Regency Rogues Omnibus (120 page)

He stood, walking back to where Arabella reclined on the settee. He was pleased that she’d not moved as he’d requested. He also saw her curiosity over the package and as soon as the room was warm, he would reveal it to her. Bending, he searched for and found Arabella’s feet beneath the coverlet, he lifted them so he could sit, and then he placed them in his lap. Arabella was uniquely docile.

“I am sorry about the fire, Darth. I must have fallen asleep.” She looked innocent with only her head peaking above the covers.

“I was merely worried that you would catch chill anew, Arabella. It is fine now and the room will be warm soon.” He picked up one of her feet underneath the coverlet and began to rub at its dainty arch. She did not startle from ticklishness, but her flaxen eyes grew large.

“Did you have a pleasant ride?” Arabella ventured tentatively, wanting to turn Darth’s attention to the package, but unsure how to broach the subject without angering him.

“Um, tis a beautiful day and Raven was eager for the run. Of course he always is.”

Darth’s eyes were closed as he continued to massage her foot, sending pleasurable murmurs up to her knees. “Raven? Is that your horse?”

“Stallion, Arabella, and yes, he is mine. Do you ride?”

Darth took her other foot up into his warm hand and Arabella realized his hands were nicely calloused. “No, Darth, I do not know how.”

Darth eyes opened, gazing at her, and his hands never stopped their motion as he fondled her toes. To Arabella it was as if there were two separate conversations going on. One of voices and another with strong warm hands.

“Then, I shall teach you some day. It is a useful accomplishment. And now, I think that the room is warm enough. Would you like to see what I brought you?”

Arabella kept herself from jumping up, thinking it was wise not to make an abundant commotion over the clothing. Especially since Darth was so against it. “Yes,” she answered as demure as she could. Taking her time as Darth swung her feet to the floor.

“Go and stand by the fire for me, Arabella.”

It was dark and the only light in the room was the fire, so Arabella reasoned that Darth wanted her there so she could see more clearly what he had gotten her. Darth picked up the package and came to stand beside her in front of the fireplace. He set the package on the mantel.

“Close your eyes, Arabella, and do not open them until I tell you. If you do not obey me, I will not give you the clothes.”

She wanted those clothes.
It was nearly becoming a judicious right in her mind, not unlike fighting for one’s country. Arabella closed her eyes tight, counseling herself not to open them no matter what occurred. She would not lose the clothes by default. Darth’s hands were at the buttons of the shirt she wore and she could feel his warm breath on her cheek.

“I want to put it on you, little dove, so keep still.”

A rush of goose bumps feathered lightly over Arabella’s skin. That meant Darth intended to bare her again and she had to keep her eyes closed.
Oh,
but
she wanted those clothes. Darth began to peel back the shirt before she could think what to do. Clenching her eyes, Arabella told herself that Darth had seen her this way before. He did not just pull the shirt off her shoulders and down her arms. It was more akin to peeling. Very slowly.

Her breathing quickened as she felt the heat of Darth’s body radiating against her skin, from where he stood so close in front of her. She cautioned herself to keep her eyes shut as she felt the shirt brush the back of her calves, and then pool at her feet.

“You are beautiful, Arabella.” Darth’s mouth brushed the hair over her ear as he spoke and his words gave her more goose bumps. She wanted to ask him if he really meant it. She’d never thought of herself as beautiful, although her mother had always said that she was. “Do not move now. I need to undo the package.”

Darth looked down at Arabella in the firelight. She was a fire nymph with glowing skin and ripening curves. If his plan worked, he would have more command over her, and be rid of the damned clothing question for now. He imagined by the time he was ready to clothe Arabella regularly, he would think that state enticing for its novelty.
Never!
This was the only way he wished to see her, and he had ten years’ worth of yearning inside of him for the sight of a woman’s flesh.

He wanted to be comfortable, so he walked to the chair and took off his shirt, boots and loosened the ties to his breeches. Then he returned to the mantel beside his golden and full-bodied nymph, who happened to have tautly budded nipples.
Christ
, he did not want to cover her up, even with the little piece of transparent fluff that he’d bought.

“Raise your arms, Arabella ... that’s right, high over your head.” Darth commanded himself to his task, tearing his eyes away from Arabella’s elevated bosom and the curly sable thatch between her thighs. Quickly, he slipped the piece of confection that he was calling clothing over her head. “Do not peek,” he warned, and then he let it slide down over Arabella’s exquisite body. The sheer silk garment only came to the middle of her thighs and on the high side at that.
Perfect
, he thought as he stepped back and realized the flimsy veil of clothing was very enticing, even though it really covered nothing at all. It must feel like...

“Darth?” Arabella, questioned. Interrupting his thoughts. Her face showed her confusion as he stepped backward, and said, “Open your eyes, little dove, and see the piece of clothing that I have brought you.” Darth ran a hand through his thick hair, and then he retreated to the chair.

Chapter Twelve

Arabella felt something light and caressing flutter over her skin. Everywhere it touched was like the soft brush of feathers. She was so caught in the sensation of how it felt against her skin that she nearly forgot anything else. Then she realized that it barely covered her bottom and the material, if one could call it that was as light as air. No gown could ever be this short or light. That was when she’d questioned Darth in confusion. Still, she remembered to keep her eyes closed. Her next thought was that surely this was only an undergarment, of a sort, that her less than worldly ways knew anything about. That was until Darth said that she should look at the piece of clothing that he had gotten her.

One!
Suspicion raised Arabella’s alarms, and she opened her eyes to look down at her body. A body she had not thought to see, with a decent piece of clothing on. But she could see, and she could see all of her body. It was as though she only wore a light transparent film. What it was she could not say. It had arm holes, sleeves, and a tiny collar of lace, and there was an edging of lace all around its flared hem.

“Darth, this is indecent!” she cried in dismay. “Surely this cannot be the clothing you have brought me. This can’t be the only piece!” She looked in disbelief to Darth, and saw that he was sprawled in the wing chair, bare-chested with his long legs crossed at the ankle in front of him. The firelight played devilishly across his face, with his manner bordering on insolent.

“It is the clothing, Arabella. The only you will receive for now.” He would not tell Arabella of the other clothes, unless necessity demanded it, and the only necessity he could envision for quite some time was that he wanted to take her riding. He’d known from his first intention that Arabella would be angry, yet he was totally unprepared for what happened next.

Arabella’s anger exploded. “You lied to me!” she cried.

Arabella was so swiftly consumed with fury that she could barely see clearly. She only knew in which direction the culprit lay, and she rushed at Darth like an avenging angel with her hair flying and her fingers curled.

“You lying, vile, cheating. Cheating-!” And then, Arabella thought of it. “Bastard!”

It was a word that she’d heard the sailors aboard the ship use and it sounded like a fine word to describe, Darth. Although she was not entirely certain what it meant, it sounded superb in her fury. So she shouted it again, just as she balled her fist on her headlong journey to reach Darth. Whereby, she punched him squarely in his stomach. Immediately, she heard the air leave his lungs and she felt victorious satisfaction as the pain of her punch exploded into her hand.

My god, Arabella had hit him
, Darth thought, and it was not a puny punch that hit his hard stomach! He felt its effects as woofing air left his lungs. He was stunned, and therefore less prepared for what happened next. Screaming that he was a liar, Arabella fell on him by tooth and nail. She pummeled his chest, tried to bite his ear, did pull his hair, and even loosened some of it he feared. Worse, she did all of this before he had the wits to stop her. Yet that clump of hair, ripped from his scalp, brought him around, as he bellowed and grabbed Arabella’s wrists, pushing her backward off him. She tried to kick his shins, but it did not hurt him with only her bare feet, as she struggled, tugged, and twisted her wrists. “Let me go, you beast! You, liar, you-you ... Bastard!” she cried.

Bastard!
My god, she would not call him that. How dare she? Darth sat forward in the chair and shoved Arabella’s flaying body face down over his lap. He grabbed her wrists, pulling them around to the small of her back, holding them while the flat of his free palm smacked against her wriggling bare ass, before he even realized what he was doing.
Smack!
The sound, and then the sting on his palm, brought him such a feeling of grand satisfaction over his anger that he did it again ... and then once again.

“It is what you deserve, you screaming hellion!” he bellowed.

He released Arabella’s wrists in his agitation and continued to spank her soundly. Hitting her hands at times as she tried unsuccessfully to cover her bare and squirming buttocks, while he just shoved her hands out of his way and smacked her naked ass cheeks again. Woofs of air expelled from her with each smack of his palm and he noticed finally that her supple buttocks were marked red. He stopped abruptly, realizing he was breathing heavily.

“Are you finished, you lying brute?” Arabella’s voice was choked with tears and filled with aversion.

“You will not speak to me that way, Arabella,” he threatened, then he raised his hand and she flinched.

“No, Darth, please!” Her hands turned, palms upward, trying to cover her naked buttocks. He stopped his hand’s motion and she squirmed over his thighs. He leaned back in the chair, holding her over his lap.

“You will understand, Arabella, I am now your master in all things,” he finally said, then he stood, effectively dumping her onto the floor at his feet, as he merely stepped over her to stalk away.

Arabella tore at the hated garment Darth had given her, pulling it off her body as she tried to stop her tears. She cast a wary glance at Darth, who had his back to her, facing the fire. She could see the angry tension bunched in the muscles of his bare back. He stood with his legs splayed straight and his fists curled at his hips. Even as she felt the lingering burn on her buttocks she knew that Darth had a right to be angry.

A powerful man, such as he was, would never tolerate such an attack, and she was even appalled that she’d physically tried to harm him. It did matter that he had lied to her! Only not so much that she should have hit him or pulled out his hair. Darth’s entire structure exuded raw masculine power, tightly held at bay, and she found herself grateful that a spanking was all she’d gotten for her crime. She prayed it was all.

Her hand shook as she dared to reach for the shirt she’d worn earlier, which was tossed on the chair she now hugged against. Her fingers shook badly as they touched the silk material, she did not want to be spanked again. Her buttocks burned fiercely as she fought back her tears. To be spanked like an errant child, pulled over a man’s lap and spanked. It was horrible, embarrassing, and humbling.

She hugged the shirt in front of her, unable to find the nerve to put it on. She should not have gotten so angry. She never realized that she could be so fierce and she began to shake again just thinking about it. It seemed that she was no longer in control of her emotions. They were raging out of control from one extreme to the other. And now she did not have any clothes. How was she ever going to help Nicholas?

Darth stood rigid in front of the fire.
Bastard
, Arabella had called him. He wondered if she even knew what the word meant. He was certain that she did not know what it meant to him. The sound still echoed in his mind from ten years before. A man’s voice shouting bastard was the last thing he’d heard before the pain had sliced his face in half. To this day, he was still not certain what had happened. The authorities had closed the case quickly as an attempted robbery and he’d never found another reason. Except for that curse shouted to him in the black of night. Why would the assailant shout out the warning and such a personal conviction at that?

Darth shook his head trying to bring himself back to the present. He’d lived in that mire too long and he had no wish to start all the unanswered questions again. It was just that Arabella had screamed the word at him and that had reminded him. Fueled his anger, until he had...

Christ,
he’d hit her. It did not matter that she had attacked him, he was twice her size and strength. He’d never hit a woman in his life, much less spanked one. His palm stilled stung. What must it have done to her? Darth turned to look at Arabella kneeling before the chair with his shirt clutched in front of her. He could see from where he stood that her buttocks were marked red. He had hoped to subjugate Arabella to his will and his body and it looked as if he certainly had.