Page 10 of Desire and Discipline
“Joseph?”
The entire world seemed to still, time moving slowly around him as he turned, as though the air had turned to thick jam. He could not breathe. His heart felt as if it was about to burst out of his chest, it was thudding so hard.
“No.” He whispered the word, but it dropped like a shout in the silence. Mary and Rex were already backing away against the wall, leaving the view completely clear.
Priscilla was standing there, staring at him with the same amount of shock he felt, her complexion stark white, clutching Anthony’s arm as though she was about to fall over. On Anthony’s other side, Evie stood, glaring daggers down the hall. If looks could kill…
“No,” he whispered again. This was not supposed to happen. This could not be happening. Priscilla was far too pure for this place, too good for the depravities that were practiced here… and if she knew what particular perversion called to him, she would never look at him the same again. She would never respect him.
How much did she already know?
Fear and panic chilled him from the inside out.
“She cannot be here. You cannot be here.” He should be moving toward her, but his feet would not go. All he could do was stare.
“Here? Here where you are?” Unlike him, she had no problem moving, sliding her arm from Anthony’s and stalking forward with her hands clenched into fists at her side. As she did so, Mary and Rex shifted further away from Joseph, moving to stand behind her in support, the way Evie and Anthony were, leaving him abandoned. “I should not be here where my husband is, rather than at the club with his friends where you said you would be?”
This was a side of Priscilla he had never seen before. There was nothing amiable or accepting about her demeanor, nothing placid or accepting about her expression, and by the time she reached the end of her questions, she was shouting at him. Joseph took a step back, shocked even more by her reaction than her appearance.
Of course, he’d never wanted to hurt her, of course, he did not want her to know, but any time he had imagined her reaction to him being with another woman, this was not it. If she ever found out, he expected the usual wifely reaction—the quiet hurt, the wounded stoicism, the pretense that she knew no such thing. The way most proper English wives reacted to their husband’s affairs or mistresses when they were indiscreet.
He certainly did not expect her to bear down on him like a vengeful fury, questioning him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked blankly, unable to think of anything else to say, even as his brain screamed at him that it was the exact wrong reply.
“I was invited by friends. I am here to discover this side of their lives and because I wanted to know if it was something I might enjoy. I am here because my husband went out for the night to be with his friends, and I thought nothing of doing the same. Now,sirrah, what areyoudoing here?” The paleness of her cheeks had given way to red fury, her bosom heaving with emotion as she confronted him, and there was a stern glint to her eye that reached into his body and did things to his insides he could not explain.
Priscilla had never, not once, looked at him like this before. She was a goddess, and the urge to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness was nearly overwhelming… but he had to make her understand. He had to make sure she knew it did not change any of his feelings for her. Then he was going to have strong words with his cousin about putting Priscilla in a position to be so egregiously hurt with knowledge she should have been protected from.
“I… you are not supposed to be here.”
Rather than backing down or even looking at him, Priscilla looked past him.
“What was he here to do with you?” It was not a question; it was a demand, and she was addressing Lady Cross.
“Not what you think,” he said, stepping between them, blocking Lady Cross from Priscilla’s view. But his demure, proper wife pushed him aside, and he was so surprised that he stumbled away, leaving her and Lady Cross facing each other.
Lady Cross looked Priscilla up and down consideringly, and Priscilla stared back at her.
“What is your arrangement with my husband? Since he seems incapable of answering my questions, woman to woman, I am asking you. Please, tell me.” Her voice only softened slightly to a request.
Joseph was about to step forward again when Lady Cross flung her hand up at him, palm facing him, and he ground to a halt. His jaw clenched. His entire life was about to collapse, and… he knew exactly who to blame. He glared at his cousin. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared back, mouthing the words, ‘I told you to tell her.’
As if that would have helped.
It hardly mattered now, though, did it?
“Your husband and I have never shared a bed,” Lady Cross said, and something inside Joseph unclenched. Maybe there was still hope… then she dashed any prayer he had of keeping his statue in his wife’s eyes. “He requires me to punish him.”
Priscilla’s lips parted in surprise, and she looked at him, then back at Lady Cross so quickly, he could not even catch her eye. His shoulders slumped. She did not even want to look at him. This was exactly why he’d never wanted her to know. How could she respect him as a man, as a husband, knowing of his perversions? If he’d wanted to spank her, it would be bad enough, but he could have reassured her that he would never inflict such depravity upon her, that?—
“Punish him… with a flogger?” Priscilla asked.
Wait, what?
Why was she asking such a question?
“A flogger, a paddle, a whip, whatever implement I am in the mood for that evening,” Lady Cross replied serenely. “He requires nothing more than the discipline from me. Though there is much more that could be done if he was willing, I believe he sought me out specifically to keep his marriage vows, and so that is the sum of our encounters.”
