Renee Rose is here sharing a little piece from The Reddington Scandal, her new regency. Do you remember Teddy from The Westerfield Affair? I do…I'm so glad she wrote his story. Here she is…
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Thank you, Natasha for inviting me to your blog! I’m pimping The Reddington Scandal today, my latest Regency spanking romance. Here’s the scoop:
When Phoebe’s brother-in-law catches the notorious rake Lord Fenton in his home late at night, half-dressed and obviously attempting escape, he flies into a rage, threatening to kill both his wife and Lord Fenton. In a desperate measure to avert bloodshed, Phoebe claims she is Lord Fenton’s lover, thereby forcing him to take her as his wife to avoid a scandal.
Knowing full well a philanderer like Teddy Fenton could never remain faithful, Phoebe insists upon separate bedrooms, resolving to resist his charm rather than fall in love and face the pain of his inevitable infidelity. Her handsome husband respects her request for a marriage in name only, but his marital dominance manifests itself in other ways. She soon learns that while he will not force her to his bed, Teddy is more than willing to take her over his knee and spank her bare bottom when her behavior warrants it.
Doubting his ability to stay faithful and not wishing to replicate his parents’ miserable existence, Teddy had never intended to take a wife, until he was forced to marry the lovely Phoebe Fletcher and everything changed. Suddenly other women hold no allure for him, and he wants nothing more than to win the affection of his new bride. But just when it seems he might succeed, secrets from her past threaten to destroy their chance at happiness. Can this couple come to love one another as befits a man and wife, or will their marriage end in scandal after all?
The trouble with marrying a rake is the multitude of women who might try to reinsert themselves into their lives. Although Phoebe has insisted on a marriage in name only and granted her new husband permission to continue his affairs with other women, when push comes to shove, it seems she feels differently. Here’s what happens when a prostitute shows up in Teddy’s bedroom (uninvited!)...
“I don't recall inviting you,” she heard the slow drawl of her husband.
Inviting? Who says such a thing to a woman who has been let into his bedroom?
“Yes, well, it's been a long time since you've come to the bordello. I've missed you.”
A light-skirt. Damn him. Damn her. Damn them both. How dare he allow her to entertain him here, in his home, with her in the room next door?
“In other words, you need a few coins.”
“Don't be cross, my lord,” she said, her voice sultry and coaxing. “It's not as if you haven't invited me here before.”
“Yes, but I did not invite you this time.”
Anger bubbled over and she got out of bed, throwing the door open and standing in it, her hands on her hips. The lady was a high-class courtesan, dressed in satin, with a string of pearls around her neck. For some reason, that bothered her even more. “Get out!” she said coldly. “Get out of my house!”
“Teddy? Is this your sister?”
“No,” Teddy said sardonically. “She is Lady Fenton, my wife.” He placed a bookmark in the book he'd been reading and set it on the bed. He did not stand up, but merely lounged on the bed, looking from the courtesan to her with amused interest.
“I asked you to leave. If you will not, I will have you thrown out of this house.”
The light-skirt looked at Teddy, as if expecting him to defend her right to be there. Anger produced a rushing sound in her ears. She strode over to the prostitute, fully prepared to slap her. Perhaps guessing what she had in mind, Teddy chose that moment to rise to his feet. He raised his eyebrows. “You heard her. The lady of the house asked you to leave. You will do so. Now.”
She clenched and unclenched her fists at her sides, gritting her teeth through the woman's low curtsy and departure. When she shut the door, Phoebe turned and glared at Teddy, picked up one of the books from his shelf and hurled it at him.
He dodged it. “Phoebe, that is not acceptable.”
Not acceptable? Entertaining a “Bit 'o Muslin” in one's own home was not acceptable. She picked up another book and hurled it.
“Enough. Put that down,” he said sharply when she picked up the looking glass. But the satisfaction of breaking something was too much. She hurled it against the wall, disappointed when it only broke into a few pieces, rather than providing a full shatter. His silver snuff box fit in her hand like a heavy stone, and it she threw it at him before she could think properly. It struck his head with a thud that rattled her own teeth. She gasped, covering her mouth with both hands, all her heat turning cold.
He stumbled backward, cursed and hit the wall, doubling over for a moment with his hand over his forehead.
“Forgive me,” she whispered. Fear coursed through her veins, turning her hands to ice. She had hurt him—badly. She felt terrible—she hadn't meant to hurt him. How angry would he be? Would he turn violent?
He stood upright with another curse, his hand covering his forehead, a trickle of blood spilling from underneath it. But he did not appear out of temper. Apart from the blood, he looked as unruffled as he had when she'd entered the room and ordered the prostitute to leave. He withdrew a handkerchief and blotted the blood from his head and hands.
“I will punish for that, Phoebe,” he said coolly.
Renee Rose, a erotic romance author, did not come out of the closet as a spanko until she published her spanking romance Betrothed. A lifelong writer, she has a B.A. in creative writing from Knox College, where she won the Davenport prize for both fiction and poetry, and the Lorraine Smith prize for literary criticism. She spent thirteen years in technical writing before she found a way to incorporate her deepest darkest spanking fantasies into fiction and express a part of her that longed to see the light. She is now passionate about supporting others in accepting and exploring their kink, whatever that may be. Visit her blog and join the conversation!