Rebellious Bride (6 page)

Grabbing her
back with a mighty tug, Neville had run out of words. The first
imple-ment
from his closet that he could find was in his
hand. Thrusting his daughter over his desk, the wooden paddle was coming down
on his
daugh-ter’s
rear end with vigorous force.

“Father,
stop!” she roared, trying to wig-
gle
away.

“You
don’t remain still, I’ll tie you down!” he vowed, the paddle hitting its
mark over and over, Abigail’s lightweight skirt doing little to protect her
from the ferocious sting.

“I hate
you!” she roared once more.

“Neville,
stop!” The sudden sound of Aaron Barrow’s voice rose wrathfully above the
thunderous din of father and daughter, for an instant halting all noise in the
sweltering library - and everywhere else throughout the stunned household.

“Aaron!”
Neville
McPhearson
said, acknowledging his
son-in-law.

“What’s
happening here?” he demanded to know.

“Quite
obvious, I think,” Neville answered. “Your wife has behaved like a
negli
-gent brat. She’s getting her due.”

“I
appreciate your concern, Mr.
McPhearson
, but if my
wife’s bottom is to suffer for her disobedience, I’ll be punishing it.”
Neville nodded.

Rising from
her bent over position, Abigail looked at her husband’s offered hand. She was
shaking like a leaf, the young wife not knowing which was worse, her father’s
stern reprimand, or her husband’s potent rage, so
evi
-dent
in the dark demeanor of his face and the scowl on his lips.

“Abigail!”
Aaron barked at her.

Seeing his
firm resolve, feeling how it had the power to command in a way her father never
could command her, her resistance to him melted away, even though her fear did
not. Taking his hand, she moved to his side, though she was hardly comforted by
his waiting arm.

“If you
don’t mind, the paddle will do, sir,” Aaron said, not at all interested in
comfort-
ing
his wife.

Neville
McPhearson
handed his son-in-law the implement, admiring
the younger man’s staunch determination.

“You’ll
bend over the desk and do this properly,” Aaron said, staring down at his
wife, giving her just a bit of shove.

“Here?”
she asked meekly.

“Here,”
he confirmed, his eyes making clear his motive, so there was no doubt in her
mind.

Pushing her to
the desk, she was obliged to bend over as she had before, though not with the
protest and struggling that had accompanied the row with her father. Once in
position, Aaron flung her skirt up over her bottom, and yanked her drawers to
her ankles, her gleaming white cheeks, with just a faint blush of red appearing
for the eyes of her parents and husband to see.

“And I’d
better not hear you wail, my love, or I’ll be going on all night,” Aaron
warned her.

Standing to
her side, Aaron aimed the implement for the center of her posterior and
let-ting it fly, the paddle smacked her soundly in the center of her naked
cheeks.

“Oh,
ouch,” she moaned, even though she tried keeping the distress to herself.

The paddle was
harsh and firmly laid, the wound inflicted a wicked sting that began where it
stuck and radiated outward, so it seemed that Abigail was feeling it
everywhere. Smack after smack landed, Aaron’s strong arm coming down with a
mighty vengeance. Though he wasn’t cruel, he was passionate and severe, a
testament to the raging anger that he’d nurtured on the
anx-iousjourney
to find his missing wife. Seeing her bottom quickly turn a blazing scarlet,
Aaron began to slow. The punishment was meant to be brief and to the point,
going on for several
unfor
-giving minutes, until his
anger was somewhat spent and Abigail was sobbing miserably - as much from
humiliation as pain. Though the pain could hardly be bad as he’d been advised
Abigail could endure, it was certainly enough to get his immediate point
across. Regardless of the intent however, he didn’t consider the punishment
complete.

When Aaron at
last ended the spanking, he caught his breath, and the three adults stared at
Abigail’s punished bottom for some seconds.

“I think
that will do for a while,” Aaron said, and he pulled his wife to her feet.

The poor young
woman was feeling
hor-ribly
mortified. The whole
house heard, she was certain of that; and the way her own parents stared at
her, she couldn’t help but blush.

“We’ll be
riding home now,” Aaron said, turning to Neville.

“Such a
late hour? Perhaps you should stay the night,” he offered. The man looked
quite bewildered. For the first time in Abigail’s life she had seen her father
bested by another man, though that was hardly something to
cele-brate
.

“There
are matters between husband and wife that need to be settled in the privacy of
our own home,” Aaron said. “I assure you, Abigail will not be running
off to you again. Now,” he said turning to his wife, “apologize to
your
fam-ily
.”

The chagrined
young woman looked from her father to her husband, to the gleaming tear filled
eyes of her mother. “I . . I . . I’m so very sorry,” she said, her
face still as flushed as her bottom.

Her father
nodded, while her mother reached out and stroked her hand briefly. Aaron,
seeing that his business in this house was done for the night, nodded to his
wife to restore her clothes. Once done, the two left Neville and Margaret
McPhearson
standing somewhat awestruck in their library.

Doors were
gently closing through the house, as the young couple left, the hoopla over for
an evening, a strange feeling of finality grip ping the place. Abigail had
indeed been handed over to her husband, there would be no doubt in anyone’s
mind after this rude night.

The silence of
their ride home was only interrupted by a few pointed comments from Aaron.

“I should
really make you ride with your sore behind on the horse,” he said, as he
was helping her into the carriage, allowing Biscuit to be tied to the rig
behind them.

“You have
no idea how I worried over you,” he said. “It makes me angry still to
think of it.”

Abigail didn’t
have a response to either retort, not finding any words to speak, except a
meek, “I’m sorry.

Much later,
after Abigail had napped a bit, her head falling naturally to her husband’s
shoulder, she was warmed to feel his hand reach out to her thigh and caress it.
Yes, she supposed he still loved her, despite her bad behavior and his wicked
temper. Maybe things would really be all right.

Arriving home
in the wee hours before dawn, Aaron said nothing, but carried her to bed in his
arms. Between the comforting downy covers they found themselves pressed tightly
to each other, their loins locked, Aaron’s hand grip-ping her aching behind
firmly, his erection deep within her.

To Abigail’s
satisfaction, what had apparently not been worked out with her father’s paddle
was taken care of with their loving pas
sions
.
Restoring a sense of order to her life with this love making, Abigail was
pleasantly exhausted at the finish, glad at last to look
lov-ingly
in her husband’s eyes.

“I see
you’ve calmed, my love,” Aaron said.

“I think
so. Though I still don’t like the idea of this move, you’ve convinced me in
many ways that I should go with you there.”

“I’m glad
to hear that, Abby,” Aaron said. “Though I hope, you don’t think I’m
fin-
ished
punishing you for your foolish jaunt to
your parent’s house.”

“Not
finished? How do you mean?” she asked, startled by his announcement.

He reached
inside her nightgown and felt for her bottom one more time, his hand at the
moment, warm and soothing.

“Your
shenanigans have hardly been punished enough, and you know it,” he said
sternly. “We’ll be meeting in the barn in the morning to finish what I
could only begin under your father’s roof.”

“Aaron,
no!” she wailed her indignation.

“Abigail,
yes,” he stated firmly. His eyes narrowing, his jaw as firm as ever, he
silenced her with the look, so that she turned away from him, and remained
awake a long time, thinking how unfair it was. Certainly her crime should have
been absolved by now.

The husband
and wife ate their breakfast in a gloomy quiet, brought on by the pending
feeling of doom Abigail was feeling in her heart.

“Haven’t
you chastised me enough, total-
ly
humiliating me in
front of my family last night,” she said sulking?

“Chastised
enough?” Aaron looked at her, astounded she should think such a thing.

“Why yes.
I merely did what any young woman would do under the circumstances, sought the
comfort of my mother. You can hard-
ly
find fault in
that,” she sassed.

“You
petulant little brat!” Aaron declared, his temper returning in an instant.
“I’m glad I’m going to whip your bottom again. You obviously have no
appreciation for the
ter-ror
you struck in my
heart.”

“Terror?”
She looked dumbfound.

“Terror,
yes. Walking into my home to find you gone, vanished into thin air, no note, no
message, not a single clue as to your where-
abouts
,
except that Biscuit had disappeared too. I was sure at the outset you were off
to a neigh-
bor’s
, but when you weren’t home for
dinner, I was in a panic. Not only was your response to my announcement about
our move completely out of line, your reckless flight was foolhardy and dangerous
both. If you don’t realize that fact, then perhaps I’ll just have to
wail
on your behind until you appreciate the worry you
caused.”

Surprised by
Aaron’s litany of com-plaints, Abigail could think of little to say, though she
tried hard.

“Isn’t there
some other way I could make this up to you?” she asked meekly.

“No,”
he said without reservation. “You’ll finish your chores and meet me in the
barn. And if I hear anything that even approach
es
that nasty tongue you displayed yesterday, I’ll not only strap you, I’ll find a
birch as well.”

“So,
you’re not going to the mill?” she inquired.

“Not
until we have this settled,” he said. And saying nothing more, Aaron rose
from his chair and left the kitchen, and his wife. The pouting young woman was
so filled with both fury and arousal, she was trembling all the way to her
toes. She realized the extent of her
hus
-band’s
reproach was beyond anything she expected of him.

Abigail
stalled as long as she could, doing her chores more perfectly than she’d ever
done them - the kitchen in particular was spot less. Though stall as she would,
she knew she had no choice but to get the horrible thing over with. While she’d
worked, she fumed, all the anger she’d felt the day before was as fresh and
vivid as ever.

The idea of
the man to control her this way. It was just like her father!

And yet,
unlike her father, Aaron held something over her that she couldn’t deny, though
it only made her angrier feeling the way his stern command seemed to arouse
her. Aaron loved her and she loved him, and try as she might to hate the very
ground that he walked on, there was no way she could accomplish that. Just the
previous night’s love making reminded her of the deep feeling of need to have
him close and caring for her, and yes, even exerting his authority over her.

Try as she
might to settle the angry brew inside her, however, she was forced to face the
inevitable, forced to appear for her punishment as Aaron had commanded.

From the house
to the barn, Abigail tip-toed just inside the door looking for her husband,
finding him working in one far corner of the building. Approaching him
cautiously, she had concocted a plan, that if it worked, just might prevent the
next hour from becoming as painful as her previous evening had been.

“Aaron,
love, I’m here,” she said, cock-
ing
her head
slightly to one side and delivering her message sweetly.

Her husband
turned to her with none too sweet an expression.

“I’m
sorry, I really am. You made me think, I mean really think how silly, how
terribly unwise it was to make that trip yesterday. I know I wasn’t very
contrite before, but you’ve made me understand.”

Aaron eyed her
suspiciously. “Is this a ploy to get me to change my mind?”

“Of
course not,” Abigail assured him. She moved closer to him, her chest heaving
as she breathed. She thought of the day some weeks before, when their passions
had hastily brewed while a thunderstorm raged outside the barn, and there,
right there in the clean straw, Aaron had made love to her, pouring all his
manly affections into her wild and willing body. Taking his hand in hers now,
she caressed it gen-
tly
. “I just wanted you to
know how terrible I really feel. Sometimes I’m horribly selfish, and I don’t
think of you, and that really is the
prob-lem
, don’t
you think?”