Claiming His Wife Read online

  Eleanor could have died. The amount of blood on the sheets had been horrifying, and he could only be grateful that she hadn't succumbed to any of the illnesses that often plagued women after giving birth.

  While his father reassured him that it was all a part of life, Edwin found himself reluctant to put her through such an event again. Especially so soon. She'd indicated her own willingness to return to lovemaking with him, but he worried that she was pushing herself too fast. After all, they'd talked over some of her insecurities, especially when she'd been confined to the bed, and he knew that she'd been watching him to see if abstinence would make him unfaithful. Of course it hadn't, but now that she was trying to seduce him, he worried that she was doing so before she was completely recovered. Possibly out of guilt or insecurity. He wasn't having any of that, but it did make life difficult for him.

  Especially when he was faced with three other happy couples, all of whom were able to make love to their wives whenever they wanted.

  Over by the dogs, Hugh suddenly straightened from where he'd been leaning over, cocking his head to the side as if listening for something. Chuckling under his breath, Wesley elbowed Edwin and nodded at their friend's stance. He looked remarkably like a hunting dog, scenting the air, a comparison that made Edwin chuckle as well.

  "Do you hear that?" Hugh asked, his brow wrinkling. "Who's going out riding?"

  The sound of horses trotting out of the stables was nothing new, but as Hugh asked the question, Edwin realized how out of place it was at this time. All four of them and his father were in the kennel. His mother was out visiting friends. And their four wives were supposed to be safely tucked away inside the house, having tea.

  Supposed to be.

  All four men scrambled to the entrance of the kennels, just as feminine whoops of laughter rang out, leaving the Earl of Clarendon staring at their backs with bemusement.

  ******

  Glancing over her shoulder, Irene could see the four husbands gathered at the kennel door, staring after the women with fierce purpose in their eyes. She turned her head back, trying to suppress the small shiver that went down her spine, and concentrated on controlling her horse. Well, they'd certainly gotten the men's attention with the horse race that Cynthia had suggested.

  Apparently it wasn't enough to get Eleanor up on a horse, no, they all needed to be involved and the best way to do that was a race. Innocent enough... except that Eleanor knew Edwin would be upset, Grace was pregnant, and Cynthia was purposefully trying to create trouble. Irene still wasn't sure how she'd ended up being talked into it, except that she hadn't wanted to be left out.

  Going by the expression on the men's faces, none of them were going to believe any protestations of innocence. Didn't mean Irene couldn’t try though.

  In the meantime, it felt wonderful to be on horseback. She loved Eleanor, but being cooped up in the Manse ever since the baby had been born had been hard on both of them. By default, she'd become Eleanor's main companion during the day, and that meant she'd been restricted to the same activities as Eleanor. Certainly she hadn't been on any wild rides...

  Now it felt like she was flying, easily leading the pack of women towards the far end of the field, although Eleanor wasn't too far behind her. When she reached the line of trees, she expertly turned the horse about, ready to race back and win... but the men hadn't been content to wait by the stables for their ladies to return. Hugh and Edwin were in the lead, both riding bareback and already halfway across the field, with Wesley and Alex just leaving the stables.

  She couldn't say why she did it, it just seemed instinctual, seeing the men advancing upon them like a hunting party.

  "RUN!" She screamed at the other women. Eleanor twisted around and, grinning, took off like a shot across the field, veering away from the men. It only took a moment for Cynthia to follow her example, although she headed into the forest, and Grace did her best although she wasn't nearly the horsewoman that the others were. Irene could see the men cursing as they scattered, following their women.

  She started to run as well, her heart pounding. Hearing Hugh calling her name brought her back to her senses. Just a bit. Reining in her horse, she turned again, watching him advance. The others were all out of sight, except for Grace, who had been easily apprehended by her husband and was already being led back to the Manse.

  Hell and damnation. She shouldn't have bolted. But they'd just looked so intimidating as a group! Like the four horsemen of the bible, bearing down on them with a vengeance. By himself, even scowling, Hugh wasn't quite as terrifying - even though she knew her bottom was likely about to get a serious workout that had nothing to do with riding a horse.

  Reaching her, still scowling, he jerked his head at the stables and started to ride back. Nodding meekly, Irene followed behind him, wishing that she hadn't run in the first place.

  Hugh didn't speak a word to his wife until they got up into their bedchambers. He was more than just a little annoyed with her. Not for getting on a horse, of course she could do that, but because they still apparently had a problem with her loyalties.

  Sitting down on the edge of their bed, he silently gazed at her, knowing that it was unnerving to her. She squirmed under his steady gaze, twisting her hands in front of her, looking utterly adorable in her guilt. Red tendrils of hair wafted around her face, having come loose during her wild ride. Seeing her ride like that always aroused him, but they had something else to tend to first.

  "Get your hairbrush."

  Irene paled, biting her lower lip, and his cock twitched at the pleading look she gave him before obeying. She hated being spanked with her own hairbrush, finding something humiliating in being disciplined with an implement she owned. One that she had never considered as a spanking tool. It was a nice, sturdy brush, flat backed and wide, and Hugh sometimes thought it must have been made with the intention that it be dual purpose.

  She handed the hairbrush to him, doing her best not to look at it. Sometimes she even blushed when she used it on her hair, if she saw him watching her brush it, and he knew that she was thinking about its other use. Honestly, that was part of the appeal to him. He liked that every time she brushed her hair, she thought about why she needed to be good. He barely had to spank Irene more than once a month, and that was just how he liked it.

  "Strip."

  This she was able to do on her own, fortunately. He was able to sit and enjoy watching her peel off her clothes, seeing the pink in her cheeks intensify and travel down her neck. The shade matched her pert, pink nipples, which were already standing at attention. Once she was fully naked, Hugh patted his lap and Irene willingly put herself over it, which made his cock throb even harder.

  "Do you know why you're being punished, Irene?" he asked, one hand resting on her back, the other rubbing the hairbrush over her bottom. He could feel the shiver that went down her spine as he made a circular, massaging motion with the hard wood.

  "Because of the horse race," she said, sighing in resignation.

  "No."

  SMACK! Irene jumped and yelped.

  "I don't care if you want to race your horse, you're an excellent rider."

  SMACK! She shrieked again, unable to ask the question 'why?' as the hairbrush smacked into the other side of her bottom.

  "Grace is not, however, and she's pregnant." Alex had told them while they were in the stables. From Irene's lack of surprise, Hugh knew that she was aware as well. "Eleanor is still recovering from childbirth."

  SMACK!

  Irene yelped again, but some of her own temper came to the forefront. "Eleanor is perfectly fine! That's what she was trying to demonstrate!"

  SMACK! Another yelp. Hugh rubbed the hairbrush over her already burning cheeks, making them sting.

  "I suppose that was Cynthia's idea. Well, Eleanor knows perfectly well she isn't supposed to be pushing herself like that, and you knew it too. Which is why you're being punished."

  SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

  The
flurry of firm blows against her bottom had Irene howling and squirming. Hugh was showing her absolutely no mercy, he hadn't even given her a warm-up spanking with his palm like he normally did, and she was having trouble adjusting to the fierce sting of the hairbrush on her cool, pale cheeks.

  "I expect you to be a good influence on your friends, not be corrupted by them."

  SMACK! SMACK!

  "You should have come and told me as soon as you knew that Eleanor was going to do something she shouldn't."

  SMACK! SMACK!

  "I am your husband and your first loyalty should be to me."

  SMACK! SMACK!

  He actually sounded a little hurt as he said that, and Irene felt the faintest flicker of remorse through her resentment as her bottom flared and sparked with pain. She hadn't meant to hurt his feelings... it was just...

  "But they're my friends!"

  SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

  "And as your friends, they shouldn't be so hell-bent on getting you in trouble," Hugh said firmly. Then, to her horror, he turned the brush over and rubbed the stiff bristles against her flaming skin. Irene shrieked. The normally soft bristles felt like sandpaper, rasping over her sensitive cheeks, making her writhe and try to reach back to stop him.

  A futile exercise. Hugh easily grabbed her hands and held them in place in the small of her back, leaving her to kick and cry as her stinging bottom was assaulted in an entirely new way.

  "You're a people pleaser, sweetheart, and I understand that, but the very first person you need to please is me. You need to choose me over your friends, especially when they're doing something that could be harmful to them, even if it's not particularly harmful to you. Don't just say 'yes' to everything they suggest, use your own judgment."

  That was certainly something no one had ever said to Irene before. All her life she'd always had to say yes to whatever her parents wanted - mostly what her mother wanted. Now she mostly said yes to whatever Hugh wanted. But then, there were times when she told him no or asked him for something different. Most of the time, he didn't mind and it had made her braver.

  Why hadn't she been able to do that with her friends? Was she worried that they would no longer like her afterwards?

  Why did she trust that Hugh would still love her, but worried that they wouldn't?

  SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

  Her introspective thoughts flew out of her head as Hugh flipped the brush back over her brought it down on her bottom with firm, crisp swats that had her howling again. The rubbing bristles had made her skin feel even more sensitive than before, and she was soon kicking her legs and begging him to stop. His point had been made. She needed to stop letting herself be drawn into the wild schemes of her friends - she wasn't going to be a snitch, but she could certainly try to convince them not to do things. And not allow herself to be drawn into their schemes even if she couldn't persuade them otherwise.

  From the way her bottom was burning, this wasn't a lesson she would soon forget.

  Although, when Hugh was finished blistering her bottom, and he tossed the hairbrush aside, she forgot everything but the burning meld of pain and pleasure as he climbed between her legs and pounded her into the bed, heedless of her throbbing bottom as it bounced against the surface beneath her. Clawing at his back, Irene screamed his name as she came, pulsing around his cock before he emptied what felt like a gallon of seed into her waiting womb.

  Nine months later, he was willing to swear that was the day their daughter had been conceived, which would account for her stubborn, wild ways.

  ******

  Seething, Alex had led Grace's horse back to the stable, reigns firmly in his hand, while she haughtily maintained icy composure. She hadn't been very hard to catch. His Gracie was a passing horsewoman, but in comparison to Irene or Eleanor, or himself, she wasn't able to hold her own. Alex would have been hesitant to let her participate in a horse race even if she hadn't been pregnant.

  Her hauteur only made his palm itch to turn her over his knee and break her ice princess shell. It was a facade that rarely came out any more, not since they'd spent months together, rebuilding their relationship on his estate. When it did, he had no hesitation about spanking it out of her.

  It seemed that she thought her condition would protect her, much as it had protected Eleanor during her own pregnancy. There was a definite air of triumph about her. Taking the wind out of her sails was going to be immensely satisfying.

  He spotted Edwin leading Eleanor back to the stables, seated behind her on the horse she'd been using, with his barebacked filly following sedately behind. However, he didn't take any time to watch them, instead he dragged Grace into the house, making one quick stop in the kitchen. It was obvious from the confusion on her face that she had no idea what he might want with peeled ginger root.

  "You can't mean to spank me!"

  Grace looked both shocked and outraged when he ordered her to strip and turn herself over his knee. Raising his eyebrows, Alex held his position on the chair he was sitting on, and silently lifted his finger, indicating that she'd better hurry. She glared at him.

  "But I'm pregnant!"

  "So?"

  "Edwin loved Eleanor enough not to spank her when she was pregnant!"

  "No, Edwin worried about Eleanor's health enough not to want to distress her. She had a difficult pregnancy from the beginning." He smiled smugly. "You, on the other hand, haven't had a single problem. If anything, you're healthier than ever. Besides, he still found ways to discipline her. But I'll be damned if I am going to punish myself by depriving myself of watching you climax for me. So you're getting a spanking."

  And a figging, but he wasn't sure that she understood what the finger of ginger was for, even though he was shaping it into a nice, tapered plug. Wesley had been a font for interesting ideas on creative ways to punish a wife, and for all Alex's talk, he wasn't going to be too harsh with Gracie even if she was the picture of glowing health. For putting herself and their unborn child in danger, she deserved a strapping at the very least. Instead, she was going to get a figging and a spanking.

  Grace blushed at Alex's comment about watching her climax. It was true. She'd found that her husband loved nothing more than to bring her off with his hands or mouth, just so he could see her orgasm, before sinking into her and watching her cream herself on his cock. Watching her find pleasure aroused him like nothing else.

  She knew she was arguing just for argument's sake though - although she had had a flash of insecurity for just a moment. Over the past months, she'd been spanked quite a bit, constantly feeling the need to push at him just to make sure that his feelings were still true. Alex was consistent and firm, which was just what she needed to settle herself back down again. A spanking, some thorough love-making, and Grace's lingering doubts would be laid to rest all over again. Although she hadn't tried to run, ever. She hadn't needed to. Alex dealt with minor transgressions quickly and firmly enough that she felt constantly loved.

  The only time he hadn't spanked her, when she thought he would, was when she mouthed off to her father. They'd gone to London for a week and Alex had invited her family over to dinner. It had been wonderful to see her mother and sisters, but her father had been stiffly cold and formal. That hadn't bothered her. But when he'd made a disparaging remark to her younger sister Adeline, because she didn't want to eat one of the jellies, Grace's temper had flared up. She'd been downright rude, but Alex had not only cut her father off from berating her, he hadn't even spanked her afterwards. If anything he'd been proud of her.

  The funniest part had been that her father hadn't even been able to show his displeasure by cutting off his business with Alex. He needed her husband too much. At the end of the night, Alex had made it clear that the Duchess and her daughters were welcome at their house any time, in fact, he insisted on it at least once a week when they were in London. Her father had looked like he was choking, but he'd agreed that it was good to keep family ties in place.

 
Good for business was what he meant. Grace hadn't realized just how much her father needed the deal with Alex to keep his own finances above board. After they'd returned to the estate, she'd kept in touch with her sisters and mother through letters, the first time she'd been able to do so in years.

  So no, she didn't really question Alex's love for her most of the time. Little doubts niggled on occasion, but he always laid them to rest. Of course he loved her just as much as Edwin loved Eleanor, and he'd never risk her health or safety. Unlike Eleanor, she hadn't had a single twinge of morning sickness, she wasn't even fatigued. She wasn't showing yet either, not really, although her stomach had become a bit rounded. It would be no hardship to lie over Alex's lap, and she trusted him enough not to spank her so hard that it would be any danger to the baby.

  She stripped, watching him with the ginger, wondering what he was doing. Was he going to make her eat it? That seemed a possibility. Cynthia had mentioned Wesley soaping her mouth the last time he'd overheard her cursing. But Grace liked hot food, especially since she'd become pregnant, she'd started craving it. A bit of raw ginger wasn't going to be any real punishment.

  Once Alex had her over his lap and it was pushing at her bottom hole, she changed her mind.

  "Stop that!" She shrieked.

  Alex just grinned at the outraged propriety in her voice. She was more upset about him putting something in her cute, crinkled rosebud at the moment, but in a minute she was going to understand why he was doing it. Holding her firmly in place, he swiftly inserted the thin finger of ginger. He'd notched it, the way Wesley had told him to, and her anus snapped around the notch, leaving just a bit outside.

  Grabbing her wrists, he tutted at her. "You brought this upon yourself, Gracie. You should know better than to engage in horse races when you're enceinte. What if you'd been thrown? Or jostled?"

  "The only danger to me was you," she snapped back, tightening her muscles and trying to buck. The sudden burn inside of her rear channel, as her muscles clenched, had her gasping. "Ow! Ow! That hurts, make it stop!"