Authors: Amanda Scott
“We’re going to have a talk,” he replied, gesturing toward the chair where her hat reposed. “Sit down.”
“Very well, sir,” she said, obediently moving the hat and taking her seat, “but I warn you, there is nothing you can say that will keep me away from the Argyle Rooms tonight.”
“You will remain here,” he said flatly, “because I command you to do so. It is time and more that you recognize the fact that I am home to stay, my girl, and that you no longer have the privilege of doing as you please simply because whimsy moves you. I can think of no better way to make your position clear to you. Perhaps the punishment is a trifle severe, even arbitrary, but there are men who would deal even more harshly with you as a result of your little escapade this afternoon.”
She knew that was perfectly true, but the knowledge did nothing to reconcile her to her situation. She wondered how far he would go to ensure her obedience. “I will not stay here, sir,” she said calmly. “You will have to lock me in my room if you mean to prevent my going.”
The expression in his eyes hardened. “I shall do no such thing, Mollie, but I can promise you that you will not like the consequences if you defy me.”
She believed him, but she could not submit so easily. “You are not being fair, Gavin. I was wrong to go out dressed like this, but nothing dreadful came of it, and I shan’t do it again. You
are
being arbitrary and dictatorial as well, all the things you promised you wouldn’t be.”
“You still don’t understand, do you?” he said, frowning. “I know you are used to going your own way, and I know you resent the fact that a husband who has neglected his duties for too long a time still has the legal authority to interfere with your pleasures. I have done my damnedest to grant you the freedom you desire. But you have not kept your part of the bargain. First you allowed your name to be linked with that damned Russian, and now this. You don’t meet me halfway. You do things without counting the cost. In other words, madam, you have grown
too
accustomed to going your own road. Someone needs to call a halt, and it’s my responsibility to do so.” He moved a little away from her then and stood looking out the window into the shadow-filled square below.
Mollie glared at his back, but deep inside she knew he had made a valid point. She
had
promised to recognize his authority, but she knew she had been thinking at the time of his authority to rule over Hawkstone Towers, over Ramsay, and over Harry. She had not really accepted his right to command her obedience. In point of fact, she had fought him every inch of the way. With a grimace she realized the fault this time had been entirely hers.
“Very well, sir,” she said at last; sighing. “I own that you have the authority to keep me at home. I shall not defy you. However, I still think your decision is arbitrary and unfair.” Her glance sharpened. “Moreover, I should like very much to know what you will tell Mr. Brummell when he asks you where I am. Will you tell him I am indisposed? I had thought your passion for truth would make such a response impossible. Yet, if you tell him you have ordered me to remain at home, will that not initiate the exact sort of gossip you wish to avoid?”
Hawk shifted his position and turned his head to look at her. There was a warmer expression in his eyes, and the stiffness in his countenance had relaxed. “You would remain here if I ordered you to do so?”
She nodded, wondering at the change in him.
“Come here, Mollie.” There could be no mistaking the look in his eyes now, and the little smile playing about his lips confused her even more. Mollie sat where she was, regarding him with a bewildered air. “I said to come here,” he repeated. “Or is your acceptance of my authority so short-lived that you would now defy the simplest command?”
Entirely bewildered now, she got slowly to her feet. The cravat around her throat was too tight, and she tugged at it, loosening it. She had no idea what he intended, and though his expression assured her that he meant her no harm, she could not help feeling vulnerable as she approached him. Hawk gave a crooked little smile when she hesitated.
“I won’t bite,” he said gently. “Come to me.” When she stood directly before him, she felt as if he were already touching her, although at first he did not. She looked straight ahead for a moment, her eyes on his broad chest. Then his hand came to her chin, tilting her face up so that she had to look at him. “You are certain you would obey my command without further argument?”
She nodded again. “I have said so.”
“Then, you may dress for dinner.” There was amusement in his eyes now. His anger had evaporated.
Mollie felt more confused than ever. Would she never understand this man? “And the ball?”
He chuckled. “I certainly don’t intend to eat my mutton in this rig unless your gown is equally antiquated, sweetheart.”
“Then—” She broke off, staring at him, hoping to read his thoughts in his face. Surely he wasn’t satisfied merely to have her verbal submission. Was that all he had looked for? Her thoughts whirled as she tried to figure him out. Then it came to her that she had won a victory, after all, and she could not stop the light of it from leaping into her eyes. “I know what it is,” she told him, unaware of the ghost of a smile that teased at her lips. “It is what I said before, is it not, that you would be unable to account for my absence?”
“No, my idiotish child,” he replied, his hands moving to her shoulders to give her a firm shake. “I wouldn’t hesitate, should Brummell show such uncharacteristic bad manners as to press for an explanation, to tell him we had decided that you would remain at home for an evening of recuperation. The fact of the matter is that I sense a change in your attitude that I have been waiting a long time to see, and since I prefer to attend this ball tonight with my wife rather than without her, you shall go. However, your tone of voice, not to mention that foolish little smirk of triumph, reminds me that you do require punishment for your misbehavior today. I believe I can promise that you will continue to reflect upon your folly throughout the festivities tonight.”
Her expression changed to alarm as his hand moved to grip her elbow firmly and he turned her toward her bedchamber. The first thought to cross her mind was that he intended to beat her, but the glint of amusement in his eyes reassured her. Her bedchamber was empty.
“You will first oblige me by removing those disreputable clothes,” he said matter-of-factly.
Swallowing hard, but nonetheless reassured by the fact that she could still detect no anger in his countenance, Mollie moved slowly to obey him. Dropping her cloak upon the bed, she soon sent the coat after it, and her hands moved slowly to the buttons of her waistcoat.
He stood patiently, waiting, his hands folded across his chest. At the last button her fingers hesitated. “Take it off, Mollie. Then the shirt. Or do you require my assistance?”
She shook her head, unfastened the last button, and shrugged out of the waistcoat. The cravat was already loosened, so it was a simple matter to pull it off. But she had nothing on under the shirt, and she had no wish to remove it while he stood staring at her. She straightened her shoulders.
“I should prefer to ring for Mathilde to assist me with my costume, sir.”
“No doubt. But I do not wish it, and you are learning to submit to your husband, my dear, as a proper wife should. Take off that shirt.” When she still hesitated, he gave a little shake of his head as if he had expected no less, and moved to assist her. Mollie backed away, but it was no use. Hawk merely reached out a hand to draw her closer, and the next thing she knew, one of his hands was at the small of her back while the other moved slowly across the shirtfront, teasing her nipples through the thin lawn. Hawk grinned when she gave a little gasp of dismay and tried to pull away from him.
“No, sweetheart,” he murmured, continuing to caress her.
As always, her body responded instantly to his touch, and when he pulled the shirt loose at her waist and slipped his hand beneath it to cup her bare breast, Mollie gave a little moan and moved closer, standing on tiptoe to put her arms around his neck, pulling his head down so that she could kiss him.
Hawk gave a little chuckle, deep in his throat, as his lips claimed hers. Both of his hands moved under her shirt and around to her back now, stroking her soft skin, holding her close. Then they moved back to her waist, to the fastenings of her pantaloons. A moment more and the trousers slipped to the floor, baring her hips to his touch. He lifted his head long enough to pull off her shirt, and she stood naked, her eyes alight with passion. Hawk drew her back into his arms, kissing her eyes and the bridge and tip of her nose; then he took her mouth hungrily, his tongue parting first her lips, then her teeth, and then moving on to explore the velvety interior. His hands roamed everywhere now, arousing her until every inch of her skin burned and tingled.
Mollie clutched at him, her fingers moving through his thick hair while her tongue darted and danced with his. His hands were driving her wild, but she wanted more. The stiff cloth of his doublet was irritating. She wanted to feel his skin next to hers. Impatiently, she reached for the lacing, but at the same moment, Hawk scooped her into his arms and moved to sit upon the bed, holding her in his lap. He caught her small hands and held them easily in one of his own behind her back, causing her breasts to thrust themselves forward. Ignoring her protests, he continued to caress her with his free hand while his lips moved teasingly along her jawline and lower to her throat.
She was breathing heavily, her breasts heaving, her body moving against his hand, seemingly of its own accord. He shifted her position slightly, and his lips moved lower to the tips of her breasts. Slowly and deliberately he began to kiss and caress them with his tongue, and his hand moved slowly past her waist to her hips, then back to stroke her stomach before moving lower.
Mollie caught her breath. “Oh, please…” The words turned into a little moan as his hand moved between her thighs.
Hawk lifted his head. His eyes were twinkling. “Where is your gown, sweetheart?”
“In the wardrobe,” she muttered, straining against him. “Oh, don’t stop!”
“But it’s time for you to dress,” he said, smiling.
“I don’t care about that. You can’t stop now. Please!”
The smile broadened to a grin. “I must. Any more of this and I should send my good intentions to the devil.”
“Good intentions?” Then, as his meaning became clear to her, Mollie gave a little cry. “You beast! You never meant to continue, did you?”
“Oh, we shall continue, sweetheart, but I will choose the time. If you behave yourself tonight, we may even bring this interval to its natural conclusion as soon as we get home. You may reflect upon the possibility while you dance with other men, and perhaps you will thus remember to reserve your warmest smiles for your husband.” So saying, he placed her on her feet and turned her around, giving her smack on the backside sound enough to make her yelp. “Get your gown. I shall attempt to help you into it if you like.”
Knowing that it was of no use to argue, she marched over to the wardrobe and fairly snatched the heavy gown from its padded hanger, wishing she had the nerve to fling it in his face. But when he grinned at her, the look in his eyes made her skin tingle again as if he had touched her, and in that moment she knew her punishment would be complete.
Half an hour later they found Lady Bridget and Lord Ramsay still in the dining room, and Hawk decided there was plenty of time to enjoy a slight repast before they must depart. Lady Bridget accepted Mollie’s appearance with her usual placidity, but Ramsay shot her a quizzical grin. She knew her cheeks were flushed and her whole body still tingled, but she returned a steady look to her young brother-in-law and took her seat, careful at the same time to avoid her husband’s twinkling eyes, lest the sight of them put her out of countenance.
A footman appeared at her side with a dish of curried lobster, and she turned gratefully to help herself, glad of an excuse for silence while she helped herself first from one dish and then from another and yet another as if her only interest at the moment were food.
Ramsay turned his attention to his brother, saying with a chuckle, “I say, Hawk, this ought to be famous sport tonight. Is it true what they say? That Prinny forced the dandies to invite him, after all?”
“It is.” Hawk shifted his gaze briefly away from his wife to his brother. “Pierrepont said someone told Prinny about Brummell’s insistence upon excluding him from the festivities, whereupon his highness simply wrote to Mildmay informing him that he intended to be present. According to Pierrepont there was nothing then to be done except to receive him as politely as possible.”
“I heard they even sent him an invitation,” Ramsay said.
“So they did. Signed by all four.”
“Still, I daresay he’s piqued. Prinny’s not the man to take lightly to rebuff.”
“I fear,” observed Lady Bridget gently, “that they have none of them displayed good manners. It was unkind of them to exclude his highness in the first place, when they were inviting all the world, but he should not have forced his presence upon them in such a way.”
Mollie was silent throughout the meal, but she was entirely conscious of her husband’s eye constantly upon her, and later in the coach, when his foot chanced to move against hers, a series of tremors danced through her body. It was as if they were alone, so conscious of him was she, as if Lady Bridget and Ramsay were miles away instead of sitting right there with them. Mollie could still sense Hawk’s touch. Her breasts felt swollen beneath the tight Tudor bodice, and every nerve in her body was alive to his presence. The others chatted casually as the coach passed along Piccadilly, and at last they turned into the Haymarket. There were three or four carriages ahead of the Colporter coach, so there was a slight delay, but at last their coach was at the entrance to the Argyle Rooms, and the steps were let down. They slipped on their loo masks.
“There’s Prinny now,” Hawk said in an undertone, nodding slightly to direct their attention to the party just ahead of theirs. Mollie had already noted the unmistakable, thin figure of the Regent’s aide-de-camp, Colonel Hanger, just behind the much larger bulk of his royal highness. The Colporters followed the royal party up to the entrance, through the foyer, and into the anteroom leading to the main ballroom. It was here that the four hosts lined up at the door, two to each side, to receive their guests.