Richard had gotten a diamond along with an unpolished agate in whatever mare he'd wanted. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the knowledge that he didn't have any idea what he had.
The gelding eventually stopped running and stared at her. She glanced at him from under her lashes, and smirked in satisfaction as she watched the animal's brain working. He took a step toward her, but she moved away almost imperceptibly, never lifting her head. Huffing out a loud breath, he followed her, but she stepped away again.
"What are you doing, Elizabeth?"
The gelding shied at Richard's shout and galloped away from her. He shuddered as he stopped across the paddock, as far away from her as he could get. She sighed and stomped to the fence to confront the irritant. It was all she could do to calm herself long enough to think of a polite way of telling Richard off.
"I'm trying to see if the gelding will be suitable or not. I do not wish to keep you if you have matters to attend to, but if you wish to stay, I ask most respectfully that you be as quiet as you are able so you don't scare him again."
Richard scowled as Roland laid a hand on his arm. "I'll watch her, my lord. She'll be fine."
"I'll stay. You may go on with what you were doing."
"Thank you, my lord." She bit her tongue to stall the vituperative words she wanted to say. He'd spoiled everything, and now she would have to work twice as hard to gain the gelding's trust. Breathing out through her nose, she attempted to control her frustration as she strode back to the center of the paddock. Perhaps he would grow bored and leave, but she resolved to ignore him.
Thankfully, the gelding seemed a good-natured sort and began their dance of give and take without much fuss. It was clear someone had taken time with him. He just needed a rider with patience and gentle ways.
Half an hour later, the horse followed her as docilely as a puppy, his head hanging low as he trudged behind her. She occasionally allowed her body to touch his, but never raised a hand until he nuzzled at her fingers.
She gave his shoulder a fond pat and let herself out of the paddock. "I want him."
"He isn't broken. You won't be able to ride for some time," Richard said.
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. "He doesn't need to be broken. He needs attention. You said I could have any horse I wanted. He is my first choice, and the bay stallion is my second, even though he's far too fat."
Roland coughed and covered his mouth, hiding a grin. Richard grimaced, but said, "Very well. You may have the gelding." He took her hand to lead her back to the house. As they walked, he asked, "How did you know to do that?"
"Do what?"
"Stand like you did. How did you know?"
She stopped and turned to him. "Every animal, human or otherwise, has tells like a bad card player. If you are patient and watch, their intentions become clear. Their bodies tell what they want and how they will react under different conditions." She faced forward and did not look at him. "Horses rely on that. So do humans, if they're wise."
She started walking again. "I'll be riding him before Christmas if you leave off the spanking.”
He caught up and wrapped her hand around his arm. With a sly grin, he said, "Your spankings are entirely dependent upon your behavior, my dear. Do not ever forget that."
Oh, how he lied. As with her father, she knew there would be no correlation between her behavior and punishment. Elizabeth bit her tongue hard enough she tasted coppery blood. "Yes, my lord."
Chapter 5
Keep your eyes wide open before marriage, half shut afterwards.
Benjamin Franklin
Richard had arranged for a modiste to visit a few days after their wedding. The woman had taken her measurements, and they had looked over fashion plates to decide on a wardrobe for the young countess. The seamstress had even left a few readymade dresses to tide Elizabeth over until her wardrobe was completed.
She felt much improved with her new wardrobe, despite having to allow Sarah to act as lady's maid for the fashionable couture. She still held a grudge toward the maid for her unwelcome flirting with her husband on her first morning as Lady Shepton. There wasn't a maid in the house she'd willingly allow to assist with her toilet or dressing, but Richard had told her to choose one of them. She didn't bother with the effort of asking for another. She could care for herself, for the most part.
It was surely a blessing that he'd left her alone since their debacle of a wedding night. Indeed, he'd vanished from his great house two days after their wedding, leaving her surrounded by his lackluster servants. There wasn't a one she trusted enough to confide her worries. Thus, she spent most of her time hiding in Richard's chamber reading books she'd purloined from his extensive library or outside working with her gelding and Richard's stallion when the weather permitted.
She'd even tested the connecting door leading to the lady's chamber, but had found it solidly locked. The outer door was similarly fastened tight against her perusal. She had wanted to take a look at it and perhaps order furnishings. Her husband had told her it was being renovated, yet she never saw workmen.
It didn't surprise her that he'd lied. Like Bluebeard's wives, it was possible she was better off not knowing what rested behind those locked doors. While her agile mind conjured all sorts of despicable things Richard could have in that room, her curiosity wasn't strong enough to try picking the lock.
On one blustery day, she stared out her window, wishing she could at least walk outside. Richard hadn't returned, and she knew he must be with his mistress. Did he treat her badly? Was his mistress subject to his rage as she had been? She shook her head. There was no point in fretting over it. She was Countess Shepton now, for good or ill.
She couldn't help but wonder at his disappearance. He hadn't said a word. Sarah, that insolent little guttersnipe, had been the one to tell her that Richard had left. Her hand clenched reflexively at the thought. Ladies didn't hit each other, but she'd desperately wanted to plant a facer on the girl for her insinuating comments and rudeness.
Elizabeth had tried to develop a rapport with the girl, but the near constant backstabbing and insults couched as backhanded compliments left her cold. She hadn't done a thing to Sarah! She hadn't said a word about Sarah's very inappropriate flirting, or about how she gossiped about her to the rest of the servants. She'd heard Angeline's name, too, and the gossip made her wonder if Richard's mistress had lived here. She shuddered at the thought of that doxy in her bed.
Though such thoughts were unbecoming of a dutiful wife, Elizabeth hoped he'd stay away. She decided she could tolerate him for brief visits until she conceived. Once she'd given him an heir, she would demand a separate household with servants of her own choosing.
Her legs twitched with unspent energy. Despite the weather, she needed to get out of this house. She stood and went to her wardrobe, pulling out her new riding habit.
She tucked a curl under her neat hat and smoothed the front of the splendid navy dress, even though there was no one around to see her finery. She'd never had a garment so fine and well-made. She was excited to take the stallion out. He needed the exercise and she wanted to give the gelding a day off from work. After some deliberation, she'd decided to call him Storm. The name matched the whirl of thoughts racing through her head.
The weather was cold and blustery, the air smelling of incipient snow, yet she couldn't wait to get outside.
Sarah's nasal voice echoed from the hall, followed by the maid herself. "Look at the fine little whore, all ready to go outside."
"At least I'm married. You spread your legs without even getting paid for it." Elizabeth had no idea where the comment sprang from. It was so unlike her to be cruel even when provoked. Yet she wouldn't take the words back. She sauntered forward to stand in front of Sarah. "I also suggest you never call me that word again."
"Very well my lady. I'll just call you cunt instead."
Something took over Elizabeth's body and her hand shot out, delivering a vicious punch to Sarah's gamine visa
ge, bloodying her nose and lip, and sending her crashing against the wall, sobbing as she clutched her damaged face.
The butler raced upstairs at Sarah's screams of pain, stopping short at the top of the staircase, gazing at her in shock. "What—"
"Clean up this mess," she barked. "I suggest that you ensure I don't find a single bloodstain when I return from my ride." She pushed past him, but turned back. "And if I ever see her upstairs again, I'll sack the both of you without a reference."
Elizabeth stormed from the house, her boots crunching on gravel as she inhaled greedy gulps of the fresh air in an effort to calm herself. She had no idea what caused Sarah to be so unkind, but such behavior would stop right this second! She would sack the lot of them without a second thought the very next time even one of them thought to denigrate her again.
The stallion sensed her barely restrained aggression, huffing and trumpeting as they raced across the meadow, leaping fences with abandon, crashing through trees and brush, both wild at the taste of freedom and the crisp air. Elizabeth counted it the best ride of her short life as she walked the horse back to the stable master. The animal was fat and out of condition, yet still tugged at the reins, resisting the walk she held him to. She promised herself she'd spend more time with him. His master clearly didn't.
She spent the rest of the day counting linens and silver. None of the servants moved to help her, and she refused to ask. They were busy with their own tasks, and as long as they were productive, she wouldn't chide them.
She prepared for bed shortly after supper. In the dark and silence of her husband's bedchamber, she slipped off her dressing gown and crawled into the large bed, feeling very small in the expanse of feather-stuffed ticking. She wondered if she'd been abandoned by her husband. Cast off like an old boot. It was not a comfortable feeling, and she laid awake for a long time before finally dropping into a doze plagued by doubt and futility.
∞∞∞
It might have been a change in air pressure or some displacement of mass creeping across her floor that woke her. Elizabeth's eyes opened slowly, only to narrow to slits when she saw her husband slinking across her bedroom, illuminated only by a sliver of moonlight.
She feigned sleep when he stripped his clothes from his muscular body, dropping them into a heap on the floor. His hair had grown since their ignoble wedding, the inky strands falling into his eyes, effectively obscuring his expression in the darkened room. Viewing his form from behind her lashes, she had to admit that he was a most magnificent specimen. Fit and strong, sinewy muscle flowed over his bones; a master's carving in motion.
He crawled into bed with her, lodging himself against her bottom as he slipped an arm under her. She stilled, frightened that he might become abusive with her once more, but he whispered nonsensical words into her hair. His breathless promises and sweet utterances made her wonder if he'd been drinking, but she smelled no hard spirits. His cock hardened against her backside and she instinctively pressed herself against him, despite her distrust.
She tried to hold still, and didn't move. Why had she done something so idiotic? He might think she was awake! He didn't say anything as he drew his hand down her soft belly to her sex, lifting her nightgown to drag searching fingertips through the silky hair until he reached the bud of her delight. She could not control her shiver as his long fingers circled the tiny bit of flesh. How did he know exactly how to touch her to elicit those wonderful feelings?
She tried to hold in her gasp of arousal, yet it escaped on a soft sigh. He had yet to speak, and she knew he must think her asleep. She didn't want conversation. She only wanted to receive pleasure and pretend he was someone who cared for her.
Her flesh soon grew slick and wet against his searching fingers and he groaned, stretching his free arm under her leg to open her to his shaft. He slid easily into her channel and she grunted at the intrusion, tightening involuntarily.
Yet aside from the clench of her woman's flesh on his cock, she remained quiescent in his arms, allowing him to take his pleasure freely. No need to speak, or kiss her, or say words of sweetness and love that he didn't mean. He grunted as he spilled inside her, the swelling of his cock sparking her own completion. She released her breath on a sigh, hoping he didn't hear her. She would have no idea what to say if he insisted on conversation.
Elizabeth listened to her husband snore at her back, his seed still dripping from her body and the smell of their sex permeating the sheets. How she'd managed to stay still in his arms as he'd taken his ease from her, she'd never know. Yet it had been so much easier to remain silent under his thrusting body. It saved her the effort of finding words when she hadn't any idea what to say.
Did he think of Angeline as he'd fucked her? The thought kept her silent and unmoving in his arms, despite the joy he'd given her. She was sure the clenching of her inner muscles would have made her consciousness evident, but he did not mention it. He either didn't notice, or didn't care. It was quite intolerable, but she knew she had no choice but to accede to his desires. She'd made her vows in front of the vicar and refused to recant them.
He'd been gentle when he'd taken her, though she wasn't sure that was the correct word. It was as if she'd been a receptacle and nothing more. The thought left her unaccountably sad and virulently angry despite the delight she'd taken from him because he hadn't cared if she'd found her release at all. He'd teased her just enough to make the act painless and nothing more.
Trying to count herself lucky that he hadn't hurt her again, she allowed her husband's embrace and tried to go back to sleep, his breath hot on the back of her neck.
That blessed oblivion of rest eluded her. She laid awake long enough to see the sky lighten then slipped a dressing gown over her nightdress and went to the library to read and make some sense of the masses of disordered books.
∞∞∞
When she returned to the lord's chamber, she found breakfast waiting. Someone had brought a full tray to the room, and she scowled at it as she rubbed sand from her eyes. She'd gotten no rest and knew she'd be shrewish and out of sorts all day.
Her husband was still in bed, the lazy sot, but his eyes were open and he stared at her, his icy eyes pensive.
"Why are you here, my lord?"
"I live here."
"I hadn't realized you intended to return." She turned away then stumbled into the bathing chamber to wash.
She tried to shut the door, but he caught it with a large palm before it hit his face. She huffed out a weary breath, ignoring him as she trudged to the washbasin to wash.
"I don't plan on leaving again until the next time I must attend Parliament. I'm afraid you're stuck with me." He walked around her, settling heavily into the chair he'd sat in when he'd spanked her. "Does that please you?"
"As you said, you live here." She patted her face dry, feeling much improved now that the crusted sand was washed from her eyes. "It is not for me to have an opinion, though it would be helpful to know your plans so I might make adjustments to the household schedule."
"Of course. You have my apologies. I was called away unexpectedly and didn't want to wake you. Do you have plans for the day?"
"Yes. I have several letters to write, and I'd like to finish up with the linens. If I have time later, perhaps I'll ride the horse you gave me. I've decided to call him Storm."
He shot to his feet, his face red with anger. "I beg your pardon? I'm afraid I can't permit you to ride that horse."
"Did you not intend that when you gave him to me?"
"No!"
He looked livid, but she refused to let him cow her. She wanted to ask him why he'd given her a horse if he hadn't intended her to ride, but chose a meeker reply. "Very well. I shall have a servant tell Roland to send him on to auction."
"Why? I was under the impression that you liked him."
"I do. He's quite sweet and has the smoothest canter I've ever ridden. He is well collected and jumps like a dream. But I fail to see the point of keeping an animal t
hat won't be used." She lifted her head to stare at him. "Thus, the sensible course is to send him on to someone who might appreciate him."
"Do you mean to tell me you've already ridden the beast?" His roar of anger rattled the door in its frame, and she winced, shaking the noise from her aching head. A husband able to give his wife pleasure was a very fine thing. A husband with a bit of good sense was much more desirable.
"Do endeavor to go outside when you feel you must bellow, my lord. I'd appreciate not having my windows broken by your fits," she snapped, suddenly unable to restrain her temper, even though she was sure Richard would punish her severely for her outburst.
His mouth fell open in shock and he took a step backward as she strode right up to him, poking him in the chest with a hard finger. "To answer your question, yes, I have ridden Storm at least every other day. Yes, he's a lovely mount, and, yes, he's perfectly well behaved. I told you I'd be riding him before Christmas, and I fail to see why you're protesting weeks after you gave him to me."
"You surely aren't a skilled enough rider to handle such a beast, Elizabeth. I assumed you would grow bored and choose one of the smaller mares. Perhaps that elderly gray would suit."
Elizabeth's mouth fell open, and she couldn't decide whether to be furious or hurt by his judgmental tone. "Ask Roland, or go out and look for yourself this afternoon."
She decided to be angry, and her voice grew louder and more indignant as she continued to dig her finger into his breastbone. "I've also spent some time with your stallion. I think you'll find he's in much better shape than you left him. His girth goes around his belly now, and he no longer begs for treats."
She sniffed in irritation and laid her drying cloth next to the basin. "How you ever managed to let him get in such poor condition is quite beyond me." She pushed past him, moving him out of her way. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must get dressed and get on with my tasks." She stalked from the bathing chamber, leaving him staring at her, his lips pressed together in an angry line.
Wicked Deception (Wicked Magic Book 1) Page 6