Olivia lifted her chin, meeting his gaze despite her evident fear. “That summarizes the situation accurately.”
Her honesty stirred grudging admiration even through his anger.
Victor gathered the portfolio containing all the sketches and guided Olivia from the studio. They descended to the street where the Ravenswood carriage waited.
Victor dismissed the carriage and then faced Olivia. “You’ll ride with me.”
He led her to where his horse waited, mounting first before reaching down to lift her before him on the saddle.
The position placed her intimately close, her back pressed against his chest, her body between his arms as he took the reins. Victor was acutely aware of the tension in her body, of the way she shifted uncomfortably as the beads surely moved inside her with the horse’s motion.
Olivia shivered, holding herself as still as she could. The ride was deliberately slow, each step of the horse a subtle punishment as the beads shifted.
“You lied to me, Olivia,” Victor said after several minutes of tense silence.
“Yes,” she admitted. “By omission.”
“Our arrangement stipulated absolute honesty between us.”
“It did.” Her hands tightened on the pommel.
“You chose to handle this situation alone rather than inform me.” His arm tightened around her waist. “Why?”
Olivia drew a shaky breath. “I thought I could resolve it quickly, without troubling you. I didn’t want to risk furtherscandal when we’re just beginning to reestablish my place in society.”
“A practical consideration,” Victor acknowledged. “Is that all?”
She hesitated. “I was afraid of how you might react. That you might blame me for this new complication, or consider me more trouble than I’m worth.”
“You misjudged me,” Victor said, his voice hard. “There will be consequences, Olivia.”
She nodded, accepting his judgment. “I understand.”
“Do you?” His hand moved to grip her thigh. “I am your husband. Your protector. Any threat to you is mine to address. You denied me that right when you chose deception over trust.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Sorry is insufficient.” Victor guided the horse down a side street, taking a longer route home. “You will learn that dishonesty carries a higher price than whatever discomfort the truth might have caused.”
When they reached Ravenswood House, Victor dismounted first before lifting her down. They entered in silence, Victor’s hand firm on her lower back as he guided her through the house.
“Upstairs,” he commanded once they were inside.
They passed Simmons in the entrance hall, Victor giving a curt nod that conveyed his wish not to be disturbed. Once in their bedchamber, Victor locked the door.
“Strip,” Victor ordered, remaining by the door as he removed his coat and waistcoat. “Everything.”
Olivia’s fingers trembled as she began to undress. Unlike their previous encounters, there was no sensuality in his command, no seduction. It was only authority and the promise of discipline.
She struggled to get out of her dress without assistance, and he pulled it from her body in haste.
When she stood naked before him, Victor circled her slowly, inspecting what was his. The silk cord from the beads hung discreetly between her legs.
“Bend over the edge of the bed,” he instructed, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves with deliberate precision. “Grasp the footboard and do not let go until I give permission.”
Olivia complied, positioning herself as instructed. Her body trembled slightly as she waited, exposed and vulnerable. Fuck, she was gorgeous.
Victor moved to stand behind her, observing her submission with cold satisfaction. Without warning, his palm connected sharply with the soft flesh of her bottom, the sound cracking through the silent room.
