Punishing His Ward Read online

  Punishing His Ward

  By G. Angel

  Published by G. Angel

  Copyright 2013 G. Angel

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  A huge thank you to Fifi and AquaQueen, without whom this book would not be what it is.

  Chapter 1

  Out of all the words in the English language, Cynthia's absolute favorite was "don't."

  The most interesting things to do were always “don’t”s. That was how she'd learned that climbing trees was great fun and so was swimming in the lake. It was how she'd learned breeches were more comfortable than skirts and riding astride much more exciting (and easier) than riding in a lady's sidesaddle - although she could do both. Kissing was another great fun that she would have missed out on if she listened to that word, "don't."

  The moment Cynthia was told "don't,” she immediately felt the strong urge to do whatever it was she wasn’t supposed to. And it led to such wondrous discoveries!

  As she'd grown older, those discoveries were what gave her life sparkle after her parents died. Of course she missed them very much, she did, but that didn't mean that her life should always be sad. She was sad when she thought of them and she'd mourned them very properly, and during her mourning period had tried to behave as the perfect young lady that she hadn't been during their lives, but once she'd thrown off the black she'd thrown off that shroud of gloom as well. Life was just more fun when attempting all the things one wasn't supposed to do.

  Which was how she'd ended up sneaking out of Lady Spencer's house in Bath to go meet with the scandalous Mr. Carter. According to her ladyship, Mr. Carter was a rogue, a rake, a dissolute braggart and a man completely without honor. Her ladyship's clear instructions had been "don't ever even talk to him, avoid him at all costs."

  How was Cynthia supposed to ignore such temptation? Such a colorful description? Mr. Carter must know even more wonderful things that one wasn't supposed to do, things that Cynthia didn’t know. And she had to admit that she rather thought he cut a dashing figure with his air of indifference, those lazy brown eyes and that mop of golden curls that was always slightly mussed. So of course when he'd coaxed her onto the terrace during one of the Assemblies she'd gone willingly, only to be interrupted moments later by an irate Lady Spencer.

  Fortunately he'd found her in a shop this morning, her hovering chaperone nearby but not within earshot, and had murmured that he'd like to meet her. She'd whispered back that she'd meet him at the nearby park in the afternoon, when she knew Lady Spencer would most likely be entertaining. At first her ladyship had tried to include Cynthia in her 'at-homes,' but Cynthia quickly grew bored of sitting, drinking tea, and listening to vicious old ladies exchange scathing observations and gossip. Although she did perk up whenever any of them had anything to say about Lady Spencer’s sons.

  She'd become great friends with Matthew and Vincent, and while she hadn't met the Earl of Spencer yet, she rather enjoyed hearing stories about him. Most of the best stories weren't told in Lady Spencer's presence, but a few of the old dragons would whisper the juicy tidbits to each other while the Countess was occupied, and Cynthia had managed to overhear quite a bit. Gambling, tumbling other men's wives, gallivanting about town... it all sounded quite grand to her. They said he was as handsome as the devil with a twinkle in his eye that could make the most chaste lady turn up her skirts for him.

  Cynthia knew that she wasn't supposed to know what that meant, but she did. She was bright enough, and listened often enough to the matrons’ gossip, to at least be able to guess at some of the things men and women did together. Husbands and wives, Lady Spencer had said, but Cynthia knew that unmarried couples did the same activities.

  Perhaps the most delightful "don't" she'd ever received was "don't touch yourself between your legs." Combined with her observations and her natural penchant for trying anything new, she'd quickly managed to discover exactly why touching herself between her legs could be quite wonderful, although she still hadn't discerned why it was a "don't."

  Mr. Carter had wanted to touch her between her legs today, but she hadn't allowed him to. She was wary of gentlemen, not wanting to find herself in a situation, although she certainly planned on touching herself there as soon as she was able. His passionate kisses and wandering hands had quite aroused her. But she had remained cognizant of the fact that Lady Spencer couldn't remain shut up in her room forever, even if the woman had thrown quite a fit when she'd realized that her charge and the roguish Mr. Carter were standing far too close to each other in the store. She'd dragged Cynthia home immediately, told her to stay in her room until the Earl arrived there this afternoon to "deal with her," and then immediately took refuge in her own room.

  Of course Cynthia wasn't going to stay in her room, not when she wanted to know what Mr. Carter could show her, but she had known that she only had a limited amount of time. Then they'd almost been caught by a pair of gossiping girls who were talking in high-pitched excited voices about how both the rakish Lord Hyde and the Earl of Spencer had been seen in town.

  Still, it had all been rather wonderful even if she had to rush home now.

  Unfortunately, just after pushing through a group of rather rowdy young men, she ran straight into the poor man that was walking behind them. She thought it was unfortunate because he seemed like a very fine specimen of a man, even taller than Mr. Carter and with a harder body - she knew because it felt like she'd just smashed herself against a wall - and he was very handsome, but she didn't have time to make any kind of introduction or discover his direction. It also wasn't the kind of impression she wanted to make on a man as attractive as he was, but it couldn't be helped.

  "Oh I'm so sorry, I beg your pardon!" she blurted out, before darting past him. Hopefully he wouldn't get a good enough look at her to remember her if they were to meet later; she'd rather he remember her as anything other than a rampaging harpy dashing through the street. Hurrying up the steps to the house she went immediately into the front door, hoping that Manfred might be in one of the other rooms doing whatever it was he did when he wasn't watching her with disapproving eyes.

  Unfortunately her hopes were in vain. Not only was Manfred standing in the center of the foray, there were several other servants running in and out of the room as well, including her maid Julie who looked to be rather teary-eyed. Cynthia glared at Manfred. If he'd been taking Julie to task over Cynthia's disappearance then she would have words with him. How could a mere maid be expected to keep tabs on her?

  Manfred ignored her as the front door opened behind her again. Shockingly, something like relief flickered across his normally blank face.

  "My Lord.... your ward has returned."

  Oh dear. So not only was the Earl of Spencer certainly here, he knew she had been missing. Well, Cynthia had always been one to face up to her misdeeds without flinching. After all, they were almost always well worth whatever repercussions came from ignoring the word "don't."

  Taking a deep breath for fortitude, she turned to face the Earl and gasped. It was the same man she'd bumped into outside! Now that she could get a better look at him she realized why she would have never expected him to be an Earl - he didn't at all look like one. Even though he'd been described as a rogue and a devil, she still expected him to look like the other rakes amongst the ton that she'd met. This man had tanned skin, like a laborer, and his brown hair was long an
d unruly, falling in waves down to the collar of his shirt. A shirt which was anything but pristine and his cravat was crooked too. Besides which, he wasn't even wearing a waistcoat! What kind of titled nobility went anywhere without a waistcoat? He looked more like a pirate than an Earl!

  She was so busy gaping at him that she missed seeing the amusement that flashed across his face.

  "So I see," the Earl said.

  Well he might be a rogue and a devil, but he looked like a severe and unhappy guardian to her. Cynthia recognized the features of his brothers in his face, but the Earl wasn't looking at her with playful amusement or gleeful hilarity; he looked just as angry as his mother often did. And not nearly as easy to ignore.

  Still. Men often thought she was beautiful, over the years she’d learned that they were much more likely to grant her leeway than women. Even her father had been more easily charmed than her mother. And, as she regained her composure, she didn't miss the way his eyes flicked down to her bosom. Cynthia had often found that beauty and a great deal of cleavage went a long way with men.

  "My lord," she said prettily, batting her eyes and dipping down into the low curtsy that often grabbed men's attention.

  Wesley, being such a favorite among the ton's ladies, recognized her tactics immediately. In any other young beauty he might have admired her inspiration or been amused by her obvious ploy. But this was his ward and while he might enjoy his leisure, his rakish reputation was a relief from the responsibility that plagued him.

  And when it came to this young woman, responsibility was to be his byword. Not only did his personal sense of honor demand it, his mother would as well. He held Cynthia's future in his hands; he was to shelter, succor and care for her until he could get her married off in a reasonable match (his mother wanted a good match, but he was willing to settle for a reasonable one, just to speed things along and get this blatant temptation out of his life). That was his duty as a guardian.

  His hardening cock and roving eyes had obviously not heeded his intentions, but he could ignore that.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he forced himself to turn away from her and look at Manfred. "I'll deal with my ward in my study. Get the household back in order now that she's been found. And make sure that no one has disturbed my mother."

  "Yes, my Lord," Manfred said with a little bow; his tone and demeanor much more respectful than it usually was when he was addressing Wesley. Obviously he meant to set a good example for Miss Cynthia Bryant on how one was supposed to behave with an Earl. Wesley barely glanced at her, although out of the corner of his eye he could see that she was looking rather pouty and put out at being so deliberately ignored by him. He’d wager not many men were able to overlook her abundance of charms so easily, even if they'd wanted to.

  Hell, it wasn't easy for him to do and he was one of the most practiced rakes of the ton. There was just something about her... the slightest hint of refreshing innocence to go with that devious sparkle in her eyes and innate sensuality. As if she truly didn't know where her words and actions might lead, but was willing to explore. An invitation for a knowing man to lead her down the path of wickedness.

  Was she an innocent?

  Normally he would have thought the answer an immediate no. His father's friend, Lord Harold Bryant, and his wife Susannah had been very conservative. No daughter of theirs would be allowed to behave in any kind of immoral or indecent manner. And he would have banked his mother against any young woman.

  Obviously he would have been wrong on all counts. How could the staunchly upright Lord Bryant have sired this seductive, brazen hussy?

  Still, he'd have to protect her as if she was completely innocent. If his mother had been aware of any stain to the girl's reputation then she would have included that information in one of her letters. Going by Cynthia's tactics in trying to deal with him, if she was still an innocent it was more luck than anything else. He was going to have to keep a close watch on her. Luckily, as a rake himself, he knew all the tricks of the trade.

  "My study," he said to her, rather grimly. "Now."

  Turning on his heel, Wesley stalked down the hallway, not waiting to see if she followed. He needed privacy to question her and then to tan her bottom for upsetting the household in such a manner. If she didn't follow immediately then he'd just blister that pert little bottom even more. And damn well enjoy it too.

  ******

  Sighing, Cynthia trotted gamely after Lord Spencer, frowning down at her dress as she did so. She'd never been so easily dismissed by a man, especially not with her bosom so exposed. Lord Spencer had looked, but only for a moment and then he'd moved on to other things.

  Maybe he was one of those men who preferred other dishes?

  He certainly didn't seem the type though. Of course she was only going by rumors about that type of man, as she hadn’t knowingly met any, but they were said to dress a great deal fancier than Lord Spencer was. The Earl looked as if he didn't care a fig for his appearance. Though she thought he might still be the most dashingly attractive man she'd ever seen, and his sartorial lack of effort did have a certain appeal.

  Tall, shoulders as broad as a soldiers, and those pants hugged his legs tightly enough that, unless he was wearing some very clever pads, he had most superbly muscled legs she'd ever seen. Too bad he was apparently a stuffed shirt despite his roguish reputation and dress.

  Once they’d entered his study, Lord Spencer didn't turn to look at her until he'd reached his desk.

  "Close the door." Once she had, he nodded at the chair in front of his desk. It was a large, cushy armchair with broad arms. More than once she'd snuck into the study for a quiet place to read, on those rare occasions when she was in the mood. The chair was incredibly comfortable, not to mention welcoming.

  From his position leaning against the desk it would also give him quite a view down into her cleavage. Cynthia smiled. Maybe he wasn't as immune to her as he appeared. That was a nice thought. Although he just scowled at her even more when he saw her smiling.

  With another sigh, she moved across the room and settled down into the chair. Again his eyes flicked down into her bosom and then away before coming back to her face.

  Humph.

  "Explain yourself."

  "Explain myself?" she asked rather wonderingly. How did one explain oneself? She was just... herself.

  Lord Spencer glared at her. "Where were you, who were you with and why did you go?"

  Oh, explain her actions. Nearly as difficult as explaining herself when it came right down to it. "I was out, with no one, because I was bored."

  She'd found, over the years, that it was best to keep things simple when she lied. The vaguer she was and the less she had to remember, the easier it was to stick to her story.

  Unfortunately Lord Spencer just looked even angrier at her lack of real explanation. Quicker than a snake he had his hand around her arm and she found herself lifted out of the chair, and just as quickly yanked her back down so that she was over his lap. Squealing, she threw her hands out in front of her, pressing them against the ground so that she didn't slide right off of his thighs. An iron bar was placed across her back, holding her securely in place, and her skirts were thrown up, followed by a quick jerk of fabric that pulled down her drawers.

  SMACK!

  "OUCH! Stop that!" Outraged, Cynthia bucked, but it was completely useless as his hard palm came down on the other side of her buttocks to give her a matching handprint.

  SLAP!

  Fire alternated back and forth between her cheeks, no matter how hard she kicked or yelled. When she tried to reach back to cover her burning skin with her hands, the iron bar across her back moved only long enough to gather her wrists in his hands and hold them securely before returning to delivering the first spanking she'd had since before her parents had died.

  Tears dripped down her nose to fall on the floor and she kicked out even harder. As if he'd been waiting for that, Lord Spencer's leg somehow wrapped around her calve
s, holding them firmly in place so that his thigh was in front of hers but his calf was behind hers.

  And the relentless spanking continued.

  "I'm sorry!" she wailed finally. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

  Several more blows fell before he stopped. Cynthia found herself hiccupping, her bottom feeling so swollen and hot that she itched to touch and rub it, but his long fingers were still wrapped around her wrists, restraining them. His hand settled on her bottom, making her skin feel like it was itchy, hot and tight.

  "What are you sorry for, Miss Bryant?"

  "I'm sorry for going out, I'm sorry I didn't tell anyone, I won't do it again!" She hiccupped again in her rush to get the words out.

  "I certainly hope not, Miss Bryant, because if you do then I will be forced to do this again."

  Cynthia howled as he began to rain down blows on her already sore bottom again, her body jerking as she cried out.

  Once Wesley decided that he'd imparted his message onto her bottom, which was glowing a nice, hot red, he finally let her up. His cock was throbbing from the effects of having her over his lap, his hand so close to her womanhood - which he hadn't been able to keep from noticing was dripping wet by the time her spanking was over - but he ignored that. Cynthia was crying outright as he lifted her off of his lap.

  She was so overwhelmed she hadn't even noticed the hard bulge at the front of pants. Staring up at him through her tears, she couldn't even find it in herself to glare. She was too afraid that doing so would put her back over his knee.

  "From now on you will comport yourself in a manner befitting a young lady," he said sternly. "My mother has had to deal with your antics for long enough. Any more misbehavior and you'll find yourself back in this room over my knee or worse. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, my Lord." Cynthia resisted the urge to rub her bottom in front of him, her hands clenched at her sides from the effort.