“I am curious about Warren Manor,” she said.
He seemed pleased at that. “What are you curious about? Would you like me to describe it?”
“Yes, that would be wonderful.”
He settled back on the seat. “Let’s see. Warren Manor is south of Oxford and west of Cowley. It lies on four hundred or so acres of land, and has been in my family for nine generations. Which means it’s rather old, but it’s been updated at various times. The home itself has four wings around a central courtyard, and two towers on the south side, along with stables and a servants’ residence which was added during the latter part of the previous century.”
“I imagine a house of that size has a great many beds.”
He gave her a quizzical look. “Yes, it does. Warren Manor is full to the brim with beds. Of course you shall have your own suite of rooms there, to decorate and furnish as you wish. You’ll have a dressing room and a sitting room, and a bedroom of your own.”
She felt a wave of relief. “Oh. That sounds wonderful.”
“Yes. This marriage thing won’t be such a trial. You’ll see.”
He spoke a bit more about Warren Manor, and his parents who had died in that tragic carriage accident. She prayed he wouldn’t inquire about her parents, and he didn’t, only talked about furnishings, and architectural styles, and refurbishments, and household staff, and a lot of other things that Josephine had trouble following after a while.
“What is a honeymoon anyway?” she interrupted, when it appeared he would not finish talking about his house anytime soon.
He raised a brow. “Do you mean, what happens on a honeymoon?”
“Well, I understand that in a general sense.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Otherwise we shall have to have a rather lengthy conversation before we reach Warren Manor.”
Josephine picked at a fold in her skirt, then looked back at him. “So, the honeymoon will not begin until we arrive at Warren Manor? It will not commence tonight?”
He gave her a long look. “Are you afraid? Because there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
What a ludicrous statement. There was everything to be afraid of.
“Are you afraid of me?” he pressed. “Are you afraid to be intimate with me? Is that what all this marital reluctance is about?”
“No. It’s not about that at all.”
“Then why? Why were you so unwilling to be married?”
“I told you why. Because I wished to live alone.”
“Why did you wish to live alone?” he asked, in a great show of patience. “It’s not as if we’ll be in one another’s pockets. You’ll have plenty of private time to do anything you want.”
Josephine thought a moment, watching the candle’s flickering shadows on the walls. “But you’ll expect me to do public things too, like go to dinner parties, and attend balls, and go about in society.”
“Well, yes, but you’ve been doing those things already, haven’t you?”
“Only because Lord and Lady Baxter thought I should. But I’m bad at them. I don’t like to be among people.”
“We can’t live as hermits,” Lord Warren said with his crooked smile. “I’ll ask you to do those things sometimes, those dinners and balls, but I also understand you’re not at ease in society. I don’t expect you to be a glittering pillar of the ton from the start.”
“I don’t even know what that means. I would rather have had my cottage.” Her throat felt tight and hot. She stared out the window and thought of her private, peaceful abode, the dream she would never now have. “I don’t know anything about anything, which you will discover shortly. You’ll come to wish you’d left me in those woods.”
She knew she sounded whiny and overdramatic. She couldn’t bear to look at him, though she could sense his steady regard.
“I would never have left you in the woods,” he said after a moment. “And lonely cottages aren’t the paradise you envision.”
“How do you know? Have you ever lived in one?”
“Don’t snap at me, if you please.”
“I’m not snapping. I’m only explaining my side of things. Not that it matters, since no one of the male persuasion will listen to me, or the female persuasion either. No one listens to my plans or opinions. I don’t know why I even bother to talk.”
He tilted her face to his with a frown. “You sound as if you’re feeling very cross and sorry for yourself because you’ve been made to do something you didn’t want to. Do you know what’s good for fixing surly dispositions?”
“No,” she said in an extremely surly fashion. “I’m sure I don’t.”
Before she knew what he was about, he had lifted her and tossed her across his lap. She tried in vain to hold down her skirts; they were soon bunched up about her waist, along with her petticoats. He gave her two sharp, stinging spanks on either side of her bottom. The sound echoed off the walls as she threw an arm back to shield herself.
“Please don’t spank me again,” she cried.
“Are you finished being peevish?”
“Yes!”
“Answer Yes, my lord when you’re being scolded. It sounds much prettier. Look up at me and say it.”
She couldn’t meet his eyes, not while she was in this ignominious position. Her shoulders trembled, and she tensed, fearing he would hit her again.
“Look at me, Josephine,” he said.
She twisted to look up at him, and finally managed to meet his cool, blue gaze.
“Good. Now say it like you mean it. Y
es, my lord.”
She forced out the words he demanded. “Yes, my lord.”
“Because if you don’t mean it, then you’ll require more spanking, which I’m only too happy to provide.”
“I don’t want to be spanked anymore,” she said in as apologetic a voice as she could muster. Just as I don’t want to be married to you. How many spankings were in her future, considering all the things that were wrong with her? She couldn’t bear to think about it. His palm still rested on her backside like a threat. His other arm held her fast across his lap so she couldn’t move. “Will you let me up please? My lord?”
“In a moment.” His voice sounded rough. Josephine tried to stop shivering, and stayed as still as she could while dangling over his thighs. She didn’t want to anger him when she was trapped in this position—for whenever he was angry, her posterior seemed to pay the price.
*** *** ***
Warren knew he ought to release her. She was scared. She trembled beneath his hands, but he wasn’t finished with her yet. He traced a fingertip across the fading switch marks on the backs of her thighs. Her trembling turned into a shudder.
“Be still,” he said. “I am…checking the marks.”
Yes, he’d put marks on his wife before she was even his wife. He had her over his lap now, her bottom bared for his own desirous enjoyment. He moved his fingers up the back of her leg, to the alluring curves of her rounded cheeks. He ran his thumb up over one of them, marveling at her smooth skin, stained pink by two solid spanks. He could feel her breathing change when he did it. Ah, God, she was so sensitive.
The things he could do with that sensitivity… He couldn’t wait to exploit it, expand it. Revel in it. He ached to slide his palm down between her legs, and thrust fingers into her tight, virginal opening. He wondered if she was wet. He was dying to know, but he wouldn’t allow himself to touch her right this moment, because if he found her ready, he’d take her to the floor of the coach and show her the world was an even scarier place than she already believed.