Rival Desires (Properly Spanked Legacy 1)

Not that she wasn’t already ruined.

She couldn’t remember now when she’d lost control of herself the previous evening. She’d been tired, yes, and light-minded from hunger, but to let him do such things to her… Why, she hadn’t just let him, she’d participated fully. If only it hadn’t felt so exquisite, so free and adventurous, she could have gathered her wits and implored him to stop.

As it was, she feared she only implored him to go further, and further, until things went too far. She was reasonably certain he’d breached her maidenhead, an expression she’d not understood until she felt the sharp pain of his thrust between her thighs. So, there was her maidenhead, it seemed, and that maidenhead had been breached repeatedly, causing both consternation and pleasure.

What now? She tried to recall what happened to young ladies whose maidenheads had been breached. She’d only ever been told it was a bad thing. She wasn’t told of the consequences of such. Mr. Drake had said he’d protect her, that there would be no consequences, but he’d been breathless with lust at that moment, so who knew if he spoke truth?

She sighed and put on the smoky-smelling costume, which looked far less elegant away from the theater’s lights. It looked farcical, in fact. She didn’t want to don the long, black wig, but she knew she must, to disguise herself as well as she could.

There was no question of lingering at the inn to take a meal, even though she felt weak with hunger. Anyway, her throat hurt too much to tolerate anything but tea and custard. As soon as she got home, she’d beg her Mama for sweet, hot, comforting foods.

Oh, Mama, if you knew what I’ve done, you’d be so disappointed.

She could never, ever tell her proper, God-fearing mother the truth of last night. She risked a glance at Mr. Drake as he lifted her atop his horse. He was so very handsome, yes, but so common. His shirt was filthy, and his boots scuffed. He’d probably done what he did with her to other women, seducing them with his whispers, and his intent green eyes. How else could he be so skilled at it?

She straightened her shoulders and held herself stiff as he settled behind her. She would not perch on his lap like a wanton, even though she must look scandalous in her wig and costume.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

She nodded, since it hurt to speak. Her dress provided ample padding for her riding muscles, which were sore from last night. Or perhaps she was sore from…

Oh, no. She couldn’t think about it. She arranged her skirts to cover her soft-soled stage slippers and bowed her head. She intended to ride all the way to Hyde Park with her eyes down, but there were so many novel sights in London that she was hard-pressed not to lift her head and stare now and again. Busy streets, carriages and merchant carts, animals and children and all manner of signs to read.

She’d been so sheltered in Grosvenor Square, and Vienna too, so focused on her vocal studies. At home in the summers, she was kept quietly in the parlor, to do ladylike things. She’d been so constrained her whole life, compelled to be proper and perfect. Maybe that explained her lapse in behavior last night.

She stared down at Mr. Drake’s hands. They, at least, were not dirty and common. In fact, his nails were clean and clipped, his fingers strong and sure as he guided the horse through the streets with subtle movements of his knees. How competent he was, how utterly manly and—

For all that was good, she could not still be dreaming about Mr. Drake! She’d be a lucky girl indeed if she suffered no consequences from this adventure, as he promised.

In time, they arrived in quieter and more fashionable streets. The lingering smell of smoke grew thicker and sickened her. The terrifying fire would be difficult to forget.

“We’re almost there,” he said, tightening his arms as if to comfort her. She tried her best to shield her face. There were too many people out and about, any of whom might recognize her. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take you to your doorstep, Miss Layton? It’s no difficulty at all.”

She tried to picture uncouth, seductive Mr. Drake escorting her into her father’s courtyard, and knocking at the Earl of Halsey’s door. She shook her head hard to banish the thought.

“The park, please,” she whispered. “You’ve been too kind already.” She remembered, cringing, that she’d offered him repayment for the lodgings. He could not expect that now; she didn’t want any connection to him after today.

When they reached the lane beside the park, she wished she might leap from his horse, but he prevented any quick escape by seizing her hand. “Miss Layton, there is something I must tell you,” he said, holding her startled gaze. “If there is any…any result from our time together, or any need of…anything, you need only inquire of your friends at the theater after Mr. Jack Drake. One of them will surely recognize the name and tell you where to find me.”