Lord Belden's Baggage

Alisa threw herself into the remodeling, although her husband had expressly forbidden her to finalize the planning or purchasing of anything until she had spoken to him. At first, she thought that edict would make her feel terribly constrained, but it didn't end up being that way. She wanted to change some things-more modernizing them than anything-but she was acutely aware of the history of the place and certainly didn't want to do anything that might destroy either any historic architectural or its inherent beauty and grace. Charlotte and David were a bit of help in that area, especially as Charlotte had exquisite taste much better than hers, about things like that.

The two of them tended to set off on shopping expeditions-well, with Alisa's constraints, it tended to be more looking expeditions, but they both enjoyed shopping of all kinds and each other's company immensely, so they made a day out of it most times, stopping for tea and lunch somewhere along the way.

But Alisa had seen a beautiful chaise lounge that she wanted that was in just the right fabric for their bedroom, even though they hadn't begun to redecorate in there as yet, only she hadn't bought it, not wanting to give her husband yet another reason to spank her. With or without his consent, she knew that anywhere she went would instantly give her credit and send him the bill.

So, one morning, after breakfast, she went to David's study and knocked on the door.

"Come in!" When he saw her, even though she protested that he didn't have to, he got up and came to greet her with a hug and a kiss, saying with a smile, "I know I don't have to, daughter, I want to!"

He motioned to one of the chairs in front of the desk. "Sit, sit. Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you, David. I just wanted to ask you for some money."

The older man looked puzzled at that. "Some...money?"

"Yes. I know that, when I came here, what little money my parents had left me and what I got from the sale of the house was passed to you-at least, that's what I thought had happened to it." "That was it, yes."

Alisa felt awkward, although she knew she didn't have to. It was her money, after all. "I would like to withdraw some, please. I've found a little piece I would really like to have for the wing, but I want to buy it myself." David sat back in his chair with a look of consternation.

"What is it?" Alisa asked, immediately on edge for some reason. She wondered if the money had been lost, somehow, or she didn't know what, but whatever was making him look that way couldn't be good! "Well, in actuality, Alisa, I no longer have the money."

She felt somewhat defeated. It certainly hadn't been a large sum, but it had been her money, and she'd counted on it being put by as a nest egg, of sorts. "Oh."

"No, no, not like that! I don't have it because I'm not the one who handles the family's money."

"Oh. Oh!" She perked right back up again, David was very glad to see. "So, could you give me the name of your man of business and I'll contact him? Or could you introduce me to him, perhaps?"

For some reason, that made David smile broadly and stand up. "Of course! I'd be glad to introduce you to him. For you, daughter, I would do anything." He took a few steps towards the door, but she didn't do anything but turn in her chair and watch him go. "Didn't you say you wanted to meet the person who handles our accounts?"

Feeling that there was definitely something that she was missing, Alisa stood and began to follow him. "Well, yes, I would appreciate that a lot. I don't need much, but I'd like to have some pin money, I guess."

"I'm relatively certain that can be arranged," he said, shuffling down the hallway. At the next door, he stopped and knocked. "May I come in?" he asked formally. "I have someone here who is very eager to meet you."

Alisa was totally bamboozled. She had no idea that his accountant worked out of the house-she'd assumed he'd use a large firm in London. Why had she never seen him? "Come in."

David opened the door and motioned for her to go through it.

And standing there before her, shrugging into his coat, was her husband.

Her father-in-law looked inordinately pleased with himself. "Lady Belden, I'd like you to meet my man of business, Lord Belden. Lord Belden, this is your beautiful wife, Lady Belden, and she would like to ask you something of great financial importance."

She thought it was kind of unusual for the son to be handling the money, but she didn't think it was her place to comment.

"David!" Alisa scolded, reaching out to pinch him lightly but really just caught his jacket. "You had entirely too much fun doing that, when you could just as easily have said that Bram handles the money for the family!"

He was unrepentant in his glee. "You can't begrudge an old man some fun, daughter!" Then he pecked her on the cheek and headed back to his own office.

Bram had already crept up on her-surprisingly silent on those gigantic feet of his and she quickly found herself wrapped up in his embrace, her head tipped back for a sizzling kiss. And once he'd captured her, he refused to let her go, lifting her off her feet and carrying her back to his desk, where he sat down in his big chair and put her down on his lap, looking just about as self-satisfied as his father hand.

"Well, Lady Belden, what can I do for you? Need a loan? A mortgage? Did you lose your shirt at the cards with a sharp at your club and now your creditors are after you? Need me to pay off your bridge chits?"

"Yes," she replied pertly, making him laugh.

Bram nuzzled her neck. "What would you like, little girl?"

"I would like to have some of my money, please."

He looked just as confused as David had. "Some of your money?"

"Yes. Your father said that you handled the family's finances, and thus, the money-paltry sum that it was-must've been dealt with by you."

"Yes, it was. I set up an account for you at the bank using those funds, and I put it in trust for you until you're twenty-five."

She leaned away from him, appalled. "Twenty-five? But I'm only going on nineteen! The renovations will be long since done by then!"

Her husband growled low. "I should certainly hope so, considering how much money you've already spent on our behalf." He held up a fistful of papers.

"Oh. So, you're where those bills go."

She said it in such a way that he had to chuckle. "That's right. I've been taking care of your bills since I got here, from that first trip to Madame Yvonne's to your trousseau and, now, the remodel."

Alisa relaxed against him, playing with his expertly tied cravat. "Well, if it's any consolation, you won't be receiving any further bills from Madame Yvonne, who is supposedly the 'best couturier in London'." She snorted in disgust. He frowned. "And why not?"

"Let's just say that her attitude towards me was about as welcoming as yours was originally."

Bram ignored her dig at him and railed against the woman, threatening to ruin her when she told him what had happened.

But Alisa grinned down at him in a way he didn't much like, as if his kitten had just had a big saucer of cream. "At least, she didn't think that I'd understand what she said about me, since she was speaking in Spanish at the time. You've never once bothered to try to couch your distaste of me in any fashion whatsoever."

"Neither did you, little miss, because you thought that I was a 'discourteous, ungentlemanly, clod of a giant'."

He watched her face cloud over at his use of her own words. "Well, you were! And you were mean to me first! I'd never done anything to you, and one of the first things you ever said to me was that you did not give me permission to use your first name, Lord Belden-ahhhhhh!"

Bram clamped his big hand over her mouth, but he didn't stop doing what he was doing, either. "Shhhhh. Father's office is right next door, as you know!"

"Then don't bend me over your desk like I was your clerk and start rucking up my skirts, Lord Belden!"

"Clerks are usually men," he informed her as he roughly knocked her legs apart, not bothering to adjust her clothing beyond what he'd already done or his own, beyond releasing himself from wretched confinement. She wasn't as wet as she usually was for him, but then, he hadn't spanked her first or spent any time playing with her at all, which had become two of his favorite pursuits.

Still, he persisted, not worrying about how long it took at all because he had been denying her pleasure of late, bringing her just to it, then leaving her, but fulfilling her often enough that she knew exactly what she was missing every time he left her unfulfilled. She was much too ladylike to complain to him about it, though.

So, he figured she'd be gushing around him soon enough.

But he did lean over her to cover her mouth, which had the added titillating effect of not allowing her to get very far away from him as he thrust into her.

Sometimes size or the lack thereof did have its advantages.

"Let me in, Alisa," he commanded.

She shook her head "no," and even tried to squirm away, but with him between legs that were spread so widely that her feet no longer touched the ground, she wasn't going anywhere until he was through with her. "You're mine, you know."

Her hands slammed loudly down onto the desk in protest.

"Stop doing that the door is unlocked, you know. Do you want my father to walk in on us like this?"

With that, he removed his hand long enough to collect hers at her back, then repositioned it over her mouth.

As she was growing wetter by the minute, he had no further problems slipping all the way into her, hearing her give a very satisfying grunt when he'd claimed all of her he could.

"I'm going to make you come, you know."

That got her fighting him again, as well as she could, but he subdued her easily, and if he had to say, he thought she was fighting herself even more than him. "Come on, you can do better than that, can't you, Alisa? What if I was to say that, if you don't come for me, I'll paddle your naughty bottom tonight when I come to bed for being disobedient?"

More futile struggling and what he thought was an emphatic, "No, please!" from behind his hand.

"Oh, yes," he threatened, leaving her mouth but keeping her arms behind her as he used his free hand to find the other end of her slits-bloomers and lips.

Oh, God, when he touched her there, she wanted to scream, well before she found her fulfillment! He was so cruel sometimes, not allowing her to complete, even though she knew that he knew he was leaving her literally seconds before she would have exploded. He liked doing that, saying that he liked to think about her hungry and aching while he took his satisfaction from her body yet gave her none, and there was nothing she could do about it.

But if he said he was going to make her come, then he was. He never broke his word to her. He sometimes put very hard qualifications on it-like this time-but he would do his best to bring her pleasure.

And he did but it was still somewhat stunted because of the need to be quiet as she pressed herself into his fingers, riding them and him at the same time, feeling painfully stretched and full of him as she always did just slightly less than sore, but it also added to her arousal, and he refused to let her go until he'd wrung every spasm from her small, exhausted body.

Still leaning over her as they both recovered, pressing kisses here and there and stroking her hair, he chuckled. "It's a good thing they gave us a wing to ourselves, or I would never be able to look my parents in the eye!" "Bastard!" she tried to yell, but she didn't have the breath in this position. "You're constantly making me do that!"

He laughed again unrepentantly. "I know. I love how it makes you blush when you come downstairs obviously having just been fucked," he said, leaning up and helping her up immediately afterwards. He was as solicitous as he always was afterwards, making certain for himself that she was physically all right and could stand on her own. Bram set her clothing to rights, then his own, kissed the top of her head, gave her a squeeze around the middle and a pat on the bottom and sent her on her way.

Halfway to the door, she turned on her heel, hands on her hips, saying, "Damn you, Lord Belden!"

Already somewhat engrossed in his work, he nonetheless looked up at her with a smile. "What did I do now? I allowed you to climax, didn't I?"

There was her blush, right on cue. "I came in here with a purpose, and you made me forget about it."

He grinned insufferably at that. "I will take that as a compliment. Yes. You need money. What for?"

She got that cute, stubborn look that, once upon a time, he might not have thought was quite so cute. "Why do you care? It's my money, isn't it?"

"Well, no. Since your money is in trust, I won't be able to access it without breaking the trust, which I don't want to do, and neither do you, if you think about it. The money is safe, earning you a great return, and besides, you don't need it. I have money."

Alisa shifted her weight to one foot, then began to tap the other as she folded her arms across her chest. "Yes, well, I don't much care whose money it is, but at this point, I have yet to see any of it!" "Watch your tone, little one."

She pouted, but stood down, anyway. "May I have some money please?"

"I repeat, for what?"

"I want to buy a chaise lounge that your mother and I saw this morning and put it in our bedroom once we've finished it, and I want to go back to the store tomorrow and buy it before someone else does." Bram frowned. "But we haven't even started on the bedroom yet."

Alisa hung her head, making an enormous show of lacing her fingers in front of her when Bram knew that she really wanted to put them around his neck, although she daren't make a scene or she knew she'd pay for it-one way or the other. "How much do you need, my love?"

"Ten pounds."

"Ten pounds? For a couch?" He made it sound as if she was asking for one of his organs, instead. Bram shook his head. "I'm sorry, baby. I want you to enjoy shopping and buy-most-of what you like, but I won't give you that kind of money for a couch. I just can't, in good conscience, do it." Alisa's mouth hung open. He'd said no!

She was livid, frankly. He'd told her that she could redecorate within reason, but she knew he was very careful with money, and she'd had a good time, actually, finding really nice things that were a bargain, although she wasn't sure that he knew that. And she really did her best to keep track of what she was spending and trying to get the best prices she could on labor, wallpaper, paint and everything else that was involved in renovating an ancient house. Bargain hunting came naturally to her. She'd never had limitless funds, and it seemed with her husband, she never would.

Without another word, she turned and walked out of his study.

Bram was halfway out of his seat to go after her when he sat back down. No. He'd said no, and that was that. He wasn't going to start reversing himself. He intended to be consistent with her, no matter how much she pouted.