by Maggie Ryan
They spoke a little longer about other matters and then Phillip stood. Grinning, he wondered if he was a fool but seeing the basket he’d brought in, he knew he would follow his instincts.
“Do you have a tube of salve, perhaps?”
“Salve? I’m afraid you’ll need to be a bit more specific, Lord Carrington,” Eleanor answered with a smile. “Our cabinets are full of every type of salve, ointment, unguent, or emollient you could possibly require.”
Properly chastised, Phillip chuckled. “Just a salve for scratches.”
“Ah, for a certain little flower girl?”
“Yes, she has a very nasty scratch on her arm.”
Eleanor tilted her head, giving him a searching look before nodding. “I’m sure I have something that will help, but how are you going to find her? I haven’t seen her on the streets in quite a while.”
Lifting the basket, he gave his answer. “She can’t sell what she doesn’t have. I’ll put this back where I found it and add the salve.”
“What makes you think she won’t just leave it in the dirt?”
“Let’s just say that I have a plan,” he answered.
Eleanor smiled. “I sincerely wish you the best of luck. There is just something about Lilly that… well, reminds me a bit of myself in my youth. That girl is a fighter.” He followed her from the office. “Margaret,” she called as a woman rounded the corner.
“Yes, Miss Summers?”
“Could you please help Lord Carrington, dear? I need to start reminding papas that visiting hours are over and it’s time to tuck their little ones into bed.”
Phillip followed Margaret as Eleanor walked away. Once he had a small tube of salve, he asked for some paper and a pen. Writing two short notes, he thanked the nanny and went back through the gardens. The dimming light made it a bit harder to find the spot he wanted, but he finally squatted and placed the basket back where he’d found it; both the salve and his folded handkerchief beneath the flowers and a note on top, held in place by the thorn of the rose beneath it. He stood, looked at the opening in the hedge, and prayed Lilly would return.
By the time he walked back through the house, Lord Martingham and Eleanor were by the front door, obviously waiting for his return.
“There you are,” Douglas said, giving Phillip a clap on the back. “Everything taken care of?”
“Perhaps,” Phillip answered and then grinned. “How about your little one. I didn’t get to tell her good night.”
“She’s already tucked into bed,” Douglas said. “She did ask me to inform you that she did make her apologies as she promised. Oh, and she was very pleased to discover that Joselyn’s papa doesn’t approve of fighting either.”
Phillip laughed. “So there two little ruffians going to bed with red rears?”
Douglas nodded as Eleanor smiled, slipping her arms into the men’s. “Lord Carrington, I’m sure that you would be harder pressed to find any little one in bed without a tender bottom. Our papas are known for using their special time to give their precious girls a reminder to behave even if they haven’t been caught fighting.”
“Don’t fret,” Douglas said, “I assure you that your little niece was quite happy when I kissed her goodnight and wished her sweet dreams.”
Phillip chuckled. Just as Rachel was not really a little girl, they were not truly uncle and niece. He had been a friend of Douglas’s since childhood, and once he’d found and fallen in love with his wonderful woman who was also his special little girl, Rachel had become Phillip’s honorary niece. Knowing how much the two loved each other, he had absolutely no doubt that his friend had made sure Rachel received a very nice treat.
Even as Rachel had promised she’d learned her lesson and would never fight again, Phillip was thinking about what Eleanor had said… about Lilly being a fighter. Yes, some women did need to fight. They needed to squeeze themselves beneath hedges, scratch their arms on thorns as they stole a few roses, all in order to be able to put something in their mouths. Where did Lilly live? Did she have anyone in the world beside a headmistress of a very special school who cared for her? As he kissed Eleanor’s cheek and followed Douglas out to the waiting carriage, Phillip knew that, yes, Lilly did have someone else who cared. She just didn’t know it yet.
A half-hour later, the carriage pulled up outside a townhouse. The two men climbed up the steps and walked through the door that opened as they neared it. Phillip shrugged out of his coat and handed it to Douglas’s butler with a thanks. The man only gave him a slight incline of his head, as if being thanked for simply performing his duties was improper.
“How about a drink?” Douglas asked as he led the way to the back of his house and into his study.
“I’d love one.” Nodding when Douglas lifted a crystal decanter, Phillip accepted the glass of amber liquid, cupping the bowl of the crystal in his hand to warm the contents. He joined his friend as both took seats in overstuffed armchairs before the fire.
“Want one?” Douglas asked, taking his first sip before setting down his glass to use a cutter to snip the end off his cigar.
“No, thank you,” Phillip said, taking his own sip, savoring the taste of the brandy as Douglas rolled the cigar in between his lips, using a taper he’d lit from the fire to make sure the cigar was burning evenly. After taking a few puffs, he seemed satisfied and sat back, taking his glass of brandy up again.
“So what do you think?”
“About what? Your little scene with Rachel?”
Douglas’s boom of laughter caused the brandy in his glass to slosh. “Hell no, I don’t need you to tell me that you found that little scene enjoyable. You’d have to be six feet under not to enjoy seeing a naughty little miscreant get her due.”
Phillip had to smile. “You do have a great little one, Douglas. If I didn’t care for you so much, I’d be bloody jealous.”
“Ah, don’t be,” Douglas said, his grin around his cigar showing his pleasure at his friend’s compliment. “Once you have one of your own, we can share a great deal more than just a spanking scene.”
“You forget, I don’t tend to share well with others,” Phillip said.
Douglas chuckled and reached forward to flick the ash at the end of his cigar into the fire. “I didn’t mean that kind of share. You might be my best friend but believe me, I’d not hesitate to give you the beating of your life if I found you attempting to share anything other than a platonic relationship with my angel.”
It was Phillip’s turn to chuckle. “Is this threat coming from the same man who just very thoroughly spanked the poor little bottom of said angel for fighting?”
“Nope, this is a promise coming from that angel’s papa.”
“Don’t worry, I understand,” Phillip assured him. “Once I do find that special woman who wishes to be both my special little girl as well as my passionate wife, I would fight to the death to protect her as well.”
The two sat in silence for a bit, each remembering how they’d always known they were cut from a different cloth than most of their friends. While they knew that corporal discipline wasn’t a stranger to most of the homes of their married acquaintances, they knew that most husbands used a spanking only occasionally to keep their wives from overspending, or for showing flagrant or repeated disrespect. Phillip, Douglas and men sharing their proclivities used those same techniques to give pleasure to the women who had made the choice to be far more than a loving bride. The women they sought, the women they needed in order to be truly content, gave themselves on a far deeper level than most wives. While Douglas had found his perfect companion in his fiancée, Rachel, Phillip had yet to find that one woman who would choose to give him the gift of her total submission, and would be his soul mate in all ways.
“Did you give Eleanor any specific name?” Douglas asked, placing the remainder of his cigar in an ashtray and taking another sip of brandy. “There aren’t often students available who haven’t been claimed, but I know there were a few. How about that pr
etty little redhead, Sarah? She seems promising.”
“No,” Phillip said. “She appears very sweet, but not only wasn’t there a spark between us, I felt she was trying too hard. It’s like she was adjusting her expressions, her tone, even her phrases, as if playing a part.” He took a sip of his brandy to hide his grin as he remembered Lilly having no problem telling him exactly what she was thinking.
Douglas was nodding. “A spark is definitely required. How about the blonde? You know, Rachel’s friend, Kathryn? It would be great if you two become a couple as the girls would already be friends.”
Again Phillip shook his head. “Sorry, but no. Kathryn is just a bit too…”
“Too what? Plump?”
“Don’t be an ass, Douglas. You know that doesn’t matter to me.”
“Then what? Did you feel she wasn’t being truthful about her needs?”
“No, I’m afraid I’m just not able to offer her all that she is seeking.”
Douglas finished his drink and turned to his friend, his eyebrow lifting. “You’re not getting any younger, Carrington. Are you losing interest?”
“I haven’t lost interest, I can assure you,” Phillip said, finishing his own drink. “I’m just not going to settle.” He stood and clapped his friend on his shoulder. “And, old man, don’t forget, I’m a year younger than you.”
“Ten months is not a year!” Douglas countered, rising to escort his friend to the door. “I’ll see you at the club?”
“Yes, I’ll be there. Thanks again for allowing me to come with you for the visit.”
“You are more than welcome. You know my little Rachel protests when her punishment is being witnessed, but she is a little exhibitionist and gets soaking wet.”
Phillip chuckled and wondered what his friend would say if he told him that he hadn’t been the only witness to the intimate punishment, but knew that was a tidbit he’d keep to himself. He said his goodnight and, waving off the offer of Douglas’s carriage, he set out to walk home. The distance required made it more than an evening stroll, but he didn’t mind. He had a great deal to think about and almost every thought had to do with a girl named Lilly.
Chapter Three
Another tree offered Lilly concealment, though this time her feet were planted firmly on the ground. Her dark hair and clothing helped her blend in where she was pressed against the trunk, her eyes on the house across the street. Carriages were arriving as men began appearing. What kind of house was this? She’d never truly given it much consideration, but having seen the girls in the carriage that day, and noticing a few young girls on occasion walking in the gardens, she knew it contained quite a few people. She’d originally thought that the couple that owned the house had several children. Seeing at least a half-dozen gentlemen riding away in elegant carriages had her confused, but she had no intention of leaving until she had retrieved her flower basket.
She gave a small gasp as the beautiful glass door opened and the two men she’d seen earlier stepped out onto the porch. The woman she’d met that day when she lost her job was with them. They each bent to kiss her cheek before walking down the steps towards another carriage that had just pulled up. It was drawn by a pair of perfectly matched, chestnut-colored horses, and the door bore what she thought was most likely a family crest. But where was Rachel? Didn’t she go home with her ‘papa’? Lilly waited for another several minutes but when the door didn’t open and no further conveyances arrived, she decided it was safe enough.
Crossing the street, she ducked around the side of the house. Staying close to the hedge, she continued down it until she saw the break in the foliage. Taking no chances, knowing the probability of another person letting her go was highly unlikely, she squatted down and listened very closely. There was no sound of voices or even footsteps on the path. Taking a deep breath, she wiggled through the branches, experience telling her when to twist a bit and when to lift her knee higher to avoid a lower branch. Poking her head out of the opening, she listened again until she was satisfied she was alone.
It took her a moment to find her basket and when she did, her hand froze before she could grip the handle. Whipping her head around as the leaves on the bush moved, she barely stifled a cry as a bird took wing from a branch behind her. Closing her eyes for a moment, she opened them to discover that her first thought had been correct. Someone had left what appeared to be a note. Her hand was trembling as she reached for it. Unfolding the paper, she read it: I will not tell.
It had to be from the gentleman who’d caught her in the tree. Why had he written it? After all, he’d threatened to spank her. Her bottom clenched at the threat and yet her tummy fluttered as the memory of Rachel’s spanking ran through her mind. He had also promised he wouldn’t spank her, and when he’d had her in his hold, he had not given her so much as a single swat. Looking around as if expecting to see him leaning quietly against a tree, she found herself alone and realized it was getting late. She needed to get the flowers home and into water so that she’d be ready to sell them the next day. Tucking the note into the basket, she snipped a few more flowers and then climbed back through the hedge.
Once home, she filled a vase with water and then carefully removed several leaves from the lower part of the stems of the flowers. They would last much longer without the leaves and she’d give them each stem a bit of a trim before arranging the bouquets she’d offer for sale. It took more time than most girls would allow, but she believed that she received a few more coins for ensuring that her bouquets were not only pretty, but fresh. Of course they are prettier. Instead of being picked, packed, and brought into town on vendor carts, you just slip into a kind woman’s garden and take what you want. Lilly really wished that voice would shut up. The woman had cost her her job! Besides, there were hundreds of bushes and beds of various blooms as far as her eye could see. Surely a few weren’t missed.
She was a bit surprised to feel the skin of her bottom crawling as, for the first time, she admitted that it was a very flimsy excuse to justify what was really stealing. She lifted the last rose and discovered the wicker basket was not yet empty. After tucking the stem into the vase, she reached for the tube and the white square of cloth. What were they doing there?
Carefully opening the tube, she brought it up to her nose and inhaled. The skin on the bridge of her nose crinkled at the medicinal scent, recognizing that it was some sort of ointment. When she picked up the handkerchief, another note fluttered to the ground. Picking it up, she read:
Wash your arm. Dry. Put on several three times a day. Try to keep clean.
Well, he was certainly a bossy man, wasn’t he? Did he think she was too stupid to know her arm needed tending—and how dare he imply she was dirty! Crumpling the note into a ball, she raised her arm to toss it aside when she saw the scratch. It was not only aching, it was filthy, with dried blood and dirt from both her climbing the tree and wiggling through the hedge.
“Fine, are you happy?” she muttered as she poured some water into a small bowl and, using his handkerchief as it was already at hand and a sliver of soap, she washed the long scratch. Her teeth worried her lower lip as the scrubbing caused a bit of blood to seep. She continued washing and then dabbed at the spots until the bleeding stopped. She shimmied out of her dress and, standing in nothing but her shift and a pair of drawers far less pristine than Rachel’s, she gave herself a quick bath. By the time she was done dragging a brush through her tangled curls, looking at the black strands and thinking her hair was the same color as the man’s, her arm was fully dry. Her soft cry went unheard as she smeared the salve along the red line, her lips pursing as she blew along the scratch, attempting to cool slight burn.
After eating a dinner of half a small loaf of bread, she followed the slightly bitter radish she’d eaten with an apple, using her knife to cut away the parts that were too bruised to salvage. She cut the last piece of smoked bacon and set it on the floor next to a saucer of water. “Your dinner, sir,” she said, reaching out a hand
to the scrawny orange cat who crept out from beneath the table. When he backed up, she pulled her hand back.
“Not ready to be friends?” she asked. “That’s all right. I understand.” Turning away, she looked towards a small stack of books and then at the window. No, if she started reading, she’d only be able to get through a chapter before she lost what little light was left. Her second favorite activity would have to wait until tomorrow. Remembering the notes, she gave a soft laugh. From the lack of difficult words and his striking through the longest, she realized he must be uncertain at her ability not only to stay clean, but also to read. Before she could get too upset, she did remember she’d asked what tangible meant. He couldn’t possibly know her past, or the fact that she had read and reread the few books she owned.
She slipped onto the pallet that took up one side of her small room. She was tired and expected to fall instantly into sleep. Instead, the moment she closed her eyes, a man’s face filled her vision. Though she’d often seen the color of the sky in a person’s eyes, she’d never seen eyes that deep a blue, or ones that seemed to contain flecks of silver as well. He was easily one of the largest men she’d ever seen and certainly the largest she’d ever touched. She remembered the feel of his back against her chest as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Though he’d been hard as a rock, his hands when they’d taken hers to guide them around his neck, had been gentle.
Yes, he’d frightened her and threatened to spank her and yet… yet, he’d told her a silly story to calm her fears. He hadn’t attempted to chase her when she fled after the woman from the house had called out his name. She couldn’t help a small smile as she remembered the woman’s words. “Lord Carrington”. His notes and the salve proved that he hadn’t simply put her aside once she’d disappeared without even thanking him for the rescue. He certainly had lived up to the ‘Care’ in his name.
Sighing, she turned on her side, keeping her injured arm free of any pressure and tried to imagine what it would be like to live in that house. She again felt her tummy flutter remembering Rachel’s papa touching her so intimately, and her own soft moan eerily mimicked the one the girl had given at his caress. Lilly wondered if Rachel had indeed received a treat after taking her spanking like a good little girl. Squirming a bit at the echo of the sounds made when his hand had smacked against bare flesh, she wondered what treat could possibly be worth such a punishment. She might not know what went on behind that closed door, but she had personally witnessed that at least one of the little girls who lived there was going to bed with what had to be a very tender arse.