The Lord's Scandalous Bride (Victorian Correction Book 3) by Emily Tilton

Author:Emily Tilton [Tilton, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stormy Night Publications
Published: 2015-09-30T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Susan cried out around William’s manhood at the sound of splintering, and then falling wood. She heard a man’s voice say in anger, “Of course I would find you where the girl’s screams are coming from. And of course I would find you engaged in your favorite sort of unspeakable acts. Have you no sense of shame at all?”

“Robert?!” she heard Nele say in a startled voice. “What the devil are you doing here?”

William, evidently no stranger to being discovered with his cock inside a girl, pulled out of Susan’s mouth and quickly put himself to rights while Susan’s mind whirled, her face turned to the floor—to the place where the leather-covered and brass-bound wood of Lord Nele’s trunk, over which he had just caned her so severely and so marvelously, met the roughhewn boards of the chamber’s floor.

“A Miss Redding had the goodness to write to me by this morning’s post, Nele. It would seem that she takes our family honor more seriously than you do.” The voice, deeper than Nele’s but of a nearly identical timbre, sent shivers of fear up Susan’s spine. She suddenly felt herself twice as naked as she had just a moment before. With Nele and even with William, the little scene had felt, again, a game—shameful, but playful as well. In his brother’s voice, however, she heard the same authority and will to dominate and to humiliate, but without any sense of care behind it.

She turned her head a little, hoping she might get a look at him, or at Nele, out of the corner of her eye, but Robert—his lordship, the earl of Mercester, she felt she must think of him, if she wanted to escape his wrath, but having just heard him called Robert by his brother it all seemed so very strange—noticed the movement, to her dismay. Suddenly, before she could even turn her head more than an inch or two, she felt a strong hand upon her neck, grasping her hair and turning her face to the front and down.

“Do not dare to attempt to lay your slut’s eyes on me, you little whore,” came the terrible voice behind her. “I am pleased to see that my brother has at least given you something to remember him by. I think I shall do the same, in a few moments, and you shall beg me for it. But you shall not presume to turn your eyes behind you, even as I ride you in the filthy manner you deserve, and make you scream much louder than little Nele ever could.”

“Robert.” Nele’s voice seemed weaker to Susan now than it had before, and she could not tell whether that impression arose from the contrast between the brothers or from some yielding on her protector’s—he must remain her protector, even now, mustn’t he?—part. “Robert, you have no right…”

“I have every right, you reprobate. Don’t speak to me of right, Nele. I am going to save this family from the shame and ridicule our father has brought upon it by pretending to enlighten the world with his debauchery.

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