by Golden Angel
Something painful pressed inside of her chest, as if her heart was growing and pushing against her rib cage and lungs, making it hard for her to breathe. What does this mean?
The question echoed inside of her head, so loudly that she didn't even realize Cynthia was talking to her until the other woman shook her.
"Grace? Grace, are you well? You've gone white as a sheet!"
Blinking, her eyes refocusing, Grace looked up at Cynthia's panicked gaze, although that panic immediately lessened as the younger woman realized that Grace was back with her.
"I'm fine," Grace said, although it was a lie. She didn't feel fine. She felt... unsettled. The hope that seemed to never quite die away was blossoming painfully inside of her again, as if the portrait was a spark that had hit some very eager tinder. She hardened herself against that, gathering the hurt that she'd used to build her walls and reminding herself of why he wasn't to be trusted.
But there were cracks in her defenses. That bright, shining hope leaked through, tempting her. Why did her husband have to be so bloody confusing?!
Looking slightly worried, Cynthia took the portrait back and carefully wrapped it back up in the paper, the exact way it had been before. Grace couldn't help the little smile when she realized how very good her friend was at making it appear as if the drawer she'd just rifled through was untouched. No one, looking at the portrait's carefully wrapped package, would realize that they'd opened it. Cynthia was quite practiced at snooping, it appeared.
It was in the final drawer on her side that Grace found her prize. Packets of letters, all from business, and one from her father. This was what she had been looking for. Saving her father's for last, she skimmed through the other packets, quickly confirming that none of them had anything to do with Alex's marital status. The hope pulsing outside of the fortress around her heart felt as though it was pressing inwards as one by one, each packet was set aside without any evidence to condemn Alex. Without revealing some ulterior motive or purpose for their reconciliation.
But she didn't allow herself to crumble. After all, she still had the packet of letters from her father to go through. Who knew what her father and her husband had discussed during the years she and Alex had been estranged. She certainly hadn't spoken with her father in all that time.
As she peeked back at the bottom of the stack, to the earliest letters, and work her way to the front, it quickly became clear why.
Alex had kept every single letter from her father, from the approving ones when they had first been married, to the ones which became almost threatening in tone when she left Alex. Her father had demanded that Alex get her "under control," or he would do it himself. The very next letter following that one had been filled with frustrated fury and confusion that Alex not only refused to give in to her father's demands, but that he, in turn, ordered her father to stay away from her.
Each letter was successively angrier, although it was obvious from the rest of their correspondence that the business deal they had made was making them both quite a bit of money. From the tone of her father's letters, it appeared he became resigned to the fact that Alex wasn't going to curb her behavior or allow her father to either. He called Alex a fool and worse, but bowed to his dictates. Apparently, her father had needed Alex far more than Alex had needed her father.
Chewing her lower lip, Grace's mind raced as she flipped through each piece of correspondence, wishing that she could read Alex's letters to her father. What had he said that had convinced her father to leave her alone? Why had he been protecting her?
Her father even said that if Alex divorced her, he would continue business with Alex as usual. That didn't surprise Grace at all, what did surprise Grace was that Alex hadn't taken her father up on that offer. It had been made almost two years ago. During all this time, she had assumed that her father had at least something to do with the fact that Alex had continued to pay the bills that she sent to him. She'd thought something in the agreement he'd made with her father required him to, that her father must have put something in the marriage contract about Alex keeping her in the proper style. After all, her father cared more about appearances and money than anything else.
She'd been wrong. Her father hadn't even cared that much about her.
Why?
The question pounded at her head. Why had Alex protected her from her father's wrath? Why had Alex paid for her dresses and food and houses when she'd been estranged from him and taking lovers? Why had Alex decided that he wanted to reconcile when it would have been so much easier for him to divorce her and take another wife? Even easier than she had supposed, as her father obviously wouldn't have put up any kind of fight, not even for the sake of appearances.
Apparently she had become enough of an embarrassment that her father was ready to pretend she wasn't his daughter, but not enough for Alex to abandon her as his wife.
Why? Why? WHY?
Beside her, oblivious to her turmoil, Cynthia's head snapped up and she let out a soft little shriek. "Someone's home... Blast! Quick! Put everything back!"
Fear coursed through Grace, horror overtaking her, and she shoved the packets of letters back into Alex's desk drawer. If – when - he opened the drawer, it would be obvious that someone had gone through it, but that couldn't be helped now. The fast, heavy tread of masculine steps was getting closer, ominous and otherwise silent. More than one pair of boots, too.
Next to her, Cynthia was jumping to her feet, frantically brushing out her skirts to hide the evidence that she'd been sitting beside the desk. Grace followed suit. She took two steps for the door and then stopped. The heavy tread was already coming down the hall and there was only one way out of this room. It wouldn't matter if she stepped out; if Alex was home, he already knew where they were. The light in the room would have been visible from the street.
"Blast and damnation, what the devil is he doing home so early?" Cynthia muttered, just before the door swung open and slammed into the wall. Grace winced at the crashing noise, and then took a step back as she looked up to meet her husband's furious eyes. Right behind him was the Earl of Spencer, looking every inch his title and nothing at all like the playful and flirtatious Wesley that she'd always known. Cynthia groaned. "Dammit."
"What have I told you about cursing?" Wesley growled, moving so quickly that Grace was taken aback. Even Alex looked a bit surprised as Wesley snatched up his ward and fiancé, tossing her over his shoulder as she let out a shriek, and then striding back out the door without saying another word.
Cynthia's demands to be put down echoed through the hall, growing fainter until they heard the sound of the front door opening and then closing decisively.
Both she and Alex stood there, listening, almost as if they both wanted to ascertain they were alone. Her mouth was dry, her heart feeling as though it might burst from her chest it was beating so hard. She could barely look at the man, at her husband, whom she didn't understand at all.
"What are you doing in here?" The question was clipped, sharp. Dangerous. It sent a shiver down her spine.
She looked down at the desk in front of her, her fingers tracing the edge of it in a nervous movement.
"This is where we are staying, is it not?" she asked, trying to think through the fog that had suddenly clouded her mind. Part of her wanted to ask him all the questions that had arisen when she'd read through her father's letters, and when Cynthia had found the portrait, but another part of her didn't want to say anything until she'd had more time to think it through. That part of her was also curious what he would do now. She'd been caught invading his privacy, snooping through his things, and she was being deliberately obtuse. Not to mention, she wasn't supposed to be in this house right now. Would his temper overcome him? Would this be too much trouble, even if it wasn't going to cause a scandal since no one knew about it?
"Yet it is not where you are supposed to be and there is no reason for you to be in this room."
Still not looking at him, Grace shrugged, her
hand wiping damply over her skirt. She felt as though she was teetering on a knife's edge, waiting for his next move. Wondering what the unpredictable man would do, and what it would mean when set alongside his other actions.
Standing behind his desk, Grace looked almost like a naughty little debutante. She avoided his eyes, traced patterns on the wood top of his desk, fiddled with her skirts, and did everything she could not to actually challenge him. Which was unusual for her. Someone was definitely feeling guilty.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" he asked, his voice rough with his anger and frustration. He didn't know what Grace was looking for. Letters from a mistress perhaps? She would be sorely disappointed on that score. Although he'd received a few letters from women since he'd give his last mistress her congé, he'd tossed them all in the fire without even opening them.
The way Grace jumped at his question, looking even guiltier, he knew that she hadn't found whatever she'd been looking for. Probably some kind of evidence to further condemn him in her mind. Knowing that she hadn't found it allowed him to relax slightly, some of his tension leaking away. They'd made a lot of progress since coming to Bath and he was loathe to find that he'd lost ground.
"I wasn't looking for anything," she said sharply, still avoiding meeting his gaze.
"Bend over the desk."
Now she looked at him, her blue eyes wide with shock at his rough order, cheeks flushing and then paling. Alex stood there, his anger leaching away as calm overtook him. Patiently, he stared back at her, crossing his arms over his chest. The door was behind him, there was nowhere for her to go.
But he'd still expected her to argue. To his surprise, she stepped forward and very slowly began bending over the desk. Confusion was clear on her face, as if she herself didn't quite understand why she was obeying him. Seeing her submit so quickly had his cock standing upright, the rush of lust hitting him so fast that he nearly groaned aloud. Perhaps it was her guilty conscience, Alex wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to argue with the results either.
"Stretch out and grip the other side of the desk."
She was short enough that she had to squirm forwards, her fists uncurling so that her fingers could wrap around the far edge. Walking around behind her, Alex could see that her toes were barely touching the floor. Perfect. The vulnerability of her position was incredibly arousing.
When he flipped up her skirts, she made a soft little whimpering sound that wasn't quite a protest. Surreptitiously, he rubbed the front of his pants, making his cock swell even further as he looked down at the creamy expanse of skin that had been revealed. The mounded hills of her buttocks were thrust upwards by her position, the pouting lips of her pussy, fringed with dark curls that made the cream and pink of her skin stand out, peeked from between her thighs. They weren't wet, not yet.
Settling one hand down on the small of her back to both hold up her skirts and keep her from squirming too much, Alex raised his hand.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
"Ow!" Grace protested, although he noticed that she still hung on to the desk, even as she tried to wriggle out from underneath his hand. His cock approved.
"I know when you're lying to me, Grace," he said sternly. "I won't tolerate it."
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
He kept the slaps to her ass steady but fast, placing them randomly across her buttocks so that she wasn't able to guess where each blow would land. The flesh of her bottom danced and jiggled, from both the spanking and her squirming as her legs kicked a little bit. This was probably the hardest spanking he'd given her yet, but it was well deserved.
The little minx had not only snuck out of Spencer's house, but she'd done it in order to go through Alex's private space, and then had the audacity to try and lie about it. A firmer punishment than he'd given her before was definitely called for.
"Ow! Alex, please, it hurts."
SMACK! SMACK!
"It's supposed to sweetheart," he said, somewhat grimly. "It's going to hurt a lot more by the time I'm done. Did you even think about what you were doing?"
SMACK! SMACK!
"Would you like it if I disappeared from where I told you I was going to be?"
SMACK! SMACK!
"Have I gone through any of your private things?"
SMACK! SMACK!
"What if you'd been accosted in the streets?
SMACK! SMACK!
"You and Cynthia could have been attacked and hurt, coming over here unaccompanied at night!"
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
The idea that she and Cynthia might have been attacked on this little excursion left him breathless with anxiety. Although he loved Grace's spirit, he wouldn't tolerate her putting herself in danger. He was just starting to win her back; it would kill him to actually lose her. Anger surged through him again at the lack of care she showed for her own person.
"Ow! Dammit, Alex, we were perfectly fine!"
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Grace howled as Alex's hand came down between her legs rather than on her ass, smacking against her pussy lips with a humiliating wet sound.
"But you might not have been!"
The panicked rage in his voice took her aback, even in her own self-involved little world of pain and embarrassment. The way he said it, sounded like any injury to her would have hurt him. He sounded like Edwin or Hugh or Wesley... like he really, truly cared. And wasn't he showing it right now? Behaving just like them, punishing her because she'd put herself in danger? Well, and also the other things he'd said, but there was no doubting from the force of his blows what he was most upset about.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
His hand came down on her pale thighs, making her gasp and kick at the new sensations. It stung so much more than when he was spanking her ass. The fiery sparks were licking at her all over, her bottom, between her legs, the backs of her thighs... it felt like her whole backside was being roasted. She cried out, louder, not caring anymore if the staff might be able to hear her.
"Please, Alex, I wasn't! I won't do it again, I promise!"
"No, you bloody well won't."
His hand moved back up to her bottom, which was already bright pink and sensitive, and Grace howled. Tears were beginning to slide down her cheeks and on to his desk, but even though she kicked and squirmed beneath his hand, she found that she couldn't let go of the far edge of the desk. Her fingers curled around it as if she was hanging on for dear life. Why couldn't she let go? Was it because she felt like she deserved this punishment?
Because she really did. She was feeling more than a little guilty about going through Alex's things, especially since she hadn't found anything against him. There was no righteous anger to give her cause, no vindication. All she'd found was a portrait of herself and letters from her father that showed Alex's protection of her. Not to mention, she would have been furious if she'd found Alex going through her things. Or if he'd lied about where he was. Or if he'd put himself in some kind of dangerous situation. Because she cared too.
The tears spilled faster, not because he was hurting her - although it did hurt quite a bit - but they came out in a cathartic rush as she accepted her punishment. She cried because of her father's lack of care, because Alex carried a portrait of her and - it seemed - had for years, because he'd protected her from both her father and Society, and because he still cared enough to punish her. To spank her instead of pushing her out on the streets, alone and unprotected. To discipline her, the way her well-loved friends were disciplined.
"Grace?" Alex's voice was almost hesitant, his hand gentle as he smoothed it over her burning, throbbing bottom. "Sweetheart, are you alright?"
Part of her wanted to say something bratty, to point out that he'd just roasted her bottom, so how could he expect her to be alright? But all she did was nod her head, still crying.
"I was going to give you a taste of the belt, but I think you've had enough," he murmured, still sounding worried. Then his hand slipped down betwe
en her legs. "Ahhh." Not so worried now; the exhalation of sound was smug and almost triumphant, to her shame.
Grace couldn't explain her body's reaction or why she was still clinging to the desk as his fingers slid through the slick wetness of her womanhood. She just whimpered, her hips bucking upwards to encourage the contact. The pleasure helped to ease the throbbing ache of her bottom, even though she was fairly certain that same ache was what had caused the arousal. She moaned and shuddered as his finger drew the wetness down around her little pleasure nub, rubbing against it.
Other men had touched her like this, but she'd always felt somewhat disengaged, as if she'd had to concentrate in order to focus on the pleasure. With Alex, she'd never had any difficulty. Her own emotions kept her riveted to whatever he was doing to her body, completely engaged in the feel of his fingers as they massaged her clit and slid between the folds of her nether lips, spreading her cream around the entire area.
The edges of pain, from the spanking, seemed to balance out the ecstasy of his touch, pulling her even further into what he was doing. She moaned again as he swirled his fingers, throbbing and burning inside and out.
"Dammit," he cursed, his voice hoarse, and then suddenly she felt him kneel behind her, both of his hands on her bottom cheeks, spreading them open so that cool air and his hot breath wafted across her pussy lips. Grace whimpered. "I'm just going to taste you, sweetheart, if you want to stop me, all you have to do is stand up."
Stop him! The voice in her head shrieked, but her body just clamped down tighter around the desk, silently begging him to continue.
The first swipe of his tongue went straight through the center of her pussy, and Grace cried out. His fingers dug into her sore bottom, sending more sensations rioting through her as he began to suck and nibble on her pussy lips, licking her all over except the one place where she wanted it most. Hanging on to the desk, Grace moaned. Because of her position, she couldn't really move her body, all she could do was lie there and take whatever Alex would give her.