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"Tup 'er good!"
Cynthia let out a strangled sound of outrage. "Put me down! They think I'm a trollop!"
"Better they think you a whore than realize who you actually are," the Earl said grimly, not loosening his iron hold on her for a second. She wanted to kick him, but she was too afraid of falling. If he hadn't put her over his shoulder like some kind of demented barbarian, no one would have even noticed them going through the streets.
Granted, there was some part of her that was excited by his high-handed ways, but she was also embarrassed. Cynthia didn't like to be embarrassed - it wasn't an emotion she was very familiar with, as she normally didn't find herself in situations out of her control. At least, not until she'd met the Earl. As a punishment, it was probably far more effective than the more physical discipline that the Earl had used on her. Well, other than the things he'd done to her bottom hole, but that was also due more to embarrassment than anything else. That area should have been sacrosanct and private.
Hanging her head, she tried to cover her face so that at least no one would guess that the 'trollop' the Earl was with tonight was the same woman he'd be marrying on the morrow. It was one of those strange situations where, if she had plotted for this to happen, she wouldn't have been embarrassed at all. But since she hadn't, she felt humiliated by her position. Cynthia had truly meant to be to the Brooke's house and then gone before Wesley returned home.
She didn't like to think what his presence meant for Eleanor and Irene. Although she'd learned that Irene was more adventurous than Cynthia had ever guessed, it was obvious that the redhead didn't enjoy spankings the way Cynthia did. Eleanor did, but only some of the time - and in her current condition, Cynthia doubted she'd enjoy it at all. As for Grace... well, considering the portrait that Cynthia had found tonight and the look on Grace's face as she'd read through the letters she'd found, perhaps whatever punishment Lord Brooke doled out would be worth it to her. Cynthia certainly hoped so, since she was going to be punished for it as well.
Curiosity was certainly one of her besetting sins. She'd just had to go along on the adventure with Grace. Sneak out of the house. Search through a lord's private affairs. Normally not the kind of thing she would regret, but she was a bit worried about what the Earl might come up with as a punishment. Spankings were all well and good, whether with his hand or a belt, because even though they hurt like the devil during the process, the pleasure that followed was immense. On the other hand, the last time he'd punished her, her bottom hole had paid the price, and Cynthia had found the pleasure from that to be rather shameful. It had made her feel utterly out of control and vulnerable in a way that nothing else ever had.
She squeaked as Wesley started up the steps to the house, bouncing her on his shoulder as he did so. Clutching at the back of his coat, her position felt extremely precarious.
"Manfred," Wesley said, in acknowledgement as the door opened, just a tinge of gratitude coloring his voice. The older gentleman looked shocked at the sight of Cynthia upended over Wesley's shoulder, her rump high in the air, one of his arms wrapped around her knees and the other firmly gripping her thigh.
The butler swallowed and blinked several times. "My Lord," he said finally, coming to himself and quickly closing the door behind Wesley. Obviously hoping that no one had seen.
Personally, Wesley didn't care. Most people would probably assume what the drunken men in the street had - that the woman over his shoulder was a ladybird. Even if they recognized him, they'd think that he was celebrating his last night as a bachelor. Hardly something to be remarked upon, although it wouldn't be considered good taste to have brought the woman to his mother's house, it wasn't something anyone would mention either.
Besides which, there was something extremely satisfying about carting his annoying baggage through the streets as her protests rained down on his ears. After all the aggravation she'd caused him this evening, it only seemed fair. When he'd first opened the letter from Manfred and realized that Cynthia had gone missing, he'd thought his heart was going to stop. His chest had ached, thinking that she'd gone back on her word and had gone out in search of another man before their wedding. It seemed like the kind of thing his overly adventurous and rebellious hoyden might do, although some part of him had held out that there must be some other explanation, because she wasn't the type to go back on a deal.
Hearing that she'd gone off with Grace hadn't helped. Although he, personally, liked Grace quite a bit, Cynthia didn't need any encouragement from the ton's favorite scandal. He would have been less agitated if Eleanor or Irene had been with them.
Discovering them in Alex's office, going through his things, had been a relief for Wesley. He was sure that Alex didn't feel the same way, but at the moment that wasn't his concern. His concern was ensuring that Cynthia understood this kind of behavior wasn't going to be tolerated.
He wouldn't have her running around at night, on her own, doing who the hell knows what. If she wanted adventure, he could provide her with that. Hell, if she wanted to go snoop through somebody's things, he'd be willing to go with her. It could be fun. He'd put his foot down about his own friends of course, but still. The point was, she needed to recognize that she now had a partner in life and that he should be included in her little escapades. Wesley needed to watch over her, to know that she was safe. He needed to be there to extricate her from any situation when she got in over her head. It wasn't just possessiveness he felt - she'd rattled every protective bone in his body.
"We're in the house, you can put me down now," she said, her voice reasonable, placating, as if she was talking to a dunce or an intelligent animal. Wesley gritted his teeth and kept walking. "My room is that way."
He ignored her words, and her exasperated sighs, as he took her to his study. That's where everything he needed was. He'd stopped for a moment on his way out of the house, earlier, to give one of the maids orders to set up his study just the way he needed it to punish his wayward bride. It would also separate him enough from the rest of the house that their slumber wouldn't be disturbed. Especially his mother's. Doubtless, if she knew what he was up to, she wouldn't even let him discipline Cynthia.
"Your mother didn't want you to see me tonight!" Cynthia said, as if she could sense that he was thinking about the Countess. "She said it's bad luck!"
"Bad luck for you," he replied, letting go of her thigh and smacking her bottom over her skirts. It wouldn't hurt her with all that padding, but it was still satisfying. She squealed in outrage, not pain, making him smirk.
He wiped the smile from his face as he set her down next to the chair. The items he'd requested from the maid were laid out on his desk, precisely as he asked. Cynthia was too busy glaring up at him, her fists propped on her hips, to even notice.
"I can't believe you just carried me through the streets like that!"
"I can't believe you left here and walked through the streets unaccompanied," Wesley growled back, watching her eyes go wide with defiance and guilt. "Putting yourself and Grace in danger. Not to mention, getting Irene and Eleanor into trouble as well. Don't think I can't guess whose idea this was." The guilt in her expression ratcheted up, as well as concern for her friends. Disobedient wench. The only person she should be concerned for right now was herself. "Plus, going through Alex's private room. Turn around and bend over the chair with your skirts up around your waist."
Her pert pink lips gaped open as she stared up at him in surprise. "Don't you want to know why I did it?"
Wesley snorted. "I
could care less, sweetheart, I just know that you did it and your arse is going to pay for it."
"Don't speak to me like that, I'm a lady," Cynthia snapped at him, even as she turned around and started to lift her skirt. "Your mother always told your brothers not to curse in front of ladies."
That got another snort, especially since the last part of her sentence was somewhat muffled as she bent over the chair, offering up her bottom for his inspection in a completely unladylike manner. He didn't apologize, but he didn't counter her argument either. If his mother ever did overhear the language he used in Cynthia's presence, she'd probably wallop him herself.
"Ladies don't go wandering off in the night without an escort," he said sharply, his hand coming down hard on her backside. Tonight he wasn't going to bother giving her a warm-up to the spanking. This spanking was going to be a warm-up to the birching she'd be getting. The muffled cry that greeted the blow indicated his force had been unexpected. Good, he hoped this got her attention.
Cynthia shrieked again as his hand came crashing down. She hadn't realized how much she relied on having her bottom sufficiently warmed up before he really started swinging his hand. Normally her buttocks were already bright pink by the time he used this much force, receiving it cold was a shock to her system that was both painful and arousing. Already she could feel her hard nipples rubbing against the chair's cushion through the fabric of her dress, and her pussy beginning to tighten and cream as his hand came down again and again.
Just being in this position was exciting for her, because she knew what was coming. Even if right now it did hurt like the dickens.
