They'd have to have the wedding as soon as possible, he decided. He didn't think he'd last four weeks while the banns were read. Getting a special license would be the first thing on his to-do list. After speaking to his mother. And getting his little minx a ring.
******
Maybe this was a dream, Cynthia mused. Although she couldn't imagine how she would have fallen asleep at a ball. Or have conjured a dream of such a painful spanking. Perhaps the first part wasn’t the dream and she had passed out during her punishment? Lowering thought. She'd always considered herself rather more robust than that.
She knew that this really wasn’t a dream, but she felt so deliciously hazy, so wonderfully muzzy... and the Earl wasn't behaving at all like himself. Everything felt rather dream-like. Well except for her throbbing bottom. But even that had been lessened by the incredible ecstasy that the Earl's fingers had wrought in her. She wasn't entirely sure what had happened after that until they'd come into the house.
When she'd taken a peak over the Earl's shoulder on the way to the stairs, she'd seen Manfred glowering at them. Inwardly Cynthia sighed, knowing that she was likely to get a lecture from the Countess tomorrow. Possibly two if the Earl told her what had happened at the Assembly rooms. Probably another lecture from the Earl and possibly another spanking as well.
She really shouldn't let the Earl be carrying her like this, but it felt so nice. No man had ever carried her. The muscles beneath his clothing moved and strained, and were so very attractive. It made her want to touch him, to run her hands over every part of him. The most she dared was his hair, which was soft and easily twined about her fingers.
How was she supposed to recover from this? Everything he did just made her further obsessed with him. Cynthia pushed the thought away, determined to enjoy being in his arms while it lasted and dealing with her twisted emotions on the morrow.
"In we go, baggage," he murmured as he pushed open the door to her room.
Silly chit, she scolded herself. Baggage was not a term of endearment, even if that was how her ear heard it.
Gently he laid her down on her bed, making her bottom twinge, although she didn’t try to roll away. She finally dared to look up into his hazel eyes. For once they weren't hard, rather they were almost thoughtful, contemplative. Searching, rather than focused, as if he was trying to see within her rather than already knowing her thoughts – which he so often seemed to do. Heavy eyelashes blinked and then a slow smile spread across his face as he examined hers. Cynthia stared back up at him, eyes wide, waiting… but she didn’t know for what.
He lowered his head and Cynthia gasped as his lips met hers. The Earl was kissing her!
A flash of desire shot through her, despite the fact that she was sated. His lips were firm, coaxing, and she parted her own, inviting him in. Even if this was madness, she wanted it. And he kissed like a dream. There was no comparison to the other men she’d kissed in the past; this kiss made her feel so much more wanton, so much more wild and excited. The wet silk of his tongue danced with hers, exploring each other and he tasted like whiskey and spice. He kissed her until she felt breathless, her breasts becoming heavy and swollen, and her quim beginning to ache again. She barely even noticed how sore her bottom was as she lay on her back - it didn't matter if only he would keep kissing her.
When he pulled away, she was left gasping, her hands clutching at his jacket. Gently, he pried her fingers off as she stared up at him, trying to decipher what was happening. That kiss had already ruined her for any other man, why was he pulling away now? Why was he standing rather than joining her on the bed?
"Wait!" she cried out, pushing herself up to her elbows. "Where are you... why aren't you..."
The Earl chuckled, putting two fingers under her chin and tilting her head back. Leaning over her, his lips barely brushed against hers. It was less of a kiss and more of a promise. "You'll have to wait until after we're married to be completely ruined, baggage."
His lips pressed down again, this time kissing her more fully, although without his tongue, and then he was walking towards her door, leaving her feeling bereft and utterly confused.
"Wait!" Her strangled cry caught him in the doorway, and he turned to look at her. Darkly handsome, a devilish twinkle in his eye, and every inch the elegant gentleman. Except that she'd already discovered, the guise of a gentleman only covered the true dominant male underneath. "Married?"
A little amused smile crossed his lips. "Of course. And don't you dare think about going anywhere near another man or I'll take a strap to your arse and I won't care about how red it already is."
The crudeness of his threat left her staring as he exited and shut the door behind him.
Married! To... to him!
A thrilled flutter went through her stomach even as confusion buffeted her about. Why on earth did he want to marry her? He hadn't said. Cynthia flopped back down on the bed and immediately turned on her side, hissing, as her bottom protested. Now that she'd been shocked out of her pleasant haze, her poor rear end was burning more than ever.
Think about another man? How could she?
Still, he didn't know that he'd been consuming her thoughts. And if he didn't know, then she wasn't going to tell him. With a man like that, she needed every advantage she could get. Although she certainly wasn’t going to test him by kissing other men. Not because she feared a spanking, but because she didn’t want him to change his mind.
She would absolutely marry him. Even if he wasn't as easily distracted or influenced as other men she'd met. Even if he spanked her. Actually, she wasn't sure if spanking was a detraction or a benefit of marrying him. Right now it certainly felt like a detraction, but she was quite sure she'd be disappointed if he never spanked her again. A little smile played across her face. While he might not be easily influenced, she was quite sure that she could spur him into punishing her whenever she felt like. If nothing else, his last words to her had indicated a rather surprising possessiveness on his part.
Marrying the Earl was the only way to assuage her curiosity and the tingling excitement he created inside of her. The only way she could keep her heart from breaking as she watched him with other debutantes. None of them would have him, he would be hers. And, as he wanted her attention solely on him, she could demand the same in return. Cynthia had no qualms about that.
She just hoped his mother wouldn't be too upset.
Chapter 11
Knowing his mother’s penchant for taking her breakfast in her room, Wesley asked the staff to notify him when his mother sent for her breakfast. That way he could go and speak with her before Manfred or any of the other servants would have a chance to.
When he entered the room, his mother was sitting up in her bed, taking a light repast on a tray. The bed curtains had been drawn fully back, as had the drapes, and light was streaming in through both windows. Wesley was suddenly forcibly reminded of many days when he was a child and had come up to see his mother during breakfast, just like this. When the old Earl was alive, the Countess never joined them for anything other than the evening meal, although her door was always open to her sons. He’d spent many a morning sitting on her bed and talking to her, even more so than either of his brothers. Smiling a welcome at him, she buttered her toast and waved him to come closer.
"Good morning, Wesley, to what do I owe the honor of a visit?" she asked, her voice light and a bit teasing. After all, it had been years since he'd paid such a visit to her over breakfast. This might have been one of the things he’d missed most about England when he’d been overseas.