He stood up, refusing to meet her gaze as he began to pace the room. She waited several seconds, sure he wouldn’t answer. Her heart fell at each additional moment, knowing whatever he told her would not be the truth.
"No, I'm afraid I haven't."
She was very thankful she hadn't eaten much for supper. Her belly clenched uncomfortably at the knowledge that he loved someone, perhaps even a mistress. Had it been a childhood love, he might have told the truth. Yet with the clear evidence of deceit on his face, she could only conclude he loved someone else.
She wanted to confront him with his lie. The words fairly leaped to her lips, but she held them in because she didn't know whether to be jealous or profoundly saddened that he'd married someone other than his lover. She held back a laugh. Was it any surprise she bore more than her share of cynicism?
Elizabeth held back her sigh of disappointment. She supposed it had been too much to ask for a husband with whom she could have a cordial relationship. She didn't see how it would be possible now. She could never trust him to be truthful, much less faithful. She hadn't expected the latter but had hoped desperately for the former. She would just have to make the best of things. Perhaps there was another lady close by with whom she could begin a friendship.
If not, she would have her books and gardening, and he'd already promised her a riding horse.
"It is very late. I believe I wish to retire now. Do you have a bathing chamber?"
"I shall have the housekeeper give you a tour tomorrow, but it is right through there." He pointed at an unadorned white door to their right then helped her rise.
"Is my bedchamber on the other side?"
Still refusing to meet her gaze, he said, "I'm afraid it is in the process of renovation. You will have to share mine."
Another lie. Yet it didn't matter. Elizabeth could demand another chamber, but it seemed pointless. She would have to get this wedding night over with sooner or later. She had hoped for a space of her own, though. "I hope it hasn't inconvenienced you too much."
'Not at all. It will be ready in a week or two at most." He held out a hand. "Come, I shall act as lady's maid for you."
Elizabeth's knees wobbled as he led her into a pristine bathing chamber. The room was lovely, but she could barely think over the discomfiting image of Lord Shepton seeing her nude body. Would he like her? She was not a delicate beauty, like Lily, or robust and buxom like Matilda. She was Elizabeth, plain and too thin, muscled from work where she should be soft.
Lord Shepton walked to a massive porcelain tub, painted with charming lotus flowers. He started the taps and she gasped in shock when the water steamed as it filled the tub. Flushing, she realized he must have a boiler for heating. Why, she'd already seen the gas lamps! The indulgence of heated water should not have surprised her, but even in these modern times, gas was a novelty for the rich.
A huge mirrored dressing table with a pair of chairs took up almost one whole wall. A white basin, set atop a mahogany stand, rested in a corner surrounded by shelves containing grooming products. Shivering, she allowed her gaze to pass over the leather strop hanging on a hook next to a shaving mug and brush. She opened a white painted door to reveal a commode, its elevated tank painted to match the tub.
She'd known he was rich, but hadn't realized the extent of that wealth. To have a bathing chamber with running water was the height of luxury, even if it was intended to be shared by the lord and lady of the house, as this one was.
It was a shame she would have to share it with him. She wanted this lovely space all to herself, though she knew such a thought was selfish. It was very modern and quite comfortable. She quivered when his fingers touched her back to deal with the laces on her dress then chided herself for the reaction. There was no place in her life for maidenly distress. She sent up a brief prayer that he would be kind.
The sleeves fell down her arms and she clutched the bodice to her chest for a moment before allowing it to fall to the floor. This man was her husband now. If he wanted to undress her, it was his right. She hid a smile when he cursed at the laces on her corset, and the wretched garment fell to the floor on top of the dress, leaving her in her stockings and chemise.
Her hands went to the hem of her chemise, but he caught her fingers and put them back at her sides.
"Let me." He knelt to untie her garters and rolled down her stockings. Picking up her foot, he tugged the stocking free, along with her slipper before kissing the instep.
The touch of his lips on her sensitive skin made her shiver and she wrapped her arms around her belly as he massaged her foot, his fingers digging into the arch. Her nipples pebbled and ached at the cool air caressing her breasts.
Setting her foot down, he lifted the other. "Relax," he murmured. "You're as tense as a bowstring."
Heaving out a breath, she tried to do as he asked, but she'd never had a man so close to her before, not to mention the fact that she'd never been almost bare in front of anyone, much less a man!
He stood, his fingers trailing up her ribs to untie the ribbons securing the bodice of her chemise. When they were free, he pushed the silky fabric from her shoulders, allowing it to pool at her feet, his gaze rapt on her naked body. She resisted the urge to cover herself, deciding to let him look. She raised her chin imperiously, refusing to be embarrassed. She would not compete with his lover, the mystery creature who held his affection. He could take her as she was.
Tracing her collarbone with a gentle fingertip, he whispered, "Utterly lovely." He cleared his throat, and helped her into the tub. She sat down in the warm water, her thighs pressed against her chest in an effort to cover herself, but the spectacle of him undressing made her gasp in shock.
He shed his coat, dropping it carelessly to the floor as he tugged off his boots. His long fingers attended the buttons on his shirt and he shrugged the smooth cotton from his shoulders, tossing it away once he was free of it. His arms were heavy with muscle and veins rose to the surface, decorating the carved flesh with a tracery of lines beneath his tanned skin. He looked like he spent many hours outside. Sparse dark hair covered his chest, narrowing to a line that disappeared into his trousers between the muscles of his abdomen.
Tugging at the fastening on his trousers, he allowed the black wool to fall and kicked the garment away. He wore no smallclothes or undergarments and stood unashamedly bare before her, his thick manhood jutting upward from a nest of dark curls. She closed her eyes at the sight of his arousal, wondering how on earth he expected that thing to fit inside her.
She squeaked in shock when he climbed into the tub behind her, nudging her forward with his strong thighs as he sat down, cradling her between his legs. His large hands rubbed her shoulders as she sat stiffly between his legs, and she could feel the hardness of his manhood poking into her backside.
"Relax, Elizabeth. I promise I won't hurt you tonight."
His touch was wonderful against her stiff muscles, and she didn't object when he pulled her against his chest. The crisp hair on his torso tickled her back, and he hissed in a breath when she squirmed.
"Be still, darling. I'm finding it very difficult to wash you when you entice me that way."
She stilled at the sound of his husky voice. She could hear the laughter behind his words, and she flushed in mortification when he dragged a soapy hand down between her breasts. It felt strangely pleasurable, and her belly tightened with an unfamiliar sensation. Part of her wanted to make him stop his scandalous behavior, but there was another wicked part that wanted him to continue.
And he did continue, his gentle hands rubbing the tension from her back and shoulders, until she melted against him with a blissful sigh. She decided it was right and good that her husband touch her. Surely, someone would have told her if such behavior was wrong, and the warmth of his flesh against hers was divine.
He handed her the cake of soap after he'd finished with her back. "I want to watch you bathe. Turn around and let me see how you touch yourself when you're all
alone in your bath."
She stiffened in surprise. "I don't understand."
"Turn around, Elizabeth."
She didn't have the nerve to disobey and turned in the massive tub so that her back was against the opposite side. Unable to meet his eyes, she looked down, but that view was fraught with peril. He stroked his manhood with a veined hand, and it seemed to grow before her eyes. She squeezed them shut, unable to watch him pleasure himself. "I don't know what you ask."
"Put your hand between your legs."
She bit her lip at his growled order, torn between mortification and curiosity as she gazed at him in helpless consternation. His eyes darkened in anger and she hurried to obey, laying her hand atop the dark curls at the apex of her thighs. She spread her fingers, trying to hide her sex from his avid perusal. She was sure this was improper, but her new husband's stern, hungry gaze left her no room for argument.
"I asked you to touch yourself, Elizabeth."
"I— I did as you asked. My hand is on my…" She lowered her eyes, knowing her face must be as red as a plum. She couldn't say the word to him.
"Your hand is on your pretty little cunt, my dear. Tell me where your hand is. Say the word."
"M-my hand is on my c-cunt." She said the last word in a whisper, tripping over the single syllable that echoed loudly in her brain. It was a horrible word, filled with vice and degradation.
"One more time, louder and without stumbling over it."
"Cunt!" She screamed the word, suddenly incensed at his behavior. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She blinked and swallowed the sob climbing up her throat.
"Very good, Elizabeth. Now pet that pretty cunt for me. I want to see it all swollen and red when we get out of the bath."
Almost against her will, she petted the silky curls protecting her sex. Elizabeth thought she'd done as he asked, but he laughed, the low, evil chuckle sending a trickle of apprehension down her spine.
"You don't know what I mean, do you, my innocent little wife?" He leaned forward and gripped the edge of the tub, caging her with his body. He laid his free hand on her throat and drew his fingers down her breastbone until he reached her hand covering her sex. He pushed her hand down to the tender folds between her legs, positioning one of her fingers at the top of her sex. She gasped in surprise when he pushed down on that spot. The sensation sent a bolt of electricity into her belly.
"I want you to touch yourself there. Make yourself feel good." He pushed her back against the tub wall and lifted one slender calf out of the water, hanging it over the lip of the tub and opening her to his rapacious view. Leaning back, he watched as he stroked his manhood, the hard flesh growing larger under his hand.
He sought to humiliate her, perhaps to weaken her in some fashion. She didn't understand how such a thing would make her feel good, or why he would care. She straightened her spine against the cool porcelain of the tub. The infernal man wanted a show, did he? She'd give him one, and she refused to be embarrassed. The shame was not hers to carry. She had already vowed her obedience. It would be shameful if she did not accede to his wishes.
Her searching fingers found the spot he'd pressed her hand upon, and she worked the tiny nubbin of flesh, gasping in pleasure as it hardened under her hand. It did feel good, and she felt a flash of wickedness as she threw her head back, giving herself over to the delight. His low murmur of approval spurred her on, and she pinched the little button. The gush of wetness from her core surprised her, and she tested it with her fingers. It was slippery, but disappeared in the warm bathwater. She moaned, the sound coming from deep within as she moved her hand rapidly on her greedy sex.
Richard grasped her free hand and moved it to her breast. "Pinch your nipples," he choked out. "I want to see them hard and pink."
She tried to think of a way to avoid doing what he'd asked, but the pleasure between her thighs chased away all reason. She gave him a half-lidded stare, challenge in her eyes, and slowly licked a fingertip as he'd done with the wine he'd wiped from her chin before pinching her nipple with two fingers.
She arched her back, thrusting her breasts out of the water and hid her triumphant smirk when his breath came faster, rasping in his throat like that of a winded horse. The games of men were new to her, but she could learn the rules and win against her husband, at least on this most sensual playing field. The newfound sense of her own strength twined with the pleasure in her belly until it arrowed down to her cunt, to the place at the apex of her sex, and she gasped out her pleasure as it tightened and coiled, pulling her down into a carnal tempest that wouldn't let her go. She strained against it, desperate to release the building tension in her loins. She rolled her nipple and pinched down hard as she moved her fingers against her core.
The thread of pleasure, strung too tightly, snapped and tore a scream from her lips as her vision went dark. Stars spiraled behind her closed eyelids, and she shivered, her flesh clenching on nothing as she rode out the aftershocks of the explosive sensation. Was this what the French called la petite mort? It had never made sense to her before, but the name was apropos; it had felt like she was dying a little bit.
Richard leaned forward, caressing her throat as his lips hovered over hers. Elizabeth closed her eyes as she gasped out the last of her pleasure.
"Such a naughty little girl." His lips met hers in a searing kiss that stole her breath.
She squeaked in surprise when he lifted her dripping body into his arms and stepped from the tub. He set her on her feet and she wobbled before finding her balance after her pleasure. She lowered her eyes, avoiding his smirk as she accepted a drying cloth from him. Ignoring the urge to wrap the fabric around her shivering body, she patted her skin dry.
"You were quite naughty, you know." He dragged the cloth over his taut belly and she closed her eyes to hide the view of his naked body.
"I don't understand."
"You did not touch yourself as I asked. I realize you didn't understand, but you took every opportunity to disobey."
"But I did as you asked!" She wrapped the cloth around her body, clenching it tightly with a small fist. She hadn't understood, but had obeyed when he explained what he wanted.
"In the future, you will ask if you do not understand my orders."
"Of course. I promised to obey you."
Wrapping the drying cloth around his waist, he said, "I'm very glad to hear that, Elizabeth." He settled himself into the dressing table chair. "Please put yourself over my knee."
"I beg your pardon?" She took a step backward, but there was nowhere for her to go. He would catch her before she could escape.
"I will take that to mean you do not understand what I asked." Patting his thigh, he said, "You will lie face down over my lap, and I shall spank your pretty, bare bottom."
"I am not a child! You mustn't—"
"Are you so quick to throw away your marital vows? I thought better of your honor."
Biting her lip, she took a trembling step forward. "I don't understand why you think you must do this."
"I will start as I mean to go on, my dear. Disobedience will be punished, but I will reward you most generously for acceding to my wishes." Patting his leg once more, he said, "I will count to three, and if you are not over my lap by the end of my count, I shall double your punishment."
"But I—"
"One…"
"My lord, please! Could you not be patient with me while I learn your wishes?" She could not understand why he wanted to do this, and the thought of being turned over his lap like a naughty child mortified her. Her cheeks grew hot with embarrassed humiliation.
"I am quite patient. I have explained the rules before spanking you. Two…"
Holding her breath and her tears, she stumbled forward until she stood in front of him. This was not how she'd expected her wedding night to be. She hadn't expected any great romance, but she hadn't expected abuse, either. Was this place no better than her father's household?
"Drop the cloth, Elizabeth."
Without a word, she let the fabric fall to the floor and lowered her torso awkwardly across his knees. He tugged her down and she squealed as he laid a hard hand on her hips and pushed her forward. She had to catch herself with her palms on the floor rather than risk falling.
"Good girl."
His warm hand touched her bottom, and he stroked her chilled flesh. She shuddered at the touch, and he gathered her more firmly against him as he shifted her. He pulled his right knee out from under her and pinned her legs with his strong calf. His thick cock pressed against her belly, and she didn't know whether she should rub against it or try to get away.
His hand fell hard upon her flesh. She wanted to shout her rage to the rafters, yet mindful of the servants, she bit her lip, holding her breath as the next blow fell. No one had ever spanked her before. Oh, her father had used a strap with some regularity, but without clothing, her husband's spanking was too intimate, too degrading. To be spanked by one's husband was the height of humiliation, and bloody hell, it hurt! She ground her teeth and kept silent, her promise binding her. She swore she would do everything in her power to prevent a recurrence of this upsetting evidence of her husband's cruelty. If immediate obedience saved her from another spanking, she would give it to him.
Yet, as her bottom warmed, the sensation crept into her core, insidious tendrils of heat making her clench her thighs together in an effort to rid herself of the tickle of delight inflaming her body. The juxtaposition of pain and bliss confused her senses, and she gasped as his hand crashed against her backside one last time. He thrust his fingers between her legs, and with low growl, pushed her off his lap. She fell to her knees and stared up at him in confusion.
Holding his wet hand in front of her face, he said. "I should thrash you all over again for enjoying this."
"It's the bathwater, you dolt!" Her words were a lie, though, and humiliated tears blurred her vision. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying in vain to hide her discomfort.
Wicked Deception (Wicked Magic Book 1) Page 4