Chapter Six Discipline

Chapter Six

Discipline

E lizabeth accepted the book, biting gingerly upon it. From the feel of the first two strokes, she feared she might gnash it to bits. She had asked for a hard spanking, but that would have been too loud in these close quarters, so August was offering this different thing—these silent stripes of fire.

It hurt, but she knew it would make her feel better. She already felt better. She stared at the wall in front of her, holding her nightclothes tight at her waist. The next blow came, the next swish-whizz of pain, and she bowed her head and bit down hard. With the aid of the book, she didn’t make a sound.

You ought to pray for your soul , Fortenbury had told her. Was this the next best thing, standing and having her bottom striped while she clenched her teeth upon a prayer book?

Owww.

If her pantalettes offered any protection, she did not feel it. Tears squeezed from her eyes. It hurt. Oh, it hurt so badly, but she would not tell him to stop, not when she’d had to work so hard to convince him to begin.

She didn’t know how she’d found the courage to come to him. Well, one reason was that she knew he was capable of spanking her to tears, and willing to do it. Another reason was that she trusted him to do this, to spank her soundly enough to forget everything else.

Owww. Oww!

He was not flailing at her, but he was not giving her much respite between strikes either. His hand would move toward her, the stinging switch would land, and then she would have just enough time to steady herself before the next one came.

Tears flowed from her eyes, falling upon the leather book she bit to process the pain. His hand—the one not switching her—rested upon her shoulder and steadied her through the blows. That had been a dozen now, at least. She could feel each thin weal throbbing in a crosshatch of lines.

The blows paused, though his hand still held her.

“Let’s talk again,” he said, taking the book from her mouth. “Are we doing this because you’re bad? Or because Fortenbury is too dim to realize how marvelous you are?”

“I—” She gazed into his intent hazel eyes, thinking how stern he could look. “I’m not bad. I don’t think I’m bad, but—”

“No but’s.” The book was returned to her mouth. “I suppose we’re not finished yet.”

She sniffled, her nose running along with her eyes. She wanted to ask, how many? How much longer? But that was up to him, for she was determined to take all the punishment he was willing to give. The frustration that had haunted her all evening had an outlet now, and for the first time in many hours, the ache in her chest had ceased. Well, it had been replaced by a different, sharper ache in her backside.

As her switching resumed, she cried for her otherness and loneliness, for Fortenbury’s scorn, and for the terrible, burning pain of being punished by someone reputed to be a real disciplinarian .

The gossip was true. He really was. Her past spankings were child’s play compared to this. When he stopped again, five or six blows later, she was ready for his question.

“Are we doing this because you’re bad, or because Fortenbury is a judgmental donkey, and you needed to feel better?”

“The second one,” she said. “I know I’m not bad.”

“No, you’re not.” He gave an approving nod. “Three final ones, then, to remind you that you don’t really deserve this.”

He returned the prayer book, the merciful book for her to bite upon, which was good because the three last strikes were the sharpest, hardest ones yet. A reminder indeed, for she wouldn’t forget how painful they felt.

She was both relieved and disappointed when the switching was over. She could have taken more. Perhaps. Her bottom ached to a scorching degree. She heard him place the switch on the table, then he came and took the book from between her teeth as she let down her nightclothes. She feared she must have drooled all over the thing, but he didn’t look at the book, only her.

“Feel better now?” he asked.

She nodded, crying anew only because he looked at her so tenderly. For a moment, his gaze was so intent she thought he might embrace her, but he only moved his thumb across her cheek, his head bowed toward hers.

“No more tears, then, if you feel better,” he said. “Those sorts of stripes should fade in a day or two, for secrecy’s sake. Can you smile for me?”

“I don’t think so.” She sniffled, looking toward her feet. “I dropped your handkerchief.”

He located the crumpled linen, and she dampened it with a few more tears, but then her crying slowed. Her bottom hurt, but her soul and heart felt better. She was strange, but she was not bad. August had said so. He’d spanked the thought right into her. You are not bad. Fortenbury is the one who must adjust.

She’d known it all along but persisted in blaming herself. That was why she’d needed to be spanked, to be punished so severely. She wasn’t bad, she was a liar. She had lied to herself, casting Fortenbury as the faultless one between them, and herself as the problem.

“Thank you,” she said, now that she could think more clearly.

“You shouldn’t thank me.”

She did not understand his expression as he said it. She handed back his sodden handkerchief, shying away from his gaze. He didn’t seem the Lord Augustine who’d spanked her at piano lessons. He seemed darker now. Bigger. Stronger. A little less civilized when he wasn’t wearing his coat and cravat.

“Let’s sit by the fire a moment,” he said.

“Yes. All right.”

She felt slightly off-balance, not physically, but emotionally. It was a relief to settle into the chair by the warm hearth, even though it hurt to sit.

He pulled a chair over beside hers. “I would send for tea, but…”

“Yes, it’s late.” Elizabeth felt a blush come over her. The saner she felt, the more she realized her behavior this night had gone beyond the pale. “I’m sorry, August. I don’t know what I was thinking, disturbing your sleep this way. I was beside myself, or I wouldn’t have come to you at such a late hour.”

“It’s all right. You needed help. You needed a friend.”

He’d always been her faithful friend, as long as she could remember. She didn’t want to dwell on his goodness, or the emotional tears would come rushing back. Instead, she looked around his room, taking in the ancient-looking furniture, the small bed, the weathered crucifix on the far wall.

“Why, they’ve put you in a monk’s quarters.”

“A parson’s room, at least. Yes. I don’t mind it so much. It’s quiet.”

“You might move to the main house, if you asked. I think there are a few empty rooms.”

“There aren’t.” He looked at her from beneath his dark lashes. “You have a lot of family and friends here. And they all love you very much.”

The fire crackled as a silence lengthened between them, but it was comfortable, not awkward. She pulled her robe closer around her, shifting on her sore bottom.

“Can I ask you something, Elizabeth?”

She looked up at his questioning tone. Firelight shone against his tousled, black-brown hair.

“What did you see in the valley? Did you really see people, otherworldly people?”

“No.” She hadn’t, though she’d had a sense they might have been there. “I saw fires built in a circle, as if there were…I don’t know. Some settlement there.”

A settlement of old Welsh faeries. She’d heard of faerie fires but didn’t think she’d ever see them. She didn’t think they’d threaten her impending marriage, for all that.

“It gave me goose pimples,” said August, “when all of us looked out and couldn’t see anything.”

He studied her with a probing expression. It gave her goose pimples to be looked at that way. She hugged herself, wondering why she wasn’t leaving August’s room, leaving him to his rest after she’d practically forced him to spank her.

“Do you think they wanted you to see them?” he asked. “The people…whoever made those fires?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if I really saw any otherworldly visions or ancient fires. Perhaps it was just a trick of the midday light.”

“It’s all right if you saw something, you know. Fortenbury was the only one who got upset about it.”

She didn’t want to tell August how vivid the fires had seemed, almost too vivid. She couldn’t tell him how she’d sensed good feelings in the air, contentment and joy emanating from Cairwyn’s valley at the winter’s solstice. Warmth, happiness, and mirth enough to make her soul fly. Then Lord Fortenbury’s scrutiny had broken the spell. His curt words had made her feel low and cold.

A sob burst from her, though she’d been done crying minutes before. “I want to be married. Oh, August! I want to be married more than anything, but I don’t know if he will make a good husband.”

“Can’t you tell, using your powers? Can’t you know somehow if he will be good or bad?”

“My powers ? It’s not like that. And when I’m wrought up and overly emotional, I can’t trust what I feel. I just want a husband. Any husband at all, which is so foolish of me.”

His large, strong hand, the one he’d just switched her with, tapped upon her chair’s arm. “If you don’t want him, you must tell your father. I know it’s difficult, but there will be others—”

“I doubt that. If I broke things off with Lord Fortenbury, that would be four unsuccessful engagements. Who would want me after that?”

“If you can see into the future, you must see that you won’t grow old alone.”

“I can’t read the future.” Her temper rose like a sudden gust of wind. “I’m not some mystic with a crystal ball.”

“I never said you were. I don’t understand your abilities, Elizabeth, your extraordinary senses. Forgive me for my curiosity.” He pursed his lips, turning back to the fire.

She wiped her cheeks, regretful that she’d snapped at him. “No, forgive me,” she said. “Of course you’re curious. But you must know I wish my extraordinary senses to the devil.”

She received a sudden, very clear sense from August, a pang of isolation, of loneliness. She’d been so wrapped up in herself, she hadn’t thought of his emotional burden. This wedding, any wedding, must be difficult for him to deal with, considering the heartbreak of his unrequited love.

“August, have you met any beguiling young ladies since you’ve been here? I had a feeling…” She blew out her breath. “As much as I hate my premonitions, I had a strong feeling you ought to come here to Wales, that you were meant to be here for some reason. I hoped you might fall in love with some young lady while you were here.”

“Fall in love? Just like that? How whimsical you are.” His serious expression softened to a smile. “Perhaps I was merely meant to be here to give you that spanking you needed tonight.”

“Hmm. Perhaps.” She smiled too. “It was a very painful spanking, by the way.”

“Which you asked for.”

“Which you were only too happy to dole out after some token efforts at dissuading me.”

“Token efforts?” He laughed, a real laugh that rang out in the quiet chamber. “You must know by now that I’m only too happy to discipline you, especially when you insist upon it.”

“I did insist, didn’t I?” Goodness, she must be blushing enough for him to see, even in the dim light. She looked away, tracing a pattern upon the arm of her chair. “Ah, well. You don’t seem the least motivated to find a prospective bride. I don’t know that there’s any hope for you.”

“There is always hope, Elizabeth. For both of us, there is always hope.”

It was as if he could see right into her, see all her lovelorn doubts and fears plain as day. She was the one who was supposed to have powers of perception.

“I want you to remember something from our session here tonight,” he said. “Look at me, Lisbet.”

She did, blushing hotter than she had before.

He spoke to her in a warm, authoritative voice. “I want you to remember that you are a catch, Lady Elizabeth Drake. You’ll make an unparalleled wife and mother, and that trail of fiancés from your past…” He made a dismissive gesture. “They are nothing. They have no connection to your present worth. Fortenbury will see the treasure he’s acquired once he knows you better. That is his task, to learn how amazing you are. Your task is to keep remembering that you’re amazing, because you are.”

His eyes flashed with the candor of his words. He was such a good friend. So kind. “You’ll make me cry again. I cannot seem to govern my emotions.” She covered her face, overwhelmed. Confused. At ends. “I’ll be all right presently,” she said into her trembling hands.

“Of course you will.” He reached to pat her back, rubbing it briefly. “It pains me to see you at ends. You’ve always been such a stolid, brave sort.”

“I want to be, it’s just…”

“I know. No one can be strong all the time.”

She stared at the fire, drifting, until her eyes were drawn to the table, to the birch switch he’d used on her. It still hurt so much, she couldn’t believe the stripes would ever disappear. She wondered if Fortenbury would discipline her whenever she disappointed him in their marriage.

If he did, would his discipline calm her, as August’s did…or…?

“I must go soon,” she said. “Or I might fall asleep right here.”

“We can’t allow that to happen.” He grimaced. “Your papa would take off my head if you were found here in the morning, and Fortenbury would use it as an excuse to go off on another of his lecturing tirades.” He stood and fetched her velvet cloak and wrapped it around her. “I’ll walk back with you to the main house.”

“You don’t have to. It’s so cold. I can go on my own. I’m not afraid of the dark.”

He smiled at that, through his own tiredness. “You’re not afraid of anything. You never have been. I’ll still walk with you, lest your faerie friends lure you away to their secret kingdom.”

August made her wear one of his extra cloaks over hers on the trek back to the manor, across the dark, snowy fields behind the house. She felt no faerie presence and saw no warming fires. He took his cloak back once he delivered her inside the door, and she felt cold at its loss, but when she hurried to her rooms, a fire still burned in the grate. She washed her teary face and climbed into bed. What must August think of her after her clandestine visit tonight?

Well, it had been a moment of weakness, and a moment of doubt about her feelings for Fortenbury, but she must move past that. Tomorrow she would not cry, but lift her head and smile, and find ways to reconnect with her future husband. She’d work to dispel his misgivings about her, and look forward to their wedding, so close at hand.

All brides worried, didn’t they? She closed her eyes and hoped some tranquil sleep might soothe her aching soul.