The Reddington Scandal (7 page)

“I don’t want you to see my sister!” she exclaimed.

He stopped, surprised. Did she think he had been with Maud? Did she fear it? He delivered five more spanks, shaking his head in wonder. Her jealousy pleased him, though he was sorry it had given her such pain. “I promise I will never see your sister again. Now what else?”

“I don’t want you to bring women here,” she sniffed.

“As you wish. I will never, ever bring a woman into our home. What else?”

“I don’t wish you to see other women at all,” she wailed.

He paused again. Lifting her gently, he sat her on his knee and brushed her hair back from her face, trying to make eye contact. She resisted, burying her head into his shoulder.

“You wish me to be a faithful husband,” he clarified softly.

She sat very still for a long moment, then she nodded into his shoulder.

“And you will come to my bed?”

Her breathing increased in tempo, but she nodded again, this time lifting her head from his shoulder, though her eyes remained on his chest, rather than his face.

He stroked her hair out of her eyes and lifted her chin. When her eyes reached his, he quirked a little smile. “I would prefer that arrangement, sweetheart.”

He claimed her lips, stroking them with his own, parting them with his tongue. She accepted his kiss, but didn’t kiss back. He cupped her breast, rubbing his thumb over the tightened nipple, noting when she arched for more. Dragging up the hem of her nightdress, he stroked his hand up her side to touch the bare skin of her breast, enjoying the catch of her breath. He kissed along the elegant curve of her collarbone, up the side of her throat to her jaw, sliding the nightdress over her head. She immediately turned shy, covering her breasts with her forearms and huddling on his lap.

“Come, love, climb under the covers. I’ll extinguish the lamps, so you will not feel so exposed.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, obeying him.

He watched as she crawled to the head of the bed, her buttocks bearing the mark of his punishment, the striped cheeks beckoning to him. He extinguished the lamps and climbed under the covers with her. She trembled under his touch, but he quickly realized it was not from desire—it was from fear. She lay stiff, accepting his ministrations, but not warming to them.

Could her request for a non-traditional marriage been out of fear of sex? He had assumed it was because she doubted his ability to be a fit husband. Or because she did not love him, and had no interest in giving herself to a man she did not know or love. He crawled beneath the covers, parting her thighs with his hands. She gasped and tried to snap them closed again, but he held them wide, licking her velvet lips with his tongue. Her sex grew plump, despite the thrashing he took from her thighs. He inserted one finger and found she was wet and slick. She cried out in surprise and tried to squirm away again.

“Easy, easy, love. It feels good, doesn’t it? Just relax. I promise I will not hurt you. I promise, little dove.”

He moved his finger slowly in and out of her as his tongue sucked and licked the little bud of pleasure at the juncture of her inner lips. She clutched at his hand and shuddered—a quick and small climax, but a climax, nonetheless. He took it as a small victory. He kissed up her belly until he reached her breasts, where he squeezed one as he flicked his tongue over the nipple of the other. She mewled and rolled on the bed, arching into him, yet pulling away at the same time.

He reached his fingers back to her sex and found it had gone dry. Kissing her neck, he settled beside her and wrapped his arms around her. It was enough for one night. It was her first time, and she was nervous. He did not need to rush her.

She lay stiffly beside him for a while until she seemed to realize he had abandoned his conquest. “My lord?” He heard the sound of her swallow in the darkness. “Why didn’t you go on?”

“You weren’t ready, little dove. We’ll go slowly, to be sure you enjoy it.”

Her voice cut through, sounding offended. “How would you know if I’m ready?”

He smiled in the darkness. “Your body gives off certain signals.”

“It—what? In truth?”

He chuckled and traced around the arc of her ear with his finger. “Yes. When a woman is ready, her sex opens like flower. It swells and becomes moist, to ease the way. It doesn’t mean I could not still take you—I certainly could ignore my findings, but it would be far more painful for you.”

“Oh.” She sounded stunned. “I—I never knew that.”

And then she astonished him by bursting into tears.

“Phoebe. Phoebe, my sweet,” he soothed. “Don’t cry, little dove.” He rolled on top of her and pinned her down. “Don’t cry, you silly little duck, or I’ll lick you,” he threatened, dragging his tongue from her jaw to her temple.

“Ew!” she exclaimed, trying to turn her head away and giggling through her tears.

“No more tears or I’ll lick your whole face.”

“You are incorrigible.”

“Mmm, that’s what my mother always said,” he said lightly.

Chapter Four

Shame burned her throat as she lay in the circle of Teddy’s arms listening to his breath slowing to slumber. She’d thought she could do it—she wanted to do it—Dear God, how she’d wanted to do it! And he’d offered her fidelity!

But it was impossible. All she could think of was Reddington, catching her alone in his library when Maud was out. She’d known the moment he closed the door that something was amiss—he’d been eyeing her in an unwholesome way ever since she’d come to live with them after she graduated from finishing school. She’d stood up from the chair.

“Phoebe,” he’d said. “You have grown into a lovely lady.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she’d said, dropping a curtsy and stepping backward.

“I think you’ve turned out even more beautiful than Maud.” His voice had been a dangerous velvet as he advanced slowly toward where she stood.

“Oh, I should think not!”

He reached her and his hands shot out and grasped her arms. He made a clucking sound with his tongue. “Don’t contradict. You are lovely. I should like to see all of you.”

“Well, you cannot!” she’d snapped in a panic.

“Can’t I?” he said, sounding unruffled. “I will not take your virtue, I just want a peek.” One of his large hands had plunged into her dress and pulled out her breast.

“No! No, my lord. Please!” she’d cried, but quickly realized she’d had no options. It was Reddington’s home and he was her guardian. If she angered him, he could turn her out, and with her parents both dead, she had nowhere else to go.

So she’d let him. He hadn’t taken her virtue, but he’d pawed her breasts and had put his fingers into her drawers, and though she’d wriggled about too much to allow him to access to her sex, he had jabbed and poked at it whilst they’d struggled. It had been terrible. And she’d known he would try again unless she removed herself from his home.

Teddy’s touch was gentle—expert, she was sure—but it reminded her too much of Reddington, just the same. She just could not trust—could not allow her body to be used in that way by a man. It was too revolting to her. No, it was best to return to the arrangement they’d had before. Besides, despite his promise of fidelity, it was clear no one expected it of him. So even if she had been able to give herself to him, he only would have broken her heart. He could not be trusted.

But she would not tell him tonight. For just one night she would sleep in his bed and know what it was like to be a wife.

She slept lightly, not used to the feel of another body beside her, but enjoying the feel of his heavy hand on her waist, the sound of his breath deepening in slumber. When he woke, she scampered out of bed, only to find his two hands around her waist, hauling her back. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To the privy?”

He released her. “All right, then. But I don’t want you to burrow back in your hole like a scared rabbit.”

“Scared rabbit?” she exclaimed with indignation, tapping his shoulder with the back of her hand. He slapped her bottom as she slipped away and she could not help but giggle. His taunt did make it impossible for her to deliver the speech she’d silently rehearsed about returning to their previous agreement. She would have to tell him later, after he’d gone to Parliament and returned. It would give her the chance to put some distance between them.

But when he returned, he was in a fine mood, greeting her with a kiss on the lips, his hand at the nape of her neck drawing her close. Her entire body turned to pudding and her resolve fell away.

* * *

“I’ve brought you something, little dove,” Teddy said, tapping his jacket pocket. “But you’ll have to wait until after dinner.”

“Oh, he’s a terrible tease, isn’t he?” Wynn exclaimed, looking at them with interest. Phoebe’s face grew warm. She had planned to speak with Teddy before anyone else in the household thought they were living as man and wife.

Her stomach fluttered all through dinner as she stole glances at her handsome husband, already sick with longing for what she knew she could not have. When the meal ended, Teddy beamed at her. “Are you ready for your gift?”

Feeling stifled in her long-sleeved dress despite the autumn chill, she pulled at her fingers. “Yes. No—I mean, could we have a word in private?”

Teddy lifted an eyebrow suggestively. “My bedroom or yours?”

“Teddy!” Wynn admonished.

“How about your study?”

“As you wish,” he said jauntily, holding out his arm to escort her.

She took it, and he beamed a smile down at her, sparking a fresh flush of heat, this time in her center core. He shut the door and led her to the settee, sitting upon it and pulling her into his lap.

“Must I sit on your knee?”

“Would you prefer to lie over it again?”

The suggestion made her bottom tingle and incited a curious clenching between her legs. “Teddy, please! I have something serious to discuss with you and I cannot—I’d just rather not sit upon you.”

He laughed easily, and helped her to stand, patting the velvet cushion beside him. She sank into it and pressed her knees together.

“Presents first,” Teddy insisted, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a long rectangular box tied up with a yellow ribbon.

“What is it?”

“Open it,” he said, his boyish enthusiasm even more charming than his usual flirtatiousness.

She pulled the end of the satin ribbon and opened the box, expecting to see a necklace or bracelet. Instead, it contained a beautiful tortoise-shell quill pen, much like his own.

“I noticed you broke the quill of mine and when I took it to be mended I thought, as the writer in the family, you deserved your own.”

“Oh, Teddy!” she exclaimed, overcome. “That was so thoughtful. Thank you!” Her chest felt as if it would explode. It was infinitely better than a piece of jewelry. It was exactly the thing she had most coveted in Teddy’s entire, well-appointed house. To think he knew her well enough to have picked the perfect gift… well, it was overwhelming.

Teddy must truly see her, truly understand her for who she was. No one, in her entire life, had ever noticed anything about her. Her parents had been like Maud—primarily self-interested. She had made a few friends at finishing school, but the girls were only focused on finding husbands, or talking about fashion, and she’d always felt like a fish out of water, preferring to be reading or daydreaming or writing poetry.

Not only did Teddy really see her, but he must appreciate her as well, else he would not support her so. “I love it,” she whispered, her lips trembling, her vision growing wavy. “I absolutely love it.”

He ran a finger over her lips, then bent to brush his own across them. She should not let him, but she simply could not make herself move out of his reach, wanting to experience more of the floating feeling he created in her. But no. She shook herself and drew sharply back, blinking. It took all her resolve. Forcing herself to relive a moment of Reddington’s horrid hands pawing her body, she steeled herself.

“Teddy, listen. I have changed my mind. Again. And I’m sorry.”

He crossed one elegant leg over the other and rested his arm on the back of the settee behind her shoulders. “What is it, love?”

“I mean for us to go back to our original arrangement—where you see other women and we sleep in separate beds.”

The legs uncrossed and he sat up straighter. “What?” he asked sharply. “Why?”

“It doesn’t matter why, it’s what I wish.”

He shook his head. “It’s not what I wish.”

She frowned and took a breath, not having expected a quarrel. “Well, you promised you’d do your best to make me happy, didn’t you? This will make me happy.”

His brows drew together. “How will this make you happy?”

“It’s what I want, all right?” she snapped.

“No.”

As when he’d spanked her, she experienced the curious reconciling of the easy-mannered, affable gentleman with the lord and master who was still very much in charge. Suddenly she felt as powerless as she had living with Maud and Reddington. “Do you mean to take away my choice?” she asked, her voice cracking.

* * *

“No, of course I don’t!” he said irritably, standing up and pacing the room. “I would never take a woman against her will. I just want to understand why. Are you afraid I will not be faithful?”

“It doesn’t matter why!” Phoebe stood as well, drawing her hands into fists at her navel.

He felt a crushing sensation in his chest, alerting him to just how much her surrender the night before had meant to him. What was she hiding behind her bravado now? He could see her distress, but he wasn’t sure how to ease it. He crossed the room to her and grasped her two shoulders. “Are you afraid it will hurt?” he asked gently.

She swayed on her feet, her chest heaving unnaturally, as if her corset was constricting her breath too much. He held her firmly, lest she swoon.

“I promise I will not hurt you. We’ll go very slowly, and I will not push if you’re not ready.”