Elizabeth's Education (Forbidden Lust) (11 page)

Lord Michael sat back and stretched his arms, his neck a little stiff. He laid down the pen and stood up. The latest business venture was requiring a greater investment in time than he had anticipated, and the figures were difficult to make sense of. He wandered over to the window, gazing out, not really seeing anything, mulling over the options available to him, when suddenly the shock of seeing Elizabeth cantering across the fields on her mare, the spirited horse tossing its head, was not to be believed!

‘Good lord!’ he exclaimed. ‘Will she never learn that I mean what I say?’

He was immediately angry; yet again she was being grossly disobedient. How dare she? Yet watching her despite his ire he had to admit she was a spellbinding sight. Even in his anger he had to admire the wonderful vision – beauty and power in perfect harmony.

The mare left the ground and jumped effortlessly over a fallen tree trunk, Elizabeth staying with her, making it look easy. They galloped out of view and he craned his neck to follow, but they were gone.

Pulling out his pocket watch he checked the time. It was eleven-fifty. Well, there was little he could do, so he’d go back to work and see what the young culprit had to say for herself when they met for lunch. He was determined she would pay severely for her flagrant disobedience.

He settled back at the desk, and had just begun to make some more notes when there was a rumbling boom and a jagged flash of lightening across the increasingly angry sky outside. Large droplets of rain splattered against the windowpanes, and they were quickly growing in intensity. His anger quickly turned to concern. She was going to get caught in a downpour, and her fledgling cold could turn into something very much more serious. Not to mention the distinct possibility that her horse might spook in the storm and throw her. So he hurried out of the study, through the large house, and grabbed a raincoat as he dashed out of the backdoor, racing to the stables.

Elizabeth was indeed caught in the deluge and Constance was not happy at all, but Elizabeth was able to handle her. She managed to get the mare turned around and they galloped back towards the house. She was getting soaked through, and the cold rain had her teeth chattering.

Lord Michael was just about to mount a horse and go out to search for her when he heard clattering hooves on the cobblestones outside the stable. He ran to the open stable door and saw the large bay mare being reined in by a totally drenched and bedraggled Elizabeth. Leaving his horse to the stable boy he dashed out into the rain to help her. She saw him, dragged her feet out of the stirrups and slumped gratefully to the ground, leaning against his body for support. She was shaking so badly from the cold and wet he could barely hold her up while Constance, now free of her rider, trotted into the shelter of the stable.

‘Elizabeth, you are such a silly girl,’ he scolded her, although filled with concern. ‘Come on, let’s get you indoors quickly.’

Her teeth chattered and she couldn’t speak from the chill, and felt faint and weak. Her skin turned a horrible grey hue and he recognised the symptoms immediately, so he swept her up and carried her through the driving rain, across the small lawn in the herb garden and in through the backdoor of the house.

‘Grace!’ he called loudly the minute they were inside. ‘Grace!’

The maid wasn’t far away at all, polishing some silver in the hall, and hearing the alarm in Lord Michael’s voice she dashed to the kitchens, and was shocked by what she saw. Miss Elizabeth, as white as a ghost and drenched to the skin, shivering uncontrollably, being carried by a very wet and very concerned Lord Michael.

‘Grace, thank heaven,’ he said. ‘Run up to Miss Elizabeth’s room and draw a hot bath immediately, and pull out some warm bedclothes.’

Without a second glance she dashed out and up the stairs to do as he said. Poor Miss Elizabeth.

‘We’ll be lucky if you don’t catch pneumonia,’ he said to the ailing girl cradled in his arms, genuinely afraid that such a thing could happen.

Wrapped up in his arms and out of the driving rain she started to feel a little better, but she was afraid to look at him; and too ashamed, as well, because once again her obstinate nature had gotten her into a dreadful mess.

‘We must get you out of these wet things immediately,’ he continued, and as quickly as he could he followed the maid and carried Elizabeth up the stairs. When they entered her bedroom he was relieved to find it warm and cosy, a comforting fire already burning nicely in the grate. Grace was running the bath, and there was a thick flannel nightgown laid out upon the bed.

‘Thank you, Grace,’ he acknowledged the efforts of the maid. ‘Now go downstairs and brew some tea. Bring it up nice and hot and sweet.’

‘Yes, sir,’ the maid said, bobbing politely before she disappeared again.

Elizabeth’s shivering was now intermittent, and as soon as Grace had left he carried her to the bathroom, where he stood her on her feet, stripped her quickly, and carefully helped her into the steaming tub.

It felt extremely hot to the chilled Elizabeth and she winced and complained, but the scald only lasted a few seconds, and then the warmth seeped through her flesh into her bones, and her teeth at last stopped their chattering.

Her nose was beginning to run, and Lord Michael, having removed the soaked raincoat, finding his own clothes wet but tolerable, dipped into his pocket and handed her his handkerchief.

‘Th-thank you, s-sir,’ she said shakily, still too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

‘Better get your head under the hot water,’ he instructed, and she immediately dipped her head back, the hot water around her head seeming to draw the last of the chill from her.

A moment later, lifting her head, she opened her eyes and finally blinked an apologetic peek up at him through the rivulets of water running down her face. His expression was stern, but his eyes were filled with genuine worry.

‘At least you’ve got some colour back in your cheeks,’ he said. ‘All right, get out of the tub now. I’ll dry you off quickly, then into bed with you right away.’

She stood up without any complaint or any futile attempt to justify her irresponsible behaviour. Lord Michael gave her a towel for her hair, and as she wrapped it around her head he rubbed her with another. As soon as she was dry he hurried her back into the bedroom, and helped her into her long warm nightgown.

‘Better dry your hair thoroughly by the fire,’ he told her. ‘We don’t want it to be damp in bed.’

Feeling a lot better and comfortably warmed through to the core again, she gracefully dropped to her knees by the hearth and began to towel her head vigorously, interrupting herself with a few sharp coughs and a sizable sneeze. Lord Michael at last took a deep breath and sat in the chair by her side, removing his wet shoes and socks, when there was a light knock at the door.

It was Grace, and the tray she was carrying contained not just a pot of tea and cups for them both, but bread and honey and some cakes.

‘I thought Miss Elizabeth might like a little something to eat,’ she said shyly.

‘Excellent,’ Lord Michael said, smiling appreciatively, ‘thank you, Grace, thank you for your help.’

‘Can I get anything else for you, sir?’ the girl volunteered, blushing beneath his evident appreciation.

‘There’s a very wet raincoat in the bathroom,’ he said. ‘Please remove it.’

‘Yes, sir.’ She hurried into the bathroom and picked up the dripping coat, and wrapped it in a towel to carry it out. ‘Can I do anything else for you, sir?’ she asked, as she walked back into the bedroom.

‘No, thank you, that will be all.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ she bobbed endearingly again. ‘If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen.’

She left, and Lord Michael gazed down at the disobedient young lady kneeling before him. Reaching forward he pulled the soggy towel from her hands. Her head was bowed, and the fire’s light flickered off her red highlights. He touched her hair. It was still slightly damp, but no longer wet.

‘Elizabeth,’ the feel of his hand on her hair touched her deeply, and she felt the tears well up, ‘look at me, Elizabeth.’

With wide eyes she met his gaze. ‘Lord Michael,’ she whispered meekly, ‘I’m so terribly sorry.’

‘Yes, I’m sure you are,’ he said, and the tears began to meander down her cheeks. ‘But the most important thing is you made it back safely.’

‘Will you ever forgive me?’

‘Of course, but you deliberately disobeyed me, and you will therefore be punished.’

She gulped. Of that she’d had no doubt, and punished severely she was sure. Not that she deserved less, she recognised that, which is something she would not have done only a little time before.

‘Take your hairbrush and get into bed,’ he went on. ‘You can brush your hair while you drink your tea.’

‘Yes, sir.’ She reached out and he embraced her, hugging her tightly, mostly from relief that she was indoors, dry and safe. She sniffled and coughed again, and he knew she was going to end up with a nasty cold.

‘Come on, you bad girl, under the covers.’ He helped her up and into bed, and she shivered a little again and sneezed. ‘Where do you keep your hankies?’ he asked.

‘In the top drawer of my dresser,’ she told him, and he quickly found them, and gathered her hairbrush as well. He handed the items to her and she gratefully took them, immediately blowing her nose then bursting into another fit of coughing.

‘Oh dear,’ she said nasally, the tip of her nose getting redder and redder, ‘I’m afraid I’m not feeling well at all.’

‘No, I’m sure you’re not,’ he said sagely. ‘We’ll get some hot tea into you, that will help a little.’

He went to the tray and poured them both a cup, pleased to see it was still steaming, and put some cakes on a plate.

‘Here you are,’ he said, placing the cup and saucer on her bedside table, along with the plate of food. She picked it up and sipped. It was heaven. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking sternly at her.

‘Now then, young lady, I’m not interested in any excuses,’ he said. ‘You were downright disobedient and just determined to have your own way, weren’t you, Elizabeth?’

‘Yes, sir,’ she replied quietly, sniffling again.

‘You’re to stay in bed for the rest of the day. I’ll have Grace bring you lunch on a tray, and then you are to sleep this afternoon. If you’re a good girl I’ll come up and have dinner with you.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she said sheepishly. ‘Thank you, sir.’

‘If you need anything just pull the cord. Otherwise, under no circumstances do I want to see you up and out of this bed.’ He patted the mattress beside her hip. ‘Is that clear?’

‘Yes, sir,’ she repeated, feeling well and truly admonished.

‘And rest assured, when you’re better your bottom will be redder than your nose is now, and I’ll use this hairbrush to make it so. However, that won’t be your only punishment, so think about that as you lay here recuperating.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she said, having no doubt whatsoever that he meant what he said.

‘Good. Now I’m going to change out of these damp clothes and get back to work. As soon as you’ve finished brushing your hair I want you to get some rest.’

‘Y-yes, sir,’ she stammered, ‘and thank you, sir.’

Lord Michael nodded, then without another word he picked up his shoes and socks and left the warm bedroom.

And Elizabeth did indeed come down with a very heavy cold, and there were further complications caused by the foul weather; it caused havoc with the roads.

Her father sent word to Lord Michael, asking if he could stay on for the week. Getting back to the country might be tricky, and returning to London might prove equally so for him. Lord Michael, still concerned about Elizabeth’s convalescing was more than pleased to do so. There was no business so urgently in need of his attention that he couldn’t stay on a little longer.

After several days of bed and lots of good food and constant attention, Elizabeth woke up on the third morning feeling almost back to her old self. Lord Michael insisted on another twenty-four hours of rest, and as she had no intention of displeasing him again she did not protest, even though she was frightfully bored.

On the fourth day she woke up with a clear head, no sniffles, and her throat was no longer sore. She smiled happily as Grace pulled open the drapes and stoked the fire. She was better, but the weather had not improved at all. It was teeming with rain for the fourth day in a row.