Educating His Elinor Read online

  They met several times each week, depending on Elinor's schedule of classes. They took long walks along the lake shore. Sometimes they spoke of home, but often they said nothing at all, Elinor's little hand tucked securely in his arm, as they braved the bracing October weather.

  This particular day Winter arrived early. Madame Lebrun came to greet him, clucking as usual. He didn't listen to half of what she said. The old cat refused to shut up. This afternoon she was full of some summer course taking place in Italy. Elinor, she said, would benefit a great deal from attendance. He felt a stab of disappointment. If Elinor went to Italy, she wouldn't be home at all for the summer. Perhaps it would be for the best. Though her sweetness and beauty were a constant source of delight, her presence was also a torment.

  "Fine, fine, she can go." Would the old rabbit never shut up?

  "Tres bon, majeur."

  He looked up the see Elinor descending the stairs. Her bonnet was grey, instead of the usual black. He examined her face with a critical eye. She had more color in her cheeks today.

  "I've come to take you for a drive, my dear. It's surprisingly warm."

  Her eyes lit up. "How lovely. Where shall we go?

  "I thought we might visit the village of Annecy. It's only about twenty miles from here, in Savoy."

  Elinor was all eager attention. She'd heard about the castle and the lake, and had looked forward to a visit. There was a glimpse of her old self. The drive would do her good.

  Winter enjoyed the trip through the mountains. The route proved difficult to drive, as it dipped and curved, but he'd never shirked from a challenge yet.

  Best of all, Winter found a degree of contentment in her presence. Elinor had that affect on him. She was like a sweet balm, that soothed the urge for destruction he kept hidden. In the past, that darkness had prompted some of his worst actions. The major's particular strain of barbarism had been an asset during the war, where his ruthless call to action had labeled him a hero. In peacetime England, Winter satisfied himself by taking care of those who answered to him, and treating the rest with a rudeness that was also legendary.

  They topped a rise, and saw Annecy below them. Beside him, Elinor gasped with pleasure. The lake was set like a turquoise jewel between the mountains rising steeply around it, wooded and snow-capped. She turned to Winter and smiled, so luminous it hit him in his gut. Desire, so tightly held in check, surged through him.

  Oblivious, she turned her attention to the village. The Old Town was a pretty ensemble of pastel colored houses.

  "I want to see the castle!"

  "Of course you do. I know how you love mooning over old buildings."

  Elinor wrinkled her nose, and his heart skipped a beat. Here was the old Elinor, with her joy in life, her eager interest in all things. Thank Christ.

  Elinor insisted on touring the turreted castle. The guidebook she obtained in the village square soon became the bane of his existence. She reeled off pages of information, entranced with so much history and legend spread before her like a banquet, to be tasted and savored.

  "The tallest tower is the Tour de la Reine, the queen's tower. It dates from the twelfth century."

  As if he cared. Winter looked at her as she peered over the battlement, eyes bright with excitement, her sorrows forgotten. She was so beautiful. Emotion swelled in his chest, the sweetest of agonies. He repressed that too. He was almost twenty years older than her, a cantankerous old crock who had no business yearning for this radiant young woman. He could convince his head, but his heart refused to recognize his logic. It wanted what it could never have.

  They arrived back in Geneva in time for Elinor's dinner at the school. Winter planned to leave in the morning. He didn't know when next he would see her. But it had to be done, he had to let Elinor go. Her happiness was the only thing that mattered. His battered old heart would keep on ticking, no matter the damage inflicted. His lovely girl. He would miss her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Winterhill, Hampshire, 1823

  The coach lurched to a halt. Elinor had hung out the open window for the last five miles of the journey, exclaiming over each landmark, each memory that brought her closer to home. The rose brick walls of Winterhill glowed in the mellow afternoon light. The front door flew open, and Mrs. Henry bustled down the stone steps, followed by Chadwick and a couple of footmen.

  "Miss Elinor! At last!"

  Elinor stumbled out of the coach, clumsy in her eagerness. The housekeeper's embrace was warm and welcoming.

  "I'm home, Mrs. Henry. And I'm never leaving again."

  "Bless you, child. Dever, see to the bags."

  The housekeeper peered into the coach. "Mrs. Browning, forgive me. I trust you'll come in for a cup of tea?"

  Mrs. Browning, a neighbor who'd brought Elinor down from London, smiled. "Another time, Mrs. Henry. Mr. Browning is expecting me."

  "Of course. Many thanks for bringing Miss Elinor home."

  #

  Winter pulled off his gloves and stood in the hall, slapping them against his palm. There was something different about the house. The familiar odors of beeswax and warm bread filled his nostrils. What was it? There was a brightness to the atmosphere, and he could smell fresh flowers. He heard a woman laughing, and awareness slammed into him. Elinor. What the devil was she doing here?

  He strode down the passage, past the stairs and into his study. He dropped into the chair at his desk and buried his head in his hands. She was here. What in holy hell was he going to do now?

  A tap sounded on the door. It opened slowly. "Major? It's Elinor, I heard you come in." She stuck her head in the door.

  He sat up straight and folded his hands on the desk. "Come in, Elinor."

  Her presence invaded the darkened room like a gleam of sunlight. He hadn't seen her since last year, in Geneva. Her fair hair was cut and curled, pinned into a new style. She walked towards him, a sway to those very feminine hips. Her fashionable gown revealed a luscious expanse of bosom. His groin tightened. He couldn't stand up. If she ever saw what she did to him, Elinor would run screaming from the room.

  Winter cleared his throat. "You look well."

  Her smile faltered. "Are you angry with me, sir?"

  He gestured towards the chair in front of him. "Please sit down, Elinor. Of course, I'm happy to see you, but you have my disobeyed my instructions. I believe I was quite explicit. You were to stay in London with Cousin Cecelia."

  Elinor sat down, her fingers smoothing her skirt in a familiar gesture. She was thinking of what she might say, to mitigate her offense. That had not changed, at least. She glanced up at him, as though to gauge his mood. He kept his features even, eyes cool. He'd faced enough troublesome young officers to know how to discomfit them, and keep the upper hand. He tapped the fingers of one hand on the tabletop.

  "Well?" His tone was calm, concealing the emotion churning in his gut. She was so beautiful, a woman grown.

  Finally, she sighed, and sat back in the chair. Good, he was going to get the truth.

  "I told you I didn't want a Season in town. I just wanted to come home."

  "And your wants, your desires, these are all that matter."

  She flushed. "Of course not. It's just that, my whole life, I've always done what you wanted. I went away to school, and then to finishing school. I've completed my studies, and now I just want to be home. I don't want to travel, and I certainly don't want to spend months in London, plodding from one insipid engagement to the next. I want to see the sun rise over Winterhill, and play with the kittens in the stables. I want to walk down to the brook, and gather wildflowers. I want to bake pastries, and pick strawberries..." Her voice petered out.

  Winter picked up his pen and turned it over in his hand. He was touched by her sentiment, pleased that she considered Winterhill her home, but this was not enough for her. He had to think of her future.

  He let his voice soften. "I understand your feelings, Elinor. After the war, I wanted nothing more than to return ho
me, and never leave. But you are a young woman, poised on the edge of life. How can you expect to achieve an eligible connection while you are deep in the country?"

  Elinor bit her lip. "I don't want to form a connection. I don't want to marry. I've no desire to exchange the schoolroom for the nursery. I'm grateful for everything, major, but I want to make a choice of my own, for once."

  "You still mourn young Bancroft."

  "I feel his loss, of course. He was so young. But that is not why I want to stay here." He raised a brow in inquiry. She took a breath. "Mrs. Henry wants to retire. Her daughter and her family are moving to Sussex, and she wants to go with them."

  "She has said nothing to me."

  "No, sir. We decided it would be best if I told you. You see, I want to take her place."

  "You want to become my housekeeper?"

  Elinor flinched at his tone, but kept her nerve. "It's what I was trained for, to run a household. Why not yours?"

  He blew out an impatient breath. "You were trained to be someone's wife, Elinor, to manage your own household, not vegetate here at Winterhill as a menial."

  She drew herself up. "I do not consider Mrs. Henry a menial."

  "Neither do I. I was trying to make a point. Which is, you will not train to be my housekeeper. You will return to Cecilia Cecelia and resign yourself to your first Season, at the end of which I fully expect to see you suitably engaged to a respectable suitor."

  Elinor shook her head. "No."

  "No?" He injected as much menace as he could into his voice.

  She cringed a little, but held steady. Christ, the girl had spirit. "I won't do it."

  Winter stood suddenly, knocking his chair askew, and strode to the window. "Don't make a decision you'll regret later, my dear."

  "I won't change my mind."

  He drew several breaths, trying to calm down. Her defiance angered him, almost as much as it excited him. He took a moment to adjust his cock and turned around.

  "Very well, you want to be a member of this household. Which means you will also be subject to its rules. My rules, and my discipline."

  She swallowed , audibly. "I know , . " she said, almost whispering Her words so low, it was almost a whisper .

  "Good. What punishment do you think a naughty girl who defies her guardian deserves?" She licked her lips several times, searching for the right answer. He smothered a smile.

  "I don't know, sir."

  He barked at her. "You don't know?"

  She jumped in her seat. "Whatever you think best, sir."

  Ah, there it was. He'd show the little baggage who the master really was.

  "Very well, Elinor, you may return to Mrs. Henry for now. Perhaps she'd like your help with dinner, since you enjoy working in the kitchen. I will attend to your punishment afterward. You may go."

  She stood and headed for the door. She reached for the doorknob.

  "And, Elinor?" She stood still, without turning around. "Trust me when I say you'll find it a memorable experience." She straightened her shoulders and slipped from the room.

  Winter poured himself a brandy and drank it straight down, in an effort to clear his head. He was looking forward to her spanking, as he hadn't anticipated anything else for quite some time. Later he would realize how that should have been a warning sign.

  #

  Dinner was a success. The soup she'd made was cream of carrot, rich and smooth. Elinor glanced down the table at the major , as he ate with evident enjoyment. He looked up from the soup plate to meet her gaze, and his eyes crinkled.

  "Very nice."

  She blushed and dipped her spoon again. Her nerves settled with his approval. She was going to enjoy this meal.

  The remnants of the roast of pork , along with what was left of was removed with the oyster fritters and a salad of young greens , , simply dressed with oil and vinegar were removed . The footman started moved to refill her glass. The major opened his mouth, to object perhaps, and then said nothing and resumed eating. He'd remembered she was now a woman grown, and fully capable of drinking two glasses of wine with a meal. Elinor felt a small surge of satisfaction.

  She nodded to the butler and he brought in the dessert, a trifle filled with preserved fruit and sherry-flavored whipped cream. The major grunted and asked for a second helping. He really liked it.

  Finally, Winter dropped his napkin on the table and stood up. "We'll have tea served in my study in half an hour." The butler bowed. "Come along, Elinor."

  She straightened her shoulders and rose. Time to pay the piper.

  #

  The major leaned against his desk, hands curled over the edges. A brisk nod let her know he expected her to stand on the carpet in front of him. Her insides quivered. She stood in front of him, hands clasped.

  "Why are you being punished?"

  Elinor licked her dry lips. "I disobeyed you by leaving London and coming home."

  "And?"

  "And I refused to return to Cousin Cecelia's, and I refused to consider marrying."

  She stopped and thought that , surely that was everything.

  One finger tapped on the edge of the wood.

  "And I put my own wishes and desires over what you considered best for me."

  The major inhaled slowly , and then blew out a breath. Was he completely exasperated with her? She hated to disappoint her guardian, but she needed to follow her heart. Especially when it had led her home.

  "Very good." Winter strode over to the sofa sopha, and sat down. He beckoned with an imperious hand, and she walked over to him. He hadn't touched her since last year, hadn't spanked her since she was sixteen years old , on . The the same day she'd seen him in the barn with that woman. The memory sparked a stirring between her legs.

  The major pulled her between his open thighs. "This time you'll be spanked as woman, on your bare behind." He waited for her reaction. She said nothing, but her insides warmed with forbidden desires. She longed for his hand on her, had dreamed of it for years. He turned her to face the wall and , then pushed her down over his knee. His arm pressed on her back to keep her in position, while the sofa sopha supported her upper body. Elinor couldn't see his face. That excited her, as she waited for the first blow to fall.

  Winter pushed her skirts up along her legs and folded them about her waist. He plucked at her drawers.

  "What in hell are these?"

  She felt heat rise along her neck and cheeks. "They're undergarments, my...drawers." She felt the material stretched taut across her bottom and then the sound of ripping cloth. The air felt cool on her naked flesh.

  ""What are you doing? They were new, and expensive!"

  "Are you questioning me?" His voice was a low growl.

  Elinor flinched. "No, but all the girls at school wear them."

  "You won't be wearing them again, miss. No drawers, no covering up. It's unnatural and unhealthy. If you are to be part of this household, I want this bottom naked and available for discipline whenever it's needed. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, sir."

  She felt his hand smooth over her flesh, lightly, gently. How she craved his touch. She felt the air move, and then his hand cracked against her bottom, hard. She yipped , and kicked out her legs.

  "Stop that." He struck her again, harder. God, that hurt. He set up a fast rhythm, spanking the top of her bottom with a down strike, and then the underside with another slap. He switched from cheek to cheek, crack, crack, pause. Crack, crack, pause. Her flesh heated and burned. She bit down on the sofa sopha cushion so she wouldn't scream out loud.

  He stopped finally, his fingers soothing her hot skin. Her bottom felt huge and swollen. A sob escaped her.

  "Poor little cabbage." The major pulled down her skirt and turned her over. He urged her onto his lap, and she hissed when her bottom made contact with his hard muscled thigh. He wiped away her tears with his thumb, his gaze warm.

  "You took your punishment very well. You are forgiven."

  She closed her eyes at
the sweetness of his acceptance. Maybe he did want her here after all. She heard a soft knock at the door , and retreated to the window, unwilling to sit down again on her poor spanked bottom.

  The butler brought her a cup, and she drank it standing up. The major watched her. What was he thinking? He put down his cup and walked over to her. He lifted her chin with one finger.

  "The next time, I won't be so forgiving, Elinor. I take my responsibilities seriously and your behaviour will reflect on the household and on me. I hold everyone to a high standard, including myself. Any error, deliberate or otherwise, will be met with swift retribution. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, sir," she whispered.

  Winter pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Now run along. I have some correspondence to attend to. I'll see you in the morning."

  She curtsied and left the room, bottom throbbing. A homecoming indeed.

  #

  Sleep wouldn't come. Finally, Winter arose , and pulled on a dressing gown. He found himself prowling the halls, everywhere except the wing where Elinor slept. That way led to temptation. Why had he spanked her on her naked flesh? He'd told her it was because she was a woman, but the truth was he couldn't wait to touch her, to watch her skin redden with the force of his hand. And it still wasn't enough. He could fuck every woman from here to London, and Elinor would still be the only one he wanted. The only one he couldn't have.

  He reached the nursery wing. Moonlight streamed through the windows, illuminating his old rocking horse and Elinor's doll collection. Strange to think of her as a child in the nursery , when the woman she had become was now the object of his sexual obsession. He could find no answers here. He closed the door behind him.

  Across the landing, another corridor stretched before him. It held mostly guest rooms and storage. One door was always kept locked. Winter had not been inside for more than twenty years. He paused beside it, one hand on the oak panel. So many secrets lay inside, and so much pain. He fingered his key chain. Then he held it up to the moonlight and selected a small, ornate key from the bunch. His breath came quickly. He should go back to bed. But the lure of the door proved too strong. His hand shook as he fitted the key in the lock.