“Let me guess… she is also pleasing to the eye?” his father teased.
“Pleasing to both eyes, Father. But that will serve only to make my job more enjoyable. The second request is that you consider allowing Mother to return to her position as headmistress until we find a suitable replacement. I fear that the young women there have undergone significant torment, and I wish it to cease immediately. Perhaps they could find some care under her gentle guidance.”
“Always the flatterer, you scoundrel,” Gerard grinned, seeing his pretty wife’s flush of pleasure at the compliment. “I leave that to your mother. Brigit? What have you?”
“I would enjoy teaching again, and if any of those poor children are hurt, that sow will face the ire of Clan O’Ryan and the curses of Hidden Glen,” Brigit’s faint Irish brogue rolled from her tongue as her green eyes flashed. Ryan chuckled at her threat, knowing that her bite was as sharp as her bark. He had been a precocious child and had challenged even the Lady’s gentle grace to its very end. She had often wondered if he was a changeling and not her precious little son, and she had constantly threatened to call upon the faeries, leprechauns, and banshees to help her deal with the boy’s willfulness. And when that failed to work, she yielded a switch.
“Brigit! Such language!” her husband scolded. Ryan suppressed a grin when his mother raised an eyebrow in a familiar, challenging gesture.
“Truly? Does it displease you, Gerard? If so, what do you intend to do about it?”
“You little imp. Son, please excuse me while I handle your mother’s insolence,” the older man said, standing and holding his hand out for his smiling wife. “We will be at your home shortly. Please see yourself out. Now, you, my naughty one. It seems that a trip across my lap is in order.”
Ryan laughed, hearing his mother giggle as she was taken upstairs. His heart longed for the love that his parents shared and the type of play he was aware they engaged in. Spanking was not an unexpected event in the Remington home, and he had witnessed many if not all of the girls reformed by his father being spanked, bare bottom and over his knee. Ryan had also been fortunate to be called upon frequently to assist when more than one naughty bottom required direction.
Ryan loved the female posterior. Its pale, round globes that jiggled delightfully under his hard, callused hand. The rosy glow it obtained as that same hand connected loudly and directly on the silky, white flesh. And the cries… not so much of pain, but of release. He relished the loving sounds of repentance from the deepest part of her heart and the feel of acceptance as the girl submitted herself to his will and allowed him to direct and guide her. His father used to tell him that a proper Englishman only shows affection to his horses and dogs, but this particular Englishman would also show the same loving affection to a female’s rebellious bottom.
Hearing the tell-tale sounds of smacks upon a naked derriere and the accompanying moans of pleasure, Ryan left the house, shaking his finger at the giggling staff. He climbed into the waiting carriage, pleased to see that the young Russian girl was still sleeping soundly. They arrived at his estate thirty minutes later, and he insisted on carrying Aryanna into the house himself, ignoring the disapproving snort of the driver. His housekeeper, Martha Stiller, blocked his path, a deep frown etched in her weathered brow.
“Your Lordship, is that a female you are bringing into your home? Please sir, I respectfully urge you…”
“Martha, move out of my way and stop looking as though you have been sucking the lemons from the trees again. Is the guest room prepared?” Ryan grunted, eyeing his old nanny whom his parents had charged to tend to his home and his agenda.
“Yes, sir. However, an unchaperoned woman…”
“You live here alone with me, and the neighbors never say anything about that breach of protocol,” Ryan commented with a chuckle.
“Will you never cease to torment me? Even as a child, you would cause me distress. The neighbors—the entire tenancy, in fact—knows your adversity to having live-in servants since your return from America. I beg you, sir, to please reconsider—wait! Is that blood?” the old woman suddenly asked. “I will get some hot water and rags. That poor child!”
Ryan nodded, pleased by the sudden turn of concern on the old woman’s face. He placed Aryanna upon the bed in the large, spacious room and slowly began to pull up her skirt to gain access to the offended areas of her anatomy. Martha stood shock-still as she entered, bowls in hand, and witnessed her Lord with his large hand resting gently on the unconscious girl’s exposed bottom parts. Her eyes then strayed to the ugly purple bruises and split skin left by the angry wielding of a thick cane.
“That is the damage of a headmaster’s cane, My Lordship. That is not intended for a female… This poor, poor child…”
Ryan took the water from her and wrung out a cloth, gently applying it over the swollen welts and dabbing carefully. “I will be Reforming this one myself, Martha. Father and Mother are already aware.”
“But propriety…”
“My dear governess, when have I cared or concerned myself over the opinions of others? Even King Edward knows that I stand strong on what is right and wrong and don’t give a dog’s ballocks for social games. Oh, don’t look so surprised. You have cleansed my mouth of words much worse than this.”
Martha sighed, shaking her head. Ryan had always been stubborn, opinionated, and unmoving in his ways, worse since he had spent four years living in the colonies and learning the behaviors of the nonconventional Americans. His visit had been encouraged by King Edward as a means to discover ways to help introduce England to different directions of thought from those instilled by the prior monarchy. Ryan had excitedly participated and immersed himself into American society, enjoying the openness and freedom experienced in the “regular” people while chuckling at the attempts by the well-to-do to imitate British social standards. He left the country with a renewed opinion regarding socialization… everyone was bonkers and needed to just strip naked and take a romp in the ocean. An opinion he had bluntly voiced to the king and received a hearty laugh with a solid slap on the back.
Satisfied that Aryanna’s wounds were clean, Ryan excused himself to freshen up after the carriage ride, leaving Martha watching over the sleeping girl with instructions to apply cool compresses to the tortured area. While donning a fresh shirt, however, the sound of high pitched screams sent him racing down the hallway and skidding into the guest quarters. Aryanna was pinned to the wall, screaming in fright, while Martha stood over her, pointing her finger as she sternly scolded, “Now listen here, Miss. A lady does not slap at the hands of those trying to help her! You are a guest in Lord Ryan’s home, and I will not stand for inappropriate behavior.”
“What is happening here? Ary? Shhh, come to me, dove. There, there,” Ryan said, holding his arms out for her. She flung herself into them, crying hysterically and shaking with uncontrollable fear. He held her tightly, stroking her silver blond hair and whispering soft, gentle words. “You’re a good girl. Martha won’t hurt you. You sweet little darling, shhh. All is well. I will not allow anyone to harm you. Martha, leave us.”
“Now, sir—”
“Must I repeat myself?” Ryan shot a rigid look in her direction. With a respectful curtsy, the old woman rushed quickly from the room. Ryan gently dislodged the girl from his arms and placed his hands on her face, making her look at him. The dark blotches that framed the sky blue eyes were pronounced, and her cheeks were hollow and pale. Ryan kissed her temple and pulled her into his embrace once more. He felt her relax in his arms and wondered when the last time she had been held or comforted was. He ached for her losses and what she had survived the last two years of her young life.
When her crying had subsided, he took her hand in his and led her to the bed, pointing to sit. She shook her head, reddening as she reached behind her.
“Yes, dove, I know that little bum is raw. I will tend to it myself. Lay down, girl. Go on.”
Aryanna trembled as she follow
ed his gesture, and then smacked his hand when he went to raise her skirts.
“No,” Ryan said, catching her wrist and kissing it. “You will not strike me.”
Three more times, Aryanna resisted his efforts and received the same response. Ryan prompted himself to practice tolerance and prove to her that he meant no harm. Finally, his patience paid off, and Aryanna stifled a cry as he lifted the material from the battered skin. Ever so gently, he applied salve to the area, speaking in soft, low tones and pausing frequently to offer reassurance. He smiled as she finally submitted to his ministrations and relaxed under his touch. Gently, he lifted her gown back over her swollen posterior, leaned forward to press a kiss to her temple, and quietly left the room.
“Martha, a word.”
“Yes, My Lordship?”
“I do not want that girl being reprimanded at this time. I am going to ask that you go to my parents’ home tomorrow to assist Lord Remington with the household while my mother attends to classes at the academy.”
“And leave you here unattended? Sir, I cannot—”
“Don’t get your knickers in a knot, Martha. My mind is made up and I will not be swayed. I will tend to the girl’s needs myself.”
“But her personal care…”
“I am able to cook and nurse quite well, thank you, madam. I am quite capable of caring for one young woman. Furthermore, I am certain she is able to direct her own bodily functions. I do not sense that this one is in need of the nursery.”
He stood waiting for the old, prudish woman to have a coronary where she stood. Her face red and her tongue stilled, Martha could only blink in disbelief. She finally gained the dignity to tip her head and excuse herself, wishing that she still had the authority to take a switch to the impertinent boy’s legs. Ryan suppressed a laugh as he watched the poor old thing glide away, listening for the sounds of her footsteps as she returned to her little room to collect her things for the next day’s move. No doubt the Lord and Lady Remington would distress over his decision, but he knew that they, too, would agree it was for the best.
* * *
“My dear,” Gerard yawned, stretching his long, muscular body, “as always, you exhaust me.”
“And, as always, you know how to bring me to the fullest of content,” Brigit smiled, snuggling her slim, naked body against his. “And I do mean fullest.”
“Hmm, I am glad to hear that you have no complaints. Although we should take this moment to enjoy the aftermaking, I am concerned about your son and the plight of the school. Have you any ideas?”
“I am always amused when you refer to our Ryan as my son. I remind you, my love, that while he has my temperament, he has your heart. As for ideas, I certainly do,” Brigit said, sitting up and allowing the sheet to fall from her breasts. The late afternoon sun glowed upon her milky skin and set her red hair a fiery gold. Gerard reached over to play with her nipple as she spoke. “I do trust Ryan’s ability to reform. He learned from the best,” she praised, stroking the hand that caressed her breast. “I say that we allow him freedom with this girl. I have not seen him so passionate about anything in a while and feel it would be good for him to exercise his heart, not just his mind. Perhaps she will teach him to curb his temper.”
“Brigit! Are you playing the matchmaker? You have not even met this girl yet.” Gerard tweaked her nipple lightly.
Brigit shrugged, arching her back towards his hand, “I am merely suggesting that if this young lady has Ryan so concerned, it might be enough to get him to consider settling. And I desire grandchildren before I am too old to spoil them.”
“Yes, my darling, as do I. Very well, I will heed your counsel. But there is more… I know that look upon your face. You are either planning on stealing a pot of gold, or you are inventing trouble. Come, now, woman. Speak.”
“When was the last time you reformed?” she asked, a glint in her eye. Gerard lifted a brow and listened carefully to her plans.
Chapter Three
“Where is the girl?” Lord and Lady Remington inquired upon entering Ryan’s home the following day. Martha, obviously rattled by the ordeal, quickly informed them of her plight and included Ryan’s demands that he be left unattended in the presence of the young woman. Gerard patted her shoulder with a chuckle before proceeding up the stairs without a word, followed by his wife. The two of them paused in the doorway to witness their son rocking the weeping girl in his arms.
“What is all the blubbering about here?” Gerard’s deep voice asked, entering without invitation.
“Her pain is severe, Father. I cannot calm her. I’ve given her a tonic, but she is too frightened to allow herself to relax. Her Christian name is Aryanna. I do not have a surname for her.”
“Aryanna, look at me,” Gerard ordered, standing over them. “Girl, stop your crying and look at me.”
“Gerard, she is—”
Gerard ignored Brigit’s intervention, leaning over to look at the girl in the face. And what a pretty face it was, despite the red nose and swollen eyes. “Aryanna, you must calm yourself now. Enough of this. You are not here to be coddled. Enough, I say.”
Aryanna held her breath, looking up into the older, but equally handsome, face of the Earl. He had a timbre to his voice that forbade defiance, and she shrunk into Ryan’s arms as she forced control over her tears.
“That’s better. Good girl,” Gerard praised. He saw the terror in her face when she noticed Brigit. “This is the Lady Brigit, Ryan’s mother. I am Lord Gerard, his father.”
“Mama and papa of Lord Ryan?” Aryanna sniffed, trying to contain herself in the company of the stern, foreboding man.
Gerard smiled, nodding. “Yes, mama and papa. Son, I wish to see her marks.”
Ryan nodded, getting Aryanna’s attention and patting the bed. She blushed, shaking her head. Gerard rolled his eyes, “I don’t have all day. Girl, lay down and pull up those skirts. Obey me.”
“She doesn’t understand…” Brigit touched his arm.
Gerard disagreed, “She understands quite well. There is intelligence behind those eyes. Aryanna? Do you understand me?”
Slowly, Aryanna nodded her head.
“Are you afraid of me?”
Aryanna hesitated, and then shook her head. She felt the same sense of safety from the father as she did from the son. Gerard pointed to the bed. “Good. Now lay down so we can see how you have been hurt. We want to stop this from happening again. Brigit, what in the bloody hell are you doing?”
Brigit was climbing next to the girl on the bed and pulling her down next to her. Facing Aryanna, she gently pulled the thin material up to the girl’s waist and then drew her close into a motherly embrace. Aryanna clung to the gentle woman as the two men exposed and surveyed her damaged privates.
“This woman is a barbarian. She was close to needing sewing here,” Gerard exclaimed, gently applying a thin layer of salve over an open cut. “Ryan, I will take your mother to the school in a week or two, and will deal with this affront. We feel it best for you to remain here.”
“Father, it is my responsibility to follow through with my promise if that woman refuses to depart,” Ryan snapped, covering Aryanna with a blanket as his mother continued to soothe her.
“I am more than capable of representing your wishes, Ryan,” Gerard said sternly, frowning with disapproval.
“I beg your pardon, sir. I meant no disrespect.”
“Like hell you didn’t. You must trust me, boy. Plus this child should not be left unattended. I understand she is terrified of Martha.”
“I’m terrified of Martha,” Brigit commented, her hands soothing Aryanna’s hair as the girl curled against her. “I agree that Ryan would do much better without her presence. She would be a good assistant to you while I am gone.”
“The two of you are going to be my death. And stop petting the child. She is not a house pet, nor is she an infant who needs swaddling.” Gerard feigned annoyance as his wife and son stroked the lovely girl to calmness. With a
grunt, he joined them on the bed and placed his hand on Aryanna’s slim ankle. “I promise this will not happen to you again, little miss. And I’m not the big, bad wolf of this family, so don’t you be worrying about me.”
“Wolf?” Aryanna snuffled, confused. She found she liked the gruffness of Ryan’s papa and instinctively knew he would protect her as Lord Ryan did. The Lady Brigit clearly was happy with the older man, so he could not have been a bad sort. But wolf? It made no sense to her.
“An expression, lovey. Nothing more,” the Lord Remington smiled, patting the top of her head and brushing her hair back away from her face.
“How old is the child?” Lady Brigit asked, as she moved to get up. “She really is quite comely.”
“She is eighteen years old, though she looks a bit younger.”
“You really should have tried for a daughter, Father,” Ryan commented, as Gerard coaxed a giggle out of the girl by making silly faces at her, distracting her from her pain and her fear.
“Maybe one day I will get a daughter-in-law and granddaughters,” Gerard quipped back. He held his arms out for the girl and hugged her tightly as she threw herself into him. “Good girl, Aryanna. Papa will help take care of you.”
“Papa is good. Mama is good. Lord Ryan…” she eyed the handsome young man, a mischievous glint in her eyes, “is incorrigible.”
Gerard broke forth with a loud roar of laughter, clapping his pouting son on the shoulder. “She will be fine, my boy. She has a sense of humor. Much like your mother’s, it seems.”
“Then, much like Mother, she will find her bottom end being frequently warmed,” Ryan scoffed.
Brigit leaned over to hug the young woman closely, kissing both cheeks, “Be a good girl, my darling. I will come back to see you shortly. Good day.”
“Good day, Mama,” Aryanna smiled, earning an extra squeeze for the term of endearment.
Gerard kissed her forehead. “We’ll take care of everything, little miss. You heal up, yes?”
The Reformer Page 3