A Scandalous Arrangement (22 page)

She approached him and stood beside the stool. “Over your lap, sir? How shall I…”

“Your stomach here.” He patted the tops of his thighs, “and your feet and hands on the floor. Keep them there until I tell you we’re finished.”

Victoria arranged herself as directed, allowing him to reposition her a little in order to better present her buttocks for punishment. Adam admired the still-vivid marks from her caning the previous evening. He ran his fingers along one of the raised red weals.

Victoria hissed but did not protest. Regardless, he would avoid her stripes this time. His little Victoria needed to learn, and as much as anything she needed to know that when he said he would spank her, then he did mean it. He had no desire to really hurt her though, nor to unduly upset her at this stage. He fully intended that she should remember him fondly, and regard their next encounter with enthusiasm. He determined it would not be many days away and intended for her to anticipate the coming weekend with zest and curiosity, not dread. He was reasonably certain he had done enough in the last day or so to kindle a genuine appetite in Victoria, and this final spanking should offer sufficient bite to satisfy the submissive in her, but not so much that she would resent him or consider him unduly harsh.

“Ten spanks. You will count them, if you please.”

“Yes, sir, ouch!” Victoria yelped as his hand connected with her left cheek. Both her feet came off the floor but she recovered herself and planted them firmly on the carpet again. “One, sir.”

“Thank you.” Adam dropped the next few swats in rapid succession as Victoria squirmed and squealed across his lap. She managed to keep in position though, pretty much, and he was impressed at how readily she was adapting to his demands. Miss Wynne truly was a gem.

“Nine, sir.” Victoria’s voice was quivering somewhat, and her bottom was a delightful shade of deep pink. “Ten.”

“You may thank me now, for demonstrating to you the error of your ways and helping you to learn to control yourself.” He rested his palm on her buttock, noting the warmth seeping upwards from the inflamed flesh. He had tempered the spanking considerably, but still he knew she had felt it. She was thoroughly punished and suitably penitent, he believed.

“Th-thank you, sir. I will try hard to obey you next time.”

He caressed her sore bottom and loved the way she snuggled closer to him. He helped her to stand, then turned her and pulled her into his lap. She was shivering despite the warmth of the room so he wrapped his arms around her, and held her until she was still and calm again.

She tipped up her chin. Her face was tearstained. “Are you angry with me? Really?”

He smiled and shook his head. “No. I would never spank you if I was angry.”

“But, you punished me. Why would you do that if I had not made you angry?”

“Because I intend to spend a lot of time with you in the coming months. You are a sweet and adorable companion but I want you to learn more about how to behave around me, how to be a submissive. Discipline is the best way to achieve that. You learned a valuable lesson just now. You apologised, thanked me for teaching you, and I am very pleased with you.”

She smiled through her tears. “I want to please you.”

Adam kissed her forehead. “That’s all I wanted to hear. Time to get dressed.”

* * *

“Have you had enough to eat?”

“Yes, sir, thank you. I can purchase something on the train I expect if I am hungry later.”

“Probably. When you reach Hebden Bridge, please send me a note to inform me you have arrived home safely.” Adam refilled her teacup without first enquiring, then sat back to peruse his companion. Miss Victoria Wynne was now the very epitome of prim gentility. Her tight-fitted bodice hugged her curves in a manner he could best describe as lover-like, whilst he imagined the curved bustle at her rear would offer a welcome relief from the lingering effects of her recent exploits as it held the fabric away from her undoubtedly sore backside. If she was smarting though she concealed it well as she sat before him in the tearoom next to the Serpentine, dainty and oh-so-respectable. Her manners were beyond reproach too. Who would imagine not an hour earlier she had lain across his knees for a spanking, then cried in his arms?

Adam liked women, all women. He enjoyed their wit and sparkle. He loved the way they smelled, the soft sway of their skirts as they walked, the gentle rustle as they moved through a room. He liked their voices, their company. He could not call to mind a female he did not regard with at least a degree of fondness, and he would describe most of the females in his acquaintance as quite delightful. He adored submissive women in particular, but none were a patch on Miss Wynne. Victoria. She was incomparable. He was starting to form interesting plans for her, which were not restricted to his bed.

She was sensual, courageous, and quite lovely, with a submissive streak as wide as the winding lake they sat beside. All excellent traits in the lovers he sought out. But she was more than that. She had a head for business that equalled that of any man in his circle and exceeded most. Also, she cared about people, especially her family and those in her employ. She was generous, forward-looking, innovative. In short, she was just exactly what he needed.

He hoped Horace Catchpole would be free to meet with him on Monday. There was much to discuss.

Victoria stacked the invoices into a neat pile. All were duly authorised; Mr. Timmins would see to the round of monthly payments in the morning. She could hear her clerk moving about in the outer office and wondered why he was still here. It was already after six o’clock and he was really only supposed to work until five-thirty.

So was she, but that was different. She had profits to earn in order to eventually regain control of her precious mill. People depended on her; she must not fail.

Considering her aspirations, her thoughts inevitably drifted to the man who held her future in his hands. He was never far from her thoughts anyway. It had been three days and three nights since she parted from Adam Luke on platform three at Kings Cross station. He had insisted on seeking out the station master to upgrade her ticket, then escorted her right onto the train and saw her safely ensconced in a first-class carriage. He had waved to her in a silent salute as the train pulled away. She had waved back, then lost sight of him as the train rounded the slight bend and rattled away from the station with a screeching hiss of steam.

Victoria had opened her reticule and extracted the contract of employment he had insisted she sign when she first arrived at The Ritz, but found she could not read it though the blur of tears. They had been parted mere moments, and already she missed him.

If anything she missed him even more now, several days later.

Victoria returned to her office on Monday morning, relieved to reach her desk only a little over a half hour late. Despite her best intentions she had overslept following the long journey home, then missed her breakfast in an attempt to catch up.

Now she found herself watching for the post constantly, looking for a note from Adam bringing details of his plans for their next rendezvous. He had said they would meet in Liverpool where he maintained a home and had promised to send her the address. It was her intention to travel there on Friday evening. They could have two whole nights together.

Would her bottom survive? She still bore the marks of her caning though they were faded now. He would have more of the same in store for her, and no doubt much that she could not yet quite contemplate. Whatever he might offer, she anticipated their coming liaison with an eagerness she would never have believed possible. She must be quite mad, but she did not care.

Adam excited her. He aroused and he teased her. He demanded things of her, outrageous, scandalous, wicked things, and she complied. She was his slut, and she loved it. His submissive, he called her. He was right. She wanted him to dominate her, craved his commanding, stern presence and the release it offered. With Adam she could let down her guard. She would be safe, as long as he was in charge.

And soon, she hoped, he would bless her with the thing she craved most. She smoothed her hands over her flat stomach, imagining how it would swell to protect and nurture her baby.
Please, let it be soon.

She could do the calculations of profit and loss and forecast how many months and years it would take her to buy back her mill, but she had no idea how long Adam would continue to desire her. What if he changed his mind? What if he had already decided she was not after all the woman for him? That she was too repressed, too cautious, too timid and reticent? What if no other man ever expressed an interest? Would she consider any other candidate to father her baby? She rather doubted it.

There should be a note from him by now. Surely he had not changed his mind?

“You should be leaving soon if you are going to the awards dinner at the Assembly Hall this evening.” Mr. Timmins appeared in the doorway, his outdoor coat over his arm. “I rather fancy our fine worsted might take the first prize this year.”

Victoria looked up and shook her head. “I do not believe I will go after all. I am tired, and I have correspondence to deal with.”

“Oh, I had thought you intended to be there this year. You even went so far as to purchase a gown, I gather.”

Victoria frowned at him across her desk. Mr. Timmins seemed to be far too well informed in her view. She no doubt had her mother to thank for that. “I required a new gown so I ordered one, but it was not bought with any particular function in mind. There will be other occasions.”

The gown in question was a particularly becoming shade of deep blue though and would have looked stunning in the grand surroundings of the Halifax Assembly Hall. With some difficulty she had convinced herself that she really should make the effort and attend the annual Weavers and Spinners Awards Dinner this year. She did not enjoy these functions much at the best of times, found them something of an ordeal in fact, but such gatherings were good for trade, for making connections, and for courting new customers.

Her appetite for socialising with the wool barons of the county was meagre at best, but in the recent weeks she had lost it entirely, not least as every one of them would know of her brother’s idiotic wager and the consequences it had held for Wynne’s. That her mill was still trading at all would be the subject of much speculation, and she did not relish the prospect of answering questions about her current status. On the other hand, maybe she needed to quash any ridiculous rumours—the last thing she needed right now was any uncertainty about her ability to meet her orders. She hesitated for a moment, then shook her head.

“No, not this time.” She just couldn’t face them.

“I see. In that case—”

“What occasions might those be, I wonder?”

Mr. Timmins turned to see who spoke. Victoria had no such need. She would know that voice anywhere.

“Mr. Luke, how nice to see you again.” Her clerk offered his hand in greeting. Adam took it and shook.

Victoria sat in her leather chair, mouth open, and gaped. She had expected a letter, yearned for a note from him. She had not dreamed the man himself might materialise in her office doorway. Perhaps she should have—he was starting to make a habit of turning up unannounced at her mill.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Timmins. Were you just off then?” Adam nodded in the direction of the man’s coat, still draped across his arm.

“Ah, yes. Yes, I was just leaving. Unless you need me for anything?”

Adam smiled. “No, I just called to see Miss Wynne. I am sure we will manage admirably. Have a pleasant evening.”

“Yes, sir. Will I see you in the morning, perhaps?”

“Alas not. A flying visit only, I’m afraid.” He waited until the man excused himself and backed from the room before turning the full force of his smile on Victoria. “Miss Wynne, lovely as ever. And working late still I note, despite my instructions to the contrary.”

Victoria quaked, not misunderstanding his meaning. Had he instructed her? More to the point, did he intend to spank her here? Now?

It seemed not as he continued to bestow that pleasant demeanour upon her. “Am I to gather you have a social engagement this evening? Am I interrupting you? Perhaps I should have sent word that I would be arriving.”

“No, si…” She stopped herself from addressing him improperly. Mr. Timmins might still be within earshot. “No, I have no plans for the evening.”

“But you have a new gown. Mr. Timmins says so.”

“I do, but…” Victoria let out her breath. There was no point in being evasive, he would have the truth from her one way or another. “It is the Weavers and Spinners Dinner and Awards ceremony this evening. We are optimistic of a prize this year, perhaps even the first prize.”

“Then you should be there, surely?”

“Perhaps, but… I hate such affairs. I really would prefer not to go.”

“Why, if our fine cloth is to be honoured?” Adam grinned at her as he settled himself in the spare chair opposite. “It might be good for trade.”

“Hard work and high-quality products are good for trade. I rely on those.”

“And quite right too. Even so, the wheels of commerce do require the occasional oiling. And I would appreciate seeing this gown of yours, not to mention making the acquaintance of our competitors. We should go. I insist.”

“We? You would wish to join me?”

“Indeed I would. I want to talk to you, and this will afford me the opportunity. And it would no doubt assist in settling unhelpful speculation if we were to be seen together, as business partners of course.”

“But—it is a most formal function. Black tie.”

He lifted one eyebrow, his expression sardonic. “Are you afraid I will disgrace you, Miss Wynne? I assure you I know my manners. I will not eat with the wrong cutlery, nor will I step on your toes during the waltz.”

“I do not waltz, Mr. Luke. And I did not mean that. I simply meant that all the men will be wearing dinner jackets…”