by Golden Angel
It had soothed part of his possessive jealousy, as though he’d irrevocably marked her.
They'd have to have the wedding as soon as possible, he decided. He didn't think he'd last four weeks while the banns were read. Getting a special license would be the first thing on his to-do list. After speaking to his mother. And getting his little minx a ring.
******
Maybe this was a dream, Cynthia mused. Although she couldn't imagine how she would have fallen asleep at a ball. Or have conjured a dream of such a painful spanking. Perhaps the first part wasn’t the dream and she had passed out during her punishment? Lowering thought. She'd always considered herself rather more robust than that.
She knew that this really wasn’t a dream, but she felt so deliciously hazy, so wonderfully muzzy... and the Earl wasn't behaving at all like himself. Everything felt rather dream-like. Well except for her throbbing bottom. But even that had been lessened by the incredible ecstasy that the Earl's fingers had wrought in her. She wasn't entirely sure what had happened after that until they'd come into the house.
When she'd taken a peak over the Earl's shoulder on the way to the stairs, she'd seen Manfred glowering at them. Inwardly Cynthia sighed, knowing that she was likely to get a lecture from the Countess tomorrow. Possibly two if the Earl told her what had happened at the Assembly rooms. Probably another lecture from the Earl and possibly another spanking as well.
She really shouldn't let the Earl be carrying her like this, but it felt so nice. No man had ever carried her. The muscles beneath his clothing moved and strained, and were so very attractive. It made her want to touch him, to run her hands over every part of him. The most she dared was his hair, which was soft and easily twined about her fingers.
How was she supposed to recover from this? Everything he did just made her further obsessed with him. Cynthia pushed the thought away, determined to enjoy being in his arms while it lasted and dealing with her twisted emotions on the morrow.
"In we go, baggage," he murmured as he pushed open the door to her room.
Silly chit, she scolded herself. Baggage was not a term of endearment, even if that was how her ear heard it.
Gently he laid her down on her bed, making her bottom twinge, although she didn’t try to roll away. She finally dared to look up into his hazel eyes. For once they weren't hard, rather they were almost thoughtful, contemplative. Searching, rather than focused, as if he was trying to see within her rather than already knowing her thoughts – which he so often seemed to do. Heavy eyelashes blinked and then a slow smile spread across his face as he examined hers. Cynthia stared back up at him, eyes wide, waiting… but she didn’t know for what.
He lowered his head and Cynthia gasped as his lips met hers. The Earl was kissing her!
A flash of desire shot through her, despite the fact that she was sated. His lips were firm, coaxing, and she parted her own, inviting him in. Even if this was madness, she wanted it. And he kissed like a dream. There was no comparison to the other men she’d kissed in the past; this kiss made her feel so much more wanton, so much more wild and excited. The wet silk of his tongue danced with hers, exploring each other and he tasted like whiskey and spice. He kissed her until she felt breathless, her breasts becoming heavy and swollen, and her quim beginning to ache again. She barely even noticed how sore her bottom was as she lay on her back - it didn't matter if only he would keep kissing her.
When he pulled away, she was left gasping, her hands clutching at his jacket. Gently, he pried her fingers off as she stared up at him, trying to decipher what was happening. That kiss had already ruined her for any other man, why was he pulling away now? Why was he standing rather than joining her on the bed?
"Wait!" she cried out, pushing herself up to her elbows. "Where are you... why aren't you..."
The Earl chuckled, putting two fingers under her chin and tilting her head back. Leaning over her, his lips barely brushed against hers. It was less of a kiss and more of a promise. "You'll have to wait until after we're married to be completely ruined, baggage."
His lips pressed down again, this time kissing her more fully, although without his tongue, and then he was walking towards her door, leaving her feeling bereft and utterly confused.
"Wait!" Her strangled cry caught him in the doorway, and he turned to look at her. Darkly handsome, a devilish twinkle in his eye, and every inch the elegant gentleman. Except that she'd already discovered, the guise of a gentleman only covered the true dominant male underneath. "Married?"
A little amused smile crossed his lips. "Of course. And don't you dare think about going anywhere near another man or I'll take a strap to your arse and I won't care about how red it already is."
The crudeness of his threat left her staring as he exited and shut the door behind him.
Married! To... to him!
A thrilled flutter went through her stomach even as confusion buffeted her about. Why on earth did he want to marry her? He hadn't said. Cynthia flopped back down on the bed and immediately turned on her side, hissing, as her bottom protested. Now that she'd been shocked out of her pleasant haze, her poor rear end was burning more than ever.
Think about another man? How could she?
Still, he didn't know that he'd been consuming her thoughts. And if he didn't know, then she wasn't going to tell him. With a man like that, she needed every advantage she could get. Although she certainly wasn’t going to test him by kissing other men. Not because she feared a spanking, but because she didn’t want him to change his mind.
She would absolutely marry him. Even if he wasn't as easily distracted or influenced as other men she'd met. Even if he spanked her. Actually, she wasn't sure if spanking was a detraction or a benefit of marrying him. Right now it certainly felt like a detraction, but she was quite sure she'd be disappointed if he never spanked her again. A little smile played across her face. While he might not be easily influenced, she was quite sure that she could spur him into punishing her whenever she felt like. If nothing else, his last words to her had indicated a rather surprising possessiveness on his part.
Marrying the Earl was the only way to assuage her curiosity and the tingling excitement he created inside of her. The only way she could keep her heart from breaking as she watched him with other debutantes. None of them would have him, he would be hers. And, as he wanted her attention solely on him, she could demand the same in return. Cynthia had no qualms about that.
She just hoped his mother wouldn't be too upset.
Chapter 11
Knowing his mother’s penchant for taking her breakfast in her room, Wesley asked the staff to notify him when his mother sent for her breakfast. That way he could go and speak with her before Manfred or any of the other servants would have a chance to.
When he entered the room, his mother was sitting up in her bed, taking a light repast on a tray. The bed curtains had been drawn fully back, as had the drapes, and light was streaming in through both windows. Wesley was suddenly forcibly reminded of many days when he was a child and had come up to see his mother during breakfast, just like this. When the old Earl was alive, the Countess never joined them for anything other than the evening meal, although her door was always open to her sons. He’d spent many a morning sitting on her bed and talking to her, even more so than either of his brothers. Smiling a welcome at him, she buttered her toast and waved him to come closer.
"Good morning, Wesley, to what do I owe the honor of a visit?" she asked, her voice light and a bit teasing. After all, it had been years since he'd paid such a visit to her over breakfast. This might have been one of the things he’d missed most about England when he’d been overseas.
Wesley cleared his throat, suddenly uncertain as how to broach the subject of his marriage with his mother. It had all seemed remarkably easy before he'd stepped into the room and actually faced her; just announce that he and Cynthia were getting married, and that was that. Now, looking down at his mother, he found himself feeling rather young an
d awkward; neither of which he was accustomed to feeling. Would she approve? He certainly wanted her to, he realized.
To buy himself some time, he pulled a chair closer to her bed so that he could sit facing her. She watched him, one eyebrow arching as if in amusement over his hesitance. The dressing gown she was wearing over her night rail made her look softer, more approachable, and yet he was still having difficulties finding the correct words. After all, it wasn’t something he had much experience in.
Clearing his throat again, Wesley reminded himself that he wasn't in trouble. "I ah... as much as I appreciate your um... enthusiasm for procuring a marriage for me next Season, I've actually decided that I might want to marry ah... sometime before that."
There, that was a good introduction.
"Oh! Did you have someone already in mind, dear?" The Countess put down her toast on her plate, her forehead crinkling a bit in concern. Cocking her head at him, she studied his face. "I apologize, darling, I didn't even think to ask if you already had a tendre for someone, I just assumed..." Her voice trickled off as she waited for his answer, since obviously he’d told her just a few days ago that he had no interest in marrying, much less anytime soon.
"No! I mean, that is, I didn't..." Oh bloody hell, might as well just get it over with. Wesley braced himself. "I've decided to marry Cynthia."
"Wesley!" the Countess screeched. He ducked the piece of toast that was flung in his direction, wincing at the shrill tone of her voice. "You compromised her last night, didn't you?!"
"No!"
"You didn't?"
Wesley eyed his mother suspiciously, and not just because she was now holding a second piece of toast. Did she sound just a little bit disappointed? Surely not.
"No... well, not really. Not completely, but it could have had the appearance of... anyway, what I mean to say is I've grown rather fond of the chit and I know she's been a handful to you, but I'll make sure she behaves herself from now on and..." His voice trailed off as he realized his mother was beaming at him. Did his mother really not care who he married as long as he married someone? Or was there more going on here than he realized?
Wesley had the sudden suspicion that he’d been set up.
“This is wonderful! Marie!-“ she called out for her maid. “Marie come here at once! I need to get dressed!”
“Mother…”
“Oh do be quiet Wesley and get out, there’s a great deal to be done and I need to be dressed to do it!”
******
When Edwin and Eleanor arrived, after receiving Wesley’s note, it was to a house that was clearly in turmoil. Eleanor could hear the strident tones of the Countess echoing down the hall, obviously setting her troops in order. Looking rather harassed, Manfred showed them to the library where Wesley was obviously hiding out; he looked like a man under siege. Rather than sitting down, he was pacing around the room with a large glass in hand – looking at the crystal tumbler, Eleanor blinked. She recognized whiskey when she saw it. Then again, going by the way the Countess sounded, he probably needed some serious fortifying.
“Wesley! Congratulations!” Edwin gave his friend a hug, and then Eleanor caught him up, laughing as Wesley squeezed her tight with one arm. The other was busy holding onto his drink. She hugged him back, adding her own congratulations to Edwin’s.
“Thank you… welcome to the madness. I told my mother this morning and I don’t know what she’s doing exactly, but apparently there’s quite a bit that needed to be done today, immediately, if I’m going to be married in two weeks.” He looked rather exasperated and Eleanor had to snicker. Men. They just didn’t understand the time it took to plan any event, much less a major one like a title Earl’s wedding. She sighed a little. If she’d had the wedding of her dreams it would have taken far longer than two weeks to plan…
“What needs to be done today?” Edwin asked, looking equally baffled. Eleanor restrained herself from rolling her eyes.
“I have no idea, but my mother’s been on a tear ever since I broke the news.”
“I’m going to go see what I can do to help,” Eleanor said, smiling. As much as she wanted to question Wesley, she was even more curious about what Cynthia thought of all of this. Despite Wesley’s attempt at being exasperated, he looked remarkably cheerful under his harried exterior, so she knew that he was happy about the turn of events even if his mother was driving him a bit batty. Besides which, she was spending as little time around Edwin as possible at the moment.
“They’re in the drawing room. I think,” Wesley called after her.
Eleanor shut the study door behind her and let out a sigh of relief. Being around Edwin was particularly hard right now because she was exhausted and doing her best to cover it. It had taken her longer than she liked to realize that she was pregnant, although her fatigue had certainly been worrying; it wasn’t until she’d begun feeling nauseous in the mornings and had counted back the days that she realized the cause for her symptoms. She was worried that if she spent too much time around Edwin, he would realize that her little illness hadn’t been any such thing and what the real issue was.
She didn’t know how she felt about her pregnancy. Protective, certainly. She cherished the idea of the life in her belly and a part of her thrilled to the very specific idea of bearing Edwin’s child. But she was also terrified. Edwin had been so attentive, so affectionate since arriving in Bath… but it’s not like there was much here to distract him. The slow top still hadn’t declared himself, so she was still feeling uncertain about his feelings towards her. And she was still a bit worried that once he knew she was with child, she would discover that his love was more of that towards a friend that he had married. Not the kind of passionate, delightful and despairing love that she felt for him. A pregnant wife wasn’t much fun, and she knew that, in many ton marriages, the wife’s pregnancy usually heralded the infidelities on both sides of the relationship.
After all, he'd gone to the Assembly last night without her. When she'd plead fatigue, he'd insisted she stay home, but then he'd gone anyway. Ostensibly in case Wesley needed assistance watching over Cynthia, but Eleanor couldn't help but worry about the other ladies that were there. Granted, she hadn't seen any at the previous Assembly they'd attended that she'd feel threatened by, but as the Season ended there would be more of the ton coming to Bath. What if just being tired, unable to attend the public events, gave another woman the opportunity to seduce Edwin? Part of her said she was just being silly, but another part of her was too terrified to take the risk yet.
So she was keeping the news to herself, which wasn’t unheard of. After all, she could be mistaken. And, in the meantime, she was cherishing every moment she had with him, searching for some kind of verification that he loved her the way she loved him. He seemed to, sometimes. But there was no proof, no certainty. The blasted man never said the damned words. Sometimes they almost slipped from her lips, but what if he didn’t say them back? She’d be devastated.
Eventually she would run out of time, but right now she just wanted to keep pushing it back and back…
Entering the drawing room, she saw Cynthia sitting on the couch looking rather out of her depth, while the Countess had the servants bringing in various color samples.
“Eleanor, how lovely!” The Countess said, looking up and smiling with pleasure.
“Eleanor!” The relief in Cynthia’s face was clear, she jumped up and ran to hug Eleanor.
“Cynthia!” Although there was a bit of reproof in the Countess’ voice for Cynthia’s brash behavior, there was no real censure. Eleanor bit back a laugh; Edwin had told her about his conversation with the Countess and her plans for Wesley to marry Cynthia. The fact that she’d actually been successful would probably mean a great deal of tolerance for Cynthia’s behavior as long as it wasn’t scandalous.
“I’m sorry, my lady,” Cynthia said, pulling away from Eleanor but still clinging to her hand. In a lower voice, she said to Eleanor: “You have no idea how glad I am to see
you.”
"No, no, no, the cream and sage, not the cream and mint. She wants her gown to be rose pink and the mint will be too light to contrast nicely against that."
"I'm sorry, my lady, but these are what I could find," the exasperated housekeeper said.
"Oh dear... I hope they're not at the estates. I suppose I should go have a look." Turning, the Countess smiled at Cynthia and Eleanor. "Please excuse me, dears, I really must go look at the linens we have here."
When the Countess left, Cynthia sighed with relief and plopped down on the chaise in a distinctly unladylike position. Eleanor couldn't help but laugh as she seated herself on the comfortable couch across from her.
"She's a force of nature, isn't she?"
"Let's just say, I'm glad I don't have an opinion on what the color of the linens, and relieved that she even asked me what color I would like my wedding gown to be!" Cynthia said, giggling a bit. She gave Eleanor a wry look. "I suppose you've heard?"
"Of course," Eleanor said, smiling warmly. "Wesley sent a note to us this morning telling us that, as of last night, you are engaged. I'm incredibly pleased to offer you my best wishes."
"I fear I may need them." Twirling one of her curls around her finger, Cynthia looked in the direction of the door the Countess had exited through. The gesture made her look rather younger and more unsure than she normally did. The morning dress of soft sky blue she was wearing only emphasized that. "I was worried she'd be upset. But if she was, she's hiding it very well."
"Why did you think she'd be upset?" Eleanor asked, rather curious. It appeared that Cynthia had also been unaware of the Countess' machinations. Edwin had told her about them, of course, after they’d returned home from the first Assembly. Although that wasn't too surprising that Cynthia was unaware; Wesley was not the type to go along easily if he thought he was being manipulated, and Cynthia didn't seem to be either. She didn’t think that Cynthia would have gone along with any plan of the Countess’ if she’d been aware of it.