Lord Belden's Baggage

The next morning, after breakfast, David excused himself from the library as soon as Charlotte appeared with Bram.

Alisa, too, rose to leave, but Charlotte asked her to sit back down, so she did. She appeared quite uncomfortable, being in this room with Bram again, and almost everyone there knew exactly why that was. And Bram had a sneaking suspicion that since she and his father had undoubtedly spoken at length last night about what they'd learned about their son his mother probably knew the entire tawdry story, too. Charlotte, being American, was often quite straightforward about things. "Alisa, Bram has told us what transpired between the two of you before he left for Spain."

The young woman's face drained of all of its color, and she seemed to collapse in on herself. "No, he couldn't have," she breathed, looking accusingly at Bram, her arms out behind her, clutching at the back of the couch as if she was bracing herself for something. "Could he?"

"It was the right thing to do, Alisa, to tell my mother that I had disciplined you, revealing parts of your person that I shouldn't have." In that way, Bram hoped he had conveyed to her that that was all he had told his parents-not that she was likely to volunteer more. He reached across the distance between them to take her cold hand in his and squeeze it while deliberately looking her in the eye and even attempting to warm her hand between the both of his before she snatched it away. "Punishing you that way was very unchivalrous of me." He still couldn't quite bring himself to tell her that he was sorry about it, though, because that would have been a lie.

Alisa's outright, highly unladylike snort did nothing to encourage him to continue, but he forged on. "And now, b-because of the f-fact that by seeing you in a state of undress, I have compromised your honor, coupled with the fact that it is highly likely that one or more of the servants might have heard your cries of distress, we have decided that the best course of action is that we should get married as soon as it can be feasibly arranged."

She couldn't have looked more horrified at the idea if he had told her that the solution they'd come to was that they were going to lop off her head or burn her at the stake in the public square. After giving them both accusatory looks, she shot up and headed for the door, in a manner that was not unlike how she had left him that day, after the spanking and still in the midst of her pleasure, slamming it so loudly that the centuries old timber rattled in its casement. "We'll give her a little while, then I'll go up to talk to her," Bram said.

Charlotte gave him a mirthless smile and a condescending pat on the leg. "You, dear? No. I'll talk to her."

"It's my problem, Mother."

"Yes, but, dear, to her, you are the problem. You'll put her back up as soon as she sees you, like you just did. To say nothing of the fact that it's highly improper that the two of you be in a room alone together."

His eyebrow rose. "I rather think that ship has sailed, don't you?"

"Well, there's no use in compounding the sin, either."

"I don't like sending my mummy to do my dirty work."

His mother's look was scolding. "And if that's how you think of it, think of how that's going to make her react to you. Besides, you're not sending me, Bram. You hate her, your father adores her, but I love her. I'm going because, of the three of us, she's most likely to listen to me."

She didn't have to say it. He was the least likely person she would listen to. "I don't hate her, exactly."

"Don't you, dear?" his mother asked in a patently false tone. "That was my impression, based on both your words and your actions since even before she arrived here. Do you really think Alisa thinks any differently, especially after what you did to her?"

Bram's mouth tightened, although he acknowledged to himself that he probably deserved her sarcasm.

When she did go to speak to Alisa, Bram snuck up the stairs and stood outside in the hallway, not really trying to eavesdrop, necessarily, but just hoping to get some kind of impression as to how the talk was going. At first, he heard nothing, then the voices inside her room began to rise, and it wasn't just hers, either, to his amazement. He didn't think he could ever remember an instance when his mother had raised her voice to him. She'd cried and cajoled and wheedled-only ever in conjunction with him getting married-but, unlike his father, she had never yelled at him, even when he was a very annoying little boy.

As she had already admitted, she loved Alisa, and that made him even more surprised that she was yelling at her.

Unfortunately, the only distinct thing he heard coming from within those walls was exactly what he might have expected.

"But I don't want to marry him!"

With that, he decided he probably didn't want to hear any more and skulked down to the lounge, realizing more and more every minute, to his great surprise, that compromising position or not he couldn't stand the idea of her marrying Teddy Simsbury.

In fact, he couldn't bear the idea of her marrying anyone else. His body, at the very least, wanted to explore more of her much more. He craved to delve into her incredible reaction to the spanking. If there were more of that in her, then he would likely be a pretty happily married man.

She was a little spitfire, so he wasn't likely to want for reasons to punish her-not that he wouldn't just because he wanted to. And that would probably guarantee that he wouldn't grow bored of her, which had always been a concern in regards to other woman, none of whom had ever driven him to distraction the way she had from the moment he'd known of her imminent arrival.

It was true that he preferred women of taller stature, simply because of his own, but his body certainly hadn't shown any objections while she was lying over his lap-quite the contrary.

Having come face to face with the inevitable much sooner than she had, and with many more good reasons in its favor than Alisa must have been able to come up with, he had just decided to go upstairs and tell Alisa that they were going to get married to hell with his mother's tiptoeing around her when Charlotte appeared in the doorway. Alisa trailed in behind her, albeit with a severe reluctance that she wasn't trying to conceal.

His mother glided over to him, an enormous smile on her face, giving him a kiss on both cheeks while none too subtly dropping a velvet ring box into his lap, whispering, "Be nice to her, son. Try to put yourself in her shoes and show her some kind of affection. It costs you nothing to do so, and it could go a long way towards making the both of you quite a bit happier in the long run." Then she straightened and said in a normal if overly enthusiastic-tone of voice, "I believe you have something you'd like to ask Alisa, Bram, dear? I'll leave you two alone."

On her way by the younger woman, who had barely entered the room far enough to be considered to be standing in it, she gave her a warm, loving hug. "You'll see, my dear, I promise. It'll be all for the best."

Bram watched as Alisa tried-and failed badly-to smile for Charlotte, who kissed her on both cheeks-which appeared damp already then left.

"All my parents know is that I spanked you, by the way," he said immediately, once the door closed behind Charlotte.

She wanted to die of embarrassment right then and there.

He rose and approached her, and as he took a step towards her, she took one away from him, until her back was up against the door she'd come in. Bram could feel her fear and reacted with impatience. "No, I don't know," she threw back at him with false bravado, tears seeping down her cheeks.

He shot her an angry glare, turning away from her to run his hands through his hair, then back again, moving on impulse to collect her into his arms and stride over to the couch, where he set her down next to him, gently keeping her there when she tried to lunge up again.

Bram supposed it was best to begin with the truth. "I don't imagine you're any more ecstatic about this than I am."

Had she choked a bit or was that almost a laugh? he wondered.

"But at least you won't have to marry Teddy."

"I like Teddy," she sniffled. "He," she emphasized, "has always been very nice to me-generous and kind and thoughtful."

He wanted to point out to her-loudly-that she barely knew him, but he managed to refrain, which wasn't easy. Bram was not in favor of hearing her sing the praises of another man when he was about to propose to her, especially since she was making no effort to conceal the fact that she was making a comparison between the two of them that was distinctly not in his-her soon-to-be fiancé's favor.

"Yes, but you do not want Teddy-or anyone else to find out what happened between us that day."

"What you did to me, you mean."

Bram sighed. "Yes, what I did to you," he agreed, adding, "But not without severe provocation."

"What about the severe retribution I suffered at your hands?" Alisa cried, deliberately not mentioning the last most humiliating-thing he'd done to her.

As he didn't consider bringing her to climax to be retribution in any way, Bram wasn't considering that when he answered. He was too busy trying not to get angry-he really was-although he didn't imagine it sounded like that to her. "I wore the bruise you gave me for three days!"

Alisa stood up so quickly, she caught him off guard, and he couldn't prevent it, bending down so that her nose was practically pressed up against his, and hissing, "The bruises that you gave me took ten whole days to fade! And I couldn't sit comfortably for the first four!"

It wasn't until a few seconds later that she realized what she'd revealed to him, but Bram recognized it immediately, a sly smile stealing unbidden over his face.

"You looked at them, didn't you?"

Alisa tried to storm out of the room at that, but he simply caught her wrist in a surprisingly considerate but unbreakable hold and reeled her back to him, forcing her to sit on his knee, this time, and holding her there. His legs were so long that her feet-which dangled down between them-didn't touch the ground.

Despite his proximity, she resolutely looked anywhere but at him until he captured her chin and gave her no choice. "You did look, Alisa, regularly, or you wouldn't have known when they went away."

She kept her mouth tightly closed.

"Answer me."

"I didn't hear a question."

"Would you prefer to do so while you're over my lap?"

Her eyes widened, and, to her complete mortification, she immediately began to babble. Not only was she terrified of the idea that he would spank her again what if he also touched her like he had? "No, please! Yes! I looked! Let me go!" But Bram had had an idea, and even though she had obeyed him, he still tipped her over and arranged her into that humiliating position, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.

Before she could do anything else in defense of herself, he had inexorably drawn her hands behind her back, where he kept them, just above the creamy white bottom he'd bared to his appreciative eyes for the second time. He brushed his hand very carefully over those beautiful cheeks. "I don't see any bruises remaining, although you shouldn't think that I'm going to allow your little behind to get this lily white very often during our marriage. I'm not one to believe in sparing the rod and spoiling the wife."

With all of those terribly confusing feelings flooding through her again that she kept telling herself she didn't want to feel, Alisa felt the need to strike back at him, not wanting him to reduce her to the wild, mindless thing she'd been-in two different ways with him before.

But there was no handy spot where she could bite him-which was the only method of self-defense left to her-or, despite her incredible fear of how he might retaliate, she surely would have.

With that, he surprised her by pulling her drawers up, but he didn't release her. Bram had gotten what he wanted her heated arousal was more than apparent to him the moment he'd laid her across his lap.

"Let me go!" she whisper-yelled, ignoring how he had been deliberately needling her with that atrocious corruption of the proverb.

"No."

"I'll scream!"

He thought about that for a second, then said, "Well, you could, that's true. But then my mother-who is no doubt listening in the hallway for us to call her back in so that she can celebrate the moment she's been waiting for since before I was born will burst in on us, and you'll be lying here like this. Now, that wouldn't bother me in the least. She already knows I've acted the cad to you before and has, no doubt, adjusted her estimation of my character accordingly. But I would imagine that you might not like her to see you in such an intimate position."

"Why not?" she argued, trying to crane her head so that she could see him. "It would still be your fault!"

"No, my dear. It's your fault for trying to leave the room before I had a chance to propose to you-which is what we all want and you had the chance to accept, as everyone agreed you would, even you, since you came down here with her for specifically that purpose."

"What about what I want? I wouldn't marry you now if you were the last man in existence!" she growled.

"I know what you want, Alisa. Much more so than you do, believe me."

It was a chance, and he took it, quickly raising his hand and giving her one very hard swat.

She managed to stifle the indignant-and pained-yelp in her throat, but still said nothing.

His hand rested over cheeks that he had left quite hot in some areas already. "Shall I continue, my love?" he asked solicitously, dipping a finger into the slit in her bloomers very quickly, just once, to ascertain whether he was right about how she was feeling and he was. He pushed on to swipe gently over her clit-which made her gasp and stiffen in his hold-then put his hand-with its very damp finger-on her bottom again.

Alisa was beside herself with anger at what he was doing and how her body seemed so terribly willing to betray her when he touched her like this-and wasn't thinking. "Don't you call me that!"

She felt his hand lift off her backside, though, and suddenly realized that she needed to hurry and capitulate-God help her-before another swat landed.

"Wait, wait, wait!"

But Bram wasn't in the mood to indulge her. In fact, he wasn't likely to ever be in that kind of mood when he thought she needed to be corrected, and the sooner she learned that, the more obedient-and thus, contented-she'd be as his wife. So, he let fly with another crack across cheeks that she tried-unsuccessfully-to arch away from him, and even with material covering them, it was pretty much just as bad as it had been the last time he'd spanked her. But not as loud, as he had hoped when he'd brought them up to her waist.

Bram said nothing else to encourage her to do what she knew she had to. The only thing he intended to do was spank her until she agreed.

Alisa was horrified to realize that she had no choice but to do as he wanted, and she had no idea how long she had before he smacked her again.

"All right, all right."

"What?"

She collapsed over his lap for the second time in less than a month. But when she spoke after a short pause, her voice was entirely devoid of emotion. "I'll marry you. Just stop spanking me!" She wanted to tell him to stop touching her in...that way, but she was too embarrassed even to say it and equally embarrassed that she didn't even know what to call what he'd done, really.

Bram chuckled. "For the moment, Alisa, I shall, because you have obeyed me. But you shouldn't expect that you're going to avoid spankings just because we're engaged or married, for that matter. Quite the opposite, in fact." She didn't much want to contemplate what he'd just said, so she filed it away in her mind with the other grievances she had compiled against him.

With that, he let go of her and one of her hands, holding onto the left one as she stood and tried to escape again, rising, too, and slipping the ring he'd recognized as a family heirloom onto her finger.

Alisa continued to try to reclaim her other hand. "I agreed to marry you against my better judgment and the fact that I can't stand you. Now let me go!" she practically screamed, only to have him use his hold on her hand to tug her crashing into him, where he proceeded to give her a third swat, although it was partially-dulled by her skirts as they fell into place.

Bram caught her chin with his thumb and index finger and made her look at him, speaking in a low, stern tone, "Listen to me, darling. If I find out that you have acted any way or said anything more, to or around my parents, about how you feel about me, the engagement or the wedding, I will make it my business to make certain that you regret it very thoroughly." It wasn't as if he didn't know his mother was perfectly cognizant about her feelings, but he didn't want Alisa rubbing her nose in it constantly, either, and complaining to his mother that she was miserable at the prospect of becoming his wife.

She had been standing stiffly in his arms, trying to crane herself away from him-although she wasn't able to get very far. Once he'd finished speaking, though, she was once again pliant against him, her face a careful blank rather than filled with anger at him as he'd expected to see when he looked down at her.

Clamping her to his side, he speculated loudly, "Golly, I wonder where my mother might "

He didn't even get to finish his sentence before Charlotte practically burst in and hugged the two of them yet again. "I get to be the first to congratulate you! Congratulations! I am so happy!" She hugged Bram and kissed him, then hugged the young woman whom she was ecstatic was going to be her new daughter-in-law, saying as she kissed Alisa, "Your mother would be so proud and happy right now! We always wanted the two of you to get married!"

Bram managed not to roll his eyes, but he was surprised to see that Alisa didn't seem to even have had the slightest impulse to do so. Still, she wasn't objecting, and she wasn't crying, and she wasn't cringing away from him or making any attempts to run, either, so he really couldn't complain.

When he suggested that they sit down again, she sat quietly next to him, looking everywhere but at either of them, appearing to not even notice when he took her hand in his and threaded his fingers through her icy ones. "Are you cold, Alisa?" he asked.

"No, thank you, Lord Belden, I'm not."

He chuckled. "I think you can call me Bram."

"All right," she answered so amenably that she surprised him.

But his mother spoke up then, and he didn't have a chance to consider her reactions any further at the moment.

"May I see the ring?" Charlotte asked, but Alisa acted as if she hadn't heard the question, even though the older woman was sitting right across from her.

"Mother asked if she could see the ring, Alisa," Bram prompted gently.

Her gaze, which had been on the carpet beneath her feet, jumped to him. "I'm sorry?"

"The ring, dear. May I see it?" Charlotte repeated.

"Certainly." Her voice was unnaturally soft, as if she didn't have the breath or the will to make it any louder.

Bram turned to face her more directly, looking for signs that she might be having problems breathing. "Are you feeling all right, love?"

"I'm fine, thank you," she answered with an almost eerie calm and without looking at him.

He let it go, but kept an eye on her.

When his father arrived home, just before lunch, there was another round of hugs and sincere congratulations, during which he noticed that Alisa had barely brought herself to display the faintest ghost of a smile. When Daniels announced that lunch was served, everyone rose, but instead of following them in, Alisa took a few steps away from him, although she couldn't go far because he was still holding onto her hand.

"I wonder if you'd excuse me from lunch. I didn't sleep very well last night, and I'm quite tired. I'm not particularly hungry, either." Her words were calm and distinctly measured.

Bram looked down at her with genuine concern in his eyes. "Are you sure you're not sick?"

"I hope not," Charlotte said, "since the wedding's this Sunday!"

"This Sunday?" Alisa's already pale complexion grew several shades whiter.

"Yes, dear, we wanted to get it accomplished as soon as possible, to stem the tide of any possible gossip, since Bram's trip means that we're already later about it than we should be."

"Oh."

Bram rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "You go upstairs and have a nap. I'll tell Daniels to ask Mrs. Foster to make up a tray for you that Evie will bring up when you ring, if you're hungry later." "Thank you."

She was hugged and fawned over again, lastly by him, who decided to follow her up there. Bram gave his mother a glance. "I'm assuming that's all right to do, since we're engaged and about to be married in record time?" "Yes, I suppose."

He brought her to the door to her bedroom, where he caught her before she could go through it, looking furtively right and left to see if anyone was coming. "I had the thought downstairs that we've never really even kissed properly, and I think that situation needs to be remedied immediately."

Before she could protest in any way, he drew her into his arms and tipped her face to his, keeping his eyes on hers as he bestowed upon her the gentlest of kisses. When she didn't seem to mind that, he deepened it a bit, proceeding carefully, purely for her benefit, slanting his mouth across hers slowly. Bram's tongue traced the outline of her lips before he pulled back slightly and whispered, "Open your mouth for me, darling."

As detached as she was feeling from anything that was happening, that request still managed to pique her curiosity a bit, and she did as he asked.

He dared to explore boldly past her lips and then her teeth, causing her to cry out nervously, but he merely tightened his arms around her and continued to kiss her like that, one big hand coming up to cup the back of her head and hold it still as the kiss became even more passionate.

Alisa had used illness as an excuse to get away from everyone and the unwanted consequences of her actions. She didn't really feel badly when they'd come upstairs. But now, she didn't know what was happening in her body! It was flushing hot in very inappropriate places, as it had when he'd touched her in the library. She felt as if her breasts were swelling, and she wanted to rub her thighs together in the worst-most lewd and inappropriate manner. The man who was going to be her husband had turned her into some kind of wanton woman of questionable morals!

When he let her go, she stumbled back, and Bram reached out to steady her, but she slipped away from him and through the door to her bedroom before he could say or do anything else.

He fought against the nearly irresistible urge to follow her in but managed to suppress it, reaching up to touch lips that were still tingling from the feel of hers and stalking away before he changed his mind.

If his parents hadn't been waiting downstairs for him-and probably counting the minutes before he returned things might have turned out very differently for Miss Thurgood.