Lord Belden's Baggage

When they returned to the manor-ten days later, rather than just the week he had intended, because he found he couldn't keep his hands off her and didn't want to give up their little idyll the last thing he did was curl his finger at her to call her to him.

She was all dressed and ready to go-indeed, the carriage was waiting outside for them. They were standing in the foyer, having made a sweep through the place together to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything, and he caught her eye before making that gesture.

"Bram!" she squeaked indignantly, even now knowing that he would not be talked out of it once he'd made up his mind. She'd not had any success in doing anything this past week that really diverted him from his intentions for more than a minute, although throwing an orange at him had caused him to chase her willy-nilly through the place, but that had only resulted in a bit of a delay, really.

They were both half-dressed-she, in one of his enormous shirts and he, in a pair of pajama bottoms he usually eschewed, but, because they had decided to stay longer, they'd had to send out for reinforcements, mainly food. She was going to lose, of course the man's legs were as long as a country mile, and he knew the place while she didn't, although she had the advantage of being able to squeeze into places that he couldn't, which was why-when he'd finally found her, she had folded herself into one of the cupboards in the kitchen. To her great distress at first-he had proceeded, then, to bend her over the counter and take her from behind, while spanking her naughty bum most thoroughly for running away from him.

Now, minutes from leaving, she heard him order firmly, "Upstairs, now, little dove."

Sighing and pouting in resignation, she followed him back up the stairs. He had spanked her so often this week-for every infraction he could think of-that he didn't even worry about whether or not she was following him. He knew she was, because she wouldn't want another spanking, or in this case, to make the one she was about to receive, shortly, to be any worse than it already was.

Taking her skirts up and then her underthings down was not unlike peeling the paper back on a beautifully wrapped present. He'd laid her over just one of his legs as he sat on the end of the bed they'd used while they were there, which had never been the one on which he'd originally laid her dress. Early on, she'd valiantly suggested that they maintain separate rooms, and he'd disabused her of that notion very quickly, saying as he did exactly what he was talking about to her at the same time that it would be hard for him to make love to her when she was in an entirely different room.

"Bram, you don't really have to do this, do you?" she asked prettily, looking back at him from where the rest of her was lying on their very messy bed. She couldn't get him to help her make it this morning. He claimed that was what servants were for.

Alisa had colored at that. "But, Bram!"

"But what, little girl?" he'd asked while trying to collect everything he'd need immediately when they got home, to save it from being packed.

"But...they'll know!" she'd whispered, as if it was a terrible tragedy, and he could see from the look in her eye that she truly thought it would be.

He'd dropped his things onto the bed in one lump and came to her, slipping his hands beneath his own shirt to cover her breasts, liking the way she jumped when he ran his thumbs over her nipples. "Yes, of course, they will. Everyone will. What do you think they think we've been doing all this time? Painting? Gardening? Playing Charades?"

He adored making her blush, and pointing out things like that made her cheeks color delightfully.

Her hands went to those flaming cheeks. "Oh, my lord, Bram-your parents, too?"

His mouth twitched at her utter horror, but he managed not to chuckle, barely. "Yes."

"I can't possibly go back there! Couldn't we go to the house in London for another week or month-or several decades, perhaps?" she asked sweetly.

Bram smiled indulgently down at her, kissing her until her arms crept around his neck and she pressed her body against his, then saying against her mouth, "No."

But with her lying across his thigh at this very moment, bloomers decorating her ankles, skirts laying over her back, her bare obviously well-tended to bottom-calling to his itching palm, he answered in the same way as he brought his hand down for the first stroke, "No."

She'd gotten used to them being alone, but there were servants going in and out of the house downstairs, so when she cried out-completely understandably when his hand met her already sore behind he hissed, "Shhhhh, my darling. You're going to have to be as quiet as you can, or everyone will know that you're being disciplined by your new husband, too."

Within just a few strokes, she was crying into a pillow she'd grabbed, which did a reasonable job muffling her anguish as he reignited-yet again the painful spots he'd kept quite fresh all week.

Just as he was beginning to really lace into her, there was a knock at the door, and the both of them froze, Alisa's head rising from the pillow as she began to try to struggle away from him. But Bram squeezed his arm more tightly around her, which rendered her still.

"Lord Belden?"

"Do not come in," he ordered, and Alisa wanted to die with embarrassment at what that must've made the servant think they were doing.

"No, milord. This is Peter, and I wondered if that was all the trunks."

"Take what you have now, Peter, and you can look around for more you might have missed, later." His tone did not invite argument.

For her part, his wife didn't know how he managed to sound so normal, but then she remembered that he wasn't the one on the receiving end of his enormous palm.

"Yes. Thank you, milord."

Even before they'd heard his footsteps begin to fade down the hallway, her spanking recommenced. She would have protested that he hadn't waited nearly long enough, but she was soon well beyond anything but moaning and pleading with him through the now damp pillow-to stop.

Usually, afterwards, he hugged and soothed her, but despite the fact that it was a very strict punishment, he merely rearranged her clothing, bringing her downstairs and into the carriage as soon as he was through.

However, on the ride there after telling the driver to take the scenic route he had pulled her onto his lap again, rearranged her things again more to his liking, and began to play with her, while kissing her madly, holding her chin while he ravaged her mouth. Bram growled when his fingers found what he had come to expect-even when he spanked her for no reason but his own pleasure, she was dripping wet-perhaps even more so than when he had a reason to redden her backside.

He was dedicating himself to learning how she liked not only to be touched, but to be spoken to and handled, all of the more obvious, as well as the subtler things that affected her in that special way he reveled in.

And thus, not only did he kiss her frequently and deeply, but he also nuzzled that spot just below her ear, nipping at it gently and saying those things he thought might heighten her arousal.

"I'm glad we're going back home again. I find myself craving the domestic side of life with you. I'm going to spank you regularly, you know. This was just a taste of what you can expect. I'm going to have you in every room in the manor, and I'm going to force you to scream my name every time you climax, so that it reverberates against the walls." He lowered his voice as he licked up and down the side of her neck. "I'm afraid that I'm going to have to be terribly strict with you, Lady Belden. You've a wild, naughty, rebellious side that wants severe curbing, and I shall see that it is. I shall tame you to my hand, make you meek and obedient."

Alisa lifted his mouth to hers, kissing him in the way she'd learned-through her own close observations of him that he enjoyed the most, leaving him panting and breathless just as she bit down sharply on his tongue, then moved a bit away from him.

The strong arms that held her on his lap contracted tightly, barely leaving her room to breathe, holding her still as his fingers marauded their way through the tender flesh he had laid bare, coming to rest on an already engorged pearl, which he coaxed and worried and stroked and brushed mercilessly.

"That's it, my darling. That's it. You have no choice. You're mine to do with as I please, and, as you might have noticed, I enjoy bringing you pleasure after I've left my marks on your beautiful behind."

She was melting in his arms, totally surrendering to him, seconds from giving him everything, no matter where they were or who heard her he'd driven her so far that she simply didn't care!

And then the carriage came to a halt, and he quickly and neatly rearranged her clothing so that no one would have known what he had been doing to her when, seconds later, the door to the carriage was thrown wide open by a footman. Bram exited-slowly-first, and it was a good thing, because she wasn't at all sure that she could walk! He'd left her there, right at the precipice of it all! And she had a hunch that he had timed things just so, in order to leave her wanting like this, desperate for release!

Although there was a receiving line for them, which was really just his parents and the servants, Bram realized that she might be somewhat unsteady on her feet at the moment, so, when he reached a hand back in to help her and she took the first step down, out of the carriage, he then swept her up into his arms, to applause from their small audience, carrying her over the threshold and into the house that would truly be their home, for a while, anyway.

In the great hall, everyone assembled again, and they were given another round of applause when he set her down but kept her locked tightly to his side, once the servants had taken their coats.

But Charlotte wasn't going to allow him to keep her from her new daughter-in-law as she drew the younger woman into a loving hug, and his father insisted on shaking his hand much too jovially, and then they traded.

When they were all reacquainted, his mother suggested they have tea in the library, looping her arm with Alisa and walking with her there, ahead of the men. Bram could see, though, that she was giving the girl the once over with her eagle eyes, probably noting her high color and damp eyes, but he knew she'd never say anything.

Charlotte was worried about Alisa, and she hadn't known quite how to react when they'd gotten the word from the footmen they'd sent to help them move back that they wanted to spend another few days there. She wasn't at all sure whether that was a good or a bad sign, although she certainly hoped it was the former, and that they didn't want more time so that they could continue arguing with each other. That seemed unlikely, though.

His parents had already given them one of their properties in Scotland, where they knew that Bram enjoyed hunting and fishing, and Charlotte had given Alisa what seemed to be half of all of her jewelry, including many family heirloom pieces besides her engagement and wedding rings. But as they were all enjoying tea, with David and Charlotte in the wing back chairs and Alisa sitting very close to Bram on the couch, his mother looked furtively at his father, making Bram suspicious. "All right, you two, what is going on?"

David chided his wife gently. "Charlotte, you give it away every time."

But his wife didn't seem to mind. She just shrugged. "I can't help it if I'm not very good at keeping secrets-and you should be glad of that, dear!"

David had to laugh at that. "I suppose I should be, at that."

"Well?" Bram prompted with a grin.

His father leaned forward in his chair. "Well, we know you were planning on staying here, then going on your less abbreviated, more formal honeymoon, perhaps having already found a different place to come back to."

"We were?" Alisa piped up. "I don't remember hearing that discussion."

Bram scolded his wife mildly. "That's because you preferred to be upstairs sulking while the rest of us arranged our wedding and talked about what our future plans might be."

Alisa frowned fiercely at that. "I was not sulking!" she asserted.

"Pouting?" he helped cheerfully.

"Not that, either!"

"Moping?"

"Bram, stop teasing!"

His parents looked on in astonishment as he smiled genuinely down at her, kissing the top of her head. "All right, you were otherwise occupied when we talked about that." He turned to the older couple. "Do you have a different suggestion about what we should do?"

They looked at each other and then said in unison, "Yes!"

David continued. "We want you to consider living here permanently, once you get back."

His mother leaned forward, saying almost improperly, "But we also understand that you are newlyweds and that you want time to be alone together."

"Charlotte Littlefield!"

Bram had a hard time not laughing. He'd never heard his father take quite that censorious a tone with his mother. It was much more likely to be the other way around.

"Well, of course they do, David!"

"Move on, Charlotte, or I'll tell them myself."

There was very little else that he could have said that would have made his wife comply faster.

"We want you to have the west wing to live in!"

Alisa couldn't believe it. "The whole wing to ourselves?"

"Yes, daughter," David agreed, using her new title with obvious joy. "The whole thing. Decorate or renovate it any way you want. But we really don't like the idea of you two living away from us, especially when the little ones arrive lots of them, we hope. We want to be part of their lives."

Bram was very touched by his parents' gesture. "And we want you to be, too." He looked down at Alisa, who still looked a bit stunned. "Would that be all right with you, wife?"

"I can't even begin to believe it! I love this house, and I would adore knowing that it was my permanent home! Yes, please!"

***

Their reunion with his parents had been joyous, even though they hadn't been gone for very long. When tea wound down and both David and Bram had excused themselves to see to their work, all sorts of memories flooded through Alisa at the thought of what the older couple had done for her.

She loved them very much, almost as much as she'd loved her parents. They had been there for her when she'd had absolutely nothing, bringing her into their home, and doing so not only absolutely uncomplainingly, but warmly and graciously. And they'd even married her off to their son, which may or may not prove to be a good thing.

And now, they were turning over a large portion of their home to her. It was just unbelievable.

"Alisa?" Charlotte asked quietly, as tears streamed down the younger woman's face. "Are you all right? Did Bram...did Bram treat you well while you two were alone?"

She was surprised to realize that she had no hesitation in answering Charlotte with complete honesty, even through her embarrassment at the question. "Yes, he did. He was..." Stern? Strict? Devastating? Talented? Inventive? Dominant? Loving, even, at times? She could hardly say any of those things to her mother-in-law.

"Bram was wonderful to me, really."

Charlotte's shocked expression made Alisa smile. "He was?"

She nodded. "He was also annoying and autocratic and bossy and..." She looked up at Charlotte. "Well, you know how he is. I don't have to tell you."

"No, my dear, you don't. So long as he didn't mistreat you or make you unhappy."

She supposed she could say that he'd done both, at times, if she wanted to look at it that way, But she didn't.

"No, Charlotte. He didn't." She leaned over and patted the other woman's hand reassuringly.

Charlotte's sigh showed her relief at hearing that. "Oh, I'm so glad!" And it made her bolder. "Is there any possibility that...that you two might actually be happy together?"

Alisa thought seriously for a moment about that, then said, "Honestly, I think it's too soon to say that. But I will say that I have more hope for that possibility than I did before we got married."

Charlotte was literally beaming. "I will take what I can get. I'm glad for you. The both of you deserve to be happy, and David and I sincerely hope you will be."