Educating His Elinor

by Viola Morne

What he wished? He'd been so sure that he wanted what was best for her. But since Elinor had come back to Winterhill, and she'd responded to his touch, his wish was to keep her forever, preferably in his bed. Guess that wouldn't be happening. All for the best really, if he didn't count the pain churning in his gut. A fellow couldn't die from a broken heart, could he?

  "I see. Are you fit to travel?"

  A deep blush rose in her cheeks. "I'm sure it will be uncomfortable, but I've made up my mind. I'm leaving."

  "Very well, although it is customary for a ward to ask permission from her guardian if she wishes to change her residence."

  Elinor stilled, her breasts riding and falling with each rapid breath. Had she really thought it was going to be that easy? Winter took her arm and marched into the parlor, slamming the door shut behind him. He pulled her, unresisting over to the sofa sopha .

  "No," she whispered. Winter ignored her , and pulled her over his lap. Her hands reached for the floor to find her balance. Such a good girl. He would miss her. He pulled up the layers of petticoats and skirts. No drawers, he thought with satisfaction. Her bottom was a dull red, the marks of his cane beginning to bruise. He spanked her, a firm stroke that made her flesh quiver. He laid down ten more until she started to kick.

  Winter pressed two fingers into her. Still wet. He rotated his fingers, mindful of her virginity, then circled in to the opposite direction. Elinor squirmed. His thumb found her nub, and pushed firmly. She moaned , and ground against his thigh. Now he circled her bud , while his fingers fucked her. She panted, straining against his fingers, while her essence soaked his hand. He felt the first fluttering of her climax , and pushed in hard. She came with a cry, spasming around his fingers. When her tremors subsided, he removed his fingers. Winter pulled out a handkerchief from his breast pocket , and wiped his fingers dry while he admired her swollen, soaked and satisfied cunt. She breathed hard, almost panting. He pulled down her skirts and helped her up. Elinor looked dazed, her eyes soft with satisfaction.

  "Let's get you to the coach, shall we?" He supported her faltering steps to the door. Elinor stopped and grasped the door frame, while she caught her breath. Then she squared her shoulders, and they continued outside to the graveled drive where his coach sat waiting. Mrs. Henry, in bonnet and cloak, waited inside.

  "I'm to lose both my housekeepers?"

  "Cook and Mr. Chadwick will manage until I see Miss Elinor to London." Mrs. Henry pressed her lips together. She was not happy with him either.

  "Pleasant journey then." He assisted Elinor into the coach. She winced when her bottom met the seat, and he couldn't help the surge of satisfaction that swept over him. She was leaving him ; , she should suffer.

  Winter banged the door shut , and nodded to the coachman, who flicked his whip, and the horses started off. Elinor glanced at him , before her eyes dropped. He said nothing, only watched until the coach, and his happiness, drove out of sight. What in Christ was he going to do now?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Winter cursed as he adjusted his cravat in the mirror. He hated getting dressed up, even more than he hated these ton parties. Society could go hang, in his opinion. But Elinor was out there somewhere, and he had to find her. He couldn't leave things the way they were. He'd hurt her, in every way possible, and he had to make things better. The problem was that he had no idea how.

  "If I may, sir?" Matthew glided behind him to straighten his neckcloth. He turned around. With a few deft folds, the servant improved the damn thing beyond believing.

  "Your coat, sir." By some magic, Matthew had cleaned and ironed the jacket until it looked almost new. He eased it over Winter's shoulders and smoothed his waistcoat.

  "My thanks, Matthew." He flipped him a coin, which Matthew pocketed deftly. "I look almost respectable." Matthew shook his head. Winter laughed and clapped him on the back. "Never mind, man. I know I'm an old wreck." He turned to look at himself again. He hoped Elinor could see beyond his clothes, to the constant heart which beat beneath them. He hadn't even looked at another woman since she'd come home.

  Winter finally tracked her down at a ball Julian's sister was holding. Lucy seemed delighted to greet him, though he hadn't actually been invited.

  "Seen Elinor tonight?" he asked her, trying in vain to appear casual.

  Lucy's eyes twinkled. "She's in the ballroom, quite the belle of the ball. You must be very proud of her, major."

  Heat rose in his cheeks. "Very. Julian about?"

  "Julian and Isabelle sent their regrets. Julian whisked her off to Paris for a week. I dreamed of him finding love, and now he has. He's completely devoted to Isabelle."

  Winter pressed her hand. "I've never seen him so happy."

  Lucy beamed at him , and fluttered off to attend to her guests. He found Elinor on the edge of the dance floor, fanning herself while she watched the dancers.

  "Elinor."

  She turned her head, and her eyes narrowed. "Major. What are you doing here?"

  Not a promising start. "I wanted to talk to you." He pulled at his neckcloth. "It's cursed hot in here. Let's take a walk outside."

  Elinor raised a brow. Christ, she wasn't going to make this easy, was she?

  "Very well." She slipped a hand in his arm. He inhaled the sweetness of her hair.

  The terrace was deserted. Torches flamed along the steps leading to the garden.

  She was silent, her eyes fixed on the stars overhead.

  "Elinor, I...what I did..." He shook his head, despairing. How could he ever make her understand his warped and blackened heart, and his devotion to her, which colored his entire existence. Winter didn't understand it himself. She was his. That was all he knew, all that mattered.

  "Is that the best you can do?" Elinor's words were cool as rain.

  Winter shook his head. He didn't have the words to explain himself. But he had to try, if there was a chance to repair their understanding.

  "I'm not a civilized man, Elinor. My father and the war saw to that. I'm loud and crude, and I hurt you." He prowled the terrace. "I like hurting you. I am as perverse as that fucker, Frost."

  He heard her sigh.

  "Oh, major, don't you understand? Your thoughts, and your feelings, are confused because you are torn between the decent man you are , and who your father wanted you to be. You're playing a part in a script he wrote."

  Winter turned, eyes wide with shock. "You don't know what you're talking about."

  "Do you imagine the servants don't talk? That society doesn't gossip? Just because your father was cruel and perverse , doesn't mean that you have to be. You are your own man, major ; , you always have been. You know this."

  Winter shook his head.

  Elinor placed her hand on his arm. Her fingers tightened on him.

  "You turned your back on your father. You ran away and joined the army. Why did you do that?"

  Winter pulled away."Because I was young, and I wanted adventure."

  Elinor followed him. "And you wanted to get away from your father, from the way he lead his life, the way he expected you to act, even if it went against your own heart."

  "My heart?" He laughed, a bitter sound that caught in his throat. "It withered and died years ago."

  "Oh, major, Caine, I know that's not true." She slipped her hand into his. The sweetness of her gesture made him want to cry. He couldn't do this. He didn't want to feel this pain.

  Winter flung off her hand. He strode to the balustrade and looked out into the night. The stars overhead twinkled gravely. No answers there either. Only Elinor, standing beside him, waiting.

  "Elinor, how can you say that, after what I've done to you?" Christ, he didn't deserve this lovely girl.

  "I love you," she said in a low voice. "I have always loved you."

  He turned to her, incredulous. He took a step towards her, stopped, and shook his head. It wasn't possible.

  "I have loved you since I was a small, frightened girl. When my parents died, I was left alone. Nobody wanted th
e burden of a penniless child. After the funeral, you came to get me from the lawyer's office. You stood there and said, 'I'll take care of her. She's mine.'"

  A smile trembled on her lips.

  "Do you have any idea what that meant to me? For the first time in my life, someone wanted me me . You gave an unwanted child a home , and a future. Caine, you take care of everyone. You can't help it ; , it's your nature. When your old nurse was dying at Winterhill, you made everyone practically walk on tiptoe so she wouldn't be disturbed by the noise. You filled her room with flowers, and she died holding your hand.

  “ You even take rakes like Snow and Frost in hand, turning them into better versions of themselves. Well, maybe not Frost. He's incorrigible. But you are strong and loyal and true, and I will love you till the day I die."

  Elinor stopped, her voice cracked with emotion. She dashed a hand over her eyes. "Now do you believe me?"

  He wanted to, Christ knows. But love? That was what women claimed , when all what they really wanted was a hard cock riding them. Winter recognized loyalty and strength; Elinor had these qualities, even more than most men. But she was so young. A bright future awaited her, if she could only realize it. How could she honestly want an old crock like him?

  Elinor took a deep breath. Her voice quavered. "I see, you don't believe me. I don't think you ever will. You're lost in the past." She spun around , and fled from the terrace, leaving him heartsick and bewildered.

  #

  Winter scarcely remembered leaving Lucy's party. He was adrift on a sea of unfamiliar emotions, ones he didn't want to acknowledge. He ended up at Boodles, where he found Leighton Frost sipping a brandy, with a book in his hand. Winter lurched into the room and collapsed into a chair.

  Frost closed his book and stared at him for a moment. Then he sighed. "I think you'd better tell Uncle Leighton all about it."

  Winter closed his eyes , and leaned back against the chair. Fuck it. He opened his eyes , and told Frost everything. He finally ran out of words , and then sat, waiting for Frost to voice his scorn.

  Frost folded his long white fingers under his chin.

  "You're an idiot."

  Winter flung out a hand.

  "When we were in Spain, if Old Beaky gave you an impossible objective, did you complain? Did you refuse to carry out his orders?"

  "Of course not. This is different."

  Frost took a sip of brandy. "If you can vanquish one of Boney's best generals, what chance does a nineteen-year-old girl have against you?"

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  Frost sighed. "She's your objective, major. You want the girl ; , go take her. Don't sit there bleating about your feelings , and how you don't deserve her. Do any of us deserve our fates? You should understand that more than most. Now where's the waiter? A man could die of thirst in this godforsaken place."

  Winter stared at him for a moment. "I'm about to say something I never thought I would say to you."

  Frost raised a brow.

  "You're right, Leighton. You, of all people, are actually right." He jumped to his feet, and grabbed his hat and gloves.

  "Where are you going?"

  A smile broke over his face. "I'm going to get my girl."

  Frost's voice was dry. "Very commendable. It's one o'clock in the morning, however, and I doubt whether Cecelia Winter will let you in her front door."

  "You're right, old man. I can wait till morning. How about a drink?"

  "Let me guess, a cup of tea?"

  Winter grinned.

  #

  Cousin Cecelia was in the front parlor, working furiously away at some mess that looked suspiciously like tatting. She was tall woman, like all the Winters, but gaunt, with the habitual expression of a woman who drank lemon juice every morning for breakfast. Her one youthful attachment, to a dancing master, had ended in disgrace, and Cecelia had remained defiantly single ever since. She was an avowed man-hater and regarded marriage as a state of servitude for women. She glanced up , and scowled at Winter when he was announced.

  "What do you want?"

  "As charming as ever, my dear Cecelia. How are you?"

  "A deal better than you, I would say. You look like a cat peed on your favorite stockings. What are you doing in London?" Her eyes widened in horror. "You don't mean to stay here, do you?"

  Winter sat down , and flung a leg over his knee. Cecelia's lips tightened. His complete absence of proper deportment never failed to exasperate her.

  "Cousin, since this is my house, I don't feel the need to explain my presence , or anything else to you. I want to see Elinor."

  "Well, you can't. I don't know what you did to that girl, but she's been wearing a Friday-face ever since she got here. I won't have you upsetting her again."

  "That's really not up to you, is it?"

  "Go away, Winter. No one wants you here."

  Winter leaned forward. "Listen to me, you officious old trout. Elinor is my ward, and I want to see her. Either you call her down , or I'll dare the first floor myself."

  "You wouldn't!"

  "I damn well would, and you know it. Your choice."

  "How dare you use such language in front of a lady!"

  "I'll spare you the obvious retort. Now get off your ass, and summon your butler, before you find yourself living on the docks , with the rest of the fishwives and old cats."

  Cecelia stood, rigid with anger, lips working, ready to spew her usual venom.

  The major watched with interest. Was the harridan finally going to have an apoplexy? No such luck. Cecelia mastered her emotions , and stalked over to the door.

  "I will fetch Elinor myself."

  "Do that. And send up a tray of tea. I'm thirsty."

  Her mouth opened , but then if closed again with a snap.

  Winter took pity on her. "Don't fret, Cecelia. I'm staying at my club."

  She nodded brusquely , and stalked out.

  Finally. He'd almost had to be rude to her.

  He'd drunk the teapot before Elinor finally came in. She looked as beautiful as ever, though Cecelia was right. She seemed quiet and unhappy. His poor girl.

  "Your neckcloth is crooked."

  Winter was about to snap back at her, when he caught himself and smiled. Elinor's spirit was the kind that couldn't be broken, no matter how much of an ass he was.

  "I'm sorry about our quarrel, Elinor." There, he would be the bigger person and make concessions. Anything to keep her happy, and bring her back to him.

  "A quarrel? That's what you think we had? We finally delved into the tortured workings of your twisted soul, and you call it a quarrel?"

  He almost flared up again, except for the smallest hint of a smile on Elinor's lips. She was baiting him.

  "Twisted soul? I suppose you're right. I'll be on my way, then." Winter turned to leave.

  "If you take one step out that door, I will never return to Winterhill."

  He had selective hearing. Return to Winterhill was the only thing he heard, the only thing he cared about.

  "Do you want me to come back?"

  Winter turned to face her. Were those tears in her lovely eyes? His heart, the one he was sure he no longer possessed, clenched painfully. "More than anything."

  "Hmm. You're going to have to work for it."

  "What do you want me to do?"

  "I want you to take the time to know me, the grown-up Elinor. I won't be treated as a child, or a servant, or a mistress. We must be equal in our relations to each other, if I am ever to return to you."

  "Whatever you want...wait, what do you mean equal?"

  "I deserve the same respect I offer you."

  He thought for a moment. "But I can still spank you?"

  Elinor smiled. "Only if I am very naughty."

  She was in his arms then, dearer to him than his own life.

  "I want to stay in London for a while. I want to buy some books , and dresses , and go to a concert." Elinor plucked at his buttons. "I need to feel that I am m
yself , and not just your appendage."

  His own appendage hardened with the proximity of her luscious body against his.

  "Whatever you want, whatever you need."

  "Thank you," she said, and laid her head against his chest. Winter smoothed her hair and kissed her temple. All was right with the world again.

  #

  Elinor was in the garden, cutting some early roses. She heard running steps across the gravel path , and turned. Cecelia's butler sprinted towards her, panting, his hair standing up wildly. She stared at him , stupefied. She had never seen him, or any butler, so out of sorts.

  "What on earth..."

  "So sorry, Miss Elinor." He stopped, out of breath. "There is a young man to see you!"

  "Is this young man bleeding or injured? What has happened?"

  "He wanted to come out himself, but I thought you should be warned..."

  "Elinor!" A man was headed towards her, a man with a familiar face. He broke into a smile when she looked over at him. Her stomach dropped. It was impossible. Thomas was dead. So why was he smiling at her across the garden? Her knees buckled , and she dropped like a stone.

  When Elinor opened her eyes, she was on the sofa sopha in the morning room. Mrs. Henry hovered over her, worry creasing her features.

  "I'm fine," she told the housekeeper. Mrs. Henry's expression smoothed out. She nodded with satisfaction , and stepped back. Elinor grasped the housekeeper's wrist. "Is it true? Thomas is alive?"

  Thomas' face, as handsome as ever, came into view. "I'm sorry, my love. I should have realized my resurrection would be a shock. Please forgive me, Elinor." His dear face was so concerned.

  Elinor struggled to sit up. He rushed to assist her. "I told you, I'm fine."

  Thomas frowned. "If you're sure."

  She nodded. "How is this possible? I received a letter from your mother, telling me of your death in a shipwreck. Yet you stand before me, hale and hearty."

  Thomas clasped her hand , and pressed it. "She believed I had perished. Everyone did. The ship did go down, but I washed up ashore, near a small village. I was injured , and confused. I didn't truly remember anything before the accident for some months. I gradually made my way to Ajmer-Merwara. Without money or papers, it took me a long time to get back. Once I was on my way home, I thought it better to see you for myself. I was selfish , and , I am sorry."