firmly on the centre of her back, holding her to the cushions.
Abigail struggled valiantly for a few moments, but it was quickly apparent to her that his physical strength and patience would win any immediate battle. She stilled and said bluntly, “You’ve made your point. You can overpower me and will do so if it amuses you.”
“You question my manhood and my intelligence in the space of ten seconds and no apology is warranted?” he asked, clearly sceptical. “I think you had best abandon any silly notions you have in your head about me or us, or how our marriage will or won’t work, Abigail. Because I told you—warned you—last night that I was not bluffing. Let me be clear once and for all, beyond any sense of misunderstanding.”
Without a moment of hesitation, he laid his free hand over Abigail’s rump. Even through her skirt, petticoat and long chemise, Abigail felt the heat of his skin and froze. She’d never had a man touch her there, and why would she have? The disbelief that entered her mind grew when he rubbed his hand back and forth over the stretched fabric and squeezed thoughtfully for a moment. Heat formed inside her stomach and between her thighs, the feeling she’d identified earlier as want . What did she want?
“I do not wish to suggest that you cannot argue with me, talk back to me even. I must say, I already find it immensely enjoyable to have someone with enough wit and nerve to engage my mind. But I will not accept blatant disregard for your own health and welfare, unwarranted insults about me or to me, or considered, deliberate attempts to avoid my company.” With that statement, he raised his palm and brought it down hard in the middle of her bottom, then repeated it when she gasped and began to struggle again. “Those are the behaviours of a wilful, misbehaving child, and will be treated as such.” He landed a few more smacks on her struggling rear and continued scolding her. “Such behaviour in the schoolroom would have undoubtedly earned you a thrashing from your governess. In her absence, I am happy to continue the tradition.”
Abigail groaned. Of course, he was right, and he hadn’t even mentioned her elbowing him and stomping on his foot. If she had done so to a nurse, governess, parent or even a sibling in her parents’ home—no matter her age—she’d have been whipped at the very least. Of course, she’d learnt the move from Fiona as a way to defend herself against impertinent and unwelcome advances, not to exact petty revenge against those who were merely being obstinate. Meriden was her betrothed, though. Worse still, he hadn’t even been touching her when she’d accosted him. If anyone had a right to be physically intimate with her, or to look after her own welfare in the absence of her family, it was he.
She opened her mouth, but instead he smacked her hard and went on with the lecture. “As fair warning, let me assure you that the next time I am obligated to pursue such a demonstration, I will not be so lenient. Your dress and any petticoats will be removed, your chemise raised at the back, and I will look and touch at my leisure, both before and after I spank you—for certain I won’t be able to help myself, so there’s no use pretending otherwise. If you are not ready for such intimacy, mind your manners.”
Forgetting her attempt to apologise for a moment, Abigail gasped. Meriden took her wordless response as less than acceptable and delivered a volley of smacks that echoed loudly in the room. Despite the three layers, a deep heat was beginning to form in Abigail’s seat. Surely he wouldn’t?
Would he? She was already in a less than dignified position and doubted not that he could physically manage raising her skirts with little effort. Ineffectually, she kicked and grabbed the side of the sofa for leverage but he steadily spanked, ignoring her little squeals and gasps of pain.
After what seemed to be a lifetime, he paused, resting his hand again
Abigail struggled valiantly for a few moments, but it was quickly apparent to her that his physical strength and patience would win any immediate battle. She stilled and said bluntly, “You’ve made your point. You can overpower me and will do so if it amuses you.”
“You question my manhood and my intelligence in the space of ten seconds and no apology is warranted?” he asked, clearly sceptical. “I think you had best abandon any silly notions you have in your head about me or us, or how our marriage will or won’t work, Abigail. Because I told you—warned you—last night that I was not bluffing. Let me be clear once and for all, beyond any sense of misunderstanding.”
Without a moment of hesitation, he laid his free hand over Abigail’s rump. Even through her skirt, petticoat and long chemise, Abigail felt the heat of his skin and froze. She’d never had a man touch her there, and why would she have? The disbelief that entered her mind grew when he rubbed his hand back and forth over the stretched fabric and squeezed thoughtfully for a moment. Heat formed inside her stomach and between her thighs, the feeling she’d identified earlier as want . What did she want?
“I do not wish to suggest that you cannot argue with me, talk back to me even. I must say, I already find it immensely enjoyable to have someone with enough wit and nerve to engage my mind. But I will not accept blatant disregard for your own health and welfare, unwarranted insults about me or to me, or considered, deliberate attempts to avoid my company.” With that statement, he raised his palm and brought it down hard in the middle of her bottom, then repeated it when she gasped and began to struggle again. “Those are the behaviours of a wilful, misbehaving child, and will be treated as such.” He landed a few more smacks on her struggling rear and continued scolding her. “Such behaviour in the schoolroom would have undoubtedly earned you a thrashing from your governess. In her absence, I am happy to continue the tradition.”
Abigail groaned. Of course, he was right, and he hadn’t even mentioned her elbowing him and stomping on his foot. If she had done so to a nurse, governess, parent or even a sibling in her parents’ home—no matter her age—she’d have been whipped at the very least. Of course, she’d learnt the move from Fiona as a way to defend herself against impertinent and unwelcome advances, not to exact petty revenge against those who were merely being obstinate. Meriden was her betrothed, though. Worse still, he hadn’t even been touching her when she’d accosted him. If anyone had a right to be physically intimate with her, or to look after her own welfare in the absence of her family, it was he.
She opened her mouth, but instead he smacked her hard and went on with the lecture. “As fair warning, let me assure you that the next time I am obligated to pursue such a demonstration, I will not be so lenient. Your dress and any petticoats will be removed, your chemise raised at the back, and I will look and touch at my leisure, both before and after I spank you—for certain I won’t be able to help myself, so there’s no use pretending otherwise. If you are not ready for such intimacy, mind your manners.”
Forgetting her attempt to apologise for a moment, Abigail gasped. Meriden took her wordless response as less than acceptable and delivered a volley of smacks that echoed loudly in the room. Despite the three layers, a deep heat was beginning to form in Abigail’s seat. Surely he wouldn’t?
Would he? She was already in a less than dignified position and doubted not that he could physically manage raising her skirts with little effort. Ineffectually, she kicked and grabbed the side of the sofa for leverage but he steadily spanked, ignoring her little squeals and gasps of pain.
After what seemed to be a lifetime, he paused, resting his hand again
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