Page 35 of Prince of Scandal

“Yes. Do it,” Georgiana begged. “I n-need it.”

“Very well.”

This time, his palm connected so sharply, so harshly with her flesh, that she couldn’t suppress a pathetic yelp. Sixteen! But he did it again and again and again. Seventeen! Eighteen! Nineteen! and her yelp turned into one prolonged shriek because her bottom had caught fire and required dousing with water. She would sit in that half-barrel, no matter how ridiculous it looked. Even better, atop a slab of ice. There must be a pit somewhere around here. Perhaps a whole shipment from those freezing countries of the far north?

When Ashton landed the final spank, Georgiana couldn’t even think anymore. Her legs kicked, her hands flailed, and it was impossible to say the word twenty she was crying so hard, endless wracking sobs that shook her whole body. Gently, carefully, Ashton lifted her up and turned her toward him, tucking her head against his shoulder and stroking her bare back.

Georgiana wanted to stop crying. Yet it was like a dam had burst, and she had no control over herself. “A-Ashton…”

“Cry it out, my good girl,” he murmured, kissing her cheek. “All those troubles that have been locked inside. Let them all go.”

It seemed like it took days, but eventually her tears stopped flowing and a profound sense of serenity overcame her. Something she’d never felt before, like she’d been broken but was now whole again. Renewed.

“Does it always feel like this?” she asked hoarsely, her throat scratchy and her eyes puffy to the touch. “So…peaceful?”

“When a submissive embraces her master’s discipline, when she stops fighting the pain and instead soars free with it, yes, I believe so. You really needed that, didn’t you? Forgive me if twenty spanks weren’t enough to fully release what was buried deep.”

Georgiana sighed and snuggled closer. “Twenty was perfect. It started with a sting, then it burned, then it really hurt. The twentieth one…that did it. I soared. And you have no idea how much I needed it. So many troubles…our grandmother taught us young ladies don’t cry. That it’s weak and silly.”

“Your grandmother sounds rather like my family,” Ashton replied. “I do not think it beneficial to hold emotion inside, it’s far better to gradually release it than wait until an explosion. If you struggle to cry, spanking can assist, but Georgiana…should you ever wish to confide in me, I will listen. And you have my word that it would never go any further. I understand the value of loyalty and trust. The pain and shame that vicious gossip can cause. And how families can test the blood bond to the extreme.”

She closed her eyes briefly, almost trembling in his arms as her heart demanded all be revealed and her head warned it was too risky. For all his kindnesses, even after the intimacy of orgasms and being spanked and sobbing on his shoulder, what if Ashton couldn’t forgive her lies and deceit? What if her secrets were in fact too much? The risk was far too high, even for a woman like her. To lose Ashton so swiftly after discovering such wonders in this dwelling would be intolerable.

Georgiana kissed his shoulder. “You are the best of men. But I was promised strudel as well as petting and cannot think beyond that.”

Ashton smiled faintly. “Strudel and cream it is. Wine, too?”

“Of course!”

Soon. She would tell him soon.

Surely she deserved some heaven before all hell unleashed.

CHAPTER 8

What a difference a Georgiana could make. He was humming—actually humming—while attending to a small mountain of correspondence from his steward, bankers, and lawyers.

Ashton set down his quill and leaned back in his oversized chair to admire his recently refurbished library. Apart from his bedchamber, this was the most opulent room in the manor, a sanctuary where he could feel princely. Some items were old friends, like the large oak desk, hundreds of leather-bound books, and the paintings by the Englishmen Constable and Reynolds, the Holbein portrait, and the Friedrich landscape. But now there were Aubusson carpets underfoot, dark green velvet drapes framing the three windows, and two butter-soft leather armchairs in front of the marble fireplace.

Even better, today he had such a sense of purpose, as though an enormous weight had lifted from his shoulders. Perhaps it was finally time for Mr. Ashton Latimer to quietly disappear and Prince Wilhelm Heinrich Ashton von Hagan to re-emerge and take his proper place in society. To be happy rather than ashamed.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. After ten years, even pondering this was daunting. But the possible rewards…a future with Georgiana?

Two full days had passed since he’d spanked her; they’d mutually agreed to meet irregularly to avoid gossip or retribution from India Dunmore. In truth, though, after every occasion with Georgiana, he felt her absence that much more keenly...even if those occasions threatened to turn his hair silver and add sixty-five furrows to his brow. She was just so full of life. Both bold lioness and playful kitten as she turned his neatly ordered world upside down. But the way she submitted was nothing short of sublime. That sweet smile, her sensual obedience, the way she blurted truths. How exquisitely Georgiana had surrendered to his final spank and allowed her tears to flow before curling up so trustingly on his lap once again to be cossetted. It had all felt so right, like they were meant to be together in this way.

Could this beautiful widow be the woman he’d searched for his whole life? Was there a chance she might accept him, secrets, scandals, and all? One thing was certain: their second afternoon in the dwelling hadn’t eased his appetite, only whetted it. He’d shown her orgasms, and discipline, but Georgiana was yet to experience the far headier bliss of the two combined. Everything she needed, she would receive from him.

At the sound of raised voices in the hallway, Ashton rose to his feet, frowning in bewilderment. Arguments between servants did not occur in a royal household. But seconds later, his library door swung open and Georgiana strutted in wearing shirt and breeches, two spluttering, red-faced footmen behind her.

“Beg pardon, sir,” said one of the footmen, glaring at Georgiana. “The lady bribed one of the stableboys to mind her horse, then came inside, bold as brass. Says she is a neighbor of yours?”

Ashton pressed his lips together, torn between laughter and vexation. It was far too easy to imagine his brazen hoyden charming her way inside, especially in her current too-tight ensemble. If Franz had been on duty and not away on one of his scheduled afternoons off, she wouldn’t have made it an inch inside the door. But had anyone else seen Georgiana? She was the one who’d said they needed to keep their affair private, and now she’d burst into his house wearing bloody damned breeches! This was just reckless.

“She is a neighbor,” Ashton said coolly, before studying his errant lover. “Forgive me, Mrs. King, I didn’t have you in my diary for a meeting regarding the fence repairs today.”

Georgiana strolled forward, her hips swaying. “I thought about sending a note, then decided a personal visit would be infinitely better, Mr. Latimer,” she purred as she stroked her collarbone, her fingertips dangerously close to disturbing the shirt button valiantly keeping her breasts covered. “We need to discuss the matter urgently.”

His cock jerked at the deliberate provocations. This was a woman in desperate need of discipline, and he couldn’t wait to begin.