Nola (10 page)

Brandon's hand
went to her chin and tipped it up automatically. "I know. We'll work on that.
But this is what it's supposed to be like between a husband and wife." He
wanted to add "who care about each other" but he wasn't at all sure that that
would be appropriate quite yet. He knew he was beginning to feel something for
her - and although he wasn't at all sure that was really a good thing - but it
was undeniable. Only he had no idea if she felt anything for him beyond pure
annoyance, and, quite possibly, a healthy hate.

So he wasn't
about to stick his neck out, not yet, anyway. Perhaps sometime in the future,
if he sensed any sort of softening towards him on her part, but he knew that
was likely to take quite a while. But that was alright. She wasn't going anywhere,
and neither was he.

"It is?" Nola
had had a hard time reconciling her own marriage - which seemed volatile and
much too sensually oriented - with her image of her parents' marriage. They
most certainly couldn't be doing the same things together that she and her
husband were. Why, they hadn't slept in the same bed ever, that Nola knew, and
they almost never touched each other.
At least, not in front
of her.

The visions that
danced in her head when she thought about that topic made her want to wash her
mind out with soap.

"Yes, it is.
Married couples should want to be together, and enjoy each other - in and out
of the bedroom. That's a lot better than always being at each other's throats."

"Or over each
other's laps," Nola countered pointedly.

His own mental
image - of himself over her lap, which completely overwhelmed all of her, not
just her lap - had him grinning again, even in the face of her angry glare.
"I'm sorry, honey, but I'm always going to spank you when you get out of line,
or when you disobey me." Brandon reached around and squeezed a firm buttock,
reminding her of the most recent time he'd laid down his law on her rear.

She continued to
glare at him, but couldn't hold it when he used both hands to move her up and
down on his swollen shaft. Sometimes, Nola thought she couldn't bear the
pleasure he brought to her. Quickly, though, she began to move on her own - her
body gave her no choice at all.

Brandon was just
as happy to occupy himself with other things, most especially her breasts,
which bobbed enticingly up and down in front of him. But he didn't get grabby.
He wasn't rough or cruel. But he did remember exactly what she liked more than
anything, and pinched and twirled those impudent little nipples until they more
than matched the rosy red of her face, loving the way she arched and tried to
grab his hands away from her, then, seeing how ineffectual her attempts were,
her hands settled on his muscular forearms, using him as balance as she rode
him in an ever more violent spiral.

Near the end, he
let her tender nipples go in favor of claiming her hips again, slamming her
down onto him harder than she could herself, watching her avidly as she again
climbed to the summit and then let herself go, enjoying the sight of her in
such abandon almost as much as he was enjoying their joining.

At the end, he
shouted her name once, short and sharp, clutching her to him and emptying
himself into her helplessly.

When they
returned from their lost weekend, they were both more refreshed and relaxed,
and Geoffrey found that he was extremely happy at having interfered in the
small way he had, insisting that they spend some time upstate together. They
both looked much happier for it, and he figured that the happier they were, the
more likely they were to get to
producing
his first
grandchild.

As she had
feared, Brandon didn't try to prevent her from seeing Wilde. He just let her
know that he preferred if they didn't get together like it was some sort of
tete
a
tete
. He encouraged her to
invite Wilde over to Serenity, or for the three of them to get together for
lunch or dinner, and Nola could not have been more pleasantly surprised. He
wanted to get to know Wilde. She was amazed. Unfortunately, Wilde knew her a
bit too
well,
and she wasn't at all sure that that was
a good idea. Her bottom might well be the worse for it, especially if he got
Wilde talking about some of the things she'd done in regards to her women's
groups.

The next few
months made her change her mind completely about being married. At first she'd
been quite sure she was going to be completely miserable for the rest of her
life, and had become somewhat resigned to that idea. But Brandon had been very
attentive and much less surly of late, and she
was definitely
liking
this marriage idea - as long as he didn't revert to his former
type.

Her life was
getting a little bit more back to normal. She was stepping up her involvement
in various groups, and had even planned some trips to speak at rallies all
around the Northeast, as she had before she'd married.

The problem
was,
that she had neither consulted nor even told her
husband that she'd made those plans. Nola had a justifiable fear that if she
did, he'd become the ogre he'd bee when they'd first gotten married. So she
simply... avoided telling him until almost the very last minute, when Wilde was
to dinner one night, telling amusing anecdotes about his travels in Europe, and
he happened to mention her trip to Albany.

Dead silence
fell over the table, except for Wilde's sharp yelp as Nola's pointy footed boot
connected firmly with his shin.

"Your tripe
where?" her husband turned to her with a raised
eyebrowed
glare that she had come to know and hate.

"Well..."

Brandon's
grandfather, Alexander, came to her rescue, sort of. "You must have your dates
mixed, Wilde. Why, our dear Nola hasn't so much as hinted that she'd be leaving
us to our own devices this weekend. I'm sure you're mistaken."

But Brandon
corrected him, gently, if angrily. "No, Father, I don't think he's wrong. Our
dear Nola was most definitely going to leave us this weekend to go make sure
that the matrons of the Northeast all have the ability to cast their votes, or
leave their husbands, or whatever it is that she feels it necessary to leave
her family for without a word."

"I was going to
tell you!" she whined, throwing her napkin on her plate. "I just hadn't found
the right time."

Brandon stood,
taking a hold of Nola's wrist firmly and forcing her to rise. He addressed
their guest first, however.
"Wilde, thank you very much for
your company this evening.
I hope to see you again soon." He shook hands
with the other man, who rose and looked more than a little befuddled, and
turned, exiting the room abruptly, tugging his reluctant wife along behind him.

Nola could hear
Wilde asking his father and grandfather if they thought she'd be all right, and
they were trying to reassure him, but she didn't think they were going to be
very successful at it.

Her husband
pulled her ahead of him, and followed her up the stairs. Of course, she was no
fool, and she was taking them just about as slowly as was humanly possible, at
least until he began to apply the flat of his hand to her bottom with each step
she took. That made her quicken her steps, but he kept up with her easily, so
essentially she received a good warm up spanking before they'd even made it to
their room.

When they did
finally get there, he turned and closed the door behind them, then just stood
there, glaring at her as she bustled about the room getting undressed. "Just
when did you intend to tell me about this trip, Nola?
As you
were waving good bye on the train?
Or were you just going to up and
disappear for a weekend, and figure that that was perfectly acceptable?"

She didn't want
to look at him. She didn't want to look at him. Nola kept repeating that phrase
in her mind. Maybe if she didn't look at him, he wouldn't be angry with her,
and she wouldn't have inadvertently ruined the fragile truce between him. It
seemed to her that she was damned if she did and damned if she didn't, and now
she was being called on the carpet because she didn't.

"I was going to
tell you. I was just looking for the right time."

He jumped on
that immediately. "I don't know that there is a right time to say something
like that to your husband. Most couples plan trips together."

She almost
looked at him. He almost tripped her up there, but she busied herself rolling
down her stockings instead. "It never came to mind that you might want to
attend a women's suffrage meeting." Frankly, she thought the idea was patently
ridiculous, but if he wanted to come, he certainly could.

"I don't, but
that doesn't mean I'm going to let you go alone." He would have gone, if he
could have gotten this weekend off. But the truth was that there were some very
delicate negotiations going on about an acquisition that he really felt would
be an asset to the family company, and he just couldn't spare the time away
from work right now, or he would most definitely have accompanied her.

Brandon knew
that she was doing all of this. He didn't know if she thought he was completely
oblivious to her role in various suffrage groups, or what. But he'd know before
he'd married her that she felt very strongly about this cause, strongly enough
that she'd darned near ended up in the clink several times, and had actually
been beaten up once by members of an angry male mob.

He wasn't about
to let his wife face that kind of thing alone. He already had a tail on her
whenever she left the house, someone to protect her just in case, but that man
had specific orders not to jump in unless she was in imminent danger of being
harmed or arrested. He would accompany her on her trips because he would need
to for peace of mind, and would hire even more body guards just for that
reason, not including the fact that he'd be beside her the entire time, eagle
eyed and watchful of any potential harm that might befall her.

Her tone was as
icy as he'd ever heard it. "There isn't any 'let' involved, Mr. Sawyer. I'm a
woman, not your chattel. I haven't used any of your money for this trip, you
don't need to worry. If you like, I could even travel under my maiden name, so
that Sawyer Industries aren't connected with my nefarious activities."

So he was Mr.
Sawyer again, was he? In the space of five minutes, all of that good will
they'd built together had just evaporated apparently. Well, he had to put his
foot down. "I'm sorry, Nola, but I don't want you to go on this trip."

"I'm sorry,
Brandon, but I'm going on this trip." Somehow, making a declaration like that
while naked made it lack a certain conviction. But she slid under the covers
and turned out her bedside light, so that he was just standing by the door in
the darkness.

She thought she
might actually have gotten away with the last word.

She should have
known better.

Chapter
Seven

He crossed
easily to his side of the bed and lit his lamp. Parts of the old house were
wired for electricity, and parts weren't, as if his father thought that it was
some sort of a fad or something. So their bedside lamps were still kerosene.

"You didn't
really think that that was going to be the end of this... discussion, did you?"
He asked rhetorically, his eyebrow up.

Nola frowned
darkly. "I had hoped."

Brandon arranged
himself on the bed, leaning back against a pile of pillows, saying, "Hand me
your hairbrush, please, Nola."

The ogre was
back. The phrase flitted through her head as she did as she was told, knowing
all too well the consequences of not obeying him when he was like this.

He took the big
brush from her and used his other hand to tug her over his lap, reaching across
her waist to hold her far hip tightly, so that she couldn't go anywhere, or
reach back and protect what would very soon be her poor, sore bottom. "Now," he
began sternly. "We are going to have a talk, you and I, about making plans to
leave your poor husband for a weekend without so much as consulting him." He
gave her five hard swats before he continued.

If she hadn't
been in this position, she might have smiled at the very idea of him being a
"poor" anything, but this was neither the time nor the place.

"I don't have a
problem with you supporting your causes. Granted, I wish they were a bit less
controversial, but I'm not trying to stop you from doing whatever it is that
you do." He gave her ten crisp smacks, landing them up and down her bottom and
the tender backs of her thighs, deliberately landing several swats in exactly
the same places for effect. "But I am going to insist on accompanying you
wherever you go. So if you have any more of these planned, you need to let me
know now, and I'll see which ones we can go to." He emphasized the "we" with
both his voice, and the hairbrush.

"I've been going
alone since I was fourteen!" she wailed, partly in anger and partly in pain.

That got him to
stop spanking her. "You're kidding me?"

"No."

She'd never lied
to him, so he had to believe her. He snorted incredulously. Their fourteen year
old daughter most certainly wasn't going to be going to dangerous rallies,
period. End of sentence. He was amazed that her parents had let her go.