Chapter Sixteen
A Naughty, Perfect Wife
Marlow sprawled in a tufted chair in Rosalind’s dressing room. He did not belong here. It was a woman’s space, a private place most husbands would fear to tread, but he could not stay away. She was so beautiful, so elegant she stole his breath.
Rosalind stood upon a padded platform while her lady’s maid and several seamstresses came at her with mouthfuls of pins. They were perfecting some final alterations on her gown for the Warrens’ ball tomorrow. The ballgown was a silk, silver-blue confection, designed to highlight her distinctive eyes. The pearl-embroidered bodice fit her like a second skin, the stays lifting her full, exquisite breasts until he was practically in anguish. The skirt fell from the empire-style waist, yards of gathered fabric hiding those parts of her he lusted for every second of every day. Her heart-shaped ass, her hips, her long legs that wrapped about him as she clung to him in bed…
He shifted on his chair. Dangerous thoughts when she was covered with pins. Even if he sent all the ladies away for some privacy, he would not be able to safely get her out of the dress without pricking both of them repeatedly.
Later. I will have you later.
They’d created him a matching cravat for the ball with leftover fabric. It was just pale and silvery enough to flatter his coloring too. Rosalind was wildly enthused for the ball and had spoken of nothing else the last three days leading up to it. She wanted to be seen with him and was impatient to make their debut as a couple. She touched his heart with her radical acceptance of his less-than-stellar reputation, and all his foibles.
Not that the ton had been awful to him since they’d returned from their illicit journey. There’d been Brittingham, making noise at the club about “fellows who stole another’s intended to marry above their station,” but he had not mentioned Marlow specifically, so Marlow had not called him out. Yet.
After the ball, he would settle things with Brittingham and make him shut his mouth, but for now he must not take any action that might interfere with his and Rosalind’s society debut. If she wanted to be seen with him, standing beside him as his proud wife, he would cross any mountain or valley to give her that. He would give her anything.
In fact, right now, he wanted to give her a spanking. As he watched his wife primping and preparing for their upcoming appearance, that was what he wanted to give her most of all. Not because she’d been bad, of course. She was rarely naughty enough to earn spankings, to his grief. But he had to give her one soon or burst with the wanting of it.
After dinner, after they’d gone for a moonlight stroll in the garden, he brought her back into the house and took her hands. “Darling, there’s something I’ve been meaning to speak to you about.”
He pretended to be very serious. Well, he was very serious.
“What is it?” she asked. “Is it about the ball?”
He had to try hard not to smile. Everything was about the ball.
“It’s something else.” He looked about them to be sure there were no lingering servants in earshot. “Rosalind, you’ve been a model wife in all ways but one. You’ve been too perfect to allow me to discipline you for anything, and it’s really put me out.”
“I’ve been too p-perfect?” she stammered.
“Yes, darling. You know how I feel about marital discipline. I believe it brings added closeness to a relationship, but you’ve been stubbornly well-behaved these last couple weeks.” He stroked a finger across her palm and felt her shudder. “How am I to redden your bottom on a regular basis if you give me no reason to do so?”
“Oh. I suppose—” She took a breath, her pretty eyes widening a little. “I suppose that was not well done of me.”
“Indeed, it’s caused me no end of frustration. If there’s such a thing as being too obedient a wife, well, you have achieved that and, in my mind, earned a spanking for it. Otherwise, how will you learn?”
His sweet love was reddening furiously. “I—Marlow—Do I want to play this game with you?” she whispered.
“If you do,” he whispered back, “I promise I shall make it worth your while. Here, let us retire upstairs.”
He took her to his bedroom, stopping once on the way to have a quick word with a footman. Delectable vice, to have his nervous yet willing wife following behind him to receive a punishment session. This was so much more arousing than tormenting the wantons at Pearl’s.
“After you, darling,” he said, ushering her inside. She stopped near his bed, leaning against it as if to seduce him from his purpose. She was still dressed for dinner, in a rustling pink gown and sparkling diamond drop pendant, her hair done up in a sedate chignon.
“Shall I call your lady to undress you?” he asked. “Or shall I do it?”
“You must do it.” She sounded breathless. “Are you really going to spank me for being too good?”
“I’m afraid so. But I won’t do it here, where we sleep and where I make love to you. There is a special room adjoining, one I haven’t shown you yet.”
“I found it by accident,” she confessed. “During my explorations the first day. I suspected what it was for and didn’t linger long.”
So she’d already seen his small, private punishment room, created some years ago for the more audacious society women who wished to dabble in his debaucheries. He could not remember those women now, couldn’t recall their faces. He could only think how perfect a room it was for Rosalind and how much he looked forward to spanking her there.
He helped her remove her gown and lay it across the bed, and take off her stays, leaving only her chemise for modesty. They laid her diamond pendant across the top of his bureau along with the jeweled pins that held up her chignon. When her rich, golden hair was released from its trappings, he spread it across her shoulders. She looked like an angel with her flowing locks and transparent, lacy chemise. No, he must not rip it off her. Not yet.
He led her into the adjoining punishment space. It was small, cramped, and close. It had been a dressing room before. Now it contained a padded bench in one corner, at the perfect height for kneeling upon and bending over, and a wooden post in the other corner with multiple bondage points. There was also a chair in the middle, hefty and high backed, for over-the-knee spankings. A tall, wide chest and matching side tables hugged the wall, to hold any implements needed.