by Golden Angel
******
Gently covering his bride up, Wesley stroked her damp hair back from her temples. He couldn't have asked for a better stag night, despite the panic he'd felt earlier when he'd gone looking for Cynthia. Frustrating baggage. There'd been a moment of lesser panic as well, when he'd unsheathed from her ass and she hadn't moved. For a moment he thought he'd been too rough, but when he pulled her up to look at him, the dreamy smile on her lips had quieted all his qualms.
His bride had barely been lucid, she'd been limp in his arms, and unable to walk, but she'd been smiling.
It had been monumentally satisfying to carry her to her room, a soft, submissive bundle of chastised beauty. Of course, it would be even more satisfying after tonight, when he'd be able to carry her to his room. He was sure there would be many occasions for that. With the exception of the night she'd tried to sneak into his bed, he'd decided that the bedroom would be for pleasure, the study for punishment.
Not that he would ignore his darker and more perverted tendencies in the privacy of their bedroom, but he wouldn't punish her for naughtiness there either.
Leaning down, he kissed her soft lips and she murmured in her sleep, that dreamy smile making him feel almost tender, despite how frustratingly out of bounds she'd been earlier.
"Sleep well, darling. Tomorrow you're mine."
Chapter 11
The wedding ceremony was beautiful. The groom was handsome. The bride was stunning. The vows surprisingly sincere, causing many a woman in the audience to frown and many a man to sigh with regret, as another hardened rake had evidently fallen victim to love - and to such a buxom beauty! The men were especially displeased that they hadn't even had a chance to approach such a sweet armful before the Earl of Spencer had snatched her up. Those that had been lucky enough to meet her before, cursed the Earl for both his good fortune and the possessiveness that they'd already had the dubious privilege of experiencing when they’d flirted with her after he’d met her. Several of the young ladies, mostly in their second or third seasons, sighed in envy at the romanticism of it all, hoping that they would be as fortunate to find such handsome, doting husbands.
Throughout all of it, Eleanor was miserable.
Well, perhaps miserable wasn't the right word. Murderous might be more apt.
Seated between the Countess and her own parents in the front pew, she glared at her husband throughout the entire ceremony. He was splendid looking, so tall and dark, and with a rakish smirk decorating his lips. She could hear the sighs of the women behind her as they admired the looks of the men who were standing up for Wesley. If only those women knew that one of the men was the very devil incarnate.
After taking her home last night, Edwin had punished her with pleasure. More specifically, withheld pleasure. He'd kissed and caressed and stroked her until she was wild with need, and then he'd pumped his seed all over her breasts and belly, without allowing her to climax. Holding her tightly in his arms, he'd kept her from touching herself and relieving the ache that had taken hold.
The worst part was, she could tell that he wasn't even truly upset with her. In fact, he'd seemed rather proud that she hadn't gone wandering off with Cynthia and Grace. Defying him had been fun, but the punishment she'd received had not been the one she'd expected.
Of course she'd known she wouldn't get away with withholding information from him, but she'd thought that she'd at least receive ecstasy at the end of it, as she so often did. Although, even if she'd known what his devious mind would come up with, she still wouldn't have told him where Grace and Cynthia had gone. Part of her was relieved that Irene had caved, so that she hadn't had to. Knowing that Grace and Cynthia hadn't been up to anything harmful had given her the chance to pit her will against Edwin's again.
She would hate for him to think that she was becoming too meek. It wasn't in her nature, so any time she could find some small way to test his will (and his patience), she happily took it up. Last night had proven to be such a moment. Eleanor had exulted in her rebellion, in proving to herself and him that being in love, being disciplined by her husband, hadn't changed who she was at her core.
But then the bastard had gone and turned it all around on her.
Even now, glaring at him, she couldn't help but want him. The entire ceremony she could barely concentrate on the words, or on the way Cynthia kept shifting uncomfortably, or Grace as she peeked at Alex from across the dais. Eleanor was too busy thinking about all the naughty, decadent, perverse things she wanted to do with her husband.
A spanking would have been better than this.
Actually, if she was being honest, she'd been looking forward to a bit of discipline. It wasn't until she hadn't gotten it that she realized how much her body craved her husband's firm hand and the hot sting of a spanking. There was truly something wrong with her.
******
Cynthia might have imagined it, but she would swear that Wesley’s eyes gleamed even brighter as she promised to love, honor and obey him. Vowing to obey him felt right, even as she knew that she would break the vow many times throughout their life. She wanted to obey, she really did, but it was just so very difficult. But she would obey as best she could, and she’d probably do better at it when she had a sore bottom than when she didn’t. Still, she did love him. She had no idea what “honoring” him meant, but she’d just vowed to do that too.
The fierce way he spoke his own vows made her heart dance inside of her chest. He was looking at her with a possessiveness that she’d seen Edwin looking at Eleanor with, and Hugh looking at Irene, and even Alex looking at Grace. It was a heady experience, being at the center of all that attention – not just the congregation’s, but his as well.
Putting the ring on Cynthia’s finger was the highlight of the ceremony for Wesley. Finally, finally, she was marked as his. The gleaming gold band wasn’t a shield against other men, he knew that, but it still made him feel incredibly, smugly triumphant to see it on her hand. A physical indication that she was his and no one else’s, for the rest of their life.
If another man even thought of touching her, Wesley now had all the reason he needed to blow the bugger’s head off.
******
"I now pronounce you, man and wife. You may kiss the bride."
The pastor was grinning as he said the words, but his expression quickly turned to shock as Wesley behaved in his usual irreverent manner. Edwin, Hugh and Alex all chortled with amusement as Wesley reached out and grabbed his bride by her hips, drawing her into him and bending her back for a completely improper and passionate kiss. Even more improperly, Cynthia flung her arms around his neck and was obviously kissing him back with enthusiasm. The sounds behind Eleanor, from the ton at large, ranged from gasps of shock or disapproval to cheers from a few of the men - quickly quieted as they were whacked with fans from the ladies seated nearest them.
Eleanor covered her mouth, pretending to cough to cover her own laughter. Beside her, the Countess shook her head, but Eleanor could see the sparkle in her eyes and the amused twitch of her lips as she watched her son finish the kiss and bring Cynthia upright again.
The shameless little hussy was pink-cheeked with excitement, not with embarrassment, as Wesley wrapped her hand around his arm and they began to walk back down the aisle. Eleanor couldn't help but grin at her. She was going to set the ton on its ears and Eleanor was looking forward to it. Already Cynthia had created a bit of a scandal by having Grace as one of her bridesmaids. If only Eleanor's morning nausea was less severe, she would have been standing up there as well.
As the wedding party followed the bride and groom down the aisle, the entire audience was treated to watching Lord Brooke extending his arm in an exaggerated offer to his wife. But that wasn't the biggest surprise - the whole room seemed to take an indrawn breath when she actually accepted it! Rumors had been going around since their arrival together in Bath, especially after the dance the other night, but this seemed even more indicative of their general state of affairs.
Eleanor rolled her eyes. Such small scenes would be dissected to tiny bits by the gossips, and then it was likely their entire demeanor towards Grace would change. Everyone would assume that the couple was reconciling to create an heir, and now that Grace was doing her duty, the scandal would die down again as long as she didn't take another lover until after said heir was produced. She saw more than one woman looking at the couple with blatant consternation on their faces.
Probably the ones that had hoped Lord Brooke would divorce his wife and remarry. Or women who had hoped to become his lover. Many of them were the same women who flirted with Edwin, only to be brutally rebuffed. It took considerable effort for Eleanor not to smirk at any of them as she passed, arm in arm with the Countess.
******
The receiving line at the wedding brunch was boring Cynthia to tears, right up until she saw two of her favorite people in the world. She fairly launched herself at them, tears of joy sparkling in her eyes.
"Matthew! Vincent! What are you doing here?!"
Behind her, Wesley had to still his sudden and violent desire to punch his own brothers in the face. Fortunately for both of them, they responded to his new bride's enthusiastic greeting with laughter and brotherly hugs, giving no indication that they regarded Cynthia as anything other than a little sister. Which made Wesley wonder about the state of their eyesight. Matthew might be a bit young to appreciate Cynthia's charms, which were evident even in the innocent and modest white dress she was wearing, but Vincent was old enough to know what a treasure she was.
Vincent laughed and kissed her forehead. "My gawd, Cyn, I almost didn't recognize you... you look like a real lady now." A statement which she immediately contradicted by sticking her tongue out at him, which made him laugh again. He had the same hazel eyes and brown hair as all the Spencer men, but his hair was fashionably styled as was his clothing. Matthew, of course, was wearing his uniform, and was eyeing some of the other young ladies who were fluttering and fanning themselves over the dashing young officer. "What happened to all the mud?"
To Wesley's surprise, Cynthia blushed, but then turned up her nose at him in an admirable imitation of the Countess. "A gentleman doesn't remind a lady of her past indiscretions."
"Too right, my dear," the Countess - now the Dowager-Countess since Cynthia had just become the Countess - said, coming up behind Cynthia and giving her sons a pleased smiled. "I'm so glad you two made it in time, although you should have come and sat with me."
"Hullo mother," Matthew said dutifully, leaning down to buss her cheek. "We arrived a bit too late for that, so we just sat in the back and watched." He grinned at Wesley. "Congratulations brother, or should I say good luck, because you're going to need it with this little devil?" He opened his arms and Cynthia immediately squealed and jumped into them, squeezing him about the waist.
Wesley plastered a smile on his own face, even though right now he felt a bit like growling. He and Cynthia were going to have to have a talk about the proper way to interact with other men. Even his brothers. His smile became a bit more relaxed as he remembered their "talk" last night. From the way his bride had been fidgeting all morning, he knew she was still feeling the marks from her birching. His marks, on her skin, reminding her of whose she was. That salved some of the possessive aggression that had boiled up inside of him.
Strangely, being wedded to her didn't make him feel more secure. If anything, he felt more possessively guarded than ever. As a wife, she was even riper for seduction by the rakes of the ton. Not that he thought she would fall to their blandishments, she'd kept them off before he'd ever met her, but that didn't mean he liked them looking or thinking. It almost made him feel sorry for all the husbands that he'd cuckolded over the years. Except that they'd been stupid enough to neglect their wives, leaving them unprotected and needy.
Not a mistake that Wesley would make.
Pulling his wife back to him and tucking her in neatly at his side, he grinned at his brothers. With Cynthia properly secured, it was easier to enjoy seeing them. "I didn't know you were going to be here, but I'm glad that you are."
His younger brothers both clapped his shoulder, expressing their congratulations on his wedding. "Not something I thought I'd ever be able to say to you," teased Matthew. "But I'm glad Mother was right."
"What do you mean?" Wesley asked, frowning as he turned his head slightly. The Dowager was surrounded by her friends, all gleefully congratulating her on getting her rakish son settled.
"As soon as Cyn came to live with us, Mother said she'd be perfect for you, once she was trained up a bit," Vincent said. The sparkling of his mischievous hazel eyes were filled with laughter; it was obvious he knew that his elder brother had had no idea.
"She did?" Wesley and Cynthia chorused the words, in the same surprised tones, which made him feel slightly better. Slightly less trapped as well. For a moment his temper rose, but it quickly slid into amusement as he looked down at his wife, who was glaring from across the room at her new mother-in-law. "Well, she was right, much as I hate to say it."
Cynthia muttered something under her breath, and he gave her a warning squeeze. Even though he couldn't hear the words, he was fairly sure that she'd just cursed.
Looking up at him, her expression was puzzled. "Aren't you mad?"
"At my mother's machinations?" He sighed and shook his head, his smile slightly crooked with resignation. "You'll get used to them. Besides, how can I be mad at her when she brought me you?"
Both of his brothers made gagging noises as Cynthia's cheeks blushed a sweet pink. She looked so charmingly innocent at that moment, despite Wesley's firsthand knowledge that she certainly wasn't. It took quite a bit of willpower not to drag her off to divest her of the last of her innocence this very moment.
******
Standing with Hugh and his parents, Alex kept one eye on Grace, who was talking with Eleanor and Irene. Edwin hovered behind the chair that he'd seated Eleanor in, which had already sparked quite a bit of speculation among the guests that she might be in an interesting condition. Many of them had tried to surreptitiously coax one of the Hydes’ friends into confirming, so far without success. It helped that Eleanor's parents weren't hovering as well, most of the gossips were sure that Lord and Lady Harrington would be watching over her as well if she were enceinte.
Alex only had eyes for Grace.
Last night she slept in his arms without protest, warm and soft, and he'd fallen asleep filled with hope. This morning she'd pulled away immediately, a wary expression back on her face. Studying him. Judging him. If only he knew for what.
Unfortunately, they hadn't had any time to talk as they'd had to prepare for the wedding. Cynthia had asked Irene, Eleanor and Grace to stand on her side, so Grace had disappeared to join the women as soon as she'd dressed. At least Alex had had the pleasure of looking at her barely pink bottom before she'd gotten dressed. The spanking she'd received the night before hadn't left much visible evidence behind, but he could tell that she was still sore from the way she'd winced when she'd sat down for her maid to do her hair.
They needed to talk.
It was a thought he'd had before, especially when she'd said things that confused him, but he'd always allowed himself to be distracted by other means of communication. Alex always felt that actions spoke more than words. It was why he'd waited until after Grace had taken her first lover to take a mistress to his bed. Now that had translated into spanking her when she was naughty and holding her for comfort afterwards. Actions were easier than words.
But it was looking as though words were going to become necessary, because every time he spoke, he felt as though Grace was weighing what he said. And when she spoke, half the time he wasn't sure what she was talking about. There seemed to be some third part of the conversation that he wasn't aware of. It would be so much easier if she would just trust in him, in his return, his worship of her body, his discipline... after all, he was taking the time to correct her behavior and c
ontinue to try and reconcile, rather than giving up on their relationship. Shouldn't that speak volumes?
Well, perhaps he was just being impatient, because it did seem like things had changed between them - for the better. But he didn't think they could go much further without him knowing what was going through her pretty little head, and she seemed to feel the same. Because every time he told her, she didn't act as though she trusted what he said.
"Why don't you just go over to her?"
Alex came back to himself with a start, guiltily turning to look at Hugh. Lord and Lady Harrington had already moved away, leaving the two men alone. "Sorry, I didn't mean to ignore you."
"No apology necessary," Hugh said, shooting him an amused look. "I just don't understand why you're standing here with me, when it's obvious you want to be over there with her."
"I just thought I'd give her some space," he muttered, looking back at her. She was laughing at something Eleanor had said, looking gorgeously happy and making his chest ache. "She never smiles like that when I'm nearby."
Hugh studied her for a moment, his own expression softening when his gaze lit upon his own wife. "Give it time. You've already made a great deal of progress from when you first arrived in Bath."
"Yes, but she's keeping something from me... and I'm sure that whatever it is makes up part of the reason why she's so determined to remain estranged." His jaw clenched. "Or become divorced."
"Have you asked her?"
He felt just the slight hint of a blush tinging his cheeks. "I've meant to... but there hasn't been much time to really sit and talk and when there has..."
"You've gotten distracted," Hugh finished for him, grinning at Alex's discomfiture. Alex cleared his throat, searching for his usual indifference and finding that it was harder to slide the blank expression over his face than it used to be. Fortunately, Hugh understood. "I know how that can be. But you should make the time now that the wedding's over. If I'd made the time to truly talk to Irene, perhaps things wouldn't have ah... gone quite the way they had this Season."