Amelia (The Marriage Market Book 1) (13 page)

"I want you! My children will want you."

"Perhaps you will bring them to Paris to visit me," Tempest suggested, "but I fear I must go. If I stay too long I will fight with my husband and I have broken far too many expensive figurines as it is," she said with a sad sort of laugh. "I am tired of trying to win my family's love. With you, my dear, it is easy; your heart is open, with them, not so much.

"Come," Tempest said. "We must get up and you need to go home with your husband."

"But what if he spanks me again?" Amelia asked.

"Then you will know you have married a man who loves you. Someone who will take the time to make you behave yourself and become the most amazing woman you can be. A man who will never let you down and will always put you first. That's not such a bad thing, is it my angel?"

"No, I guess not, but promise me you won't disappear without telling me."

"I promise. Now let's get you ready, and leave that hideous dress here. I'm burning it."

Hugh and Duncan listened to the giggles for a moment before quietly moving away from the door, but neither man felt like laughing.

Back in the study, Duncan collapsed on the couch, his head in his hands.

"How could I have been such a fool all these years? Giving her everything she wanted and nothing she needed."

"Don't berate yourself, Father," Hugh said as he put his hand on his father's shoulder in sympathy.

"But you and Sam both tried to tell me and I wouldn't listen. Now I may have lost her for good."

"Sam and I had the advantage of seeing what she put you through. We knew from a very young age we were never going to let a woman do that to us. Yes, you could have stood up to her years ago, but that's water under the bridge. Think of today as a new beginning."

"You're right, son, and I won't repeat the same mistake again. From now on, things are going to be different around here and if she thinks she's returning to France, she had better think again. I canna believe she thinks I don't love her. All my kindness and understanding through the years meant nothing. What she needed was a man strong enough to take her in hand."

"Can you be that man?"

Duncan snorted.

"Do you have any idea how many times I had to leave the house because I wanted so badly to paddle her bottom? A thousand, maybe more, but I didn't want to set a bad example for you boys. I've been such a fool."

"No, you've been a good father and husband, never doubt that. It's just time for a change and don't be too hard on her at first. I imagine it will be quite an adjustment."

"Yes, and one a long time coming. Don't worry about me and your mother, but keep a close eye on your wife. If she asked your mother for help running away, she could ask someone else."

"After tonight, I don't think I'll have to worry about it," Hugh said with a smile. "My plan is to leave her too exhausted to run anywhere."

Amelia came downstairs wearing a pretty blue frock and carrying her cloak. After she kissed Tempest and Duncan good-bye, Hugh helped her into the carriage and they drove away.

"Send someone to ask Sam to dinner," Tempest told her husband. "I want to talk to him."

Duncan nodded and watched his wife walk away.

"You can't be serious, Mother," Sam said, wiping his mouth with his napkin and looking around the table at the expectant faces. "All these women in my house?"

"Oui, but you will not be there. You will stay here with your father. Jane has agreed to act as chaperone until they all find husbands."

"And where will you be while my home is overrun with stockings and petticoats?" he demanded before realizing how it sounded. "Excuse my rudeness, ladies," he apologized before turning to his mother with a glare.

"I will be here accepting applications from men interested in acquiring a bride. Those that are suitable will be given an introduction, those that are not will be sent picking."

"Packing," Sam offered, correcting her.

"Oui, packing," she conceded. "Once they are all settled or if I see I am no longer needed, I shall return to France."

"No."

"Excusez-moi?"

"You heard me," Duncan replied, calmly picking up his glass of wine and taking a sip as he looked at his wife. She'd dressed for dinner, wearing a gold satin gown that bared her shoulders. It was one of the customs she was adamant about. Her sons had also enjoyed wine from a very young age.

Sam felt the short hairs on the back of his neck rise and looked around the table. The women felt the tension in the air too. Three of them rose, asking to be excused.

"Non, sit down," Tempest commanded, waving them back to their seats. "It is just a little discussion between husband and wife, nothing to be concerned about Mademoiselles. Please enjoy your dinner."

Sam and Duncan, who had risen when the ladies stood, resumed their seats.

"So, you object to my returning to Paris?" Tempest said cordially as she cut the beef on her plate.

"I don't object," Duncan began.

"There, you see, it is nothing," Tempest said with a satisfied smile as she glanced around the table.

"I forbid it."

Everyone froze, even Sam held his breath. The only sound was the clink as his mother placed her knife on her plate.

"You forbid it?"

"Oui, lassie, I forbid it."

Tempest stared at her husband in shock. There was a challenging grin on his face and his blue eyes had a sparkle she hadn't seen in years.

Sam, his head filled with images of broken china and screaming girls, stood.

"Perhaps you ladies would like to accompany me to the porch for a breath of fresh air," he suggested. A flurry of brightly colored skirts was his answer. "Get your wraps," he called after them. This time his mother made no comment and he exited the room, his parents squaring off from opposite ends of the table.

"What gives you the right to forbid me anything?" Tempest demanded as soon as the room was clear.

"I am your husband; you'll live under the roof I give you."

"Ha, you have given me my own home in France. That is the roof I choose to live under," she snapped.

Duncan picked up his glass. "Perhaps we will visit one day."

Tempest bolted to her feet. Placing her hands on the table she leaned forward.

"You may visit, if I invite you, but I will live there," she insisted, gritting her teeth.

God, she was magnificent, Duncan thought. How could he have ever let her go for months at a time? The jewels in her dark hair competed with the fire in her eyes and lost. Both cheeks were flushed with pink as her anger rose and he found he was anticipating staining another set of cheeks.

So, because he'd been a generous and understanding husband, he didn't love her! Because he'd catered to her every whim, many times against his better judgment, she would leave him forever? Apparently she was unhappy with his easygoing nature. She saw it as weakness, as cold and uncaring. Well, if that was the case, he was about to make her very happy. His eyes narrowed when she picked up a crystal goblet and raised it over her head.

"I wouldn't advise it, darling," he warned getting to his feet.

"Since when do I take orders from you?" she demanded throwing the glass at him and stomping her foot when it missed.

"Since about 8:15 p.m. tonight," he replied, glancing at the clock on the wall and advancing on her.

Tempest didn't run. She had no reason to. Her husband had never raised a hand to her before and she didn't believe he ever would. She was mistaken.

Taking her arm, Duncan was prepared when she spun away from him. Instantly, he pulled her back and bent, flinging her over his shoulder.

"I believe we should relocate for this discussion," he said calmly.

"Release me at once or I will relocate you, six feet under," she hissed, pounding on his back and kicking her legs madly.

Locking her legs down tighter, Duncan bellowed for Yvette.

"Oui, Monsieur," she said, bobbing.

"Tell Sam to bring the ladies in. There is no reason for them to miss dessert. And please clean up the broken glass. My wife dropped it accidentally. We will be in our room for an extended period of time."

"It was no accident," Tempest shouted. "Let me go. I want some pecan pie.

"Maybe later."

Yvette nodded, fascinated as her employer carried his wife upstairs. She couldn't stop the grin that spread across her features. Finally!

As soon as they reached the master suite, Duncan put her down. He did not, however, release her. Instead, he locked the door, keeping one hand firmly around her upper arm. Pulling her to an overstuffed chair, he sat down and plopped her on his lap.

"We need to talk."

"So talk, I cannot stop you," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and looking away.

"I want you to listen."

"Ah, you can talk, but you cannot force me to listen. That is impossible," she informed him, starting to hum.

Shaking his head, Duncan began to undress her. Her hands slapped at his as he yanked open the back of her dress and pushed it off her shoulders. The corset was more difficult, but soon he had her free of it and untied the petticoats at her waist.

She swore at him repeatedly in French, which he ignored, before resorting to English.

"I do not need you to undress me," she shouted. "I have Yvette to help."

"Tonight, you have me," he insisted, standing her on her feet and pushing everything to the floor except her chemise.

"If you wanted to have sex, you had only to say so," she said softly, wondering what was wrong with him. "I have never refused you."

"No, you haven't and I've always wondered about that, considering you are so difficult in nearly every other area. I believe I understand that now as well."

"As well? Duncan, what are you talking about? Speak English or French, but make sense."

"I haven't been a very good husband to you," he said sadly as he moved to the bed, pulling her along with him and sat down. Positioning her between his knees he gently stroked her cheek as he unpinned her hair, dropping the pins.

"You've done the best you could," she whispered looking at the floor.

"No, I haven't. I gave you everything you wanted and nothing you needed. You see, I loved you so much I could not stand to see your tears or see you upset. I took the easy way out, lassie. I placated you when I should have stood firm and trusted my own judgment. I overlooked your temper tantrums, ignored them when I should have punished you for them, let you run wild when I should have insisted you belonged here, in my bed and in our home. Can you ever forgive me?"

Tempest remained quiet, hardly believing what she was hearing.

Duncan picked up her hand and kissed it.

"My dominant nature should not have been confined to the bedroom. It's made us both very unhappy and I will rectify that mistake immediately." Very carefully he guided her over his lap, positioning her upper body on the bed. Still she said not a word. Pulling up her chemise, he bared her bottom, resting his hand on her firm cheeks.

"There will be no further concessions granted. When you misbehave, you will be spanked, my love, and well spanked at that. No more tantrums or broken china, no more screaming the house down when something doesn't go your way, and definitely no more solitary trips farther than San Francisco. I will not have it and that's my final word. If you ever mention leaving me again, I will take a strap to you without a second thought."

Duncan began spanking her with firm slaps that colored her bottom quickly. Her cries echoed in the room, but she never fought him nor struggled to get away. There wasn't much mercy in him as his mind replayed scene after scene of her unacceptable behavior both home and abroad, but his punishment was tempered by his own guilt. For this he'd almost lost the only woman he'd ever loved. Because he couldn't handle a few tears, he'd spent months alone in this huge house. Her cries now were music to his ears, her red bottom a portrait of redemption. When she was reduced to mournful sobs he stopped. Rubbing her bottom and her back, he waited until there was only the occasional sniffle. Then he slid her off his lap and undressed.

Tempest was limp and compliant when her husband climbed onto the bed and placed her on her knees, pushing her chest to the bed. She blushed wildly as his big hand moved between her thighs and felt the evidence of her desire. With a growl, he positioned himself behind her and plunged his fully engorged cock deep, holding her still with a hand on her hip.

It was his way to do this. Make her take everything he had and remain still, throbbing within her, until she tilted her bottom up, asking for more. It always reduced her to a shivering mass and she'd tried many times to wait him out, make him move first, but she never succeeded. No, she must be the one to signal, take me. Tonight it was a hundred times worse. With him pressed against her flaming cheeks she could not wait, even for a few moments.

She heard Duncan's soft laugh as he began to ride her, reaching around to stroke her pleasure to a fever pitch. It was intense, much more so than it had been. They were like new lovers, hungry and frantic, moving against each other as passion drove them closer and closer to the edge. She felt his hand tighten on her hip and then release her, burying itself in her thick mane as he ground against her, his hair scratching the tender skin on her ass.

"Cum now, Lass," he ordered. "Dinna make me punish you again."

Tempest obeyed, her body clenching around him, trying to hang on each time he withdrew. With a final thrust, he stayed right where she wanted him, buried to the hilt, filling her as she rode out her climax.

It was several minutes before he released her and rolled onto his side. Gathering her close, he pressed her cheek to his chest and patted her hot bottom.

Tempest snuggled closer, too tired to try to sort out exactly what had taken place tonight, but she did know one thing. Pushing away from him, she tipped her head back and looked into his eyes.

"Duncan," she whispered, bringing her hand up to stroke his hair. "I forgive you."

"That's a good lassie," he replied. "Maybe I will let you have some pecan pie."

Amelia lay naked, sprawled on a thick quilt before the fire. Her husband sat cross-legged at her feet, massaging them gently.

"Are you happy, my love," he asked, smiling as he took in the sight of her body, focusing on her pouty nipples.

"Yes and no," she replied, a finger to her lips as she considered his question.

"Explain," he growled.

"Well, I'm very happy you've forgiven me for being such a ninny, but I feel terrible for all my friends who were deceived. I'm happy I got to know your mother, and I think she's wonderful."

Hugh rolled his eyes. "Go on."

"Oh, that feels so good," she purred, arching her back.

Hugh bit her toe.

"Ow!"

"Start talking," he ordered. "What else are you feeling?"

"Well," she began with a sad pout. "I'm very unhappy you chose to beat me again. That really hurt."

"Aw, you poor little thing," he replied. "Too bad you earned every swat and probably more. You know it's too bad you were never disciplined as a child. Then you would know the difference between a beating and a good old fashioned spanking. Maybe on one of our walks I should find a stick and teach you a thing or two. You know it's legal as long as I don't use a stick thicker than my thumb," he teased.

Amelia gasped, sat up and grabbed his hand. Placing her palm against his, she shivered.

"That's not fair. You have big hands."

"Yes, I do," he agreed proudly. "They come in quite handy, too, when dealing with a naughty bride."

Amelia stuck out her tongue and flopped back down. Sitting was not pleasant.

Hugh grinned. "What else?"

"I'm a little worried about your mother and father. I really don't want her to go away," she said sadly.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, sweetheart."

"Why not?"

Hugh moved and suddenly his naked body was beside hers. Absently, she pushed a lock of his dark hair off his forehead.