Page 86 of Prince of Scandal

She leaned heavily on Ashton’s arm as they strolled through the tent and nodded politely to the guests on their way to the entrance. At one point Phoebe met her gaze, looking very concerned, until Georgiana winked. Her friend grinned broadly and whispered something in Sir Alan’s ear, before both waggled their fingers in farewell.

They were nearly free, when her grandmother stepped in front of them. “Georgiana. Where are you going? Surely you cannot think to embarrass me by leaving your own wedding feast? With royalty in attendance?”

Oh, no. Not this.

Feeling herself begin to wilt in truth, Georgiana almost apologized. Until Ashton linked his fingers with hers and glared at the dowager.

“My lady,” he said frigidly, “It seems you forget to whom you are speaking. Her Highness, Princess von Hagan.”

Lady Kingsford blinked. “I beg your—”

“If I were you,” said Georgiana softly, “I would choose my next words very, very carefully. For they will decide if you receive invitations in future…or none at all. No balls. No teas. No soirees. No influence. Just a pariah, home alone with her thoughts. I am not unwanted or disposable. I am Georgiana, the Princess von Hagan, and you will curtsy or regret it forever.”

Her grandmother’s jaw dropped and she stared in obvious disbelief. Georgiana glared back, raising one eyebrow, channeling all the rage and fear and hurt that this wretched woman had caused from the moment she’d descended on them after Mother’s death. In truth it almost felt like Mandy Nash stood beside her, urging her on. Reveling in the rebellion.

“I cannot believe this,” spluttered Lady Kingsford weakly.

“Believe it,” snapped Georgiana, holding tightly to Ashton’s hand. “I am my mother’s daughter and proud to be. Now, make your choice.”

Her lips pursed, the Dowager Countess of Kingsford sank into a curtsy, then actually scurried away to join a group of grande dames in the corner.

Arm in arm, Georgiana and Ashton strolled out of the tent and into the cooler and quieter Carlton House.

“I am very proud of you,” said Ashton.

“Really?” she asked, her mind still whirling. She’d stood her ground and publicly scolded her grandmother!

“You said exactly what needed to be said. And now you’re free. I’m very much looking forward to having a similar conversation with my mother one day. Then again, perhaps we could drop her and Lady Kingsford into a pit and watch them try to out-ice each other. Might be entertaining.”

Georgiana glanced up at him as they paused outside a chamber. “I love you.”

“And I love you. Now,” he replied, as he abruptly scooped her into his arms, making her shriek and giggle, “let us adjourn in here.”

After kicking the door shut with her foot, she peered around the luxurious bedchamber. It looked like something out of the Palace of Versailles, all cream silk walls, gilt furniture, an elaborately carved wooden clock in the corner, marble fireplace, and cream velvet carpets underfoot so lush, it muffled Ashton’s footsteps. But when he placed her down next to the enormous four-poster bed draped with gold silk, a sudden shyness overtook her.

This was her wedding night. With Ashton. Her husband.

New and yet not new at all.

Georgiana blushed and clasped her hands. “Do you wish…”

His brow furrowed. “Wish what?”

“That, um…this was my first time?” she blurted.

“No,” Ashton replied firmly. “All our experiences got us to this point, little one. We never would have met otherwise, and I will be forever grateful for that. And the fact you truly know me. Know my desires. And share them.”

Relief swamped her. “Does that mean you’re going to spank me?”

“You have been especially provocative,” he mused, as he carefully undressed her and draped her train, gown, petticoat, stays, and chemise over the carved wooden trunk at the foot of the bed. Then he undressed himself and did the same with his own clothing, including the ceremonial sword.

Georgiana’s mouth watered at his unashamed nudity, eager to run her hands over his sculpted, hairy chest, to grip that huge cock and take it in her mouth. But no. First she would get her discipline, like he’d promised. “I await your correction…husband.”

Ashton’s eyes darkened with lust. “You’ll stand next to that bedpost and place your hands upon it. I can either bind your wrists with the pink ribbon, or tie it about your waist so I know the correct hue to turn your backside.”

Oh God.

Trembling with need and pure excitement, Georgiana placed her palms on the smooth, carved wooden post, high above her head. “Bind me,” she said huskily.