An Affair of Honor (Rebel Hearts Book 2) (2 page)

“Why not? Everyone else does.” She complained and then bit her lip. Her employer wouldn’t want to know about her problems, and especially not on his last day ashore.

“Everyone else is either a fool or jealous, Miss Winslow.” He pulled a face. “You could wear sack cloth and still be the most remarkable and distracting woman in the room.”

His words made her skin heat with a blush, but she smiled too. She liked the idea that he had noticed her, even if he was so far above her. But was unwise to think a captain in his majesties navy could want to pay too much attention to a lowly maid when he was as handsome as William Ford. However, the way he scowled at her sometimes had made her feel so very insignificant. Did he not want to like her? He probably didn’t. “Thank you.”

“Now come here and sit on my knee,” he said quietly.

She spun about. “Why?”

“Your punishment,” he said calmly. “You cannot play with my possessions without consequences.”

She blinked as he reached forward slowly to capture her wrist, his gaze fastened to her face until she blushed.

“I issue orders and expect to be obeyed in all things. Especially in the bedchamber.” His brow rose. “Or do you imagine yourself above my rules? I do not like snoops, Miss Winslow.”

“I’m sorry, Captain.” He tugged, and Matilda stumbled forward. He eased her down on his knees. “It won’t happen again,” she promised as she clutched at his shoulders to steady herself.

Eye to eye, her pulse raced. He was so very handsome and sure of himself. The very thing Matilda never was around him. All of Matilda’s senses seemed ready to fly apart just by being so close to him.

His gaze drifted to her lips. “Don’t be sorry. But accept my punishment now and do as I ask in the future.”

She nodded, breathless at the way he was regarding her mouth. “Yes, Captain.”

His eyes widened and his tongue slipped out to wet his lips. “Yes, to what?”

Matilda wriggled on her scandalous perch; sure he would steal a kiss and more. “They say a maid who is foolish enough to fall into her employers arms, deserves her ruin and the loss of her employment. I do need to be punished.”

“Never consider that I could turn you out for any reason,” he whispered, his breath hot against her throat. “What happens between us is strictly our business and will remain a secret. I will punish you, bring you pleasure, and that will be an end to the matter.”

She squirmed even more as she considered what sort of punishment he might deliver that brought pleasure. She was not afraid of him. At the very least she might be expected to polish his bedchamber from one end to the other as punishment for her misadventure today, at the worst he might kiss her witless. Make love to her. Her sex throbbed with unexpected anticipation. “Very well. Punish me however you like.”

No sooner were the words spoken than he flipped her over so she dangled over his limbs. Matilda gasped in surprise as he held her there by placing one arm over and around her waist firmly.

His other hand connected with her backside the next moment, and she cried out, kicking at the shock of his idea of punishment. She expected ruin, not a spanking. “What are you doing, sir?”

“Captain,” he reminded her. “You agreed to be punished in any way I deemed fit.” He struck again, so hard that her eyes filled with tears and her face grew hot. “I do not want you touching that mask ever again. Never wear it. It is not for the likes of you.”

“I won’t wear it again.”

He held his hand still on her bottom and kneaded her flesh through the gown. “Do you understand that a line was crossed today?”

“I understand,” she whispered. “Captain.”

“You continue to place yourself in my path, so there’s nothing else to be done but continue as we are.”

She frowned and clutched at his leg to steady herself. “I don’t understand.”

“You, and only you, have my permission to linger in my bedchamber for as long as you want. I’ll make the arrangements before I go. You may touch any possession of mine except that mask and do your hair before the mirror. Mrs. Young is an old woman, threatened by your youth and beauty.” His hand smoothed over her bottom, and she held her breath. “Look at yourself in the mirror now, Miss Winslow.”

She turned her head as he pulled her skirts up and exposed the bottom he’d spanked. Matilda’s heart began to hammer. A smile lingered on the captain’s lips as he lightly touched her exposed skin with just the tips of his fingers. As the gentle caress continued, her face grew hotter and hotter.

“Look at me admiring you,” he said as his fingers trailed along her thigh, sliding down over the gaping hole in the stocking tied below her knee. Matilda was transfixed by his gentle touch, by the devilish light in his eyes. He teased his fingers into her best stockings, widening the tear. “You must replace these after I’m gone.”

His hand lifted slowly and he brought it down sharply on bare bottom again and then continued.

Matilda gasped through it all, overcome by sensation, pain, and anticipation for the next strike. She clung to his leg, stunned and fascinated by how his punishment affected her senses. An ache began between her legs, a sensation she’d never experienced before. She was breathless and restless. Captain Ford’s face was a mask of severity now. He did not smile or look at her again. His attention was reserved for her rear and the red flush growing on her skin.

Suddenly he glanced up and met her gaze. His eyes were wild, dark, and focused solely on her. Matilda panted. He gripped her tingling bottom tightly, then turned his hand a fraction and used his fingers to part her thighs. His brow rose. “More?”

She nodded, but was unsure of what he’d do next. As his fingers dipped between, touching a place only Matilda had tentatively explored before in the privacy her narrow cot afforded, she closed her eyes. She was assailed by strange sensations that made her feel warm all over. As his gentle caress grew bolder, she could not help the need to push her body into his touch.

He brushed against her sex while she shuddered and moaned to his bewitching touch. He continued to rub through her damp curls, more insistent with each stroke, and the sensations were so different that she couldn’t account for them. She squirmed a little as an ache began where he played with her; a burning need to widen her legs further so he might press his fingers into her body.

“Look at us,” the captain whispered. “Look at what I’m doing to you. How perfect is the moment just before your surrender?”

Matilda struggled to catch her breath. She did look, focusing on his hand moving between her thighs, on the pink of her bottom beside his pale wrist, on the flush of color on his cheeks. She ached so badly an unladylike moan tumbled from her lips.

“Please,” she begged of him, knowing there must be more to come. She was alive in his embrace in a way she’d never felt before. She could barely hold still.

“Trust me,” he whispered, leaning over her body so he could speak into her ear. “You’re as eager as I am but will learn not to rush such moments. I will make the wait worth your while.”

He teased her again, but so skillfully that Matilda began to shake. She stiffened and cried out as her body convulsed, taken over by sensations beyond her experience.

She hung her head as her senses spun out of control again and again until his touch gentled on her sex.

The captain’s fingers slipped away, and he eventually loosened his tight grip on her waist. He relaxed against the back of the chair and uttered a shockingly masculine groan. “An exquisite end to this affair.” He chuckled softly. “I had hoped you might hold out longer before falling. Next time you will.”

He reached into his coat pocket, and pressed a cold coin into her hand.

She stared at the new-minted sovereign as pleasurable satisfaction gave way to unease over what she’d allowed.

“Oh, God.” She was a fool. Matilda twisted to look at Captain Ford’s smiling face.

Matilda dropped the coin. She flew off his lap, shoving her gown down as she went, and fled the room as fast as she could unlock the door. She did not pause to tug up her mangled stocking; she did not heed his calls to wait. She could not bear to hear him offer more money as if she had expected to be compensated for her favors.

One

London, 1815

M
atilda Winslow came to a screeching halt behind the tottering housekeeper and tried to contain her impatience before she ran the gasping woman down. She shuddered at the wail echoing through Captain William Ford’s cozy London town house.

It was not a pretty sound.

It was a sound no man should make.

“Dear God, have mercy,” Mrs. Young whispered as the sound trailed off. She struggled toward the steep mahogany staircase as if she were walking through knee-high mud. “He lives. He lives.”

But at what price? Matilda shivered and followed with mincing steps, trying to remember that the older woman would not take kindly to a servant brushing past her on the stairs. Mrs. Young had to always be first. Matilda struggled with showing deference to a woman with limited sense, and she had no doubt been both lucky and foolish to still have this employment.

Now that she could clearly hear Captain Ford crying out in pain, she understood she’d hardly any idea of how desperate the situation was when she’d first heard the startling news that he’d been returned to shore and to his London town house. The entire household had been belowstairs and most had erupted into frantic activity to cover up how little they’d been doing in his absence.

Matilda tripped along in a daze, her heart in her throat as the sounds continued to rise and fall unabated. She had hoped to find another position before his return, but without any sort of reference, she’d been unsuccessful. She cringed as Captain Ford cried out again. He uttered agonized, incomprehensible gabble that, in her three-year acquaintance with her employer, she would never have suspected he’d be capable of making.

The housekeeper turned to her, her cheeks an unhealthy shade of gray. “We will need to be strong. Go on without me, do what is needed.”

She stared at the woman, struck by the notion she had not heard correctly. “Me?”

“Yes, you. It is time you earned your wages for a change,” the woman hissed.

That was not fair. Matilda worked harder than any of the other maids. All they did was flirt with the footmen and lift their skirts for anyone who had enough coin.

Mrs. Young caught the banister, her fingers white on the rail, and swayed into it for support instead of moving upward. The usually self-sufficient old woman could barely stand. Matilda didn’t want her to fall on the stairs for the fuss she would make later on so she caught the eye of the nearest footman. “Assist Mrs. Young upstairs at once.”

She skirted the protesting housekeeper, and although she would most likely be reprimanded later, Matilda hiked up her skirts and ran up the entire flight of steps toward Captain Ford’s bedchamber and that horrible noise.

She sped along the halls and paused outside his dressing room, risking a peek first before entering. The Roberts brothers, twin footmen who should have returned downstairs to their posts by now, lingered at the bedchamber doorway, maids Jenny and Jane stood nearby, whispering to each other as was their habit. One had tears in her eyes, but most probably they were tears meant for themselves. With Captain Ford returned, their easy employment would certainly end.

Matilda shooed them away. “Back to your duties before Mrs. Young sees you.”

She ignored their protests and pushed her way between the towering footmen. The captain’s valet, Dawson, had returned with his master, and at the sound of her voice, he turned toward her. A sensible man she knew fairly well, Gregory Dawson had dark circles under his eyes, and his expression was bleak.

His appearance was unkempt too, his jaw covered with several days of stubble, his usually impeccable clothes wrinkled and stained in some places with what appeared to be dried blood. He looked about ready to fall down from exhaustion. She grasped his forearm, offering compassion and her strength. He was particularly attached to his employer for some reason, even going so far as to follow him to sea by his own choice.

“Miss Winslow,” he whispered with relief at seeing her.

“Mr. Dawson.” She shivered as another moan filled her ears. “What has happened?”

The man paled further. “He’s dying.”

Matilda swallowed hard at the idea of a world without Captain Ford and then noticed strangers in his room. “Who is in there?”

“Mr. Simmons and Mr. Fellows, physicians both. They came with us direct from the docks.” Dawson shuddered as Captain Ford moaned brokenly again. “They don’t mince words.”

Dawson shifted to lean against the wall, revealing the whole of the room to Matilda.

She shuddered at the sight of four men holding William Ford down. “Why was he not taken to the Naval Hospital for treatment?”

“He’s not expected to live very long,” Dawson whispered. “The hospital was said to be overflowing, so I brought him home to die because I knew he’d prefer to be here where it is quiet.”

Tears filled her eyes, but she dashed them away. She had wished injury on William Ford many times over the past year for his treatment of her, but this was beyond anything she’d ever imagined he’d deserve.