Page 21 of A Lady, Her Lord, & Their Duke

Being a parent was simply a life choice, not an indicator of good character or morality; the number of downright awful aristocrats with children put paid to that. It wasn’t like the barony was being left high and dry either. But perhaps that was her greatest fear: Toby hating her for it. And Nev changing his mind or insisting he didn’t want children just to please her. What if he secretly did want a son to inherit rather than Toby? What if he did bed another woman for a child?

Every part of her violently recoiled at the thought.

A soft tap came at the door. “Ara? Are you ready?”

Arabella straightened her shoulders, then tightened the belt of the gold quilted dressing gown she wore. No. Tonight, there was no room for unhappy thoughts. Only pleasure.

She stepped out of the powder room, and in one swift movement had Neville pressed against the wall. Then she cupped his face and kissed him deeply, twining her tongue with his until he groaned.

Eventually Arabella moved back, allowing her hands to fall onto his robe-covered chest. “Mine.”

Neville grinned smugly. “Yes, ma’am. Every inch.”

Hmmm. Her husband clearly required discipline.

Sliding her hand under his robe, Arabella lightly scratched his hair-dusted chest with her fingernails and teased his flat nipples. As her husband began to pant, shamelessly thrusting his rapidly hardening cock against her belly, she grasped his length and squeezed hard, making him moan. Owning it. Owning him.

“Naughty,” she murmured. “Are you trying to get sent to the bench?”

“Surely I deserve that for such provoking behavior,” said Neville pleadingly.

Arabella snorted, but after removing his robe, led him over to the padded leather kneeling bench. It was a rather ingenious device that spread a submissive’s legs while supporting their upper body so they could lean forward and offer their backside for discipline.

First she secured Nev’s wrists, rendering him delightfully immobile, then Arabella nodded in satisfaction. “Now we wait. I want Stanforth to see this.”

Her husband had the audacity to turn his head and pout. Immediately, she moved behind him and administered two sharp smacks to his perfect backside as a warning.

Neville bit his lip, a familiar and endearing expression of need flashing across his handsome face. So endearing she almost relented and gave him a proper spanking. But no. Tonight they would be showing Stanforth what sexual discipline involved.

Abruptly, a brisk knock came to the main chamber door. When Arabella called permission to enter, a Sanctuary maid poked her head into the room. “Beg pardon, ma’am, but your guest is here.”

“Send him in,” said Arabella. “Thank you.”

Moments later, the masked and hair-covered duke walked into the room. Like her, he wore a knee-length satin robe; unlike her, he was entirely hesitant and unsure. The poor man had no sexual confidence whatsoever.

“Good evening,” Stanforth said awkwardly, his gaze halting on Neville and lingering.

“Good evening!” said Neville cheerfully. “You’re just in time to witness my punishment. Come on over.”

Silently blessing her husband’s easy charm, the way he could talk to anyone, anywhere, Arabella nodded. “Quickly, Your Grace, and discard that mask and hair cover. We are eager to begin.”

Stanforth obeyed the instruction then hesitated. “Could we…would it be acceptable to address each other less formally?”

She blinked at the unexpected request. “I insist you refer to me as Madam Arabella, but I will call you whatever you wish.”

“Edmund,” he said quietly. “I should like to be just Edmund.”

“Fine, strong name,” said Neville. “Call me Nev. But meanwhile, my arse is not burning and how is that fair or just?”

Arabella almost laughed. Her pet was particularly rambunctious tonight. “As you can plainly tell, Edmund, my husband is rather desperate to be cropped. For the best view, and so you’re not in my way, I need you to stand on my left side. I believe you might misbehave and touch your cock while I do this, so I would like to bind your wrists behind your back with your robe sash. As with everything tonight, you may accept or decline.”

“I accept,” whispered Edmund.

“Very well,” she replied, swiftly stripping off his robe before he had time to worry, and winding the satin sash around his wrists so they were secured behind his back in a snug but not constricting knot. “Now, Edmund, look at this glorious creamy canvas. To begin, I warm up Nev’s flesh by rubbing and spanking it, then I’ll discipline him with my crop.”

Neville moaned, attempting to arch his back. “Less talk. More slap.”

Arabella curved her hands around his backside, deliberately teasing him with a longer than usual massage for the impudence. When his skin was light pink she began spanking him, lightly at first then with increasing firmness until the sharp slaps echoed in the room with Nev’s pleas for more…and Edmund’s uneven breathing.