Chapter Twelve A Husband’s Preferences

Chapter Twelve

A Husband’s Preferences

E lizabeth sat at needlework in her private salon, letting her mind wander. Now and again, she was obliged to switch position, as her backside was still sore from her husband’s discipline. She stabbed crossly at the fine fabric, crafting an outline of flowers. The project had begun as a means to celebrate their marriage, with their names and anniversary inscribed, but she was in the mood to embroider skulls and crossed swords instead.

“Lady Augustine?”

She lifted her head at the butler’s voice. “Yes?”

“Lady Marlow has arrived for tea.”

Elizabeth jumped to her feet. “Rosalind is here. Thank goodness.”

The servant gave her a sympathetic look. As butler, he’d doubtless overheard the earlier goings-on. “Indeed, my lady. She awaits you in the Cornflower Parlor.”

August’s country manor had four parlors on the first floor, the Cornflower one being her favorite. It was named for the cornflower-blue color of its wallpaper and upholsteries, and it boasted the softest, most comfortable chairs, which was important, considering…

“Oh, my dear friend!” Elizabeth flew across the room and into Rosalind’s outstretched arms. In her warm embrace, she utterly lost her composure, bursting into uncontrolled tears for the second time that day.

“Goodness me.” Rosalind hugged her tighter. “Whatever’s the matter?”

Elizabeth pulled away and hid her face in her hands, but there was no disguising her watering-pot tears.

“You must tell me what’s amiss,” said Rosalind, increasingly agitated. “Whatever has gone wrong? Is it only today? Or your whole marriage…?”

“Not the whole marriage…oh, not really…” Elizabeth sniffled, not realizing the depth of her upset until she looked into her friend’s sympathetic gaze. “It’s only that…Lord Augustine p-punished me this morning.”

“Oh, dear. Husbands do that sometimes. I suppose he spanked you?” Rosalind handed her a handkerchief as Elizabeth nodded. “Why, Lisbet? What did you do?”

“I went rowing on the lake without…without letting anyone know. I ought to have told someone for safety’s sake, I suppose, but I didn’t think it would matter so much to him.”

Rosalind patted her back. “A lot of things matter to husbands, things you wouldn’t expect. I like to believe it’s because they care.” She hugged her friend again, and whispered, “Was it a bad spanking?”

Elizabeth nodded, sobbing again.

“The first time?”

“No, but…” Elizabeth pulled away, swiping at tears. “The other spankings were not so hard. He…he used a paddle, a very stout one. It hurt.”

“Oh, no. Come sit down with me, dear. If you can sit,” she added with a wry grin. “I have had some hard paddlings, too. They’re never fun.”

“It went on forever,” said Elizabeth, taking a seat in the softest chair. “Truly forever.”

“Goodness, with you barely wed. How dare he?” Rosalind sat close and held her hand. “You must have frightened him. Husbands can be so protective. If you think of it that way…that they punish you because they care…”

“If he truly cared, he wouldn’t spank me at all, would he?”

Rosalind sighed. “If you wished to avoid that fate, I fear you’ve married the wrong gentleman. He and his friends are gluttonous for disciplinary pursuits. I thought marriage might temper Marlow’s appetite for it, but it has not.”

She emphasized the word not , giving a small shake of her head. Elizabeth could sense a strange push and pull within her friend, desire mixed with dread. Somehow, she understood.

“How do you cope?” Elizabeth asked. “How do you face him afterward?”

“It’s not difficult. I find Marlow is considerably more composed after he’s spanked me. The activity endows a sort of release to these men, to know they’ve asserted themselves and brought us into line. I don’t try to understand it. Of course, it’s unpleasant while the spanking is going on, but after…”

Elizabeth studied her friend’s subtle blush. “What do you mean, ‘after?’”

“After, things are better. Sometimes things are…romantic.”

“Romantic?” Elizabeth crossed her arms in front of her. “It’s hard to have romantic feelings for August when I was made to stand facing a corner with my skirts up at my waist and my throbbing backside on full display. It was humiliating.”

“You mustn’t think of it that way,” Rosalind said after a moment. “They do not mean to humiliate, only correct. It does get easier with experience.”

“I don’t know if I wish to gain that experience.”

Rosalind sighed. “You may not have a choice. Even if I endeavor to behave perfectly, Marlow finds an excuse to wallop my bottom at regular intervals.”

“What is a ‘regular interval’ in your marriage?”

“Right now…” Rosalind gave her a look, flicking back a lock of dark gold hair. “Well, ever since Marlow learned about Townsend’s nightly spankings for Jane, he’s decided we must try it. So you might say our interval right now is daily.”

“Daily!”

“Well, nightly. Unless I earn one during the day as well.”

Elizabeth’s mouth fell open. “Rosalind!”

“Didn’t Jane seem very content at your wedding?” she argued. “And I’m sure Marlow won’t go on with nightly spankings forever.”

“How can you know that? Our husbands are madmen.”

“It probably seems very regimented and tedious to someone newly married. It’s certainly not easy to present myself to him each night before bed, to get my bottom reddened until I’m sore. But as I said…afterward…”

Rosalind blushed, emotions dancing behind her sedate gaze.

Elizabeth did not understand. “What is this ‘afterward’ Marlow provides, that you will submit to that sort of disciplinary onslaught?”

“It’s not an onslaught . Oh, darling. Have you not done intimate, sensual things with August?”

“Do you mean when he kisses me?” Elizabeth felt her own blush deepen. This was her best friend, and they were both married now, so she tried not to sound embarrassed. “Do you mean when he kisses me…down there?” she finished in a slightly stronger voice.

“Hmm. Yes.” Rosalind’s brows slanted, quizzical. “Has he done anything else down there ?”

“I have no idea what you mean. Unless…” She took a deep breath. “Well, there is his rather giant thing that he presses between my thighs sometimes. I admit, the pressure feels pleasant, but I think he’s afraid he’ll hurt me if he puts it inside me.”

“Oh. Truly?”

“Yes, because he hasn’t done it yet.”

Now Rosalind was the one blushing red. “Oh, Lisbet. I don’t imagine he’ll hurt you if he’s careful, no matter how large he may be. It’s something that’s done in nearly every marriage, unless the husband and wife hate one another.”

“Oh. I don’t think August hates me.”

“Elizabeth! Of course he doesn’t.”

“But he was practically forced to marry me.”

“So?” Rosalind tapped Elizabeth on the knee. “Consider Townsend and Jane. Their marriage was a complete accident, and they’re so in love now.”

“Except that your brother spanks her every night,” said Elizabeth. “Which has caused you to also be spanked nightly. I’m sure I won’t be far behind.”

“You’ll come to recognize these disciplinary sessions as acts of love.” Rosalind sighed, taking her hand. “August clearly adores you. He punished you today out of fear for your safety, because he adores you. He’s always been the protective sort.”

“But—”

“I know, I know. It’s hard to look at a painful spanking as an act of protectiveness. However, I’m sure it was.” Rosalind made a soft, humming sound and tapped her chin. “As for the ‘afterward’ between you…”

Maybe it was the spanking, the popping of her contented marital bubble, that made hopelessness set in. “He’s just so big,” said Elizabeth. “What if we can never have an afterward?”

“Some gentlemen are fashioned so. Marlow’s cock—they call them cocks for some reason, darling—well, it’s very big when he’s excited, and I survive.” She gave a sudden laugh. “Survive is the wrong word. Joining with him can be lovely, quite exciting and enjoyable, never more so than just after he’s given me a rollicking spanking.” Rosalind put a hand over her mouth, meeting Elizabeth’s gaze with more soft laughter. “Am I sharing too much?”

“You’re not sharing enough,” said Elizabeth. “How is it exciting? How can it feel enjoyable to have…all that…shoved inside you? What I’ve been told makes no sense.”

“What have you been told?”

“That men and women lie down together and join together, and…” Elizabeth waved her hands in frustration. “And then something happens in the midst of all that that’s exciting and good.”

“Something does happen.” Rosalind paused a moment to think. “Listen, Lisbet. Have you enjoyed it when he kisses you down there?”

“Well, yes.” She pressed her legs together at a delectable flash of memory. “He’s even brought me to a sort of climax, where I squeeze and tremble all over. It happens when I’m not self-conscious or embarrassed about what’s transpiring. August said I must not be.”

“He’s a good teacher, then,” said Rosalind. “And a good lover. Good enough that when he joins with you— shoves inside you , as you so indelicately put it—he can make you feel like that, only better. His intrusion may feel strange and uncomfortable at first, but once he gets going—”

“Gets going? However does he ‘get going’?”

“He moves inside you, in and out, in a sort of rhythm,” said Rosalind, demonstrating with vague gestures. “I don’t know how better to explain it. It may sound frightening to have your husband thrusting into your body, especially with a big cock, but it’s not. It’s…” She clasped her hands together with a spreading smile. “Well. The trembling you speak of? The climax? It can be glorious.”

“Glorious.” Elizabeth repeated the word in her smitten tone. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face shine like that. Nor would I ever think Marlow capable—”

“He is exceedingly capable, and creative too. Though I shan’t tell you more, because there must be some privacy for a husband and wife.” She giggled a bit, covering her smile. “But he…he certainly knows what to do, and August knows also, I must presume. He’s taught you half of it… Perhaps if you encourage him, and assure him he won’t hurt you, you can progress past kisses and such. Not that those activities aren’t wonderful,” she added.

“Your eyes light up when you speak of Marlow. August seems more nervous than anything when we’re intimate together. Maybe he doesn’t want to go any further. Maybe he’ll never join with me.” Elizabeth’s deepest fears came to the surface, released by Rosalind’s concern. “I’m afraid he’s unsatisfied in our marriage. We were friends before, not romantic at all. He loved Felicity all this time, and now he’s saddled with me.”

“Saddled? Oh, I’m sure he doesn’t see it that way. As for my sister, he must understand he has no chance with her now.”

“He might still pine for her. I don’t know.”

“I think you’re entertaining fears with no basis in reality,” said Rosalind drily. “Marlow’s spanked me for that in the past. The bad sort of spanking.”

Elizabeth put her head in her hands, then lifted it with a groan. “Felicity aside, he married me because he felt sorry about my broken engagements, not because he wished to. Or because he l-loves me.” Her voice cracked on the last words.

“Oh, Lisbet. I was at your wedding, remember?” Rosalind held her gaze. “August was all smiles. Everyone could see he was pleased as punch to marry you.”

“But—”

“No but’s.”

“He’s not in love with me.”

“Nor were Jane and my brother in love when they wed. Nor your brother and Ophelia, for that matter. Did Fortenbury love you?”

Her friend’s blunt scolding knocked some sense into Elizabeth. A tiny bit of sense, right there beside her newlywed insecurities.

“I’m sorry, Ros. I don’t know where my heart’s at, or my head. I’m not good company today.”

“You’re fine company. It’s not easy starting a marriage. We’ve all had ups and downs. August’s love for you, the romantic, passionate sort of love, will develop over time, with familiarity. And you can’t develop familiarity without…” Rosalind made a suggestive gesture of insertion, driving one pointing finger into the circle of her opposite hand. “I promise he’ll be glad if you bring it up, if you ask him to show you the whole of what can happen in the marriage bed.”

“Perhaps I’ll do so.” Elizabeth sighed, then stood and poured tea for her friend. “But not today. I’m miffed at how hard he spanked me. It wasn’t kind of him at all.”

“Husbands are rarely kind when they have discipline in mind. If it matters, I’m sure you would have been perfectly fine on the lake.” Rosalind selected a cream puff from the tea tray, licking her lips. “But aren’t you touched by his worrying? That’s a sign of love, isn’t it? I think he’ll be an excellent husband once you’ve got the particulars sorted out.”

Elizabeth thought about particulars as her friend consumed the creamy pastry, making pleasureful noises. She also thought about the nightly spankings both Rosalind and Jane seemed content to endure.

“At least you’re not with Fortenbury.” Rosalind munched her cream puff, responding to her friend’s doleful expression. “Perhaps you must take spankings with August, but I warrant Fortenbury would have been a worse husband. He would have made you miserable, no matter how fine and upstanding he was.”

“You’re right. I must count my blessings, not my spankings. Let’s talk about something else. How have you been, Ros? How are your sweet girls?”

“Sylvie’s a darling big sister, and you may be sure little Georgina is growing by leaps and bounds. Both of them are mischievous as Marlow ever was. I love being their mama.” Her eyes lit up as she talked about her pair of toddlers. “But I don’t know how I shall ever present them at court when they’re of age. They’re a right mess most days.”

“I’m sure by the time they’re of age, they’ll be much more manageable,” said Elizabeth.

“I pray that’s true,” she replied, laughing. “You must visit Maitland Glen soon, so you can see my little scamps. They do so love ‘auntie’ Lisbet. Oh, speaking of visits, I heard from Mama that Felicity and her family are coming from Italy this spring. They’ve been invited to a grand ball at Buckingham Palace in May, to see the king’s new renovations.”

“Oh, how exciting. How marvelous.”

Her pretended delight didn’t fool her friend. “Don’t look that way, Lisbet. It’s ridiculous to think August would care—”

“I know.”

“When she’s coming here with her husband of more than ten years, and all her children—”

“I know! I know. Tell me about this grand ball the king’s giving.”

Elizabeth said it to move the conversation forward, but her mind was stuck on the idea of Felicity visiting so soon.

“Of course, the king’s keen to show off Buckingham’s new ballroom,” Rosalind said. “It’s rumored to be the grandest now in all the world. And the palace gardens—they’ve been redesigned in the French style. He’s added new wings to the main structure, with tons more rooms for guests to stay over. I imagine we’ll all attend with Felicity and Carlo. It’ll be a magnificent party, considering how King George likes to entertain.”

Elizabeth sipped her tea, thinking of spring and the Season, and the ton . St. Pierre gave one a false sense of security. Tongues would wag—mercilessly—when she and August attended the coming Season’s events. Another reason for August to resent her, rather than fall in love with her.

Perhaps he would not wish to go to the king’s noteworthy gathering, for fear of gossip and embarrassment… Perhaps they needn’t encounter his former flame after all.

But August was a wealthy earl, a lord of the realm. He would be expected to go, and she would go with him like a good wife.

He will defend me , she thought, if anything bad is said about me . And he wouldn’t embarrass her by openly admiring Felicity, his heart’s love. He was not that sort of man, to be careless and cruel, though she feared he would still love Felicity secretly, in his private thoughts.

Dear God, never let me hear those thoughts.

“What are you pondering?” asked Rosalind, pouring more tea in her cup. “You seem a thousand miles away.”

“Oh, nothing. Just how hard it is to sit still, even on these soft chairs.”

“Poor Lisbet. Paddles are the worst. I know that from experience,” she said ruefully. “You’ll recover soon. And then you must come visit Maitland Glen and give me an update on…well…” She tucked her long gold locks behind her ears with a sheepish smile. “The intimacies we talked about. And tell me if you’ve received any more spankings.”

“I sincerely hope I have not.”

Rosalind laughed and leaned close to give her a fortifying hug. “Marriage can be hard sometimes, but it’s worth it. The love you build together will be worth it.”

Elizabeth wanted to believe her. Her friend’s twinkling silver-blue eyes told more of a story than her heartfelt words. If Rosalind and Marlow could persevere through a close brush with death and a villainous scheme to part them forever, then she could make it work with her new husband who might or might not be pleased to be married to her.

“Goodness,” she whispered, hugging her back. “I’m so glad you visited today.”

“Me, too. Although I ought to have mentioned this before now…” Rosalind pulled away, her smile transforming to a grimace. “Marlow came with me, to visit August. Let’s hope they aren’t giving one another any unsavory ideas.”

*

“Well, cousin.” Marlow leaned back in a deep leather chair, hoisting his feet onto a nearby ottoman. “How are things going? Is Elizabeth well? Are you steeped in marital bliss?”

August handed his friend a snifter of brandy. “I wouldn’t call it bliss, exactly. Elizabeth is not well pleased with me today.”

“Oh?” Marlow’s pale blue eyes registered concern. “Did you have an argument?”

“Something like that.” He took a sip from his own brandy, letting it roll about on his tongue. “I had to communicate to her the inappropriateness of certain behavior.”

Marlow’s smile tilted higher, becoming a mischievous grin. “A punishment, already? Our sweet Lisbet, spanked?”

“Yes. Paddled, I fear.” He swirled the brandy in his snifter. “I hated to do it, but she took the boat out on the lake without so much as telling her lady’s maid.”

“Ah, then, I suppose it was warranted.”

“I told her so. If she’d capsized and gone under in her heavy dress and cloak…”

August had experienced real panic when he’d been unable to find her. He’d looked outside and saw the boat missing from the dock, and had scanned the lake with true alarm before she’d emerged from behind a thicket of rushes.

“Elizabeth’s a good swimmer, I recall,” said Marlow.

“It’s a deep lake.”

“From your frown, I think you must be contemplating ways to drain it to keep your wife safe.”

August managed a tight smile. “She won’t go out alone again. I tried to make sure of that.” He took a seat in the other fireside chair. “I’ll have the boat inspected and fortified, if she’s going to want to use it. It’s the same rickety conveyance my father used as a boy.”

“Well, I’m sorry you had a scare. And sorry for Lisbet’s backside.” Marlow gazed pensively into his brandy glass. “These wives do change our lives as soon as they come into them. For better or worse…isn’t that what we say at the altar?” His expression lightened. “I hope you’ve also found some time for fun. Are you having a proper honeymoon?”

“To an extent.”

“What?”

August took another drink, restraining himself from swallowing the entire rest of the glass. “To be honest, I’ve had some difficulty forgetting she is Lady Elizabeth Drake, Wescott’s little sister. She’s bright and entertaining, and beautiful, but she’s still, you know…”

“Lisbet,” said Marlow. “I know how you feel. I had the same inner turmoil with Rosalind. Short-lived, thank God. Elizabeth’s all grown up now, you know. Not the child we remember.”

“My brain knows that, but the rest of me…”

Marlow watched him, thoughtful. “Surely you’re attracted to her, August? She’s a rare one, with those striking green eyes and long, black hair. And her…well. I shall not speak lustfully of your wife, but she’s made with all the requisite features and curves that entice the opposite sex. She possesses them in abundance.”

August gave him a wry look. “Trust me when I tell you, I know it. I see. I feel passion for her that I never felt for my mistress, or the girls at Pearl’s, or any other—” He shook his head. “Even Felicity. My love for her was nothing like the way I love Elizabeth. My love for my wife is truer, deeper, more mysterious and powerful, yet I don’t seem able to do the things I wish to…” He put his drink down and held his head between his hands. “The things I passionately wish to do to her.”

“Whyever not?”

“Because it wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“August. You are married now.”

“No.” He raised his head again, his cheeks hot. “I can’t.”

His dreams of late had become unbearable, dreams of Elizabeth naked, splayed out beneath him, submitting to the most disrespectful sexual practices his mind could concoct. He pictured himself fucking her hard, grasping her hips and driving himself inside her until she screamed. He fantasized about whipping her sexy, full breasts or hurting her nipples until she cried out for him to stop. He dreamed of pillaging her pussy and then her arsehole, one after the other, even if it upset her. When he hugged her, kissed her, slept beside her, and particularly when he spanked her, it fed these hungers and brought him dangerously close to losing control.

But they must remain just that—hungers, unsated.

“You don’t understand,” he told his friend. “You can’t understand.”

Marlow sat forward in his chair. “I most certainly do understand. Do you think I haven’t had these same crises, felt this same aversion to foisting my deviant needs upon my innocent Rosalind? But our wives are not as fragile as you think, particularly in the throes of passion. If you please her, if you excite her—”

“Indeed! And if I horrify her?”

Marlow relaxed back with a quelling sound. “You’ve always been too honorable. You will not horrify her. If you begin slowly and expose her little by little to the harder things, you won’t upset her at all. Elizabeth is a very unflappable sort of person.”

“Elizabeth is a highly perceptive person, and I worry she already senses something is wrong with me.”

“Wrong with you?” Marlow tsked, running a hand through his white-blond, somewhat disheveled hair. “Please, cousin. If something’s wrong with you, something’s wrong with all of us, and our marriages have been rolling along pleasantly enough. Why, Rosalind is the mother of my children, and it bothers me not at all to make her do the most reprehensible things, for it brings us both pleasure. Don’t blush.”

“I’m not blushing,” said August. “I’m merely worried for Rosalind.”

“Ha. You needn’t worry. Trust me on that.” His cousin emitted a low, suggestive growl, then drained the last of his drink. “All I’m saying is that intimacy is not wrong in marriage, and these things you want to do to your wife, they can happen on a continuum. One step at a time.” He frowned, studying August. “Have you taken any steps at all?”

“I’ve spanked her. Many times.”

“ Many times? In the one week you’ve been married?”

August rose to pour Marlow another drink. “I spanked her before.”

“Before you were married?” Marlow’s mouth hung open a moment. “You spanked her when she was betrothed to Fortenbury?”

“Even before that,” August admitted. “You mustn’t tell the duke, ever, but they began shortly after I became Elizabeth’s piano tutor.”

“You sly dog.” Marlow took his replenished drink, looking at August with stunned respect. “I never would have known. No one would have known. How did that even happen?”

August began to pace, trying to remember what had made him turn her over his lap the first time. “It was some sense that she wanted punishment. She knew of our reputations, of course. Someone as perceptive as her…” He turned back to Marlow. “I made up something about her mistakes, her poor practice habits. She suggested consequences…and it went from there.”

“The little minx.” Marlow laughed, shaking his head. “And here you are, worried about horrifying her. Why, she’s the perfect candidate for our preferred lifestyle. And why not? Look where she came from. Everyone knows the duke spanks his wife.”

“I have news for you, Marlow,” said August, pacing to the window. “Your father spanks your mother, too. He was famous for his perversities in his day. I’ve heard the stories.”

“People tell the same stories about you and me, and Wescott and Townsend.” Marlow shrugged. “Elizabeth surely heard them along the way. She did not marry you in complete innocence. That would seem obvious from your torrid piano lessons.”

“They were not torrid spankings,” August said, meaning to clear things up. “You must never breathe a word of this to anyone, or I’ll meet you at dawn, cousin or no.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” He gave a low whistle. “All those spankings, though, and not even married.”

“There weren’t more than twenty.”

“Twenty!?”

August shushed his loud exclamation, lest the servants hear.

“I must confess, I see you and Lady Augustine in a whole new light,” said Marlow. “I’m certainly not concerned anymore. I’m sure she’ll accept you as you are, if you do not go whole-hog too soon. Take things slowly and all will be well. Bring her along step by step.”

“It’s easier said than done.”

“You’ve accomplished many hard things.” Marlow shrugged. “Marriage is hard. You must put in the work, but it’s worth it, for it will be far more enjoyable to have your needs met at home than to skulk off to some mistress, or to Pearl’s. The duke wouldn’t allow that anyway. He’d have you called on the carpet for a spanking of your own.”

August finally managed a real smile. “He probably would.” He sighed, sitting back in his chair. “I’m glad you came with Rosalind today. I feel a little less hopeless about this marriage of convenience.”

Marlow blew out a breath. “Marriage of convenience, my arse. You feel deeply for Elizabeth. I was at the wedding, August. We all were.”

“All right. Yes. I feel so deeply for her that I’m afraid to be her proper husband.”

“But you are her proper husband. Forever.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Marlow took up the small bolster beside him and tossed it at August’s head. “Stop being a dickknob. Forget about scruples and honor and trying to be perfect. You cannot fail at this marriage, cousin. It’s too much ‘in the family’ for that. No doubt the duke and duchess shall visit promptly after the honeymoon period has ended, and they’ll expect to see a contented glow about their daughter. Your job”—he caught the bolster that August flung back—“is to make sure that glow is in evidence. And spankings alone shall not do it, especially ones that have got you in a funk.”

August knew Marlow was right. “I’ll endeavor to get things back on track. If you can have a happy marriage, I can certainly figure it out.”

“There’s the spirit, though I hear an insult in your words. I’ll choose to ignore it.” He took a final swig of his drink before setting the glass on a table. “I’m sure Rosalind will have it all arranged with Elizabeth, but please come to the Glen in a week or two. We’ll go riding hell for nothing while our wives giggle and gossip about how heavenly it is to be married.” He arched a blond brow. “Spring and town life is just around the corner.”

August groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

“Now that you’re married, it will be different. You’ll see.” The brow arched an infinitesimal bit higher. “But only if you and your lady wife present a united front.”