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Strangely, having caught Cynthia with another man didn't make him any less eager to marry her. If anything, he was more determined than ever to lay his own claim to her. With his own rampant libido and penchant for all things sexual, he wasn't the least bit concerned with keeping her satisfied. Hell, he'd love to satisfy her. And if he had to keep her chained to his bed to ensure her faithfulness, he didn't have a problem with that either.
The front hall was deserted as well, everyone was already in the Assembly rooms and he could hear the buzz of conversation and music coming from behind the doors. Thankfully they were closed so there was no one of importance to notice their sudden appearance. Keeping a firm grip on her bicep - not that she was struggling, she seemed too shocked and overwhelmed by his appearance and reaction to try and resist - Wesley motioned over one of the footmen.
"I need you to find my mother, the Countess of Spencer, and inform her that my ward has a megrim and needs to return home."
The man nodded, barely glancing at Cynthia, and disappeared into the Assembly rooms to find the Countess. Trying not to tap his foot impatiently, Wesley occupied his time by sending another footman to have the carriage brought round and then silently trying to get his temper under control. By the time the carriage was waiting for them, the footman that he'd sent to find his mother was returning, unaccompanied.
"My lord, the Countess has decided to stay and has accepted the offer of a ride home from Lord Vernier."
"Very well," Wesley growled, trying not to take his temper out on the poor footman. It wasn't his fault that the Countess wanted to stay and be social and didn't realize what a situation she was putting Wesley in. He realized this might be for the best; if his mother saw Cynthia right now she would have some idea of what the chit had been up to and who knew what her reaction might be.
Dragging his ward behind him down the street, Wesley practically tossed her up into the closed carriage before climbing in after her. With the curtains drawn and only letting in the dimmest amount of light, they were, quite suddenly, alone. He rapped on the top of the carriage to let the coachman know they were settled and the carriage immediately began to move, rocking forward.
Sitting across from her, Wesley crossed his arms over his chest to ensure that he would keep his hands to himself.
"Alright miss. You may now explain yourself."
There was a sigh from the other side of the carriage. Unfortunately he couldn’t see her expression so he couldn’t tell if it was a contrite sigh or an impatient one. "I should rather think that the... situation you found me in was self-explanatory."
"What I don't understand is why I found you in it. Are you trying to shame me? My mother? Do you realize what could have happened?"
"Of course I do," she replied, sounding rather cross at his questions. Wesley could see her leaning back and crossing her own arms beneath her chest, tossing her head rather haughtily. At least he could see what she was doing even if he couldn’t make out her expression, although her intransigience just made his temper climb even higher. "But everyone was inside, we were in no danger of being caught out."
"You’re lucky I caught you out. If anyone else had then you'd be ruined right now," he growled, tightening his arms against the urge to reach out and position her over his knee. "Do you want to be ruined?"
"No, of course not."
Exasperated, Wesley tossed his hands up in the air, nearly overbalancing as the carriage rocked at the exact same time - which didn't help his temper at all. She sounded absolutely sincere, which made even less sense to him given her behavior. "Then why do you keep putting yourself in situations where you might be ruined?"
"It's exciting. And I’ve never been caught before."
Completely fed up, Wesley grabbed the infuriating chit and pulled her across the carriage, upending her over his knee. She shrieked, kicking and wriggling to get away, but once he had her voluminous skirts flipped up it was even easier to hold her still because the skirts were covering her upper body and making it harder for her to move. Underneath her petticoats she wasn't wearing any drawers and the pale cheeks of her bottom glowed faintly in the dim light of the moon that was coming through the window.
Well they wouldn't be pale much longer.
SMACK!
A muffled howl and she kicked out, connecting only with the walls of the carriage. There wasn’t much room for her to maneuver, which was all to his advantage especially as he’d gotten a firm hold round her waist.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
The soft flesh of her bottom jiggled and gave under his hand, he was spanking her with all the considerable force he could muster given the somewhat limited swing that the carriage required. It was also a bit harder to keep her on his lap in the moving conveyance, even though she'd stopped squirming. He could still hear her muffled cries with every slap of his hand against her bottom and his cock throbbed in response.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
He spanked her until his hand was beginning to smart and he could see that her cheeks had turned bright red under the assault. Heat was emanating off the glowing surface and her body was limp over his lap, her pleading sobs still muffled by all the skirts. Grimly he kept spanking, determined to implant this lesson in her mind. If he’d had something to spank her with, he would have.
Suddenly Wesley realized the carriage had stopped; they were home. He ceased spanking her, listening to her sobs as he breathed heavily in the warmth of the carriage, his hand resting on her hot bottom. For a moment he hesitated, but he knew that the coachman would realize not
to interrupt. And he had to know.
He let his hand slide down between her legs.
******
If she'd thought her prior spankings were bad, this one had been even worse. The Earl was merciless, ignoring her pleas, her apologies, and every smack was as hard or even harder than the last. The entire surface of her bottom felt like it was on fire, her lower body an inferno that blazed with agony, and yet the slaps just kept raining down anyway.
The skirts around her head caught her tears, her hands braced as best they could against the floorboards of the rocking carriage. She'd been rather frightened of being thrown against the opposite seat, until the pain of the spanking had completely overwhelmed her and she couldn't think of anything else except begging the Earl to stop. When he didn't, she just sobbed into her skirts, clutching at the floor and kicking her legs in pained response.
