Claiming His Wife (40 page)

Cynthia's head turned towards the
window.  "Where are they now?  Are they still at the
stables?"

Standing, Grace moved quickly over to
the window, peering out.  "No, they're at the kennels, looking
at the Earl's dogs."  

Edwin's father's favorite bitch had a
new litter, which he was almost as proud of as he was of his
grandson.  Eleanor's lips twitched.  She wasn't at all
surprised that he'd insisted on showing them off. 

"Good," said Cynthia, sitting up
straighter.  The devilish look in her eye made Irene look at
her warily, even as Eleanor straightened in anticipation.  "I
know exactly how we can show Edwin you're fully recovered...
although it may mean sore bottoms for all of us."

"Of course it will," Irene muttered,
but she listened just as intently as the others to Cynthia's plan,
and she didn't even attempt to talk them out of it.

******

The cavorting pups didn't hold Edwin's
attention as much as his friends, because he'd seen them quite a
few times before.  His father was in his element though,
happily showing off the litter and expounding on their bloodlines.
 Wesley wasn't nearly as interested as Hugh or Alex, but he'd
always been more interested in horses than dogs. 

"How was the honeymoon?" he asked,
leaning back against the wall of the kennel, watching as one of the
pups nipped at Alex's outstretched fingers. 

"Edifying," Wesley said, flashing a
quick grin.

"It must have been, considering you
extended it," Edwin teased. 

Gossipy letters had flown
fast and furious when Wesley had sent word to his friends and
family that he and Cynthia were visiting France and Spain, along
with Italy.  No one had expected him to be gone from business
so long.  Privately, Eleanor had told Edwin she'd heard there
were many disappointed ladies in the
ton.

"The pile of mail I returned to wasn't
nearly as pleasant," Wesley said, shaking his head.  "My
partners did their best while I was away... but nothing beats the
personal touch."

"You and your penchant for controlling
even the smallest details," Edwin said, laughing.  "I'm amazed
Cynthia convinced you to stay away for so long."

"Well, she does have her
ways."  The smugly masculine smile on Wesley's face, made
Edwin ache a bit.  He'd been holding himself back from Eleanor
for months now.  The doctor had insisted she rest in bed the
last two months of her pregnancy, and had warned him against
claiming his marital rights - not that Edwin would have anyway,
when she was so pale and weak.

The birth of his son had
been joyous, but the time before that had been the worst hours of
his life.  Only the women and the midwife had been allowed in
the room, while he'd been left to pace the library with his father
and Hugh for company.  Because it was such a hard birth, after
the first few hours, the mothers had sent Irene out of the room as
well, not wanting to alarm her.  He'd felt so helpless.
 So useless.  Even though he accused Wesley of being
overly concerned with control, the truth was, Edwin was as well,
and in those long hours he'd had absolutely none.

Eleanor could have died.  The
amount of blood on the sheets had been horrifying, and he could
only be grateful that she hadn't succumbed to any of the illnesses
that often plagued women after giving birth.  

While his father reassured
him that it was all a part of life, Edwin found himself reluctant
to put her through such an event again.  Especially so soon.
 She'd indicated her own willingness to return to lovemaking
with him, but he worried that she was pushing herself too fast.
 After all, they'd talked over some of her insecurities,
especially when she'd been confined to the bed, and he knew that
she'd been watching him to see if abstinence would make him
unfaithful.  Of course it hadn't, but now that she was trying
to seduce him, he worried that she was doing so before she was
completely recovered.  Possibly out of guilt or insecurity.
 He wasn't having any of that, but it did make life difficult
for him.

Especially when he was faced with
three other happy couples, all of whom were able to make love to
their wives whenever they wanted.

Over by the dogs, Hugh suddenly
straightened from where he'd been leaning over, cocking his head to
the side as if listening for something.  Chuckling under his
breath, Wesley elbowed Edwin and nodded at their friend's stance.
 He looked remarkably like a hunting dog, scenting the air, a
comparison that made Edwin chuckle as well. 

"Do you hear that?" Hugh asked, his
brow wrinkling.  "Who's going out riding?"

The sound of horses trotting out of
the stables was nothing new, but as Hugh asked the question, Edwin
realized how out of place it was at this time.  All four of
them and his father were in the kennel.  His mother was out
visiting friends.  And their four wives were supposed to be
safely tucked away inside the house, having tea.

Supposed
 to be.

All four men scrambled to the entrance
of the kennels, just as feminine whoops of laughter rang out,
leaving the Earl of Clarendon staring at their backs with
bemusement.  

******

Glancing over her shoulder, Irene
could see the four husbands gathered at the kennel door, staring
after the women with fierce purpose in their eyes.  She turned
her head back, trying to suppress the small shiver that went down
her spine, and concentrated on controlling her horse.  Well,
they'd certainly gotten the men's attention with the horse race
that Cynthia had suggested.  

Apparently it wasn't enough to get
Eleanor up on a horse, no, they all needed to be involved and the
best way to do that was a race.  Innocent enough... except
that Eleanor knew Edwin would be upset, Grace was pregnant, and
Cynthia was purposefully trying to create trouble.  Irene
still wasn't sure how she'd ended up being talked into it, except
that she hadn't wanted to be left out.

Going by the expression on
the men's faces, none of them were going to believe any
protestations of innocence.  Didn't mean Irene couldn’t try
though. 

In the meantime, it felt wonderful to
be on horseback.  She loved Eleanor, but being cooped up in
the Manse ever since the baby had been born had been hard on both
of them.  By default, she'd become Eleanor's main companion
during the day, and that meant she'd been restricted to the same
activities as Eleanor.  Certainly she hadn't been on any wild
rides...

Now it felt like she was flying,
easily leading the pack of women towards the far end of the field,
although Eleanor wasn't too far behind her.  When she reached
the line of trees, she expertly turned the horse about, ready to
race back and win... but the men hadn't been content to wait by the
stables for their ladies to return.  Hugh and Edwin were in
the lead, both riding bareback and already halfway across the
field, with Wesley and Alex just leaving the stables.
 

She couldn't say why she did it, it
just seemed instinctual, seeing the men advancing upon them like a
hunting party.  

"RUN!"  She screamed at the other
women.  Eleanor twisted around and, grinning, took off like a
shot across the field, veering away from the men.  It only
took a moment for Cynthia to follow her example, although she
headed into the forest, and Grace did her best although she wasn't
nearly the horsewoman that the others were.  Irene could see
the men cursing as they scattered, following their women.
 

She started to run as well, her heart
pounding.  Hearing Hugh calling her name brought her back to
her senses.  Just a bit.  Reining in her horse, she
turned again, watching him advance.  The others were all out
of sight, except for Grace, who had been easily apprehended by her
husband and was already being led back to the Manse.
 

Hell and damnation.  She
shouldn't have bolted.  But they'd just looked so intimidating
as a group!  Like the four horsemen of the bible, bearing down
on them with a vengeance.  By himself, even scowling, Hugh
wasn't quite as terrifying - even though she knew her bottom was
likely about to get a serious workout that had nothing to do with
riding a horse.

Reaching her, still scowling, he
jerked his head at the stables and started to ride back.
 Nodding meekly, Irene followed behind him, wishing that she
hadn't run in the first place. 

Hugh didn't speak a word to his wife
until they got up into their bedchambers.  He was more than
just a little annoyed with her.  Not for getting on a horse,
of course she could do that, but because they still apparently had
a problem with her loyalties.  

Sitting down on the edge of their bed,
he silently gazed at her, knowing that it was unnerving to her.
 She squirmed under his steady gaze, twisting her hands in
front of her, looking utterly adorable in her guilt.  Red
tendrils of hair wafted around her face, having come loose during
her wild ride.  Seeing her ride like that always aroused him,
but they had something else to tend to first.

"Get your hairbrush."

Irene paled, biting her lower lip, and
his cock twitched at the pleading look she gave him before obeying.
 She hated being spanked with her own hairbrush, finding
something humiliating in being disciplined with an implement she
owned.  One that she had never considered as a spanking tool.
 It was a nice, sturdy brush, flat backed and wide, and Hugh
sometimes thought it must have been made with the intention that it
be dual purpose.

She handed the hairbrush to him, doing
her best not to look at it.  Sometimes she even blushed when
she used it on her hair, if she saw him watching her brush it, and
he knew that she was thinking about its other use.  Honestly,
that was part of the appeal to him.  He liked that every time
she brushed her hair, she thought about why she needed to be good.
 He barely had to spank Irene more than once a month, and that
was just how he liked it.

"Strip."

This she was able to do on her own,
fortunately.  He was able to sit and enjoy watching her peel
off her clothes, seeing the pink in her cheeks intensify and travel
down her neck.  The shade matched her pert, pink nipples,
which were already standing at attention.  Once she was fully
naked, Hugh patted his lap and Irene willingly put herself over it,
which made his cock throb even harder. 

"Do you know why you're being
punished, Irene?" he asked, one hand resting on her back, the other
rubbing the hairbrush over her bottom.  He could feel the
shiver that went down her spine as he made a circular, massaging
motion with the hard wood. 

"Because of the horse race," she said,
sighing in resignation.

"No."  

SMACK!  Irene jumped and
yelped.

"I don't care if you want to race your
horse, you're an excellent rider."

SMACK!  She shrieked again,
unable to ask the question 'why?' as the hairbrush smacked into the
other side of her bottom.

"Grace is not,
however,
and
she's pregnant."  Alex had told them while they were in
the stables.  From Irene's lack of surprise, Hugh knew that
she was aware as well.  "Eleanor is still recovering from
childbirth."

SMACK!

Irene yelped again, but some of her
own temper came to the forefront.  "Eleanor is perfectly fine!
 That's what she was trying to demonstrate!"

SMACK!  Another yelp.  Hugh
rubbed the hairbrush over her already burning cheeks, making them
sting.

"I suppose that was Cynthia's idea.
 Well, Eleanor knows perfectly well she isn't supposed to be
pushing herself like that, and you knew it too.  Which is why
you're being punished."

SMACK!  SMACK!  SMACK!
 SMACK!

The flurry of firm blows against her
bottom had Irene howling and squirming.  Hugh was showing her
absolutely no mercy, he hadn't even given her a warm-up spanking
with his palm like he normally did, and she was having trouble
adjusting to the fierce sting of the hairbrush on her cool, pale
cheeks.  

"I expect you to be a good influence
on your friends, not be corrupted by them."

SMACK!  SMACK!

"You should have come and told me as
soon as you knew that Eleanor was going to do something she
shouldn't."

SMACK!  SMACK!

"I am your husband and your first
loyalty should be to me."

SMACK!  SMACK!

He actually sounded a little hurt as
he said that, and Irene felt the faintest flicker of remorse
through her resentment as her bottom flared and sparked with pain.
 She hadn't meant to hurt his feelings... it was
just...

"But they're my friends!"

SMACK!  SMACK!  SMACK!
 SMACK!

"And as your friends, they
shouldn't be so hell-bent on getting you in trouble," Hugh said
firmly.  Then, to her horror, he turned the brush over and
rubbed the stiff bristles against her flaming skin.  Irene
shrieked.  The normally soft bristles felt like sandpaper,
rasping over her sensitive cheeks, making her writhe and try to
reach back to stop him.