Chapter 6 #2
“Then perhaps other methods of persuasion are required,” Reynolds said, his tone shifting to menace.
“There are men in Paris who would pay handsomely for the intimate companionship of the Duke of Ravenswood’s scandalous duchess.
And I already have a plan to get you out of the country if you should cross me. ”
Victor’s control shattered. With one powerful kick, he burst through the door, the wood splintering around the lock.
Olivia stood near a paint-splattered table, her face paling with shock at his appearance. Across from her, Reynolds stumbled backward, sketches scattering from his hands.
“Victor,” Olivia whispered, her expression a mixture of fear, shame, and relief.
Reynolds recovered quickly, sliding into an obsequious smile. “Your Grace! What an unexpected honor—”
“Silence,” Victor commanded, advancing into the room. He towered over the artist, using his height and size to obtain the full intimidating effect. “You dare to threaten my wife?”
Reynolds shifted backward. “I didn’t—”
Victor’s hand shot out, gripping Reynolds by the throat and slamming him against the wall. “You shall speak only when I permit it.”
“Victor, please,” Olivia said, with a hint of concern in her voice. It had better not be for the bastard before him.
Reynolds coughed as Victor’s grip loosened just enough to allow shallow breathing. “Your duchess was quite willing once,” he gasped, a taunting gleam in his eyes. “You should have heard how she moaned when I—”
Victor’s other hand connected with Reynolds’ jaw in a savage blow that snapped the artist’s head sideways. Blood trickled from his split lip.
“James Atherton sends his regards,” Victor whispered, his voice for Reynolds’ ears alone. “He remembers you well from the war. Your French connections.”
Fear replaced arrogance in Reynolds’ eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“The Home Office maintains a file on you,” Victor continued. “One word from me, and you’ll hang for treason.”
“You have no proof—”
“I don’t need proof. Just the accusation would see you in chains while they investigate. How long would you survive in Newgate? And would your French masters risk exposure to save a worthless pawn?”
Reynolds swallowed hard, fear evident. Victor released him and stepped back.
“You have a choice,” Victor said coldly. “Hand over every one of your sketches, leave London immediately, and never communicate with the duchess again.”
“Or?”
“Or I’ll have you arrested for treason.” Victor’s voice dropped to a chilling whisper. “And if by some miracle you escape the hangman, I’ll find you myself.”
Reynolds scrambled to comply, gathering sketches with trembling hands and hurling them at Victor.
“Our business is concluded,” Victor said, his tone making it clear no further communication would be welcome.
Once Reynolds departed, Victor turned to Olivia, who stood rigid with shock, having witnessed this violent side of her husband.
“You received a communication from this man yesterday,” Victor said, his voice controlled despite the rage still evident. “You arranged to meet him alone, without informing me.” Each clipped word conveyed the anger and frustration he felt toward her in that moment.
Olivia lifted her chin, meeting his gaze despite her evident fear. “That summarizes the situation accurately.”
Her honesty stirred grudging admiration even through his anger.
Victor gathered the portfolio containing all the sketches and guided Olivia from the studio. They descended to the street where the Ravenswood carriage waited.
Victor dismissed the carriage and then faced Olivia. “You’ll ride with me.”
He led her to where his horse waited, mounting first before reaching down to lift her before him on the saddle.
The position placed her intimately close, her back pressed against his chest, her body between his arms as he took the reins. Victor was acutely aware of the tension in her body, of the way she shifted uncomfortably as the beads surely moved inside her with the horse’s motion.
Olivia shivered, holding herself as still as she could. The ride was deliberately slow, each step of the horse a subtle punishment as the beads shifted.
“You lied to me, Olivia,” Victor said after several minutes of tense silence.
“Yes,” she admitted. “By omission.”
“Our arrangement stipulated absolute honesty between us.”
“It did.” Her hands tightened on the pommel.
“You chose to handle this situation alone rather than inform me.” His arm tightened around her waist. “Why?”
Olivia drew a shaky breath. “I thought I could resolve it quickly, without troubling you. I didn’t want to risk further scandal when we’re just beginning to reestablish my place in society.”
“A practical consideration,” Victor acknowledged. “Is that all?”
She hesitated. “I was afraid of how you might react. That you might blame me for this new complication, or consider me more trouble than I’m worth.”
“You misjudged me,” Victor said, his voice hard. “There will be consequences, Olivia.”
She nodded, accepting his judgment. “I understand.”
“Do you?” His hand moved to grip her thigh. “I am your husband. Your protector. Any threat to you is mine to address. You denied me that right when you chose deception over trust.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Sorry is insufficient.” Victor guided the horse down a side street, taking a longer route home. “You will learn that dishonesty carries a higher price than whatever discomfort the truth might have caused.”
When they reached Ravenswood House, Victor dismounted first before lifting her down. They entered in silence, Victor’s hand firm on her lower back as he guided her through the house.
“Upstairs,” he commanded once they were inside.
They passed Simmons in the entrance hall, Victor giving a curt nod that conveyed his wish not to be disturbed. Once in their bedchamber, Victor locked the door.
“Strip,” Victor ordered, remaining by the door as he removed his coat and waistcoat. “Everything.”
Olivia’s fingers trembled as she began to undress. Unlike their previous encounters, there was no sensuality in his command, no seduction. It was only authority and the promise of discipline.
She struggled to get out of her dress without assistance, and he pulled it from her body in haste.
When she stood naked before him, Victor circled her slowly, inspecting what was his. The silk cord from the beads hung discreetly between her legs.
“Bend over the edge of the bed,” he instructed, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves with deliberate precision. “Grasp the footboard and do not let go until I give permission.”
Olivia complied, positioning herself as instructed. Her body trembled slightly as she waited, exposed and vulnerable. Fuck, she was gorgeous.
Victor moved to stand behind her, observing her submission with cold satisfaction. Without warning, his palm connected sharply with the soft flesh of her bottom, the sound cracking through the silent room.
Olivia gasped, her body jerking forward but her hands remaining obediently clenched where she was told.
“That is for lying to me,” Victor stated calmly. The second blow fell harder than the first. “That is for attempting to solve matters that concern both of us without my knowledge.”
He continued methodically, each strike delivered with precise force and each transgression named. The fifth blow landed directly over where the beads rested inside her, causing Olivia to cry out as the impact shifted them within her sensitive passage.
“And that,” Victor said, his voice dropping lower, “is for making me imagine, even for a moment, that you might have betrayed me with him.”
By the tenth stroke, Olivia’s pale skin had turned vivid pink, and her breathing had grown ragged. Victor paused, running his palm over the heated flesh, feeling the warmth radiating from her punishment.
“To whom do you belong, Olivia?” he asked, his fingers trailing down to grasp the end of the silk cord.
“To you,” she whispered.
“Louder,” he commanded, tugging slightly on the cord so the beads moved inside her.
“To you!” she gasped, her voice catching as the movement sent unexpected sensations through her. “I belong to you!”
“Who am I to you?” He gripped the cheek of her arse tighter with each word.
“My hus–”
Victor spanked her arse again, interrupting what she had started to say. “Try again.”
“Daddy,” she cried out. “You’re my Daddy.”
“Fucking right. And what happens when you attempt to keep secrets from me?”
“I am punished,” she replied, voice strained with a mixture of pain and growing arousal.
Victor nodded, relieving just a bit of tension in his shoulders knowing that his little one was safe and he’d reminded her that she was his. “Indeed.”
“Feel how your body responds to punishment.” It took all he had not to lose himself in her. “You’re quite wet, little one. Stand and face me.”
She did so, her head hung and timidly met his eyes. Part of him wanted to pull her into his arms and hold his girl, but he quickly pushed the notion away.
“I keep my promises to you, and you are going to keep yours to me, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He pointed across the room. “Then go stand by the fireplace and drop to your knees.”
Olivia appeared confused for a moment, but slowly did as he said. Once she was on her knees, she kept her eyes trained on the floor.
“Now crawl to me,” his voice boomed. “Crawl over here and beg me to fuck your arse. Beg me to do so even after what you did today.”
His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her, his beautiful little wife crawling across the floor. The apology and remorse were in her eyes and appeared genuine. When she reached him, she stayed on her knees and hugged his legs.
“Please, Daddy. I need you. I know I’ve been bad, but please fuck my arse. It’s ready for you. I’ll never hide anything from you again. Please.”
He wanted to draw things out. To make her beg harder, but he was losing control with every passing second. The need to claim her overtook his every sense.