Claiming His Wife (15 page)

Happily snuggling into his
chest, Eleanor didn't see the continued worry that creased his
brow, or the anxiety in his eyes as his finger stroked over her
shoulder.  

******

It took Alex less than two minutes,
after he inserted himself into the circle of women around the
Countess, to realize that his wife wasn't drunk after all.
 She'd been bamming him.  And he'd been taken in
completely.  Which meant that her behavior over dinner had
been deliberate.  No wonder she'd been able to skate the line
so well, making a minor scene without causing an actual scandal.
 

He grated his teeth as he
sat and listened to her chatting with some of the most influential
movers and shakers within the
ton.
  None of whom knew quite
what to make of her at this moment.  They'd all become used to
thinking of her as a walking scandal, but now her husband was back
by her side and dancing attendance on her.  On top of that,
the Countess was one of the most influential women when it came to
Society.  She was considered a force to be reckoned with, and
she was showing her obvious support of Grace.

Which he appreciated, since she was
doing so at his request.  She'd raised her finely arched
eyebrows when he'd made the request, but had agreed readily enough.
 

When the teacart came in,
his wife began testing his patience again.

He'd gotten up to fetch
her a cup, joining the other gentlemen as they handed out the cups
to the ladies, and by the time he'd turned around, she had
separated herself from the Countess' circle and was flirtatiously
batting her eyes at Lord Northrup as she accepted a cup of tea from
him.  Stony-faced, Alex took the cup that he'd procured to the
Countess instead, bowing over her hand, before grimly stalking to
his wife.

The amusement in the Countess' eyes as
she'd accepted the tea from him had not improved his mood.
 

"Northrup," he said, rather shortly,
as he settled next to Grace.  He could practically feel the
tension in her begin to tighten, the moment he placed himself
beside her. 

Reaching out, he placed his hand on
the small of her back, a possessive movement that didn't go
unnoticed by Northrup.  The other man's dark eyes showed
confusion that quickly cleared, as he realized that no matter how
the lady might have been acting towards him, the lord was not going
to be amenable. 

"Brooke," he responded mildly.
 "Your lovely wife and I were just discussing the new Sheridan
play."

"Ah yes," Alex said,
putting a smile on his face as he shifted closer to Grace, his body
language implying an intimacy between them that didn't actually
exist.  He could feel her tension ratcheting up even higher,
although she didn't move away.  It was like she was waiting
for something... maybe just to see what he was going to do.
 "My Grace does love Sheridan's works.  I prefer
Shakespeare, myself."

Northrup chuckled, smoothing down his
black mustache in a kind of nervous gesture, although he seemed to
be relaxing now.  "Who doesn't?  The Bard is always
popular."

"I think something new is
preferable to something old," Grace said, her voice filled with
gaiety, and yet her tone had an edge as well.  "We've all read
and seen the Bard's plays a hundred times over.  I like to see
new characters and plots on the stage, it's so much more engaging."
 As she spoke, Alex slid his fingers along her back so that
the tips could subtly grip her waist, a calm satisfaction filling
him as he felt her stiffen despite her outward
composure.

He knew that she was trying to prod
him, but strangely he felt more placid every passing minute.
 

"Yet there is always much to be
appreciated about the old," he countered, looking down at her.
 Her bright blue eyes lifted to his, guarded but searching.
 Emotion seemed to churn underneath the smooth social mask,
the blankness of which was wearing thin.  "Not just the
comfort of the familiar, but a depth of emotion that can only be
built over time.  New is not always better."

They were both speaking of more than
just theater now, and something flickered across her face before
she turned away from him, her lips curving into a smile as she
tilted her head at Lord Northrup.  Like so many men, he smiled
automatically in response.  When Grace was in a mood to be
charming, she was like bright sunshine, nearly impossible to ignore
and even more impossible to be unaffected by.

He was still going to spank her ass
when they got home, charm or not.  While her antics,
surprisingly, weren't riling his temper at the moment, he certainly
wasn't going to let her get away without any
consequences.

"As you can see, Lord Brooke and I can
never agree on anything," Grace said, with an airy little laugh,
even as Alex tightened his fingers warningly, pressing them into
her side.  She kept her gaze on Lord Northrup, and something
about her demeanor made her words an open invitation.  "We
appreciate very different diversions."

"Which is a good example
of why opposites attract," Alex said, his temper starting to stir
again.  Pretending to glance at the clock on the far wall, he
pulled Grace into him, his anger soothed as she was pressed against
his side and he could feel her own ire leap up again.  For
some reason, setting her off balance helped him to keep an even
keel.  "Excuse us, Northrup, we really should be going."
 He gave Grace a look full of so much sexual heat that she
froze, staring up at him like a mouse that had just noticed it was
being stalked by a cat.  "I'm sure you understand."

"Oh ah... hmm, yes," Northrup coughed,
covering his stutter as he looked back and forth between them.
 "Good evening, then."  

The man actually blushed as he turned
away.  Ninny.  Alex nearly snorted.  If Grace truly
wanted to test his possessiveness, she needed much more stalwart
quarry than someone like Northrup.

Keeping a hold of his wayward wife,
Alex hurried them through their goodbyes.  The Countess wished
them a good night with a knowing little glint in her eye that made
Grace look distinctly uncomfortable.  Obviously the woman
thought they'd reconciled fully, and that Alex was eager to go home
and claim his marital rights.

If he thought Grace would be willing,
he absolutely would be, but at the moment the only thing he was
going to be doing this evening was turning his wife's bottom a
bright red.  Of course, he'd already found that was enjoyable
in its own way.

******

Grace stood in the middle of their
bedroom, watching warily as Alex locked the door behind him.
 He'd been silent the entire carriage ride home, the glimpses
of his face in the moonlight had shown a contemplative expression.
 Honestly, she would have been more reassured to see anger.
 There had been times during the evening when she'd been sure
his temper had been stirring; his control over himself made her
feel anxious for some reason.

Maybe because she wasn't sure how he
was going to react now.  

If she'd ever behaved in such a way
with her father present, he probably would have dragged her from
the dinner and confined her to her room for days.  Probably
with as little food as possible.  If she resisted, she would
earn a cuff or two from his fist.  Then he'd ignore her again,
even after she was released, unless she did something else to gain
his ire.

It occurred to her that she was more
comfortable with such visible anger and predictable repercussions
than she was with Alex's silent contemplation.

Was he fed up with her now?  Was
he going to leave her?  But if he was, then why lock her in
the room with him?  Did that mean that Eleanor had been right
and he was going to spank her?  A warm flush seemed to shudder
through her, from her core up to her cheeks and back down again, at
the thought.  It might be perverse, but she would rather be
spanked than sent away and rejected again.  

Spanking her took effort
on Alex's part.  Effort that he didn't actually need to expend
when it would be much easier to give up on her and divorce her.
 Spanking meant that he wanted to correct her behavior,
because
 he wanted
to keep her.  At least, she hoped that's what it meant.
 She knew where her hope had gotten her before, but at least
this was hope tempered with a kind of proof.

It made more sense for him
to divorce her than to reconcile with her.  Especially when he
still hadn't claimed his marital rights.  If all he wanted was
an heir from her, then wouldn't he have done that already?
 She was his wife; legally it wouldn't be seen as forcing her.
 In fact, legally, she was the one currently in the wrong by
denying him.  

Alex turned around, his eyes looking
darker than usual in the candlelight, fixing her in place with his
gaze.  She felt the tremor that went through her body, half
excitement, half fear.  When he looked at her like that, she
couldn't help her body's response, the way her nipples tightened
and her womanhood became hot and wet with need.  She swore she
could already feel an anticipatory tingle in her bottom, and her
hands reflexively went behind her back, covering her cheeks.
 

"Turn around, Gracie, I'm going to
help you take your dress off."

She didn't protest the use of his
nickname for her anymore.  It made her ache bitterly, for the
memories, but at the same time it warmed her.  Besides, he
always went back to calling her that, even if he stopped for a
bit.

Taking her hands off of her bottom,
she turned around and wrung them in front of her, waiting for his
touch.

Fingers drifted over the back of her
neck and down her exposed spine.  The gown she was wearing
wasn't scandalous, but it was fashionably low, and she shivered as
he traced a line down the center of her back until he reached the
neckline.  She could feel his hot breath on the back of her
neck as her gown started to sag, drooping a little more with each
button that was undone.

Grace told herself that she wasn't
enjoying this.

However, she did enjoy his
low, tortured groan as he relieved her of her corset, leaving her
only in a thin, translucent chemise.  She had to admit, she
was having trouble standing firm in her resistance to him right
now.  Especially because he obviously had no intention of
sending her away.  No, he still wanted to reconcile.  She
still felt like there must be an ulterior motive, but it must be a
damn good one.   Tomorrow she'd search his study and see what
she could find.

Alex walked around her and sat down on
the bed.  He'd taken his jacket, waistcoat and cravat off
already and was undoing the laces on his sleeves to roll them up.
 Seeing him bare his forearms, the same way he'd done the last
time he'd spanked her, sent a jolt of butterflies through her
stomach.  

She still didn't understand his
motivations, but she did know that his firm resolve to correct her
behavior aroused her.  Comforted her in some way.  Why go
to all the effort of taming a recalcitrant wife?  Why hold her
afterwards?  Unless there were emotions pressing
in.

Hope had slayed her heart
the last time, and she was afraid to hope again, but it burned in
her chest anyway.  Nearly choking her with the unresolved
desires and dreams that she thought she'd given up.  Because,
deep down, she'd never wanted Alex to divorce her, she'd never
wanted to travel to the Continent or America to start over with
some other man; no, she'd wanted him.  Him, the way she'd
dreamed they would be.

To wonder if such a thing might be
within her grasp again... it made her heart sing at the same time
that it terrified her.

******

Beautiful didn't begin to
describe his wife.  She was staring at him with the strangest
expression on her face, one that he couldn't possible interpret.
 Something had changed within her.  Even though she was
still his little firebrand, now she wasn't acting like her usual
spirited self.

He'd expected a fight to undress her.
 Instead, she'd meekly acquiesced.  Now she seemed to be
waiting for his next move.  But not exactly warily... almost
expectantly.  Hopefully.  Her arms hung at her sides, not
at all trying to cover herself.  The pert pink nipples of her
breasts were rosy against the fabric of her chemise, the shadow of
her womanhood easily visible.  Tension shimmered in the air
between them, her soft lips open as her breath
quickened.

Had she wanted to be
spanked?

"Come here, Gracie," he said, keeping
his voice stern and his face blank as he patted his lap.  She
shook her head, her hands clenching into little fists at her sides.
 "Yes.  Now, Grace.  Or I'll get your hairbrush.
 Considering how you've behaved tonight, you shouldn't tempt
me to be harsher."

As he watched, her cheeks
flushed and then paled, and she took one step closer.  He
waited patiently, keeping his eyes trained on her face, not saying
anything more.  There was a struggle going on within her; as
long as she made her way to him eventually, he didn't want to make
it harder for her.  

Each step brought her
closer, coming faster as she neared him, her head ducking down as
if she was too ashamed or embarrassed to look at him.  Alex
had her over his lap the moment she reached his side, rubbing his
hand over the soft flesh of her ass as he crooned to
her.