Chapter 11
“Cecilia,” Cassian said calmly, even while his grey eyes danced with wicked humor.
She squared her shoulders and met his eyes, while her stomach was turning somersaults. “You were supposed to be away on business.”
“And you were supposed to stay away from my outbuilding,” Cassian replied. “What are you doing here, Cecilia?”
She turned. “I was curious.”
“And breaking a rule,” he noted, taking a step forward—and she took a step back.
She could hardly believe this was happening. For a terrifying moment, Cecilia feared his next move. Just how badly had she erred?
With another step forward—and her retreat—her back was on the rough wall while he caged her in; she did not like the wicked gleam in his eye. “You broke my rule.”
“Why—why are you looking at me that way?” she asked.
His lids lowered. “With any truancy, my father would make sure I was punished. I am thinking I need to do the same with you.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief. “What—? Are you mad?”
“I think I have already addressed that,” Cassian said as he glanced into the broken slat she’d been looking through.
Her heart hammered against her ribs while her vision was overtaken by his mystic grey eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Given your many trespasses, I think you need a spanking.”
Cecilia blinked. Then blinked again. Surely, he was jesting. No one on earth could ever think such a thing was a fitting punishment. Spankings were for children, not for ladies and surely not for a married woman like herself. “You mean to spank me? I am not five years old.”
“I can and I will,” Cassian remarked.
She searched his eyes—and nothing inside them told her he was jesting. There was no twitch in his jaw, no flicker in his visage—nothing to tell he did not mean his threat.
He could not possibly mean it.
She shivered.
Seeing the smirk on his lips, she realized that he’d misread the cause of her shiver.
“You broke a rule,” Cassian repeated. He lifted one hand and lightly cupped her cheek.
Shock scattered her thoughts, and her hands flew up in automatic defense to rest on a solid wall of warmth and vitality. A tremor ran through her at the feel of his thumb so close to her lips.
“You’re still not spanking me,” she whispered.
“Oh, I will,” he tilted his head. “But first, the first of your punishments.”
Without a warning, he dragged her up against his body, trapped her hands above her head on the gritty wall, and almost violently caught her mouth with his. There was no hesitancy or patience in the way he kissed her.
And, strangely—Cecilia would not have it any other way.
She gasped, and his tongue swept inside, and a small noise of shocked pleasure tore from her throat. The passionate kiss broke, but only for a moment to allow her to drag in a ragged breath.
Already, her senses were sizzling, and all the scandal of being kissed so hedonistically out in the open made her stomach turn on itself— but even with that, all the pent-up need she had convinced herself she did not have, burst through her in a rebellious and chaotic desire.
“Bloody hell,” Cassian muttered.
His hand slid up the back of her neck, and he angled her head before he took her mouth again, their tongues tangling wildly. Her skin pricked with wicked heat, and her heart pounded a terrifying tempo.
When he did release her lips from his drugging kisses, the warning bells in her heart were drowned under a hot slide of arousal.
Cassian smirked, “Yes, you will enjoy that spanking.”
“Hullo, neighbor! Is that you, I see?” A male voice shouted.
Startled, Cecilia’s head snapped to the right and the left, scared that someone had encroached on their private moment. But then, she realized the voice was coming from around a corner. Relieved, she sagged on the wall while eyeing Cassian.
Irked, she smacked his chest, “Don’t look at me like that. I am not used to being caught in flagrante like you constantly are.”
Snorting, Cassian pushed away and angled his head around the corner. “I need to correct you there; no one has ever caught me, and if they had, the term would be in flagrante delicto.”
The man called again, “Or I believe I did see you. Are you here?”
Gripping Cassian’s shirtsleeves, she frantically whispered, “Who is he?”
“That is Earl Rainsville,” Cassian said while craning his head over his shoulder. “Solomon Schlepper.”
For a second time in less than five minutes, Cecilia was thrown for a loop. She blinked and then blinked again. “His name is Solomon… Schlepper?”
“I know,” Cassian said as he pulled away from her and walked to the fence. “The irony is not lost on me. Or maybe it’s not ironic. I suppose his parents were desperate to counter the unfortunate last name.”
Of course. No one would like to be called an idiot on purpose.
As they walked the few feet to the fence, Cecilia found herself almost jogging to keep up with Cassian’s long limbs. The man walked with a loose, long-limbed stride that she’d wager even horses had a warm try to follow.
The man on the horse was dressed in a blue-lined waistcoat and matching tailcoat; his impeccable riding habit was finished with cream breeches. He descended from his horse and tugged off his gloves.
“Your Graces,” the earl bowed, his bright blue eyes alight with cheeriness. “I am so happy to cross paths with you.”
“How are you, Rainsville?” Cassian asked cordially. “May I introduce you to my dear wife, Cecilia?”
“Your Grace,” the earl bowed again. “Welcome to Millfield. Have you had a chance to see our bucolic town yet?”
“No, I haven’t,” Cecilia replied, “I—we—have been settling into married life these past few days.”
“Ah,” the earl nodded sagely. “I remember those first few days of married life—” His voice trailed off as his expression turned nostalgic. “My dear Victoria and I married young, you see, she was a day after eighteen, and I had just come into my majority.
“We were so wrapped up in our passions that we were sequestered for days,” Solomon finished wistfully.
“’Tis no wonder,” Cassian muttered. “They have four children and another on the way.”
Her eyes widened incrementally. Four children, good gracious.
“But—” Solomon shook his head, as if pulling himself out of a daze, “—that is neither here nor there. The reason I called out to you is because I am sure my dearest sent you an invitation for a small dinner. It’s a simple get-together with two more couples.”
Instantly, Cecilia wanted to find a way out of this dinner. Even though she had demanded that they attend social functions, eventually, she had not anticipated so soon.
“When is this dinner?” she asked hesitantly.
“The Sunday after the Harvest Festival,” the earl answered happily.
Oh Lord Almighty.
Before she replied, she shot a look at Cassian, who looked as placid as a lake’s surface. “As much as we would love to attend—” just not at this time, “—I do believe that we have something planned for that evening. Right, Cassian?”
He peered at her. “What was that again?”
She felt her chest tighten. “You know that… thing in London.”
“That… thing?”
From the blank expression on Cassian’s face to the expectant one of the earl’s, Cecilia’s cheeks reddened with every passing moment.
“Yes, that thing in London, with your friend and mine…” She felt heat scald her cheeks. “It was at your friend's house, the best man at our wedding, you know the one. He said something about a dinner party and a musicale—”
“If you meant Benjamin Hadleigh, Earl Somerton,” Cassian’s brows knotted, “he despises musicales.”
Cecilia was on the verge of begging the ground to open and swallow her whole. It was apparent that not only was Cassian unwilling to help, but he was also willing and ready to let her dig her grave the more she went on with her flustered ramble.
“I may have gotten the details wrong, but you do know what I mean—” she pleaded with her eyes, begging him to cosign on her lie. “The thing, remember…”
Cassian paused in bemusement for a moment. She held her breath. At last, he smiled widely, “Oh, yes, that thing. I cancelled that thing. So yes, Rainsville, we will attend this Sunday. Thank you for your invitation.”
The earl’s smile was from ear to ear, and he seemed to either ignore—or dismiss—Cecilia’s unfortunate attempt to wiggle out of the invitation.
Disconsolate, her shoulders slumped, and she bit the inside of her cheek while the earl and Cassian shook hands.
She did not know how to act like a wife in love with her husband—if that was how the earl thought she and Cassian were. In love.
“My wife will love to see you, Your Grace,” Solomon crowed. “And not to brag, but she will be honored to be the first lady to host the newest Duchess of Tressingham.”
Forcing a smile, Cecilia waited until the earl rode off before she turned to Cassian. “Before I address your non-support—”
“Of an unnecessary lie.”
“—I need to ask you, does he know?”
Heading to the main house, Cassian replied, “Whatever do you mean?”
“Does he know the truth of our marriage?” she asked as they stepped on the back portico.
“Well, it was slathered over every newspaper in London and probably made the headlines overseas, so yes, I do assume he knows. However, you will not stray from the topic at hand. What punishment shall I give you for breaking my rule?”
She stopped in her stride. “You are not going to spank me.”
As she reached for the handle, Cassian grabbed her hand and spun her around, then caged her hands above her head.
“I am not—” His mouth cut off her arguments. She strained against her confinement, and yet she could not get away from the relentless kiss.
He caught her lower lip between his teeth and stroked over it with his tongue, lavishing her with soft nibbles and hot, urgent kisses. His body pressed hers back into the wall, trapping her body tight against his.