. God had brought them together. She could come up with no other explanation.

  In the meantime, it was time to begin dance lessons. She'd already enlisted John Paul to help. On a late Wednesday morning, they began with a new dance called the waltz, which had generated great excitement.

  "Do they not waltz in the future?" John Paul wondered aloud when Elizabeth had difficulty picking up the step.

  "John Paul," his wife admonished.

  He threw up a hand. "Excuse me, Elizabeth. I didn't mean to be rude."

  "It's fine," she assured him. "Some people do still waltz. I just never learned. I should have. I saw The King and I often enough."

  "That would be a reference to the future," John Paul guessed. "Yes?"

  She smiled sweetly and nodded.

  "Hmm," John Paul murmured. "So I give you a sly dig, you give me a reference from the future. I see."

  Maggie rolled her eyes and turned to Elizabeth. "If we can get serious, please. We'll need to move on to a contra dance after this and the allemande. So, once again. A bit slower. It's a simple one, two, three," Maggie said as she demonstrated. "Now, you try with me. One-two-three, one-two-three."

  After an hour, Liz looked like she'd been born to waltz, and it was then that Wes returned from town. Watching John Paul and Elizabeth sweep around the room in a fast-paced waltz to Maggie's count, he felt so much resentment flood his system, it rocked him to the core and he turned and left without a word. Only Maggie had noticed his brief appearance, and she had never stopped counting.

  So, that's what Elizabeth wanted. Dancing, parties, town life. No wonder she was ignoring him. He couldn't provide those things and he certainly couldn't dance very well. He went back outside, passing Eunice without even seeing her. He remounted Halcyon and rode. He had no idea where he was going, nor did it matter. He just needed space and speed.

  First, Elizabeth had rebuffed his thinly veiled invitation to be mistress of Pinegrove and then she'd given him the cold shoulder. Perhaps he'd show her how cold a shoulder could be.

  Chapter 16

  Eunice was biding her time. She was aware of the strain between the major and Miss Gordon, and nothing had made her feel so pleased in a long while. She needed to find the right moment to revisit Wesley Hale and, when she did, she would make sure he fucked her. Once that happened, it could either keep happening or, if he snubbed her afterwards, she'd begin fucking Tom Potter, the gardener's boy every chance she got. He was far younger than she, but already six foot tall and fine looking. Any child conceived with him could easily be passed for Wesley Hale's. She'd never particularly wanted children, but they were the easiest ticket to Pinegrove.

  Tidwell was an obstacle, of course, but she could handle the old crow. For now, she would work dutifully, act proper and even chagrined, and she would wait for her opportunity. She couldn't get caught again. The marks the witch left had lasted for days and would be a setback in seducing the major.

  Eunice thought of her last punishment session with Rachel and felt herself grow wet and breathless. It never failed; what caused pain one day was the source of arousal later. She glanced around to make sure she was alone in the hall and then ducked into the morning room and found a private corner. She lifted her skirt and positioned her fingers in the right spot to stroke.

  "Since you so wanted to be fucked," Rachel had told her on night two of her punishment, "you will be." She was made to strip naked and was blindfolded, ordered to climb onto the bed and remain on her hands and knees. "Spread your legs, little slut," Rachel had crooned.

  Eunice felt certain Rachel was going to be either fingering her or using an instrument of some kind. It was then that she'd become aware of another person in the room.

  "Go on," Rachel ordered.

  Eunice knew that Rachel wasn't talking to her. She heard heavy sounding footsteps coming toward her. She heard his breathing. Who was he and where had he been loitering? Behind the screen, she supposed.

  "She's ready," Rachel said.

  She felt him climb up behind her. He seemed large and lumbering. He smelled of outdoors. Then he was pushing inside her and the pressure stole her breath. "Ahh," she sang out. She couldn't think straight. Was that a cock? It felt huge. He finally shoved all the way in and began withdrawing. Then entering again. "Ohh—"

  "How is it?" Rachel asked. "I measured it. It's eleven inches long and nearly eight inches around when he's fully erect. I never saw one so big. How does it feel? Is it enough for you?"

  Eunice wasn't capable of answering. The only other time she'd been filled this much was when she took on two men at once. She hadn't realized until then that being taken up the ass took up much of the space usually taken up by the cock inside her pussy. But neither of those men had been that large, and they had paid her well.

  "Go faster," Rachel ordered the man. "Harder."

  The man began pounding in a regular rhythm now. Eunice was rocked back and forth and it went on and on. Her arms gave out and she tried to collapse onto the bed but the monster-man held her hips in place and continued. Eunice had no idea how long the session continued. Eventually, Rachel ordered the man to stop. "Go, quickly," Rachel told him and he did.

  When Rachel allowed Eunice to take off her blindfold and get up, she could hardly move, she was so sore. She'd known men starting at the age of fourteen when she had begun experimenting on the four boys who lived next door. That's when she'd first felt her power. But she'd never experienced anything like that.

  "I suppose you can go," Rachel said when Eunice was up and facing her with her hands clutched together in front of her, as required.

  It was part of the game, of course. Eunice knew what she had to do. If she didn't ask for another whipping, punishment would begin afresh tomorrow since she'd disobeyed a command. "No, I can't," she said.

  "Why not?" Rachel asked, playing her part.

  "I've been very bad."

  "Yes, you have. That's why I had to punish you."

  "I deserve more."

  "Do you?"

  Eunice nodded, hoping this would be enough.

  But no, Rachel was shaking her head. "I took that riding crop and gave you stroke after stroke yesterday. You deserved it, I know, but I think you had enough."

  "But I didn't. I need more. Please, give me a few more licks."

  "Licks," Rachel said slowly. "Licks with the crop. I like the sound of that. Ask me again."

  "Please give me a few more licks with the crop, mistress."

  "Go get it for me and I'll consider."

  Eunice went for the crop on Rachel's desk, then walked back and handed it to her. Rachel waited. "I deserve it," Eunice said. "I want to be better. Your punishments help me to be better."

  "All right, then. Get in the position you were in earlier. The doggie position. I liked you in that position. There's a certain poetic justice in your being in the doggie position for your punishments after behaving like a bitch in heat with the major."

  Eunice did as she was told. She even spread her legs again without having to be told. Rachel liked to strike between her legs, no matter what instrument she used.

  "Good," Rachel cooed. She finally got up and walked to the side of the bed, where, with a quick flick of the crop, she delivered a stinging blow. She hesitated and then delivered another and another and another. In all, she delivered eight.

  "One last thing before we're finished here," she said as she dropped the crop and scooted back onto the bed. She lay back and splayed her legs wide open directly in front of Eunice. "I got all wet watching you get fucked and you're supposed to be good with that mouth. Show me. And don't st
op until I tell you."

  Chapter 17

  On the evening of the dinner party, Liz began getting ready in the late afternoon. She wanted plenty of time to prepare, but also, the depression she'd worked herself into over Wes weighed on her and slowed her down. Everything was more of an effort and, in a way, everything felt pointless now that she knew he didn't care about her the way she wanted him to. Still, she needed to look and to be her best. She owed the Nordstroms that much. She intended to be perfect.

  She sat at her vanity and applied a light coat of face powder. It was supposedly made with rice powder and crushed pearls, and it did have a luminous quality to it. She added just enough lip and cheek color for the appearance of good health and carefully colored along the lash line with a concoction of lamp black mixed with oil. She didn't want to look painted. She wanted to look beautiful. So beautiful, Wes would hopefully eat his heart out.

  May arrived and styled her hair, sweeping it into a loose bun at the back of her head. Liz already had her shift and stockings on, so she slipped on her shoes and then it was time for corset-torture. Liz hung onto the bedpost as May slipped the garment around her. Liz adjusted it and held it in place. The damn thing served a purpose, after all, to provide the optimum female shape by hoisting up the breasts and squeezing in the waist. Unlike later centuries when thin was in, the hourglass shape was currently thought to be the perfect female figure.

  The first pulls stole Liz's breath and it only got worse from there. Oh, sweet Jesus, it was so tight! Not only did it suck the air from her but it prevented from getting much more, a problem because she always felt out of breath when she was nervous anyway. But she was determined to endure it tonight just like any other lady would have. Suck it up, chick. You just have to get used to it.

  May put the hoop around her waist and tied it in place.