I raised my eyes back to Julian, to remark on George’s predictable display of sloth, but when I caught his gaze, my throat went dry. I don’t know how I knew it—how I could even tell the difference—but I did. The adoring father was gone. In his place was a man I hadn’t seen in months.
“Put George in his cradle, Mrs. Markham.”
His voice—raspy and authoritative—was also ice cold, the same voice he’d used whenever he punished me, something that hadn’t happened since before George. And the Mrs. Markham—so distant. So demanding.
I shivered, fear lacing my blood, but I did as I was told quickly and without question, settling the snoozing baby in his cradle. After I finished, I turned and faced my husband, who made an impatient gesture indicating I should come stand before him.
Even in my nightgown, I felt completely naked as I approached his chair, even more naked as his eyes raked indifferently over me.
“Take it off,” he said.
I quickly shrugged out of my nightclothes, eager to make that look go away, eager to see his eyes blaze with lust instead of this hooded displeasure. But once it was off and he examined me from head to toe, I was given no reaction, no appreciation, not even a flicker of interest.
“On your hands and knees, facing away from me,” he commanded, and I obeyed, my cheeks flushing with hurt and shame and—as I assumed the desired position and as a bored foot nudged my knees farther apart—arousal.
He wasn’t touching me, he wasn’t talking to me, and since I couldn’t see him, he possibly wasn’t even looking at me, but all the same, heat flooded my body, the humiliation of this position quickening my breathing, setting my pulse to a thready race.
I waited, waited with an agonized sort of desire, waited for him to spank me or caress me or speak to me, but there was nothing, no movement, no rustling, no indication that he even cared about me arranged before him like this, my pussy exposed and growing slick with want. For the first time in I couldn’t remember how long, I wasn’t thinking about the baby, I wasn’t feeling heavy and ripe and soft—too soft to be touched. I wasn’t thinking of Julian’s needs. I was only thinking of my own needs, my swollen clit and my tight nipples, and there was a high whine building at the back of my throat, a needy noise that I couldn’t stop.
Why wouldn’t he fuck me? For once, I wanted this—wanted him—and he was just sitting there, looking at me. Where had that gentle, patient lover gone, the one who had seemed so intent on pleasuring the mother of his child? I was ready for him, and he had gone away, and now I was miserable with the need to be fucked.
“Two things,” Julian said, breaking the silence. “Two things will change, starting today. First, every morning I will dress you. Do you understand? Not your maid, not yourself. Me.”
I shivered. The last time he had dressed me, he’d spent the day depriving me of sex…only to share me with his best friend later that night.
“The second thing. You will give me one hour of your time, every evening. No questions asked.”
This, I balked at. “But George—”
He brought his hand dow
n against my ass and I yelped.
“I said no questions.” His hand stayed against the spot he’d just smacked, and I found myself pressing into his touch, wanting more. “But since I think you should know the arrangements I’ve made for this, I will tell you,” he said. “I’ve hired a nurse, for that one hour only. She used to mind Silas’s nieces and nephews, but she moved back to Stokeleigh to care for her mother, and Thomas and Charlotte Cecil-Coke gave me a glowing recommendation of her.”
Some strange woman was going to take care of my baby? No. No, I didn’t like that idea at all. What if he needed to nurse while she was with him? What if he needed to nap and she didn’t know the way he liked to be rocked by the window?
No, that would not do, but the moment I opened my mouth to protest, Julian was down on the floor with me, his hand clamped over my mouth so I couldn’t speak.
“Now, I know that you aren’t about to contradict me, Mrs. Markham.” He leaned forward to speak in my ear. “George is my son, my heir. Do you really think that I would entrust him to someone who wasn’t completely vouched for and completely capable? Do you really think that my love for him is so much less than yours?”
I suddenly felt ashamed. Julian was right. He wouldn’t hire a nurse that couldn’t care for George as well as we could. And George was old enough that he could easily go without nursing for an hour.
He released his hand from my mouth. “For this one hour, wildcat, you will be completely mine. To do with what I want. Your mind and your heart and your body. They will be with me and nowhere else. Is that clear?”
I nodded, and another crack sounded through the air. I moaned.
“I want to hear your voice. Now answer me—are my directions clear?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Good. Now stand up. It’s time to get dressed.”
“Dressed?” I whimpered, knowing what that meant. That meant no relief for the swollen ache between my legs.
“I won’t ask again.”
I stood unhappily, as he went and gathered my clothes. He dressed me then, and with a casualness that was almost cruel, he let his hands graze against my sensitive skin as he worked. His fingers brushed past my stiff nipples, lingered around my thighs, and after he laced my nursing corset tight, he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into him, so that my back was pressed to his front, his erection grinding against my ass.
