Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

"I do not know why you were worried." Jeffrey handed me a cup of lemonade. "Everyone adores you."

I had managed to avoid Lady Buckland as well as her daughters and also spoke as little as possible.

"Yes, it has been lovely, as you predicted it would be." I fanned myself. "I am becoming fatigued. Shall we not go home?"

"We have had a busy day." He grinned at me. "But it would be rude to leave before introducing you to our hostess."

"We are newlyweds. Surely, no one would fault us for not staying the entire day?" I tilted my head to give him my most coquettish smile.

"Who am I to say no to such an offer?" He touched my elbow and guided me away from the crowd.

For the first time in hours, I breathed normally. Just a few yards until we would be inside our carriage and on our way to the security of Bradford Hall. I tugged on Jeffrey's arm.

"Slow down, my girl. I appreciate your enthusiasm, but it would be quite rude to be seen running from a party."

The driver and footmen, noticing our approach, snapped to attention. When a footman opened the carriage door, I was tempted to dive in headfirst.

"Yooohooo! Your grace!"

My heart slammed in my chest. I tried to pretend I had not heard, but Jeffrey halted his progress.

"Lady Hampshire." He bowed. "How nice to see you."

"Good afternoon, your grace. I am pleased you were able to attend, after all."

My husband quirked an eyebrow. "Are you ladies acquainted?" He glanced from me to Lady Hampshire then back again.

"Oh, yes!" The enthusiastic lady gushed. "I have so enjoyed her company." She smiled at me then turned to Jeffrey. "Can you believe people were saying she was an American?"

He opened his mouth to respond. Closed it. Looked at me meaningfully while my eyes pleaded with him not to say what I knew was on his mind.

"My wife is an American." Jeffrey bowed to her and compelled me into the carriage.

A hundred excuses burst through my mind, but I dared not give voice to any of them.

Jeffrey sat, stone faced and silent.

A tear formed in the corner of my left eye then trickled down my cheek. Flicking it away, I prayed Jeffrey did not notice. That prayer, like so many others in my life, went unfulfilled.

"Are you crying, little Sarah?"

I sniffed and flicked away another tear that snuck out and traveled down my cheek. "No. I am not crying. There is an abundance of dust in the air. The British do not know how to control such things. I am sure British ladies are used to dust, but I am not."

When the carriage slowed to allow for another equipage to cross in front of us, I took the opportunity to bolt out the door, across the road, then into one of the gardens of the Buckland estate. It felt good to run, though I must have made quite a spectacle with my hat tipped askew while my skirts billowed out behind me. My husband called after me, but I kept running. Finally, I stopped, panting and winded, to lean against a tree to catch my breath. It had been ages since I had exerted myself in such a manner, and a severe stitch attacked my side. I pressed my hand against it in hopes of stemming the ache.

I ignored the ache in my heart.

More tears streamed down my face. As I scrubbed them away with my palms, I cursed the British and their dusty roadbeds. In all my travels, I never encountered such untidy roadways.

Once my breathing calmed, I sat upon a garden bench to consider my options. Much as I told myself I wished to be alone, I glanced about, expecting Jeffrey to come bursting through the hedgerow searching for me, but when he did not, my heart panged anew.

"I bet he would go running after an English lady," I said to myself.

"An English lady would not go darting out into traffic, startling a team of horses, as well as terrifying her husband." Jeffrey's stern voice was music to my ears, and I smiled up at him, despite the unhappy expression on his face.

"There is no reason for you to look so happy, little miss, for I intend to spank your sweet Yankee ass until it is the color of the cross on the Union Jack."

"I-I did not expect you to come after me." Truly, I had not. His appearance shocked and thrilled me.

"Are you not my wife?" Jeffrey stared down at me, and heat rushed to my face.

"Yes," I responded, though the answer was rather obvious.

"Then why would you not expect me to come after you? Who else is going to keep an eye on you, my little hellion?"

"Is that all I am to you? Just a bit of entertainment, a poorly behaved Yankee for you to taunt until she misbehaves and gives you a reason to spank her?"

The corners of his mouth turned up. "I am your husband. I need no reason to spank you, though you certainly provide ample excuses for discipline."

"How fortunate for you, your grace."

Jeffrey folded his arms across his broad chest, tilted his head, and smiled down at me. "I think it is very fortunate for me. Whether you agree or not remains to be seen. Now, go find a switch so we can get your punishment completed and return home before nightfall."

A switch? My heart plunged to my toes while blood pounded in my ears. "Surely you are not in earnest, Jeffrey. Anyone might happen by and see us here."

"I would dare say you are correct, little wife. In fact, I heard a bit of rustling in the bushes a moment ago. I am sure Lady Hampshire has already revealed your true heritage to the party guests, who no doubt saw you running away from our carriage. They will be disappointed if we do not provide a show for them."

"No." I stood to face him. "I will not. This is ridiculous. Take me home this instant." I stomped my little foot as though it would have an impact on the implacable Duke of Amherst.

Well, it did, only not in the manner I intended. He clasped my arm and pulled me up against his firm chest. Instinctively, I tipped my head back, waiting for a kiss. Instead, he tweaked my nose, turned me away from him then swatted my bottom. "Switch. Now."

Any thrill I got from being pursued disappeared when he pushed me away from him.

"Make it a good one, or I will select one myself," he called after me as I stumbled toward the bushes.

By the time I emerged from the shrubbery with a switch in hand, my hair hung in loose clumps around my face, my hat had disappeared, and my shoes were covered in grime.

Jeffrey's gaze scorched up and down my disheveled, unladylike appearance, and fresh tears stung my eyes. Who could have stirred up dust in the middle of a garden?

"Come along." He grasped my elbow to escort me from the privacy of the clearing onto the roadway where our carriage awaited. We emerged from the shrubbery, the switch clasped in my hand, to snickers and cheers from the partygoers who moved quickly to take in our spat.

My head hung low in shame, but I chanced a glance from beneath my lashes and spotted Lady Hampshire along with her sister at the forefront of the audience. They both appeared highly amused.

I redirected my view to the ground and kept it there until Jeffrey handed me into the carriage. Once inside, I stared at my lap, including the switch he laid there.

"You'll be feeling those branches once we get home, little miss. Until then, I want you to hold the instrument of your punishment while you consider the seriousness of your behavior."

"I am sorry, Jeffrey." I did not raise my gaze from the implement held in my sweaty palms.

"What yarn did you spin for Lady Hampshire to make her believe you were British?"

I worried my lip between my teeth for a moment. "It was unintentional. Please believe me. But on my arrival at her house, the maid said everyone was shocked you married an American. I did not want people to think poorly of you, and somehow when I opened my mouth to speak, a British accent came out."

I peeked up at Jeffrey to gauge his reaction.

"British accent?"

"Yes. Like this. The pahk in Lancashah is divine ."

He covered his mouth with his hand for a moment. "Is that the same way you spoke to Lady Hampshire?"

"Yes, I could not believe I fooled them."

"It is surprising." He stared out the window, his jaw clenched tightly and his hand covering his mouth. He appeared to strain for control of what might come from his mouth.

His silence worried me.

He turned back to me. "You have earned yourself quite a punishment, Sarah girl."

"Is not my utter humiliation enough punishment?"

"That is a start. But in addition to your ruse, you endangered your life by running between carriages. What if you had spooked the horses or injured others?"

"Maybe you should have left me in the garden. You would be happier without me, would you not?" I held my breath. Would he send me back to America?

"We shall discuss all of these things once we are alone. Until then, not another word from you on any topic until I give my permission. Understood?"

Tears again stung my eyes. His lack of a denial meant only one thing—he wished to be rid of me. By the time my punishment ended, my luggage would be packed and I would be banished from Bradford Hall.

I could not blame him. This was all my own doing. I stared out the window at the countryside and mourned the loss of my marriage.

When we arrived at Bradford Hall, a maid assisted me with removing my wrap and reached for the branch in my hand. "Thank you, Martha, but Lady Amherst is not to let go of that switch until I give permission."

My face flushed with embarrassment. The maid opened her mouth in shock but closed it before saying anything.

Jeffrey, calm as you please, touched my elbow, guided me up the stairs and down the long hall to his bedchamber. He pointed to the wooden bench at the foot of his bed. "Sit."

I did as I was bid and placed the switch across my lap as I had in the carriage.

An assortment of emotions swirled in my brain, but when the click of the locked door echoed through the room, my thoughts became very focused. For the first time since this horrid incident began, the full measure of my pending punishment became clear.

I stared at the switch. My imagination conjured the swish it would make in the air before it cracked across my bottom. Each little crook and knot would sear my tender flesh.

My cheeks clenched against the hard wood of the bench.

And after that, I would never see Jeffrey again. What man wants a wife who embarrasses him amongst his friends? Divorce was out of the question but I would not be the first wife sent off to live a life separate from her husband.

He took the switch from me, retrieved a knife from his writing desk, then began to strip away the bark. Fascination coupled with horror gripped me as each talon of bark revealed the supple branch beneath.

As he pulled off each sliver of covering, he dropped them to the floor. A small pile of curling bark formed near his feet.

"I am sorely disappointed in you, Sarah." Although I was instructed not to talk, the rule did not apply to Jeffrey who lectured as he worked.

No doubt his words were true since he simply called me Sarah.

"Why would you pretend to be someone else? How could you lie? I thought you were proud to be an American."

For once, I abided by his rule and said nothing, though my stomach knotted and my heart squeezed with despair.

When he finished his task, he flicked his wrist back and forth. The switch whistled ominously through the air.

"I think it will do nicely." He turned his focus to me. "It appears you have been pretending to be an English lady rather than an American, is that correct?"

I nodded.

"You did this because you feared you would not be accepted as an American?"

I nodded again.

"Are you saying, by choosing you as my wife, I have shown a lack of judgment?"

I shrugged. Pointed to my sealed lips.

"Yes, you may speak now."

"You had no choice but to marry me." I swiped at a miserable tear on my cheek.

"Is that what you believe?"

"It is true, is it not?" I whispered. "If I had not caused a scandal, you would not have married me. You would not have even paid attention to me."

Jeffrey stared. "Has nothing that I have said or done since our engagement penetrated your stubborn Yankee brain?" He raked his hand through his hair in exasperation. "Apparently, the only thing you understand is punishment. Stand up."

I complied. As he assisted me in removing my clothes, I watched his eyes, hoping for a glimmer of affection or desire as my body was revealed to him, but he remained aloof. My emotions spun with dread and despondency. My heart fluttered. My lips quivered.

He handed me the switch. "Bend over and give yourself five licks with the switch."

I glared, dumbfounded. "Do you not even care enough to discipline me yourself?"

Dejected and angry, I bent so my tail was on full display for him. Before I could change my mind or say more to get myself into trouble, I did as he bade.

I gripped the switch, the smooth wood pressing against my palm, closed my eyes, and gave myself a swat. Although my position, as well as being forced to punish myself for his view, humiliated me, the pain did not rise to my expectations. The sting lingered. I quickly gave myself the remaining four strokes, counting down as I did so, my tone none too subdued. Once the required number was laid across my backside, I straightened to stare at my husband, chin lifted in defiance.

He signaled me to turn away from him then inspected my handiwork. He used his finger to trace across the area where the branch marked my bottom. "You did a fine job for a beginner, my dear, now let us get on with the real discipline."

Although angry, hurt, and confused by all that transpired, when Jeffrey said ‘my dear,' my heart sang with delight.

He sat on the wooden bench then pulled me to stand between his knees. Given his tall stature compared to my petite one, we were nearly eye-to-eye. He still held the switch, so he used the tip to draw a lazy circle around first one breast then the other. As he did so, his eyes darkened with passion. His breathing became less steady and, despite his efforts to appear calm, the evidence proved otherwise. I was not unaffected, either. Telltale moisture gathered in my lady parts, and my nipples puckered.

He guided me over his lap where further evidence of his arousal pressed against my side. It pleased and gratified me to know he wanted me. Hope glimmered at the remote chance he would not banish me.

He situated me across his hard thighs then traced his fingers over the areas I had spanked moments before. "Listen carefully, little wife, for we shall discuss this topic only once. After that it shall be closed forever, do you understand me?"

I nodded, and he whipped my derriere with the switch. "Speak aloud."

"I understand."

Another stripe crossed both cheeks of my bottom. "I never intended to marry an American. I was raised to believe only a proper English girl could be my bride."

I gasped. My body stiffened. I knew it .

"Frankly, I had no desire to marry, though it was expected of me. I had not been out in society for several weeks, when finally, my friend Puffington persuaded me to go to Lady Waterford's ball. I looked around the room at all the staid English young ladies standing about hoping to find a wealthy mate, and I was disgusted."

Jeffrey had an uncanny ability to discipline and lecture simultaneously. Without a pause, he punished my backside repeatedly with the switch. It swished through the air, and I tensed with each impact, but he continued.

"In fact"—he laid a biting swat across the underside of both cheeks—"I was in a foul mood and on the verge of leaving when a very pretty upstart young American girl tapped me on the shoulder to challenge my statement about her country."

I gasped, not from the lashes across my thighs, though they stung like the dickens, but because of what Jeffrey said about our first encounter. I never expected his recounting to flatter me in any way.

"Once I saw her defiant expression, all thoughts of any other woman, regardless of where she was from or how she spoke, vanished from my mind."

"No!" I gasped again.

"Are you calling me a liar, little hellcat?" He slapped the switch to my bare skin again and again, making it even more difficult for me to think.

"No. Yes. I do not know." I could not reconcile his affectionate description of our first meeting with the burn he continued to inflict on my tender flesh. Though hope glimmered that he might not dismiss me from his life, the pain scorching my lower half made it difficult to believe he meant to keep me around. As far as I could tell, I had been nothing but a problem for him.

"Is it so hard to believe I was captivated the moment I saw you?"

"Yes. No. I don't know."

"You are a stubborn Yankee."

The pace of my punishment increased. I kicked my legs in an effort to make him stop, but he simply clamped his thigh over mine and continued.

"Do I have to spank it into you that I love you?"

I gasped and tried to glance around at Jeffrey's face, but he pressed my shoulders to keep my head down. I stared at the floor while he continued to show his love by blistering my bottom.

He finished with a flurry of whipping slaps to my thighs and buttocks, but I barely felt anything, so stunned was I by the course of our conversation. He scooped me up and laid me on the bed. I buried my face in his pillow, inhaled deeply of his scent then hugged the pillow close to my chest. I tried to make sense of what he had said. Surely, he could not be serious. How could anyone be captivated by a person in an instant?

But then I remembered the same moment, as well as the sensation that had zipped through my body when he turned toward me. Did he experience something similar?

I felt his weight next to me on the bed. A cool ointment soothed my heated buttocks. His fingers stroked across my aching flesh, and the sting there lessened. The sting in my heart was a little harder to define or calculate, though it seemed to diminish as well.

"I did not know you felt that way." The pillow muffled my words.

"Why do you think I married you, poppet?" His voice was warm and gentle, like his touch on my backside.

I slid my legs apart in invitation.

"Ah, you naughty girl." Jeffrey tapped against my outer thigh. "You keep your naughty bits out of my sight until we finish this conversation. How can you expect me to form coherent words when you are taunting me with your wanton ways?"

The affection in his tone warmed me. I smiled into the pillow.

"I married you," he said, determined to finish this conversation, "because I wanted to, and not a moment since then has caused me to question my choice. Do I make myself clear?"

"I-I think so."

"You are my wife. I have chosen you to be my wife, and I am grateful every day I did not choose a proper English girl. My heart is at the mercy of a spirited, disobedient, sassy Yankee girl who has captured my love."

I rolled over to look at him. Shock registered across my entire countenance as I stared into the face of my husband.

He tweaked my nose. "Is it so hard to believe, Sarah girl, that I could love you?"

There must have been an excessive amount of dust in the room because tears streamed down both my cheeks. I made a note to speak to the housekeeper about it.

I reached up to brush away the pesky tears, but Jeffrey grasped my wrists, held them behind my back then lowered his face and kissed them away.