The Reformer (12 page)

Gerard squatted in front of her, placing a finger over her lips. “Shhh, little Brigit. I’m not going to harm you. I will give you a bath, though. You reek to high heaven, and I would love to see the real color of what I believe to be red hair.”

Brigit stiffened as he lifted her from the stool, clothes and all, and settled her in the tub of steaming, hot water. She closed her eyes as he began to scrub the dirt from her hair and face, talking soothingly the entire time. She did not realize that he slowly, piece by piece, removed her soiled clothing until she sat naked in the murky water. He ignored the tsking of Martha’s tongue as more water was brought to the tub as it was drained of the old.

“There now, sweet child. Papa isn’t going to hurt you,” Gerard cooed in Brigit’s ear as he rinsed her naked body with clean water and scrubbed her with lavender scented soaps. She closed her eyes tightly, fearfully waiting for the man to press himself upon her. But he did not. She frowned, momentarily wondering if perhaps he did not prefer women. She opened her emerald green eyes to look at him. No, his expression eliminated that concern, as did the bulge in his trousers. Yet, he bathed her with respect and dignity, and her nakedness was soon forgotten under his tender care.

Gerard swallowed his longing as the beauty of the girl unfurled before him. Her deep copper hair cascaded down the length of her back, and her eyes were as lush as a green pasture. Her body was soft, supple, and as pale as the moon. His eyes strayed to the dark pink nipples that hardened under his gaze and the thatch of red between her legs. He then noticed several bruises along her back and legs, as well as an angry, broken welt upon her right forearm. A whip?

“I will never use a whip upon you, Brigit. I promise,” he said, gently holding her arm and softly kissing the wound. Brigit stared at him in disbelief, confused even more by his gentleness.

It was his gentleness that won her over. Even when he had to discipline her, she always found solace in his arms after a trip across his broad lap. Oddly, she began to look forward to those times that she found herself face to the floor, bottom bared, for a heated spanking delivered by either his hand or a strap. Her body responded to him when she was like this, helpless and vulnerable. She trusted him with her life and, with that, her body.

Gerard found himself falling in love with the impetuous little Irish girl. He suspected that the majority of mischief she got herself into was intentional, for he did not miss the glistening wetness of her cunny as she lay prone and bared for his discipline. His ears picked up the murmurs of wanting in her throat as he slowly sent his hand across her pale posterior, nor did he miss the lustful glances in his direction as she squirmed uncomfortably in the hard chair in the corner.

He also noticed that somewhere along the line, she had stopped calling him Papa and started calling him Gerard. Martha disapproved greatly of the familiar manner in which the girl spoke to him, but Gerard loved the sound of his name upon her lips. With a Gaelic accent, she sounded as though she were casting spells of love over him. And, indeed, she was. She had come to love her reformer with all of her heart. But what of he to her?

When her training was complete, Gerard felt it was time for her to be reintroduced into the world. She had learned to read and write, play the piano and sing, and was able to present herself at a table, or in the court, as a woman of dignity. He had personally dressed her in a velvet forest-green gown with pearl buttons, her copper hair cascading in long, luxurious waves down her back. Snuggled in an ermine muff and cape, Brigit was issued into the carriage, followed by her reformer.

“Where are we going?” she asked quietly.

“My father is having a winter ball, and you will be my escort.”

“I have met your father. He owns the millhouse where I worked.”

“Yes, and he was quite taken with you then. He was the one who gave you the opportunity to try reform. I believe he will be very pleased with your development.”

“I see. Gerard? What is going to happen with me now that my training is done?”

Gerard stared out the window at the snow-lined fields and icicled trees, watching as the snow fell softly around them. “What would you like to do? Speak up, Brigit. You know I don’t waste time with games,” he ordered, seeing her struggle.

“I wish to stay with you. I… I love you,” Brigit admitted shamefully, staring at the ground. She lifted her chin as Gerard touched her, staring into his warm, brown eyes. He looked…happy? Relieved?

“I wish you to stay as well. I love you, Brigit O’Ryan, Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” he spontaneously asked her, holding her right hand and kissing her knuckles.

Brigit leaned back in her chair, gazing out the window as she remembered one of the happiest days of her life. It was the beginning to her own personal fairy-tale.

“Lady Remington? The earl’s carriage has arrived,” a servant stated from the doorway. Brigit smiled, squeezing the young woman’s hand with thanks and then departed the room, eager to see her husband. She felt the little girl in her erupt as his large, solid frame exited the carriage, and she ran, squealing, to jump into his waiting arms. He twirled her around, crushing her lips in a passionate embrace.

“I think you are shocking your staff and the students, Brigit,” he whispered into her hair, not letting her down.

“I don’t care. I missed you.”

“I’ve only been away for two weeks. How are you going to survive when it is an entire month?”

“With much difficulty and emptiness. May we go home now?”

“Patience, dearest. I need to stretch a bit and speak with the headmaster first. What news do you have about the state of the school?”

With a frustrated sigh, Brigit shared her observations, careful to study the grim look on her handsome husband’s face. He was not a happy man.

Chapter Eight

Aryanna scowled, closing the book in her hand. The day was too pretty to spend inside learning to read in a language that failed to interest her. Ryan had left her alone so that he could help a tenant with a roof repair, instructing her to finish the chapter and then write what she thought it was about. Frankly, she did not care. There were more interesting things to learn than reading.

Silently, the girl slipped out of the house and began walking towards the vast meadow that was studded in bright, fragrant wildflowers that wilted slightly in the heat. She picked a handful, inhaling their delicate scent deeply, before walking down the long, tree-lined dirt road that led to the tiny farm village which was part of Ryan’s holdings. Yarlshire knew of the status that their earl and his family held as reformers, and it was easy to deduce that the girl was one of those chosen to be trained by the masters themselves. She was greeted with warm smiles and offers of hot tea and biscuits, which she gratefully accepted.

The villagers were delighted with the odd girl and her strange accent, helping her with her English as they introduced her around. Aryanna lost track of time as she immersed herself in the simple pleasure of exploring the town. She was sitting on a porch, sipping tea with the wife of the local butcher when the sound of pounding hooves reached their ears. Both women looked up as Ryan tore towards them, rage painted across his face.

Aryanna paled. She glanced at the woman next to her whose face held a similar color.

“Your Lordship,” the other woman stood gracefully, “it’s a pleasure to see you. Would you care for some tea?”

“No, thank you, mistress. I am here to collect my ward.” He glared at Aryanna angrily.

“What a sweet child she is. You have done a remarkable job in her reform. She is very polite, pleasant, and is working very diligently to learn our language to please you.”

“You have no need to defend her, madam. She failed to follow my instructions and wandered from the house unchaperoned. Apparently, she does not share my concern for her safety.”

“She might not have understood your orders, sir…”

“Aryanna? Why did you leave the house?”

“I no like reading book. Outside is nice. I walk.” Aryanna answered quietly, facing the ground.

“Did you have my permission to leave?”

“No, Lord Ryan.”

“I think this will put some ease in your new lady-friend’s mind about your ability to understand. Madam, if you will please excuse us, I must take her home now.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Aryanna. Please come and visit me again.”

“I would like much. Lord Ryan? May I visit?”

“Yes, but not anytime soon. You must learn how to follow rules. Up you go, young lady,” Ryan said firmly, hoisting her upon the back of his horse and not caring that her long, slender legs were clearly visible to all. He tipped his hat and climbed up behind her, steering the animal back towards his home. Aryanna closed her eyes as the cold wind brushed her face and pressed her back against Ryan’s chest as he galloped down the dusty road. She could feel his tension in his arm as he held her tightly, knowing that she had upset him greatly. He lifted her off and handed the mare to the stable boy, then turned to escort her inside.

“Lord Ryan? I am sorry,” Aryanna said ever-so-softly as he closed the door behind them.

He looked at her sadly. “I am too, Aryanna. Go up to your room and wait for me, please.”

Aryanna wrinkled her brow and turned to obey. The pain on his face confused her. He should be angry, not dejected… She had frightened him and had disobeyed. She sat on the straight-backed chair, smoothing the wrinkles in her dress as she waited his arrival. Several minutes later, Ryan arrived, sans overcoat. His chin was set, and a frown creased his brow. He pulled out a second chair to sit in front of her.

“I’m very disappointed in you, Aryanna. Very disappointed,” he said quietly, watching her reaction.

She glanced at the ground, tears welling in her eyes. “I am sorry, Ryan. Please, no be angry.”

“I’m not as angry as I am hurt that you didn’t think it was important enough to obey my wishes. I’ve allowed you much freedom as you healed and became comfortable in your new home. It seems that I’ve given you too much, and it’s time to set some rules and enforce consequences.”

“You send me back to Headmistress?” Aryanna asked fearfully.

“No, dove. Sadly, you have earned yourself a spanking. And I intend to have you remember it.”

“No… Lord Ryan is good reformer!” Aryanna looked frightened, the abusive events coming to her mind. “Please, no spank.”

“Yes, I will spank you. I will not harm you, but you will be disciplined. Ary? Do you trust me?” he asked softly, watching as her eyes darted to seek an escape from the room. She hesitated before nodding, her eyes widening as he held out his large hand for her to take. Trembling, she inserted her slender fingers into his palm, biting her lip as he squeezed them gently. “Tell me what you did wrong today and why.”

“I no like read English. Too hard. I took walk and saw place with houses…”

“That's the village.”

“Yes, village. People nice there, talk to me and show me things.”

“Why do you think I'm upset with you?”

“You said read. I not read. You lost me. I wrote note!”

“My darling, I don't read Russian. You know that. What did your note say?”

Aryanna looked into his eyes, her remorse growing. “It say, I go out.”

“Nothing more? Where you were going? When you would be back? Hmm, so even if I could read your note, it told me nothing, correct?”

“I am sorry, Lord Ryan.” Aryanna began to cry again. He held her in his arms closely, stroking her back. He did not have to talk. His actions worked to send her into a blubbering mess of sobs as guilt overtook her. Without asking, she positioned herself across his lap and pulled up her skirts to expose her split bloomers. Ryan hid a smile, parting the material and viewing her beautifully shaped, plump globes. He was pleased to see that she was filling out a bit.

There were no more words to be shared. Ryan sighed and raised his hand, taking a breath before he lowered it with a sharp whack to the chubbiest portion of Aryanna's exposed backside. She stifled a yelp as she gripped his trouser leg, clenching her teeth to the searing smack. A second landed in the same spot, and Aryanna grappled with her instinct to struggle. She deserved this punishment. She knew she had done wrong and, more so, had hurt her reformer. He was a kind, loving man and did not deserve her disrespect. She shoved her fist into her mouth as Ryan's hand picked up the pace and the impact of his slaps intensified. She did not see the expression on his face as her bottom began to redden and blotch, or as the pudgy mounds jiggled enticingly under the weight of his hand. His anger had turned to fascination, and his fascination turned to desire. He knew now, as he spanked the young woman and held her under his control, that he would never willingly give her up. She was his.

Aryanna, no longer able to maintain herself, released a loud wail speckled with distorted words promising to mind him and follow his rules. She began to beg for mercy, her longs legs kicking frantically to try to avoid the biting blows to her back end. Ryan grinned as her pink privates neatly showed themselves, and he ached to touch her. No, he reminded himself, this is neither the time nor the place. I will not take advantage of a woman under my hand!

The spanking continued with Ryan focusing on the upper parts of her thighs, turning them into a lush rose red. Aryanna muffled her sobs in her hands and her kicking lessened as she exhausted herself from her efforts. With a hearty final smack to the crown of her cheeks, Ryan completed the hard lesson. He rested his hand on the small of her back, rubbing softly as she continued to cry helplessly. When her tears subsided, he lifted her to stand before him, smoothing down her skirts and taking her hands in his.

“Please do not disobey me again, dove. Next time, I will be forced to use a strap. You already know how uncomfortable that is on your little bum.”

“Lord Ryan, please… no hate me. No send me away,” Aryanna begged, launching herself into his arms and climbing upon his lap. Ryan held her against him, his lips resting on the side of her wet face. He closed his eyes, inhaling her scent and enjoying her softness.