"Of course, of course," Bartholomew said, shaking first Gideon’s hand, then Ada’s. “I would be delighted.”
Gideon only nodded.
Then Brother Bartholomew turned to me with a bright smile. My palms felt clammy and nervous, while his handshake was firm and warm, and I was so afraid he’d exclaim in surprise theminuteI began to sign against his fingertips.
My husband is a liar. Please help me.
For a moment, his eyebrows raised higher. He really was unnecessarily handsome for a curate. What was the good of being so handsome and then taking a vow of lifelong celibacy?
I signed again, desperately.
Anything he tells you is a lie. Please help.
My fingers tingled a bit as I signed again.
“Deliverance?” Gideon snapped, and I looked up in surprise to see him glaring at me. “Come here.”
I lowered my eyes, wiping my sweaty hands on my skirt and hoping my message had gotten across.
“I’ll be there,” Bartholomew said.
Yes.
But I had no time to enjoy my triumph with Gideon’s big hand on my shoulders, guiding me into the carriage and, just for the briefest moment, his fingers closed around my throat.
He did nothing until the driver had hopped up and popped the reins, crowding me into the corner as he spread his thighs wide beside me.
And then we were going through the roads of St. Mary’s again and Gideon grabbed me by the back of my dress.
“What in the godsdamn hell was that?” he seethed, pulling me around by the chin to face him.
“What’s wrong with you?” I cried, trying to pry his fingers off, but he had me in an iron grip.
“Making eyes at the godsdamn preacher. Have you forgotten you’re a married woman or do you just enjoy being a little slut?”
“I didn’t make eyes at him!” I protested, but Gideon had already thrown me across his knee and delivered the first stinging slap to the most sensitive portions of my backside.
“Stop!” I yelled, but he ignored all my protests.
The gall and indignity of being spanked for shaking a man’s hand, when my husband was flaunting his own mistress in front of me!
I was filled with an unaccustomed rage, drumming my feet on the side of the carriage, and grabbing the door handle in an attempt to wriggle away.
These attempts only infuriated Gideon, and his blows came faster and faster, all over my bottom until it was stinging with pain.
“If you can take a mistress, so can I,” I raged, lost to all reason, and Gideon gnashed his teeth and threw me on the opposite side of the carriage and was tearing at my skirts before I even landed beside Ada.
I didn’t even have time to kick him before my hips were tipped up and he had torn past my dress to plunge into my cunny and was pounding into me so hard I could only grip the seat as best I could and try to hold on.
My backside felt like it was as pink as a rose, and Gideon cursed me roundly as we made our way back across the moors, his hands moving from my hips to my upturned cheeks, raining blows down on them again and again until they felt numb.
Tears of rage ran down my cheeks, but through my blurry vision I could see Ava’s lips were set with displeasure.
I wanted to tell her she could exchange places with me if she wished, but I was too busy wailing.
My nipples felt hard enough to cut through my dress, and the strange convulsions broke upon me again, harder and faster this time, and I couldn't help crying aloud at the wicked, shameful pleasure I was taking in my punishments.
I felt his prick twitch as I convulsed, and he poured his angry release inside me, my hips aching from where he gripped me.
