Lydia's Penance, page 12
A footman escorted her to the study, which was on the lower level, pointing out some of the rooms along the way. Lydia looked forward to exploring the house, although considering the number of halls they’d passed, she was beginning to think she’d best have someone accompany her so she didn’t become lost! As large as the houses she’d been to, as large as the Chesterfields’ house had been, it was now obvious that being a duke meant having the largest of the large houses. Or maybe only very wealthy dukes had them, but at any rate, it rather felt like walking through a castle rather than a house. The sumptuous decorations and furnishings didn’t help; there were several vases they passed by that she was afraid to walk too close to, afeared that if she breathed wrong they might go toppling from their pedestals.
When they reached the study, the footman knocked and then opened the door for her at Isaac’s acknowledgement. Her heart stuttered for a moment when she first walked in the door. Seated behind a huge, mahogany desk, obviously quite at home, her husband looked every inch the powerful duke that he was. That formidable demeanor, combined with the surrounds, was enough to take someone’s breath away.
Looking up from his papers, he saw her and gestured at one of the two chairs in front of him. They were also large, and leather-bound, decidedly masculine and not entirely comfortable for her. She sat down, feeling almost like a child playing at being an adult and sitting on an overly large piece of furniture.
“How do you find your rooms?” he asked, shuffling some papers and setting them aside, before focusing his attention fully on her.
Lydia placed her hands in her lap, one atop the other, to keep them from trembling. “They’re lovely, thank you. Your staff did a wonderful job with the furnishings.”
“Our staff,” he reminded her, arching an eyebrow.
“Our staff,” she echoed, trying to sound less uncertain. She cleared her throat. “Mrs. Huffington said there will be roast pheasant for dinner as the main course, and some of your other favorites, including the currant sauce you like.”
That got a true smile out of him, although it flashed only very briefly. “Perfect. Mrs. Huffington is well versed in my favorites, and I’m sure she’ll be quick to pick up on yours as well. Tomorrow you can meet with her, and she will help familiarize you with the household and its routines. It won’t be too long till the neighbors find out we’re in residence.” The expression on his face was almost one of exasperation, but not quite, as if he were resigned to the fact. “I expect we’ll have our first visitors by this weekend, but you needn’t feel that you must meet with all of them straightaway. We’ll have some leniency as we’ve just arrived, married. Once Arabella and Benedict join us, however, we’ll need to have some kind of soiree or gathering to formally introduce you.” He raised his eyebrows at her and Lydia nodded.
“Do you have a list of the necessary invitations?” she asked, her voice only faltering a little.
“Mrs. Huffington will have Arabella’s lists, including everything we have on hand for entertaining so you can get an idea of the events we’ve hosted before,” he said firmly. “Arabella and Benedict may have their own additions to add when they arrive. You and I can set aside some time to make our own list. If we make it for two weeks after Arabella and Benedict’s return, that should give you a month to acclimate yourself to the house and familiarize yourself well enough to host a party.” Something in his voice made it clear he didn’t mean “should,” but that a month would give her enough time in his estimation. Lydia nodded, determined not to fail at such an important first test. “It will also give you a month to meet some of the neighbors beforehand, and Arabella will be on hand for the final two weeks of preparations to assist you.”
“I will appreciate that,” Lydia said, her fingers clutching very slightly and then releasing. She wasn’t going to show him her nerves or her fear... after all, he said everything with such authority, as if laying down the law. What he said was what would be. Completely understandable in a duke.
“I will also invite some friends, whom I’d like you to meet,” he said, his finger tapping against the desk for just a moment, as if he was thinking while he spoke. “They will need accommodations here at the house, but we won’t make it a formal house party. Just a gathering of my closest friends, with a few, suitable entertainments.”
Lydia gulped slightly. The Chesterfields’ had been her first, and only, house party, but surely she could duplicate enough of it to satisfy the duke and his friends. Although she did wish meeting his neighbors and meeting his friends could occur at different occasions, as both were quite nerve-wracking for differing reasons. At least she would have Arabella to help her with that as well, surely she was familiar with her brother’s closest companions?
“Yes, Isaac,” she said, her mind already flying with all she would need to discover about the house before she could properly begin planning.
“Good,” he said, giving her a pleased smile, and her heart lifted, just before it plummeted at his next words. “Now, I would like to discuss why you felt the need to trap me into marriage.”
The very air suddenly seemed too thick to breathe, and her fingers trembled on her lap, no matter how firmly she pressed them against her legs. Lydia honestly hadn’t been expecting the question, although it was for a very good reason.
“I thought you said we were to have a new beginning,” she replied faintly. “After... after you...”
The uncompromising look he bestowed upon her was not reassuring. “And we shall, my dear, we are. I’m no longer angry that you did so, you have been forgiven, but I still want to understand what your motivations were. I feel that communication between us is a necessary component to a successful relationship and I cannot look to a future when I do not know what caused the past. This is a new beginning, but it should be an honest one.”
Before he’d spanked her, Lydia had worried the question in the back of her mind, wondering what she would tell him if he asked. Obviously she couldn’t tell him the truth. Not the full truth. Not unless he promised to keep her confidence and not say a word to her stepfather, ever... but she already didn’t know what her stepfather wanted, and she couldn’t see Isaac tolerating her giving in to her stepfather’s demands. But her stepfather had control of Amy’s future.
Duke or not, Isaac had no rights to stop her stepfather from doing what he willed with Amy. The law was entirely on her stepfather’s side. Young ladies were beholden to their fathers, married ladies beholden to their husbands, and that was that. Even if something were to happen to her stepfather, if he were to be jailed or worse, the provisions of his will would dictate what happened to Amy. Her new guardian might be his heir - currently a distant cousin - or it might be an old family friend, or it might be Lydia. She had no way of knowing because they’d never discussed it.
She could give Isaac what he wanted - the truth - and save herself, but only at the possible cost of her sister. Right now, she didn’t know her new husband well enough to trust him. If he forbade her to accommodate her stepfather when he came to demand whatever it was he was planning on demanding of her, it wouldn’t be him or Lydia who paid the price, it would be Amy. Would Isaac care?
Knowing he was an honorable man was one thing, but what her stepfather could do to Amy in no way infringed on Isaac’s honor. Besides which, along with his honor came a hefty amount of pride and rigidity; he was not the type to give in to blackmail, no matter what was at stake. Plenty of young ladies were married to men not entirely suited to them, every year. Why should he care about another one?
She couldn’t risk her sister, which meant she couldn’t answer him with the truth.
Chapter 7
Watching the expressions flit across his new bride’s face was not reassuring. Obviously, whatever it was, she didn’t want to tell him. Her expressive face showed fear, wariness, a faint glint of hope that was immediately buried under worry, and then a kind of stubbornness that made him want to groan. Somehow, before she even opened her lying lips, he knew that what came out wouldn’t be the answer he’d asked for.
“You said you didn’t care,” she responded, almost accusingly, making his brows snap down into a scowl.
“I said what?” he asked, taken aback. Of course he cared why she’d trapped him. At no point had he made any indication that he didn’t.
Her chin lifted, stubborn through and through. “At the Chesterfields’. During the ball, the night I - well, anyway.” Her eyes darted away for just a moment and then back to meet his, the guilt she still carried clear. At least that was one small sop to his pride. “You were speaking with your brother and you said you were ready to marry, any woman, it didn’t matter who. You were going to make your decision on the morrow.”
“And you took my decision from me,” he pointed out.
“Yes, but you said you forgave me that,” she retorted almost angrily, and then took a deep breath and bowed her head slightly, assuming a more submissive stance. Which was just a tad disappointing; surprisingly, he’d been enjoying the stubborn, slightly feisty side she’d just exhibited. “Anyway, that’s why I chose you. You didn’t seem to care who you married, and well, I’m a woman. That was your only requirement.”
“I see,” he drawled, narrowing his eyes at her as he leaned back. “However, you still haven’t actually answered my question, although you’ve made a remarkable attempt at diverting me from it. You answered why you chose me, not why you felt the need to trap a husband.”
Pearly white teeth sank into her soft lower lip, just before her tongue flicked out to soothe where she’d just bitten. It wasn’t an attempt at seduction, which was the only reason it enticed him. If she had been using as a seduction technique, it would have repelled him. He forced himself to focus his gaze on hers, rather than staring at her lips and thinking about more physically interesting endeavors. This was important.
“I was unhappy at home,” she said finally, biting off the end of her sentence as if she were afraid more words might escape her mouth.
Isaac waited. Her gaze dropped to her lap where her fingers were actually twiddling together with nervousness. After a few, long, tense moments, he concluded that was all she was currently willing to offer.
“That’s it?” he asked, just to be sure. She nodded. “Are you going to explain why you were unhappy at home?” She shook her head, obviously not trusting her voice. Isaac scowled. “Then how am I to ensure that you will be happy in our home?” He asked, his voice roughening. “Or should I expect an attempt to escape it if I should accidentally make you unhappy here as well?”
Her mouth opened, as if to protest, and then closed. She swallowed hard, her eyes full of anxiety and a kind of desire... the desire to confess. He was sure of it. But she didn’t.
“I will not be unhappy here,” she said finally, and she sounded sincere but... it wasn’t enough. Not for him.
Frowning, Isaac pushed himself away from the desk. “Come here, Lydia.”
Gesturing, to make it clear he intended her to approach him, Isaac watched as she swallowed hard again and stood. There was a kind of stubborn determination in her, making it clear that she was hiding something from him and she didn’t intend to share. Which, of course, only made him want to know what it is. Isaac didn’t like things in the household not under his control. Even though his brother and sister weren’t exactly controlled, he could at least predict how they would behave in just about any situation, because he knew them. He didn’t know Lydia well enough, and it seemed she intended that he wouldn’t have the chance to.
Isaac intended to change her mind about that. As she came around the desk, he patted his lap, giving her a little nod. Her face paled, and inwardly he rejoiced. As much as he might enjoy spanking a lady’s bottom for pleasure, as much as he might enjoy a good bout of erotic pain, spanking a lady to force a confession didn’t exactly appeal. If she spilled them without him having to raise his hand, he’d be more than pleased.
Instead, she slowly lowered herself over his lap, making him sigh inwardly. Very well then, this was what she had chosen. He would not be a brute, but he was going to hold to his original plan. There could only be one head of the household and she was going to have to learn that. Secrets were not going to be condoned, especially ones which could come back to haunt them later and especially considering the circumstances under which they’d married.
He pulled up her skirts, over her hips, and felt her gasp as he yanked down her drawers. The creamy swells of her buttocks showed no signs of the spanking she’d received the other night; they were blank canvases ready to be reddened, and Isaac could feel his cock rising at the sight. Tipping her forward slightly, to put her a bit more off balance, a flash of pink framed with blonde curls came into view, titillating him even more.
Resting his hand on her upturned bottom, he squeezed and rubbed the cheek slightly, preparing it for the slap of his hand.
“I’m not spanking you because you trapped me, my dear,” he said to her, wanting to be utterly clear about his motives - a good example for her as she was being so secretive about hers. “I am spanking you because I do not believe a husband and wife should hide things of importance from each other. Your thoughts and actions are your own, unless they affect me or reflect upon me as your husband as well. Because of the ignominious start to our marriage, I feel this is especially important. This is your last chance to explain yourself before I start to spank you.”
She was breathing so quickly and so heavily that he could feel it on his knees and thighs, but she didn’t say anything. Just a quick shake of her head. Isaac did allow himself to sigh this time, and was somewhat mollified by the way she slumped, as if she disliked disappointing him. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. A few swats, hopefully she would cave faster than she had during her last spanking, and then he could set her on his desk and reward her, and they could move on from this and start building a real marriage.
SMACK!
A quick indrawn breath.
SMACK!
Slight tension that relaxed after just a moment.
SMACK!
A tiny wriggle
SMACK!
He was counting them in his head, rather than out loud, deliberately allowing the silence to fill the room, silence that she could break if she chose to. He would stop spanking her as soon as she did, he resolved.
SMACK!
SMACK!
SMACK!
SMACK!
Each swat of his hand came down a little harder than the one before it, alternating back and forth on her bottom, striking each cheek in turn. He could feel the hitches in her breath after each blow, her hands coming to seek out his ankle and hold onto it, steadying herself. With each swat, her fingers pressed against his ankle as she squirmed on his lap. Her cheeks were beginning to look distinctly rosy.
SMACK!
SMACK!
SMACK!
SMACK!
A little cry fell from her mouth and Isaac paused for just a moment, but when she didn’t ask him to stop or offer up information, he quickly resumed.
He was becoming frustrated with her intransigence, and it showed in the force of her spanking, as her cheeks turned redder and redder under his palm. Although he decorated the entirety of her backside, he deliberately made sure to overlap quite a few of the blows in the center of her cheeks. Already he was spanking her just as hard as he had in discipline for trapping him into marriage, but other than a few small whimpers and moans, so far she wasn’t voicing any objections.
At twenty, frustrated, he paused, resting his hand on her bottom. Her skin was a dark pink and quite warm to the touch. When he rubbed his hand over her chastised nates, she made a soft hissing noise, her fingers spasming slightly on his ankle.
“My dear,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I really wish you would tell me. Whatever it is, you needn’t fear I will punish you further for your motivations. I only wish to understand them. I promise the spanking will end as soon as you reveal yourself. Now, do you have anything you wish to say to me?”
To his consternation, she didn’t even hesitate for a moment before she shook her head. “No, sir.”
That soft little “sir” had his cock jumping, but, unfortunately, his cock was going to have to wait. Gritting his teeth, Isaac raised his hand again.
The spanking would end, but her worries would not. Lydia would rather be spanked than do anything to cause her sister harm.
SMACK!
Although, she was starting to wonder if she’d be able to truly hold out. Her new husband was spanking her faster and harder than he had the last time; her bottom felt like it was on fire, and each swat added a new lick of flame to her already roasted rump. This was only temporary, she told herself. And then shrieked when Isaac’s hand smacked against a particularly sensitive spot.
SMACK!
Panting for breath, she clung to his ankle as if it were her only port in a storm. Not only was she dealing with the pain of the spanking, but she was far more aware of quite a few other physical reactions than she had been the first time he’d spanked her.
Her first spanking had been shocking and painful, and yet she’d still been wet and aroused at the end of it. That had been shocking as well. This time, she was not only expecting it, but was more focused on Isaac as a man. This time, she wasn’t shocked, wasn’t overwhelmed by her emotions, and so the physicality of being spanked was taking up much more of her focus than it had the last time.
SMACK!
The feel of Isaac’s strong thighs beneath her stomach, the way his cock was pressing into her side, the way his hand felt as it impacted against her soft bottom was causing unexpected reactions. It hurt, of course it hurt, but she was also incredibly aware of the way her quim was throbbing, her body responding to the pain with a kind of pleasurable arousal that defied understanding.
