Elizabeth's Education (Forbidden Lust) (7 page)

He walked away without a second look, and sighing with resignation, she poked around for Smithy’s cleaning implements. She found them in a small cupboard and started rummaging through all the rags and brushes, and then as she picked at the hardening mud, being careful not to scratch the quality leather, she sighed again, because when she had thought Lord Michael a force to be reckoned with, she had no idea how accurate her assessment would prove to be.

Lord Michael cleaned up, then made his way to the dining room. He was pleased with his morning’s work, but he was suffering from a growing unease.

He had trained many recalcitrant young women in the past, but something about Elizabeth was different. He had felt it from the moment he first saw her at a summer ball, teasing a hapless young admirer, and on several occasions since he had found it difficult to keep his eyes from following her.

Once he was in control of her, he decided, and she became the sweet submissive female she was born to be, she would be just like the others. She was a project, a pleasurable one to be sure, but a diversion nonetheless.

Though he had to admit at the cabin she had looked particularly lovely and he felt something unexpected stirring. Something unfamiliar, making it difficult to suppress his desire to embrace her. It was not a feeling he’d often experienced before.

He brushed the memory aside, refusing to allow it entry, but as he made his way down the stairs he could not disperse it. The little minx was getting under his skin.

He opened the door to the dining room and sat at the long table to enjoy luncheon. Still particularly hungry, he rang the little bell by his placing.

‘Here you are, sir,’ said cook, bustling in. ‘Some lovely oxtail soup, and I’ll be bringing you some pâté when you’re done with that.’

She was a merry, overweight woman, with a twinkle in her bright blue eyes and a cheery word for everyone. She looked around, clearly puzzled. ‘Won’t Miss Elizabeth be joining you, sir?’ she asked.

‘No, cook,’ he said, shaking his head, and cook frowned and waited. ‘As a matter of fact, I have instructed Miss Elizabeth to dine with you today, in the kitchen,’ he explained. ‘She’s to eat whatever I cannot finish.’

Cook raised her eyebrows in astonishment. ‘Oh, I don’t know if Miss Elizabeth will be pleased with that arrangement, sir,’ she opined. ‘Though I’m very happy to have her, it might—’

He held up his hand with an amiable smile on his face, and she stopped speaking immediately. ‘It’s taken care of, cook. Simply set a place for her. I want you to address her as you would a common girl from the neighbourhood. I simply want to teach her a little humility, that’s all. Will you help?’

Cook rocked back her happy round face, and laughed out loud. ‘Why sir, I’d be delighted,’ she boomed heartily. ‘A little humility is just what that little madam needs, if you don’t mind my saying so, sir. I’d be happy to do my bit, sir. Very happy indeed. When should I expect her little highness to dine with me?’

She shook a little as she chuckled at her own slightly derisive quip, and Lord Michael smiled warmly. The woman was a gem.

‘I suspect in about forty-five minutes or so,’ he told her.

‘Very well, sir,’ she said, winking, ‘and I’ll be out with your pâté in a few ticks, sir.’

‘Thank you, cook,’ he replied. ‘Thank you very much indeed.’

He settled down to the soup she’d served, and found the hot rich broth delicious and comforting. As he looked at the empty place across from him, he had to admit he missed having Elizabeth nearby. Damn, but she was a delightful temptress and no mistake.

Meanwhile, at the backdoor Elizabeth had just finished cleaning his boots. There was dirt under her fingernails, but she was too generally bedraggled to care. She placed Smithy’s cleaning supplies neatly back in the box, exactly as she had found them, then returned it to the cupboard. It did not occur to her that she was being so diligent because it was the right thing to do, nor did she ponder the thought of further punishment if she left a mess. She was too tired to consider that she never put things away after her, that it had always been someone else’s job to run around in her wake.

As she placed Lord Michael’s boots against the wall, beneath the hat rack, she actually smiled with pride. They positively shone with lustre, and she congratulated herself on a job very well done.

She could now, finally, go up to her room and soak away her aches in a steaming hot tub.

She trudged to the back stairs and went up them as fast as her weary bones would allow. The pain from the switch had eased, and as soon as she made her way into the bedroom she began peeling off her dishevelled and grubby clothes. By the time she was in her bathroom she was already undressed, and she turned on the taps full force. She lovingly eyed the hot, steaming water, willing it to fill the tub quickly. She threw in some scented oil, and before the bath was even half full she gingerly lowered herself in.

The punished flesh of her bottom protested and she winced slightly, then sighed as she sunk down, and laying her head back, closed her eyes, listening to the comforting sound of the running water. Never before had a bath felt so good. Poor Smithy, she thought; she had gathered only one load of wood and cleaned only one pair of boots, whereas he spent all day every day doing that and more and a million and one other chores around the house and grounds. How on earth did he do it?

With the tub full she leaned forward and turned off the taps. With the cake of soap she began scrubbing her hands and arms, and then scrubbed her nails. It was quite a job, but she managed to get them clean, then she craned back her neck until her head was submerged, and felt her knotty tresses loosen in the freeing movement of the fragrant water. When satisfied she lifted her head, lounged back, closed her eyes, and relaxed.

Her mind drifted to a bitterly cold winter night, snow on the ground outside, a large soft bed, and he was standing over her. The fire danced in the hearth, casting moving shadows around the room, and he leaned down, kissing her gently on the lips.

‘You are a very good girl,’ he said tenderly. ‘You need a firm hand, but you are a very good girl.’

She moaned with pleasure, a shiver ran through her and her eyes popped open. She didn’t know how long she had been there, but now the water was barely warm. She was about to call to Grace when her smarting bottom reminded her that the maid was not available. She also realised she was hungry, so she got out of the tub, dried herself quickly, and wrapped her hair in a towel.

Then she went to her dresser, chose a set of fresh underwear, pulled them on, tying them hurriedly, then opening the door of her wardrobe grabbed the first thing she saw. It was a very simple white cotton frock.

Unwrapping the damp towel she then ran a brush through her hair to clear any tangles. Normally she would have spent an age making sure it was just right, but on this occasion vanity was the last thing on her mind.

Finally she slipped on a pair of satin slippers.

Almost running along the landing and down the back stairs she exploded into the kitchen, startling cook, who was just putting some dishes away.

‘Heavens, girl!’ she exclaimed. ‘You near gave me a heart attack, bursting in here like that.’

‘I’m so sorry, cook,’ she panted.

Cook almost fell over; in all the years she had worked for the family it was the first time she’d heard the young lady apologise. She would never have spoken to Elizabeth in the manner that she had either, had it not been for Lord Michael’s attitude. Like a common girl from the neighbourhood, he had said. Well, if a common girl from the neighbourhood had come rushing in that way she would have spoken to her exactly as she had. And if cook had known her well, a sharp rap across the knuckles with her wooden spoon would not have been far behind. ‘Sit yourself down then,’ she said, bustling about, removing Elizabeth’s lunch from the stove.

Elizabeth had rarely felt so hungry in her life, and everything she ate tasted delicious, and by the end of the simple meal she was showering cook with compliments.

‘My, you were hungry, Miss Elizabeth,’ said the bustling woman. ‘You’re usually such a picky eater.’

Elizabeth sat back in her chair and sighed. ‘Well, I’ve had quite a busy morning, cook,’ she disclosed.

The ruddy woman suppressed a smile, wondering just what Lord Michael had been up to. ‘His lordship is waiting for you in the sitting room,’ she announced, delivering his message. ‘He wanted to see you after you finished your meal.’

To cook’s surprise the young woman jumped up from the scrubbed pine table, thanked her a second time and left the kitchen, obviously eager not to keep the gentleman waiting.

Lord Michael was resting easily in a capacious armchair, the cool afternoon a perfect excuse for a fire. He had allowed himself the luxury of imagining how sweet it would be to feel Elizabeth’s lissom body laying submissively beside him, but the sound of the sitting room door opening brought him back to the moment. He looked up.

‘My lord,’ Elizabeth said, shyly entering the room. She looked quite angelic in her simple white cotton dress.

‘Come here, Elizabeth,’ he said fondly.

She walked over, instinctively kneeling in front of him as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do. The fire cast her in a warm glow.

Her hair, still quite damp, was falling in haphazard ringlets to her shoulders, and the cotton dress showed off her figure enticingly, outlining her nipples. He felt himself stir, and allowed the comfortable silence to hang in the air as he inhaled the fresh scent of her. He adored how she was kneeling before him, her eyes filled with uneasy expectancy.

He gently guided her cheek to rest upon his knee, closed his eyes and stroked her hair. Her lustrous curls wrapped around his fingers, and he couldn’t help but imagine the taking of her maidenhead, feeling himself stir again mere inches from her soft lips.

‘Elizabeth,’ he said, and she raised her head to look at him. ‘Tell me how you feel.’

She thought for a moment, before saying, ‘Full of grace, sir.’

He had asked many women to describe their initial feelings in submission, and had never heard it phrased so eloquently. He reached under her arms and pulled her up onto his lap, and she snuggled into him.

‘That’s very good to know, Elizabeth,’ he whispered.

‘I wish only to please you, sir,’ she replied softly, surprising herself with the sincerity of the response.

He placed a hand under her chin, raising her face. He touched his lips to hers and she quivered, thrilled by the kiss. His lips travelled to her cheek, kissed her lightly a few times, then slowly down to her throat, just beneath her delicate ear, feeling her gentle pulse. She swooned and felt completely breathless, and gasped as she felt a strong hand cup one of her breasts, sending a dizzying chill down her spine, making her tremble.

Reluctantly he moved his hand from her soft breast, and took a deep breath. ‘All right, Elizabeth,’ he said, regaining his composure. ‘Let me take a good look at you. Stand up.’

She had difficulty obeying the instruction. Her knees were weak and she felt quite faint, to the extent that he steadied her as she rose from his lap, then catching her breath she stood obediently in front of him.

‘You’re not terribly well turned out, are you, Elizabeth?’ he commented, frowning a little.

She felt her face flush. ‘No, sir,’ she admitted, now sorry she had not taken more time and trouble over her appearance.

‘Why is that? Do I not warrant care and attention to your person?’

‘Oh, yes sir, of course you do, sir,’ she said insistently. ‘I was just hungry and therefore in a hurry,’ she answered, knowing it was a feeble excuse.

‘That is not acceptable, Elizabeth,’ he admonished sternly. Go back up to your room and make yourself more presentable. Before you do, however, bring me my boots for inspection. I trust they are well polished?’

‘Yes sir,’ she replied. ‘You’ll have no cause for complaint, sir.’

‘Off you go then, and be quick about it.’ With an indifferent wave he dismissed Elizabeth as though suddenly intensely bored of her presence, and she could not quite believe how deep that attitude stung her – only a few hours before she would not have cared one jot about what he, or anyone for that matter, thought of her.

As the door closed behind her Lord Michael inhaled deeply. He stood up and paced back and forth in front of the fire, deep in thought. He simply did not normally respond to women in such a profound way as this. He wandered over to the windows and gazed distractedly out. The beauty of the grounds calmed him, but something on the floor, near the desk, caught his eye.