by Tracy Kay
That was the end! She had had enough insults for one evening. Furious, Madeline pushed him away from her with all her strength, balled her right hand into a fist, and hit him square in the eye. “You presume too much Lord Alfred. How dare you touch me so and assume I would marry you!” She shouted, showing him what a bit of a handful she really was.
Embarrassed, Alfred surveyed the many stares of other dancers and guests around the room and decided it was best to ignore them. Dismissing the slight sting at his eye, he grinned at her feistiness, and reached for her again, intending on continuing their dance.
Madeline stepped back and balled her fist again, ready to fight. “Don’t you ever lay hands on me again, you wretch!”
“But we are going to be married.” Alfred was confused. Once the idea of marrying Madeline had occurred to him, Alfred had no reason to believe she would disagree. After all, many women would give their virtue to be married to a man of his station and wealth. He was a sought-after man, a prime catch. He didn’t understand why she would be offended by the proposal. No matter, her feelings on the issue meant naught. Alfred would simply obtain her father’s consent and that would end her foolishness.
“Only in your delusional mind! My brother will never allow such a thing and neither will I.” Madeline was livid and trembling with emotion. Not only was she incensed at Alfred’s presumptions, she was mad at herself for being so preoccupied with her quest for information that she had missed the signals of Alfred’s intentions. If she had been paying attention, she would have been able to stop his advancements before they had gotten out of hand.
Talking to her as if she were a child, Alfred placated, “Lady Madeline, what does your brother or you have to do with it? I need only your parents’ permission and I intend on getting it. Your fear will fade once we are married and you become accustomed to my touch and the marriage bed.” Alfred assumed her reluctance to marriage was her innocence, and he was confident she would settle into marriage once she had been introduced to his bed. With a condescending smile, he looked her up and down with lust in his eyes. Yes, he thought, her body was made to pleasure him.
Madeline gasped at his audacity. “Once again, Lord Alfred,” she growled with a curl of her lip, “you presume too much. I will never share a marriage bed with you. As for my parents, their permission is irrelevant.” She truly loathed this man and the thought of marrying him repulsed her.
“How unusual. Your brother is here, is he not? I shall speak with him.” Alfred was confident her brother would see the match as a perfect solution for his sister’s unsettled future. Despite her current distress, he was sure she would become accustomed to the idea with time.
“Yes, one of my brothers is here, but he is not the one you will need permission from, and I know for a certainty, Brandon would never approve of you,” she snarled with contempt and confidence. Pulling all her strength around her like a mantle, Madeline held her head up regally and walked away from the stunned man, concluding the ridiculous conversation with the pompous ass.
Before leaving the dance floor, Madeline paused in front of Nicholas and Joselyn, who had stopped dancing to watch the altercation along with everyone else. “We are leaving. Now,” Madeline ordered haughtily. She glided off the dance floor, past her shocked parents, friends, and other guests and walked over to where Damon, Gretchen, and Simon were staring at her with dazed expressions. “I am going home. Gretchen, Lord Simon, my apologies for such a display. It was a wonderful ball. Goodnight.” With her head held high, Madeline exited the room with the grace of a queen. Damon, Nicholas, and Joselyn followed her in stunned silence.
The carriage ride home had been a silent one. Nicholas and Damon had tried to tease Madeline out of her temper, but after several attempts, they had given up. Madeline was angry, embarrassed and hurt. All she wanted was to go home and cry herself to sleep.
As Madeline entered the house with Damon, Nicholas, and Joselyn trailing behind, Brandon greeted them with a drink in his hand, leaning against the door-jam to the parlor. “You are back early.”
“Madeline had a run in with Farrington’s son, of all people, on the dance floor,” Nicholas replied. “Lord Alfred had his hands all over her.” Nicholas grinned and put his arm around Madeline’s shoulders. “She decked him. Right there on the dance floor.” He gave her a squeeze and chuckled.
Damon grinned and his eyes sparkled with humor. “It was a sight to see. I don’t think I have seen a man so surprised.”
“You hit a man on the dance floor?” Brandon raised an eyebrow in inquiry. It was not in her nature to hit anyone unless threatened. She would have tolerated his touch and would have told someone about it later.
“He squeezed my . . . bottom. He deserved it,” Madeline seethed with rage, and stepped out of Nicholas’ embrace. She was in no mood for more criticism. She had every right to stop that man from pawing her and forcing marriage down her throat. As if she would marry such a man.
“Are you all right?” Brandon was worried and watched her closely. He rarely saw her this distressed. Unlike Nicholas and Damon, he found nothing amusing about Farrington’s son fondling his sister. No, he wasn’t amused at all.
“I am fine,” she snapped. She grabbed Brandon’s drink out of his hand, swallowed the contents, and slammed the glass down on the hall table.
“Why don’t we go to the parlor?” Joselyn suggested, unsettled by Madeline’s odd behavior. “I will order some tea.”
“I don’t want any tea,” Madeline bit out, quaking with emotion.
Damon put a comforting hand on her shoulder, becoming concerned that she didn’t seem to find the humor in the situation. “Madeline, honey, come sit down with me and we can talk about it.”
She didn’t want anyone placating her or soothing her. She didn’t want tea and she didn’t want to talk. She wanted to go to her room and forget all about this horrid day. Shrugging Damon’s hand off her shoulder, Madeline took a deep breath. “Thank you, Damon, for your escort this evening. It was nice meeting you again.” Madeline politely dismissed Damon and turned towards Brandon. “I have a headache and I am retiring for the night,” she excused herself and headed up the stairs.
As she turned to close her bedroom door, Brandon was there, having followed her. “Brandon, I am fine.” Madeline took another deep breath, trying to stay calm and composed. She was very close to tears and she didn’t need or want her brother knowing she was so distressed. “All I need is a little sleep.” She attempted to close the door, but Brandon pushed the door out of her hand, closed the door behind him, and walked past her.
He turned to face her, standing in the middle of the room. “Madeline, I know you. There is something wrong and it doesn’t have to do with Farrington’s son touching you. Tell me what it is.”
“Brandon,” she sighed. “You are my brother and I love you more than anyone in this world, but you can’t fix everything. You can hold me at night when I am frightened, and you can help my friends and I fight the bad men of the world. You can even fight my battles with my parents for me, but you can’t change who I am.”
“What is this all about, sweetheart?” Brandon furrowed his brow, becoming seriously concerned. There was more to this than Alfred Farrington putting his hands on her.
“It is of no consequence,” she closed her eyes, not wanting him to see the hurt she couldn’t hide. He would never understand her feelings.
“Tell me,” he demanded. He was not going to allow her to shut him out and hold onto whatever was causing her the pain he saw in her expression and in her body.
With another sigh, she admitted, “It is me.”
Realizing she wasn’t going to say any more, as if that was the only answer he needed, Brandon regarded her with confusion. “And?”
“Mother and Missy are right. I am a wall-flower. No man would ever want me. I am hideous.” Madeline fought back the tears, disgusted with herself for letting their cruel words hurt her.
“Madeline,” Brandon start
ed smiling, believing he finally understood. She was worried about some ridiculous words of jealousy from her mother.
Madeline cut him off with a wave of a hand. “You don’t understand. I have tried everything. I have tried creams, home remedies, diets, and different hair styles. Nothing works. I get so mad at myself, but no matter what I try, I don’t change. I am still this plain, ugly creature.” She looked at Brandon with imploring, tear-filled eyes. “Why won’t anything work, Brandy? Why can’t I be beautiful like Deirdre or Joselyn? Why do I have to settle for a man like Alfred Farrington, who only wants me for my money and social status and not for me?”
Frustrated with her for hurting herself and at others for making her feel unattractive, Brandon gripped her shoulders tightly.
Looking at him in surprise, she questioned, “Brandon?”
“First of all, you will not marry Alfred Farrington. I will not allow it,” he stated firmly and with finality. “Secondly, your beauty is not like Deirdre’s or Joselyn’s.” Brandon sighed. “Sweet, why do this to yourself? You are beautiful. Come look at yourself in the mirror.” Brandon dragged her to the mirror, and with his hands on her shoulders, turned her to face the mirror and stood behind her. “See what I see, Madeline. Look at that beautiful, young woman. This silky, blond hair.” He pulled the pins out of her hair, running his fingers through it so it hung down to her waist. “And your eyes, such a brilliant green.”
“Too green, like a dragon’s,” she pouted stubbornly, not wanting to see her image.
“Soft, creamy skin.” Brandon caressed her cheek.
“Like a hairless dog’s,” she complained irrationally.
Trying to hide his laughter at her foolishness, Brandon continued. “These perfectly shaped eyebrows, sculpted cheek bones, and that stubborn chin,” he smiled kindly, caressing her chin. “And the rest of you.” Brandon unfastened her gown and let it fall to the floor with her corset, leaving her with only her chemise to cover her nudity. She gasped as she felt her clothes fall to the floor and tried to cover her scantily clad body, but Brandon would have none of it and held her hands to her sides with his own, amused by her newfound modesty with him. “Look at yourself, Madeline. Your breasts are beautiful.”
“They are too big, like a cow’s.” Madeline refused to see herself as beautiful and turned her head away from the mirror as tears glistened in her eyes.
Unable to control himself any longer, Brandon laughed out loud at her ridiculous comparisons. “They are not. Madeline, stop. They are perfect, sweet. Many men love large breasts. Trust me. I am a breast man myself.”
She shook her head stubbornly, refusing to see what he did. The woman she saw in the mirror had breasts that were unfashionably large, a waist too thick despite the tight corset she wore, and hips that flared out with a round bottom, and to top it off she was short, barely five-foot-two.
Brandon’s hands went to her hips with a soft touch. “Wide hips, a trim waist, supple thighs, a plump bottom, ample bosom, an hour glass figure. Perfect. You are perfect.” Brandon whispered as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, resting his chin on top of her head.
Madeline shook her head again in denial and bit her lip as the tears finally fell.
Brandon sighed, turned her to face him and wiped away her tears. “You are soft in all the right places, Madeline. Any man would be fortunate to have you, not only for your beauty, but for who you are.” Brandon sighed again as her tears continued to fall. “I can’t lie to you, Madeline. Some men will not want you and some will want only your money. However, there are men who will want you for you, not your money or your beauty, but for who you are inside.”
“I have no problem attracting men with my money or my reputation. I only wish I was beautiful,” Madeline sighed forlornly, fighting off the tears.
Brandon shook his head at her in frustration. “Haven’t you been listening to me? You are beautiful and I will not allow you to hurt yourself again, no more foolish remedies or starving yourself. It is too dangerous. Do you understand me?” He waited for her to nod and went on. “You do not need any beauty creams or to lose any more weight, Madeline.” Brandon ran his hands lightly across her voluptuous body in male appreciation. “Keep your curves, puss.”
“Why couldn’t I have been pretty like Deirdre or Mother?”
“Because you are pretty like you, and you take after our father’s family, sweet,” Brandon tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You resemble our grandmother, who is healthy, active, beautiful, and as feisty as ever. You are so much like her, sweet.”
“It is not fair.” Madeline stomped her foot in irritation and frustration.
“Madeline,” Brandon lifted her chin up to meet his eyes. “Be glad you are not like your mother. You have all that spunk and determination that she doesn’t. I admire the woman who can deck a man for putting his hand on her ass when she doesn’t want it there.” He grinned at her with amusement. He was pleased that she was able to stand up for herself, but he also knew, she would have to work out her insecurities on her own, and she probably wouldn’t feel beautiful until a man she loved could show her differently. She certainly wasn’t going to believe it coming from him, a brother.
She forced a laugh. “That did feel really good. I know I scandalized everyone, but he deserved it. And I don’t want to marry Alfred.”
Brandon smiled proudly at her. “He certainly did deserve it, and trust me, you will not be marrying Alfred.” He grinned and kissed her forehead. “Tell me, how is your head feeling after all this upset?”
“It is fine.” Madeline lied. She didn’t want him worrying more over her.
“Hmm.” Brandon hugged her tight for a few minutes, knowing she wasn’t being honest with him, but also knowing she needed him to let it be for now. “Do you want me to stay for a bit and hold you?”
Madeline tossed her head. “No.” She was afraid that if she said any more she would burst into tears.
“All right then, sweet. You get some sleep.” Brandon kissed her forehead again and left, closing the door softly behind him.
Madeline gave a big sigh as she crawled into bed and wiped at her tears. “I wish I could believe you, Brandon,” she sobbed to the empty room, “but you are my brother and can’t see all my flaws as I can. I wish I could change my appearance. I wish things were different.” She cried herself to sleep, resigned to never finding someone who would love her for her.
Joselyn took a deep breath before she knocked on his door. When he answered to come in, she opened the door with shaking hands. The sight that met her was Nicholas undressing for bed. His chest was naked and he was undoing his breeches when he looked up at her.
“Joselyn, what is it, honey?” Nicholas smiled at her.
“I thought we could talk,” she answered tentatively. She couldn’t go to sleep until she had talked to him. She had to resolve her fears over marrying him.
“About my proposal?” He questioned as he casually secured his breeches.
“Yes,” she nodded, shyly averting her eyes from his bare chest.
“Come, sit down.” He gestured her towards a chair. Once she was seated, he sat in front of her on the ottoman. Taking her hands in his, Nicholas watched her expectantly.
“Nicholas, I . . .” She started hesitantly. Nicholas waited patiently for her to find the words. “I don’t know if I love you, but . . . but what I feel. What I mean to say is I care about you and I think you would make a good husband, but . . .” She paused, too nervous to go on and not sure how to tell him what she needed to say.
“But?” Nicholas prompted her.
“But, I don’t know if I can manage it all the time,” she muttered quickly, unable to meet his eyes.
“Manage what?” He was confused, having no idea what she was getting on about.
“Your controlling ways,” she blurted out, hoping he understood without her having to explain further.
He moved his thumb slowly back and forth across her palm tenderly. “I
only want to keep you safe, Joselyn. I won’t hurt you.”
“Yes, but,” she sighed with a shiver of pleasure. His soothing touch felt good and she didn’t want him to stop, but somehow, she had to tell him. However, she wasn’t sure how to bring the subject up.
“But?” Nicholas urged, waiting for her to get to her point.
Joselyn glimpsed down at her hands in his and blushed. She was unsure of herself and she didn’t know how to approach the subject. She took a deep breath and plunged forward. “Spankings. There, I said it. I don’t think I could stand it. You and your brother spank your sisters when they do the littlest thing wrong. Nicholas, that would be every day for me. I . . . I can’t do it. I can’t have you or Brandon . . . spank me. I can’t.” Jerking her hands out of his, she covered her face with her hands in embarrassment.
Nicholas chuckled, unable to suppress his amusement. The poor girl actually believed that Brandon and he spanked his sisters on a regular basis. She couldn’t be further from the truth. With a slight smile, he drew her hands down from her face and met her eyes with his. “Spankings, huh?”
She nodded and blushed.
“Believe it or not, Brandon and I don’t spank our sisters that often, not that they don’t deserved one from time to time.” He chuckled again. “If I spanked Madeline for all the mischief she gets herself into, she wouldn’t be able to sit down.”
Joselyn grinned with humor, glad the attention was shifted off her for the moment. “She does tend to get into a lot of mischief.”
Nicholas smiled wryly. “Yes, she does. But you have nothing to worry about, Joselyn, honey. I promise I won’t spank you or use other physical reprimands, but that doesn’t mean I won’t use alternative punishments when you disobey me.” Nicholas understood her aversion to physical punishment considering what Manuel Parez had put her through, but that didn’t mean he was going to allow her to disobey him without some consequence.
She sighed in relief, pleased that she wouldn’t have to endure that type of punishment if they married. “I know and I understand that. I can be difficult at times.” Nicholas grunted and Joselyn simpered at him. “Thank you for understanding, Nicholas.” She paused before telling him the rest of her concerns. “But there is also . . .” She hesitated, not wanting to bring the subject up. It was too embarrassing.