The Inheritance (9 page)

"Then perhaps
I shall have you ride Constance! One way or another you will learn
this lesson."

Stroke number
four landed at the soft, sensitive area at the top of her thighs.
She squealed urgently, kicking back her right leg.

"And have you
ride her every hour for ten minutes, at the trot," he continued,
landing stroke five.

"Ooohhh!' she
cried. "I am soooo sorry, Master. Really sorry!"

"Now for
number six, Elizabeth," he said, placing the crop at the very base
of her behind, just above the cut on her upper thighs. And this one
will count."

He rested the
crop in position, and with a strong flick of his wrist let it land
with considerable force.

She shrieked
and kicked out her left leg repeatedly, yelping all the while.

Gazing upon
her pretty lips peeking through her opened legs, the evidence of
her thrashing glistened in the beam of light slicing its way
through the narrow crack in the barn doors, shining its radiance
upon her thighs as the late afternoon sun burned low in the
sky.

He reached
forward, touching her wetness...

...suddenly
his climax refused denial and he stroked furiously, all the while
seeing her striped bottom, her bright red cheeks, the lewd juice in
her open cunt that begged to be impaled...

...the volcano
erupted, sending hot lava streaming across his hands. Fireworks
flew through his brain as the spasms continued unabated. Over and
over again he stifled his groans of ecstasy, and when they finally
subsided, dropping away into nothingness, he felt faint and
weak.

The illness,
the long journey, the stressful week with Elizabeth during which he
had been hoping and praying every night for her swift recovery -
all united in his one, tremendous release.

He lay
motionless, unable to move or to think, except for the realization
that he had been wound up like a violin string. It was over now.
The beginning of his future life with Elizabeth was at hand.

C
hapter Four

A Final
Farewell & A Happy Hello

Lord Michael
woke from his sleep feeling better than he had in weeks. With
renewed vigor he freshened himself up and dressed for dinner. The
clock read six-thirty. He had slept for two hours. Dinner was at
seven. He would have half an hour to have a cocktail.

Descending the
stairs he could hear Elizabeth's laughter. It was music to his
ears, and upon entering the drawing room he found her smiling up at
her brother, though James was looking none too pleased.

"Elizabeth,
while I am very happy that you are feeling so much better. I hope
the wilful, disobedient Elizabeth is not going to make too much of
a grand return," James scolded.

"Oh poof,"
Elizabeth said, twirling a hand in the air.

Lord Michael
frowned. This was exactly the same comment and gesture she had used
with him earlier in the day when he had forbidden her to ride
Zeus.

"What's this?"
Lord Michael enquired, entering the room.

"Elizabeth
just declared that since she possessed such a fine house and great
wealth, she could have as many balls and parties as she wished,"
James explained, "and is about to start ordering the gowns that she
wishes to wear to them all. I was informing her that great wealth
will only remain so if it is carefully watched and managed," James
explained.

"Elizabeth,
your brother is absolutely correct," Lord Michael stated. "And you
will not be having balls and parties, and you will not be buying
excessive numbers of expensive dresses."

She looked at
him, an exasperated wrinkle creasing her nose and eyes, and without
a word in response walked to the handsome burled walnut drinks
cabinet.

"What would
you like to drink, Lord Michael?" she asked. "Sherry? Port? Brandy?
I have everything here - everything and anything is yours for the
asking."

Lord Michael
glanced across at James who caught his eye and imperceptibly nodded
his agreement. Their shared look spoke their mutual concern.
Something was amiss. She proceeded to pour a copious amount of
amber liquid into a tumbler, and twirling on her heel, held it up
in the air as if toasting them.

"I have no
idea what this is but it certainly smells divine," she announced.
"And I intend to drink every last drop."

She raised the
glass to her mouth, but the rim had barely touched her lips before
Lord Michael had marched across and brusquely removed it from her
hand.

"You will do
no such thing," he said, sternly.

To his shock
she pushed out her lower lip.

"It's mine. I
can drink it if I want."

Lord Michael
did not react. A display of such blatant disrespect and
disobedience was a sure sign that the girl was not herself. Or did
she want to be punished? Was she missing the discipline he had been
providing her for the last year and now wanted to feel his hand
land upon her bottom once again? Perhaps the two short slaps
earlier had provoked her.

He looked her
in the eye attempting to discern the answer. Had she behaved in
such a manner just a month ago he would have spanked her until she
cried.

The spark of
insight hit him like the flash of the sun against a mirror. She
still had not shed a tear. Whether it was her need to cry and a
part of her knew a sound spanking was a sure way to bring it forth,
or the grief that needed to be shed was causing such errant
behaviour, it was difficult to say. Lord Michael was not sure of
the cause but he did know the solution.

"James," he
said, turning to face him. "I assume your father is still in the
study?"

"Yes, he
is."

"I believe
Elizabeth and I will be dining later. There is a matter I need to
discuss with her that might take some time and I believe it should
be dealt with immediately. Would you be so kind as to pass along my
regrets, though we will be down at some point."

"Of course,"
James replied, immediately assuming Elizabeth was about to find
herself with her skirt up and her bottom bared, ready to receive
her just rewards.

"And James,"
Lord Michael added, "it's not quite what you might be
thinking."

James felt a
sudden and rare blush cross his face. How did the man know? What an
extraordinary fellow he was.

"Excuse me,"
Elizabeth chimed in. "I believe I should have a say in this. While
I'm not ravenous I wouldn't mind—"

"Be quiet,
Elizabeth," Lord Michael said firmly. "You will do as you're told.
Come along with me please."

Elizabeth
stamped her foot and Lord Michael let out a sigh of frustration. He
knew she was not in control of her faculties but it didn't change
the fact that she was being exasperating and he really did want to
spank her bottom good and hard. Without another word he reached
forward, grabbing her elbow and striding swiftly forward led her
from the room.

"Where are we
going?" she demanded as he walked her up the stairs.

"You'll find
out soon enough," he declared.

At the top of
the stairs they turned right towards the double doors at the end of
the hallway. The doors that led to her uncle's bedchamber. She
stopped, tugging at her arm, attempting to release his grip.

"I don't want
to go in there," she protested shrilly. "Please don't make me."

Lord Michael
turned around and took her hands.

"I know. I
know it's the last place you want to be but you must trust me. You
have to do this. I must insist, Elizabeth. If you don't walk with
me I shall simply carry you."

She looked at
him with pleading eyes, the rebellious young woman having vanished
as quickly as steam from a kettle.

"Do you trust
me?" he asked, gently, reiterating the point.

"Yes, Master,"
she replied, and as soon as he heard her speak his title he knew
she would comply and this entire ordeal would soon be at its
end.

'"Good girl.
Come along now," he said softly. "It's time to say goodbye."

The lump in
her throat was turning into a large rock of hot lava. She was
afraid. Afraid if she let the lump break free it would shatter her
into little pieces and she would never be whole again. She
swallowed as hard as she possibly could, and clutching Lord
Michaels arm tightly allowed him to lead her into her Uncle's
room.

She stood
quite still and looked around. It was as if he was still alive, as
if he could walk in and laugh with her at any moment. Lord Michael
moved her to the bed and sat her on the edge of the mattress, then
settled next to her, placing his arm around her shoulders.

"Tell me about
him, Elizabeth. Tell me about all the wonderful times you had in
this house."

She stared
across at the windows, then back at him, and he saw the fear in her
eyes.

"I -
it's..."

"Go ahead.
What was the favourite summer you had with him? Tell me all about
it," he coaxed.

She started to
speak, the words falling stiffly. The lump wasn't a lump any more.
It was just heat. Searing heat in her throat. She wanted to tell
him about the time he had ridden out to the lake with her and he
had almost fallen off trying to jump a log on his big horse - a log
she had cleared on a pony.

"He wasn't
much of a rider," she giggled, "and I was laughing so hard I almost
fell off Buttons as well."

Suddenly,
unexpectedly, the heat in her throat surged out of her and the dam
burst. She cried and cried and cried, and Lord Michael rocked her
gently, soothing her, holding her, until the heaviest of the crying
had somewhat abated, and with his reassurance and support, she
tearfully began recounting story after story.

Then it was
over.

He glanced at
the clock on the mantle. It was almost eight-fifteen.

"Are you ready
to go downstairs now?" he asked.

"I am, Master.
I feel so different. Very tired, but different. Better," she said
softly.

"I know, I'll
take you back to your room and you can repair yourself. I'm sure
Grace will be there preparing your bed for the night. I'll wait
outside the door and when you're ready we'll go downstairs and have
the cook provide us with a nice supper."

They rose from
the bed and headed out the door towards Elizabeth's quarters. It
didn't take her long and fifteen minutes later they were in the
dining room. Elizabeth's eyes were still red and puffy, but her
hair was brushed and her face washed. Her father and James had
retired to the drawing room for cigars and brandy, and Lord Michael
left her briefly to alert them that they were dining and would join
them when they had finished their meal.

The cook had
assumed they would be there at some point and had kept their meals
warm in the oven. They were served a hot delicious dinner of meat
and peas with mint sauce, Elizabeth's favourite, and some potatoes,
and some wonderful creamy pudding that she devoured quickly. It was
the most she had eaten since her recovery had begun.

He allowed her
a small glass of wine with dinner, believing it would calm her and
help her to sleep, and as she sipped the last of it down she smiled
at him across the table.

"Master," she
said softly, in case there was anyone close by, "I'm terribly sorry
about my outburst earlier this evening."

"I know you
are, Elizabeth. And it's all right. You weren't yourself. But you
do know should you behave that way again you will be severely dealt
with."

"Oh yes, I
definitely know that," she said quickly.

She tilted her
head to one side, staring at the warm burgundy liquid in her glass.
Lord Michael could see there was something on her mind, something
she wasn't quite sure how to say, but he could guess what it might
me.

"Go ahead,
Elizabeth," he said, "ask me."

He saw the red
blush cross her face. He had been right.

"Ask you
what?" she said innocently.

"Don't be coy.
You've got five seconds - one - two - three—"

"All right,
I'll - I'll tell you," she blurted out hastily, not wishing him to
reach the last number. The last time she called his counting bluff
he applied the rod to her bare backside, laying three cuts which
she had never forgotten. She swore she would never let him reach
five ever again.

"I was just
wondering," she said, leaning forward and lowering her voice to a
whisper, "if it might be possible to visit me - uh - my - uh - room
tonight - to - um, say hello. If you know what I mean by,
hello?"

He smiled. She
needed him. She needed a spicy little spanking and some warm,
strong fucking. He nodded his head. After his long snooze and
marvellous release he was in perfect form to provide both and more
than happy to do so, for her sake as well as his own.

"I think that
can be arranged. I would very much enjoy saying a most special
hello, as would my hand," he grinned, winking at her. "Why don't
you have Grace draw you a nice hot bath. Put yourself to bed and at
some point in the night you will have a visitor."

A little
twirly thing happened in her stomach and she let out an unbridled,
tiny squeal. He watched as she hurried from the room, anxious to do
whatever it was that she did in anticipation of his visit. He
sighed deeply. She appeared to be completely recovered.

He wandered
into the drawing room and over a warm brandy, explained to her
father and brother all that had transpired. They could now travel
to their home with confidence, knowing their beloved was completely
better, and that Lord Michael would stay on until they could
determine between them what her future would be. There were many
considerations and plans had to be made.

By eleven
o'clock the house was asleep and quiet. Lord Michael left his
chambers, and carrying a small lantern stole down the long hallway
and up a short flight of stairs to Elizabeth's suite of rooms.
Quietly he pushed opened the door. Elizabeth was lying under the
covers. The fire was burning and two lanterns were sending their
white orange glow across the room. There was smell of roses in the
air and Elizabeth's hair was spread across the pillow.