Dealing With Discipline (Domestic Discipline 2)

Her returning smile was one of pure pleasure and anticipation. "I do love to ride. I enjoyed exercising your horses through Hyde Park, but you're right, they were not nearly as enjoyable as being in the country where I can gallop."

"Well then we will have to make sure that we get our fill of riding before we must return to town," Hugh said with a laugh, squeezing her hand - and, it felt like, the air out of her lungs again.

******

Stonehaven was much larger than any residence Irene had ever been to, even out in the country when she’d attended a few house parties with her mother. It fair took her breath away, even if Hugh hadn't been doing that on a regular basis throughout the entire carriage ride. He'd helped her put her glove back on as they'd driven down the lane, but even so his touch still burned when he helped to hand her down from the coach. The small smile on his face indicated his pleasure at her delighted and amazed reaction to his family home.

Indeed, the carriage ride had served to make Irene look almost deliciously disheveled; softer, with wisps of hair around her face that had escaped from her coiffure. The wrinkles in her dress only made him wish that he’d been responsible for some of them. While she looked less sophisticated, she also looked much more approachable… less like a model of what a proper young lady should look like and more like a flushed, happy young woman. He’d like to make her look even more flushed and happy.

But he would not descend on his wife like a ravening beast, even if he felt like one after torturing himself the entire carriage ride by touching her the soft skin of her hand, watching her soft, pink, tempting lips as she spoke, and smelling the sweetness of her skin as it permeated the small confines of the carriage. Irene smelled like a dream and he couldn’t wait to bury his face in her hair and breasts.

“Welcome to Stonehaven, dearest,” he said, lifting her gloved hand to his lips. For once she didn’t blush at the contact, she was too busy examining the house with something akin to awe.

It was beautiful, larger than any house she’d ever been to before, and yet somehow as welcoming as it was imposing. While she’d known the reputation of the house as being made entirely of stone, she hadn’t expected the dappled appearance of the walls. Most buildings she had seen that were made of stone were done so in rocks of the same color.

“Is it really all made of stone?” she asked, blinking as she stared up at the impressive four stories and the many windows that were set in rows. Curtains were visible through all of them, although she couldn’t tell the exact color of the highest row.

“Hence the name,” Hugh said with a grin, wrapping her hand around his arm as he began to lead her towards the entrance.

“I always wondered which came first,” she admitted, looking up at the monstrosity. “The name or the house.”

Hugh laughed. “The house, although the stone was taken from the quarries around the land here so I can see how you might have thought otherwise. If the area had been known as Stonehaven already, it would have only made sense to build the house with it. Although, of course, inside there’s wood panelin

g on the floors and walls. It’s only the outside of the house that’s made with stone.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said honestly. She rather liked the uniqueness of its structure, although by modern standards it was rather mundane, without the more decorative baroque elements that were currently all the rage. Irene thought that the simplicity of Stonehaven’s lines were very appealing and the various hues of black, white and grey more than enough decoration.

Her husband seemed pleased by her appreciation of the house, although her admiration was nothing but the truth. For herself, Irene enjoyed the tour although she was quite sure that she wouldn’t remember the location of every room that he showed her. Fortunately they would spend most of their time in the public rooms and the East wing, which is where the family’s rooms were, so that was what she concentrated on trying to memorize.

“This is my room,” Hugh said and Irene felt a vivid blush rising in her cheeks as he led her into one of the bedrooms along the second floor hall.

“Oh…” she said as he crossed over to open the drapes a bit more and let more light in. The room was furnished with heavy wood and moss green drapes and cushions, without the slightest hint of a woman’s touch. The heavy bed was huge, larger than any she’d seen before and she walked forward in amazement to examine it more closely. The four posts were carved with nothing more than a few swirls around their lengths, the coverlet on the bed a slightly lighter shade of green than the curtains and cushions of the chairs.

Suddenly she was aware that Hugh had moved and he was standing behind her. Standing very closely behind her, his hot breath on the back of her neck making the little hairs all over her body rise. The infernally strange reaction that she seemed to have every time he was near had slowly dissolved somewhat during the long carriage ride as she’d become accustomed to his presence, but now it had returned more intensely than ever. Turning to face him she took a step back, discomfited by the gleam in his eye, only to run into the bed.

The gleam seemed to shine brighter as he took a step forward, effectively trapping her between himself and the very large piece of furniture.

She could barely breathe as her husband looked down at her, one lock of blonde hair falling across his forehead. For some strange reason she wanted to reach up and brush it back, but she was too frozen to move.

"Well, our room really," he said, the smile on his face softening and he stepped back as if he was aware that he'd startled her. “I hope, if you agree.”

"Our room?" she echoed, her mind struggling to catch up with what he was saying.

"Yes, our room," he said, stepping towards her and reaching to grasp her hand. The very closeness of her body set her heart thumping madly, her body thrumming with a strange kind of physical awareness that she'd never experienced before. It was similar to the disquiet that he usually stirred within but much more intense. "I know it's not the usual thing, but I would prefer to share a room with you, if you do not object."

"Oh..." she said, unsure of how she should react. But she did want to be a good and obedient wife to Hugh, even if her heart was with another man, and her husband obviously wanted her to say yes. Irene was good at doing what other people wanted. "That would be nice."

The smile that lit up his face told her that she had made the right decision and he brought her hand up to his lips, turning it so that he could lay a kiss on the inside of her wrist. The touch of his lips against that bare patch of skin was so intimate, so shocking to her as a young woman who had been quite sheltered by her parents even by the standards of the ton for unwed virgins, that she quite thought her knees might give way beneath her. What was this strange power that Hugh had over her, that he might make her so discombobulated?

"Good," he said, and then, before she quite understood what he was about, he pressed his lips against hers.

This was nothing like their kiss at the church, Irene realized that immediately. The long hard line of Hugh's body moved against hers, trapping her between him and the bed, and she let out an involuntary moan. He took advantage of that parting of her sweet lips to thrust his tongue in, claiming her mouth. Irene was shocked by the blatant indecency; her mother hadn’t mentioned such a thing at all. Was this the marriage act? Or part of it?

It couldn't be though... it wasn't night time and they weren't in the bed... and it was nothing like the descriptions her mother had given her. Irene felt breathless pleasure, a strange sense of rising excitement in her breast as her heart fluttered and she found her mind melting away into a sodden heap of sensation. Little thoughts flitted through the back of her head, warnings about Hugh's physical effect on her, alarm at her reaction, and fleeting thoughts about Alex... all of which seemed very far away in comparison to the reality of her husband's hard body, his caressing hands, and the taste of him in her mouth.

Irene's innocently passionate response to his kiss had Hugh going up in flames, his self-control rapidly unraveling. He felt quite certain that she had no idea she was whimpering in the back of her throat, the sound completely innocent and yet wildly erotic. The movement of her body against his thigh seemed completely reactionary, instinctive, and not at all aware. With her soft, supple body trapped between him and the bed, he was able to caress her through her dress, internally cursing the corset which kept him from feeling the softness of her breasts. Instead he placed his hands against her bottom, cupping a handful of each mound and pressing the v of her legs more firmly against him.

The gasp against his lips as he touched her so intimately reminded him that he was dealing with a virgin. His pure, untouched wife, and with a groan he pulled his mouth from hers and let his hands drop back by his sides. Irene stared up at him, her red hair in minor disarray, green eyes wide with shock and so dark that they almost looked like jade rather than emeralds. Her usually creamy pale skin was flushed bright pink, her lips swollen and dark from his kiss. Leaning her weight against the bed, she looked ready to crumble to the floor and it was all he could do not to lift her in her arms, lay her down on the bed and consummate their nuptials immediately.