Page 46 of His Arranged Duchess
“You must be mad.”
He tilted his head. “Do you think so?”
Frances’s heart pounded in her chest. Heat pulsed in her gut, even circling the join of her legs. Why should the idea of being… beingspankedthrill her so much? She had never been spanked, never, but of course Frances knew of the practice.
It was meant to be a punishment, was it not?
She found herself imagining the duke’s warm, broad hand resting over the lower curve of her back, just before the swell of her buttocks, and the idea made her almost shiver.
She had read of this concept in one of the more risqué books of her collection. The lady was the one who had suggested the punishment of spanking. She had never discovered whether or not the spanking was administered, though, as Mama had found the book in the library, and subsequently thrown it out. Frances had only been sixteen, if her memory served her right, and had been able to convince her horrified mother that she had onlybegunto read the book.
In any case, she had not read the end.
“It was only a suggestion,” Lucien remarked idly, his gaze fixed on her face. “If you care to choose a different punishment…”
“No,” Frances blurted out, before she could stop herself. His eyes darkened, fixed on her, and he waited in silence for her to continue. She cleared her throat. her face growing redder by the minute.
“I ought not to have gone into the East Tower,” she breathed at last, her eyes never leaving his. “You… You’re right to be upset at me. I suppose this is fair.”
Heat coiled in Lucien’s chest. He stayed quite still, and Frances crawled tentatively towards him, almost warily. When she was close enough for him to feel her breath on his face, she hesitated, blinking as if unsure. Wrapping his hands around her upper arms, he guided her forward until her stomach was resting on his thighs. He could feel her heart beating hard, pounding as if it were trying to escape from her chest.
He admired the dainty curve of her backside and felt a powerful rush of desire. Oh, he was in trouble. Yes, he wanted her entirely too much. He placed his hand on the curve of one buttock, letting it rest there. Her skin was warm, the nightgown entirely too thin. He lifted his hand and brought it down in a firm little tap.
It would not have hurt, or even really stung a little. Frances gave a hitching little breath, flinching. One of her hands curledaround his knee as if to steady herself. He delivered another blow, just a smidge harder than the first, and her grip tightened. He smoothed his hand over the place he had spanked, feeling the warmth of her skin.
For his part, Lucien was beginning to find it hard to breathe. He delivered a third slap, harder than the first two. This one might leave the faintest red mark. He imagined how the delightful blemish might look against Frances’s perfect white skin and noticed to his horror that his hand was shaking. This was getting too much, and he couldn’t claim her right now. He shouldn’t.
Rubbing the part he imagined his mark would be, he heard Francesmoan. Oh, God. At first, he thought he would just tease her. He was sure she’d say no. But his little Duchess was far more wicked than she let on. If he lost control now, if he laid her on her back…
He cleared his throat. What was meant to be her punishment was far too tormenting forhim. After one final tap, he let his hand wander upwards, outlining the curve of her back, noticing how Frances’s breaths became more ragged the moment he found the back of her neck and used the roots of her hair to help her up.
“That will do, I think,” Lucien managed, keeping his voice as cool and steady as he could. “Did you learn your lesson, Duchess?”
Frances scrambled backwards, sitting on her heels and staring at him, wild-eyed. Her hair was disarranged, and her cheeks were flushed. Even if Lucien had never seen a woman in the throes ofdesire before, he was sure that he would recognize it here and now on Frances’s face.
She liked it,he realized, the thought sending him juddering into a lustful haze.She enjoyed it.
“Perhaps some more education is required,” she said, her voice tight. “I’m not a quick study, you see.”
“Oh? Have you suggestions for a further project?”
“You can kiss me,” she breathed. “If you like.”
Lucien tilted his head, flashing a lazy smile. His hand was still on the back of her neck, and he used his thumb to stroke her lower lip. “Ah, but I must impress you first, mustn’t I? You must trust me before we go further. Isn’t that what we agreed?”
Frances reddened, biting her lower lip where he had touched her. “You ought not to tease me.”
He shrugged, removing his hand and getting to his feet. Space, that was what he needed. He needed space from this thrilling, terrifying woman that he desired so intensely. He needed to cool down.
“Well, you went to the tower that I forbade you from visiting. Clearly, you don’t trust me. And you, too, have secrets, my dear.”
Frances narrowed her eyes, seeming to wake up from her lustful daze.
“My secret is that I enjoy romance stories, and write them too, but yours is that you are a murderer, so perhaps I require a little more trust than you.”
Silence fell after this outburst. Lucien stared down at her, his arousal gone like frost before the sun.
Frances blinked, as if surprised at her own words. She opened her mouth to explain or apologize, Lucien did not know and did not care—but he turned away before she could speak.
