Rebellious Bride (12 page)

“But
Aaron …” she started.

“Don’t
but me,” he seethed. “You still think you can take off without
letting me know, my fair brat, you have another thing coming.”

“Aaron
please,” she tried to protest.

But Aaron only
motioned toward the kitchen table. “You know exactly what you’re getting.
I don’t care what great excuses you have.”

“Aaron,”
she pleaded in a singsong voice, which only made her husband look more stern.
“Over the end of the table and raise your skirt,” he ordered.

“Don’t
you want my explanation?” To that point, Abigail still hadn’t thought of
something, but perhaps on the spur of the moment something inspired would come
to mind.

“No, I
don’t,” Aaron said unexpectedly. “Over the table.” The stare he
leveled at her was chilling, so she was shivering in her shoes, and scared to
move. But Aaron’s next command changed all that. “You want the cane
too?” he barked.

“No!
No!” she cried.

“Then
skedaddle,” he roared.

Abigail was in
tears, but compliant. How could this keep happening to her? For an instant she
almost ignored his command, hoping she could spit out the whole shameful tale
of Darcy’s woes, but by the look in her husband’s eyes, he would hear none of
it until she’d been thoroughly punished. Moving toward the kitchen table, she
bent over, while out of the corner of her eye, she watched Aaron remove his
belt from around his waist. She turned away, too scared to look anymore, and
reaching for the far end of table, she grabbed on for dear life.

Abigail having
not raised her own skirt, Aaron reached for the hem of his wife’s dress and
tossed the long garment up over her behind. All her naked glory showed. The two
white orbs of her bottom were gleaming, ready to be blistered red by his
leather belt. Standing back, Aaron eyed Abigail’s behind for a few seconds. How
many ways he lusted after her fine rear flesh, though on his occasion, it was
only the lust of righteousness that moved him, as his anger with her swelled.
He was glad for the right to punish her, since it seemed to be the only thing
that would get his message through to his rebellious bride even if he had to
periodically repeat it.

Doubling the
long leather in his fist, Aaron reared back and then let the belt fly.

Smack! The
first strike, a nasty one, was a prelude to the entire
hotfired
whipping. Abigail jerked hard at the blow, and cried out something she rarely
did with a first smack. As the smacks rained down, her feet were dancing a
frenzied jig, each strike stinging so profoundly, her only recourse was to let
some of the pain free with her squirming and the impassioned howls. Though she
was in an agonizing fix, pleading with him at every strike, Aaron didn’t say a
word and didn’t change his ruthless pace. With a determined methodical
precision, he laid the strap across the two jiggling orbs, not pausing even
once, until they were red from top to bottom.

“
Yeow
!
Gawd
no! Please!” She
stomped her feet in their staccato dance, jerked her bottom as if she could get
away, but that only caused the descending leather to hit her tender sides where
the sting made her agony worse yet. Her pointless efforts for some display of
mercy were met only with more strikes, though at least for one instant Aaron
paused.

“How
could l possibly deserve this?” Abigail wondered in the all too brief
moment. “Such a small offense.”

“Please
Aaron, I can’t take anymore,” she let out her best protest. “Please
no.”

He stopped for
an instant. “No, you say? I think I’ve been too easy on you,” he
finally spoke. “But not anymore.”

“
Yeawww
!” One especially hard strike whipped about her
ass cheeks, the tip of the belt catching not her hips this time, but the high
on the front thigh quite near her sensitive pubic mound.

“You, my
little lady, are going to behave yourself, or you’re going to find yourself
with a bottom so sore, you’re never going to want to sit.” He was finally
letting up the smacks as his lecture took over. “I’m not going to keep
repeating myself, do you understand?”

“Yes,”
Abigail managed to sob.

“I have
very few rules, but I expect them to followed. Is that clear?”

“Yes, yes
it is.”

Aaron leveled
a final smack right in the middle of her sore behind. She jerked once more and
then collapsed against the end of the table, realizing that her husband was
finally finished.

Usually after
she’d been punished, Aaron Barrow’s anger was spent, and there was some kind of
comfort in the aftermath. But this time, as her husband pulled Abigail up to
standing, it seemed his expression was as severe as it had been when he first
began.

“I’m
sorry, Aaron, I really am,” Abigail said as she wiped her tears away.

“Good,”
he said, though his face didn’t change a bit.

“I am
sorry, my love. Is something else wrong?” she asked, worried by his
expression. Abigail stared at her
hus
band’s waist as
he was replacing the leather belt. It made her shiver to see it, horrible,
strange and even sometimes wonderful feelings were ignited by just looking at
the formidable thing. Unfortunately, at the moment, the tension between she and
Aaron was worse than ever, and there would be no sweet passions this time.

“Yes,
Abigail there is something wrong,” Aaron replied to her question.

She looked up
at his face now more troubled than grim.

“Please
tell me.”

He cleared his
throat obviously uncomfortable with his next words. “There’s a shortage in
the accounts at the mill,” he said.

Abigail’s eyes
widened. “A shortage?”

“Yes. I
hate to think that I have a thief in my employ, but if I can’t figure this out
in the books, I’ll have to assume … .” He didn’t finish.

“You
suspect someone?” she asked.

“No. I
don’t. That’s just it.”

“Perhaps
you were robbed by some intruder?”

He shook his
head. “There’s no evidence to point to that.” The more Aaron
considered the matter, the more it was clear he was disturbed. He eyed his wife
and then looked away, then eyed her again, as if he wanted to say something but
didn’t know how. “You don’t suppose that Darcy … ” he began.

“Aaron
no!” Abigail exclaimed. “How could you ever…”

“Very
easily, considering her past.”

“But that
was the past.”

“I just
don’t know, I just don’t know.” He shook his head and breathed out a
heavyhearted sigh, then walked toward the door. At the last minute he turned
about and leveled another penetrating stare.

“If you
know anything, Abigail, you’d better tell me,” he said.

“You know
I would,” she said meekly in response.

Did he hear
how her voice quivered, or see how her knees were knocking under her skirt, or
how her whole body tensed up at his warning? Leaving straightaway, she hoped
that all those clues to her guilt passed him by.

And with the
stew he was in, she imagined they had. But once alone, Abigail broke out in
tears, thinking of her whole horrible morning, and the awful dilemma she was
faced with. Her lies, her deception, stolen money, a sick friend and a husband
that was watching her every move. At least for the moment there would be no
going anywhere. Strange, he hadn’t even asked her where she’d been certainly
that was a slip of the mind. When he finally did think to ask her, she’d need a
better answer than her earlier
tonguedtied
attempt.

Aaron returned
for lunch just an hour later. His mood had not lightened, and the couple ate in
silence, until he pushed away from the table and rose to leave.

“I have
to make a delivery up the mountain. I trust you’ll behave yourself while I’m
gone?” he asked.

“I
wouldn’t dare not to,” Abigail said with a faint grin, and she reached
around and felt her still sore behind.

“Good,”
he nodded, and he turned and left.

Ah! It was the
chance she was looking for. There should be plenty of time to get to Darcy’s
barn and back before Aaron returned from his trip of the steep mountain trail.
He wouldn’t likely be home until at least five that evening.

A half hour
later, just to make certain that there hadn’t been a change of plans, Abigail
put several oatmeal cookies in a bundle and dashed toward the mill where she
could see with her own eyes that Aaron was indeed leaving for the afternoon.

“
Here.
A little peace offering,” she said, handing him
his favorite cookies. “You forgot them at dinner.”

“Thank
you,” he nodded. He gave her his first smile since early morning.

“And
should I plan our supper late?”

“No, I
should return by four, by five if the high road is bad, but I don’t suspect
so.”

She nodded as
if she was happy to hear that news. “Then I’ll see you in a few
hours.” Her most charming grin was melting his dour mood even more. And
leaning over he gave her a kiss on the mouth. If there weren’t so many secrets
between them right now, she would have been heartened by the affectionate
gesture. She expected that her unsuspecting husband would be good company in
bed that night, she could even feel herself swoon a bit letting the strength of
his nature, which always aroused her, tickle her body in a delicious way.

Abigail waited
at the mill while Aaron hitched the horses to the wagon, and then waved
gayly
to him as he pulled out of the mill yard. Once he was
out of sight however, she made her way straight to the house, and gathered a
few things together, knowing that she would have to move fast to make the trip
back to Darcy without being found out.

“My,
you’re looking better,” Abigail exclaimed as she watched Darcy sitting up,
sipping the mug of soup that she’d brought her ailing friend.

“I am
feeling much better. The fever broke. Though I imagine, I should sit tight
another day.”

“I would
say so,” Abigail said sternly. “You still don’t look very well.”

“So how
did you make out with being away?” Darcy asked.

“What was
that?” Abigail would rather have avoided the question.3

“With
Aaron, you dummy. He didn’t find out you were gone?”

Abigail
blushed before she could lie. “He caught me, I’m afraid.”

“Oh,
drat! I’m sorry.”

“It was
just a little licking he gave me.”

“He
whupped
you too? That nasty varmint!”

“I
deserved it, Darcy. You remember his warnings about my gadding about anywhere I
want?”

“Yeah, I
know. I’m sorry I’ve gotten you into this, I really am.”

“I know.
But some things you just have to do, even if the consequences are bad.”

Darcy gave her
an appreciative smile. “But you better be getting home now,” she
said.

“You’re
right about that, I won’t be late this time.”

“You’re a
real friend to help me, Abby. But you get on now, before you get your behind
blistered again.”

“I
will.” Abigail stood up and looked down at Darcy. She did look much
better, enough for Abigail to think that the worst of her woes were over.
Grabbing for her bag, she headed for the barn door. But opening the creaky old
thing, she immediately stopped short.

“My, my,
my, what do we have here?” a scraggly man snickered at her. He leered at
her with his toothless grin and an unshaven face.

“Who are
you?” Abigail asked.

“I sees
you have the little thief in there,” the man said, as he looked beyond
Abigail.

“Who are
you, answer my question?” Abigail ordered.

“Seems if
you know Darcy Greenwood, you should know who I am. I’m the man she’s running
from.”

“Leave
her alone!” Darcy called out, realizing what was happening. The sick young
woman’ rose from her straw bed and made her way to the door. “Abigail
leave, just leave,” her friend encouraged her. Abigail looked back as
Darcy approached and the scraggly scoundrel lurched forward and grabbed Abigail’s
wrist.

“Oh no,
you don’t, you’re not going anywhere,” the man’s leering scowl informed
her.

“Please!”
she tried to wrench away.

“Get your
hands off of her,” Darcy snapped. She was on the old man in an instant,
but it was an instant too late. He’d pulled a knife out of nowhere and had it
at Abigail’s throat.

“You want
to try that again?” he seethed at Darcy.

Darcy’s eyes
flashed, her anger raged, but there was nothing she could do that wouldn’t put
her best friend in mortal jeopardy.

“Don’t
hurt her. She’s just my friend, Burt.”

“Really?”
the man said, turning to eye Abigail close up. His breath right in front of her
nose was foul from liquor, but Abigail was too terrified to show anything but
her trembling fear.