Miss Julia

The Baron and Baroness were away again, visiting some far-flung outpost of the British Empire. As children are often an encumbrance to continental travel- particularly spirited, redheaded, nineteen-year-old daughters- Lord and Lady Albray had opted to leave their only child behind. That is how Julia Albray, once more, found herself left to her own devices.

Not that Julia had very much supervision when they were at home. Her father was far too busy seeing to his many grand estates and social obligation to take notice of the comings and goings of one troublesome daughter and her flighty mother was too preoccupied with the latest foreign frivolities to notice much of anything. They were not the most attentive of guardians. But at least her father's boisterous voice and her mother's silly chatter served to fill their cavernous country estate with life and sound.

When Lord and Lady Albray were abroad a silence always seemed to fall over Thornvale Hall. A heavy silence that stifled more than it soothed. Julia did what she could to keep the quiet at bay; dancing, drinking, gaming and best of all- flirting. When all else failed, tormenting the servants was a tolerable diversion.

It will have to do, Julia thought as she watched the first footman stroll into the opulent morning room. Mr. Tall Dark and Pompous himself. With his bright crimson livery setting off his sharp features and glossy black hair, Jonathan was indecently handsome and annoyingly unaware of the fact. His ramrod straight posture made him look intolerably arrogant, even if it did enhance the broadness of his shoulders quite nicely. He was only a year or two older than she but he already possessed the serious demeanor of someone of much more advanced years.

Like the dead, for instance.

Everything about the man was vexing from his irritatingly impeccable livery, to his scornfully smug good looks. But the most vexing thing about Jonathan was his stubborn refusal to play any of her diverting little games. He didn't blanche at her provocative remarks as Stevenson the timeworn butler would but neither did he flirt back as some of the younger staff did. When she would put on her prettiest coquettish smile and bat her blue eyes, which she knew to be quite fine, Jonathan would not do her the compliment of a leering wink or even the basic curtesy of a blushing stammer. Instead he merely looked at her disapprovingly as if he meant to scold her.

He may never have said anything outright, oh no, he was too damndably proper for that. But he didn't have to, disapproval was written on every feature and inscribed in every gesture as clearly as any book.

"Your post, Miss Julia." Jonathan presented a silver platter in a distinctly disapproving manner.

Behind him William, the second footman, arrived carrying a sizable tea tray. Moderately attractive and extremely coltish, William was always up for a bit of a flirt.

He placed the tray before her. "Tea and scones, Miss. With jam or cream."

"Oh, my favorite. I find I prefer the cream. So velvety and smooth. I adore the decadent way it coats the tongue." She dolloped a generous amount of the frothy confection atop a scone and then brought the spoon to her lips, licking it with a suggestive sweep of her tongue. "Don't you William?"

"I have always been more of a jam man but the lovely way your ladyship goes on I might soon be tempted to convert." He replied, offering a cheeky wink as amorous etiquette dictates.

"How amenable of you." Julia turned towards Jonathan to find his dark brows furrowed in characteristic displeasure. "And what of you Jonathan. Might I tempt you to try some cream?"

"My apologies, but I don't care for dessert." Jonathan replied in a tone so sober and prudish that it would have made even the stodgiest of headmasters proud. Julia had to stifle a laugh. It was patently ridiculous for such a young fellow to carry himself like some ancient admiral. With a wave of the hand he made a dismissive gesture. "Thank you, William that will be all."

Julia and William exchanged conspiratorial smirks before he slipped dutifully out the door. She didn't even have to look over. She felt the frostiness of Jonathan's censure from across the room.

"Jonathan, be so good as to tell Mr. Brooks to have the carriage ready by 7 0'clock. I'm going to pay a visit to the Willoughby's tonight." There was always some gay diversion or idle gossip to be found there even if her father grumbled that they were not 'the right sort of people'. From the stern grunt Jonathan was currently making he was likely thinking the very same thing. "Is there something you'd like to say, Jonathan?"

"Nothing at all, Miss Julia." His words said but his dark eyes told a different story. How very contrary of him.

"Perhaps you think I ought to stay away from such company. That I'd be better off staying in and knitting all night like a proper young lady." She leaned in letting him feel her anger. If he was capable of feeling anything at all, which she very much doubted.

"Seems I have no need to say anything as you have already said it all." With that he stalked out of the room like the sultan he seemed to think he was.

Such arrogance from this, this... footman! That he, a lowly servant, should be silently passing judgement over her, the daughter of a Baron and heir to a vast fortune. It was not to be borne.

Julia determined then and there that she was going to get a rise out of him, whatever it takes.

*

Whatever it takes, Jonathan Ridley was determined to get some peace. He couldn't wait to slip off to the Red Lion. A few hours at the local pub (the only precious leisure time he had all week) ought to do his tired mind a world of good. As first footman Jonathan had many responsibilities, all of which he took seriously.

A grand household is like an elaborate clockwork with interlocking gear and cogs. Everyone, from the lowliest stable boy to the stately Baron himself, must play their part for the machinery to run properly. If only a certain coy redheaded cog would accept her place instead of constantly throwing a spanner in the works he thought glumly. Maybe one day he would even tell her so. Just then the spanner thrower's maid tromped wearily down the servant steps.

"Miss Julia is in rare form tonight." The lady's maid grumbled. The poor girl looked dead on her feet. "Mistress just got in from a night of cards with those wicked Willoughby sisters and now she bids me clean her red riding habit tonight for tomorrow's ride. Says she changed her mind about the blue one. She wants a bottle of champagne uncorked and for Mrs. Pratt to make some special dish for that wee vicious kitty of hers."

"At this ungodly hour?" Mrs. Pratt, the sweet old cook of advancing years and expanding waistline let out a long sigh and attempted to lift her tired bones from her chair with minimal success.

"Please remain were you are Mrs. Pratt, I will deal with Miss Julia myself." Jonathan swore a few oaths, under his breath of course, and silently kissed his trip to the pub goodbye. After retrieving a bottle and pausing to straighten his coat he climbed the steps towards the yawning maw of the lion's den.

Lit entirely by candlelight, the white drawing room took on a kind of dreamy luster at night. Though the sun had descended many hours ago the summer heat lingered stubbornly in the air, making the many arrangements of peonies droop their heavy heads in exhaustion. A ring of sofas, settees and armchairs, each one more frilly and feminine than the last, circled a white marble fireplace. Decorated in soft shades of white and pink, the place seemed an unlikely habitat for the fearsome creature within.

Yet there in the center of the elegant room, poised on her pink satin perch, was the lioness herself, Miss Julia Albray. The flicker of the few dozen candles made her flawless ivory skin shimmer like a pearl still wet from the sea and her fiery red hair glow like flames. Even in the dim light Jonathan could see that her fine features were arranged in her customary expression of delicate distain. Her ruffled, rose colored confection of a gown was cut far too low for propriety's sake, though Jonathan couldn't deny the aesthetic advantage such a neckline had in accentuating the creamy swell of her bosom. He was still a man, after all.

Bedecked in jewels and reared in luxury, one could almost mistake Julia for a tamed specimen. But Jonathan reminded himself that under all that finery this cat still had claws.

"Good evening, Miss Julia."

"Yes, it certainly is." She replied promptly. The slight slur of her words and the rosy flush of her cheeks suggesting that she had already had an unladylike amount of bubbly. Typical.

Everything about the lady was vexing from her selfish and reckless behavior, to her domineering treatment of the servants. But the most vexing thing about Julia was her stubborn refusal to stay out of his thoughts.

She had bewitched him, as cliché as the saying might be, yet it was nothing but the truth. Even if he tried to deny it a dozen times a day. As he polished the Baron's silver he steadfastly denied the luminous beauty of her red hair. While he set the enormous dining table he repeatedly reminded himself that her vivid blue eyes were not so very dazzling.

Yet as he stood in the presence of that luminous red hair and those dazzling blue eyes he knew that all his disavowals had been a waste of time. How very contrary of her.

"Where is Hecate's dinner?" Julia inquired in her usual provoking tone, motioning to the unfriendly little beast curled up at her feet.

"Mrs. Pratt has already retired for the night and I didn't wish to rob an overworked old lady of her sleep for the sake of a feline's midnight cravings." He replied, his voice revealing a bit more irritation than he had intended.

She gave him a challenging look but then it quickly softened. "Never mind then, she'll just have to make do with kitchen mice tonight." She nudged the black ball of fur and fury with one foot and it slunk away into the shadows. "At least you've brought the champagne. Won't you have a drink with me Jonathan?"

"I don't think that would be appropriate Miss." Jonathan reasoned.

Wrinkling her pert, little nose, she said. "Come now, it's far too hot to stand on ceremony. What is it about the heat that makes one want to behave badly?"

"Some will find any pretense for bad behavior."

"And others wouldn't know how to misbehave if they were led by the nose by Beelzebub himself." She waved her fan in an unmistakably haughty fashion.

"One might consider that a virtue." He countered.

"I consider it dull." She proclaimed flatly. Having reached an apparent impasse, Julia took a different tact. "It's just one little drink. Besides, a polite gentleman would keep a lady company and spare her the indignity of drinking alone. Unless you'd like to contribute further to my scandalous reputation."

Jonathan knew he shouldn't accept but he couldn't fault the logic of her argument. So begrudgingly he obliged, pouring them both glasses before joining her on an adjacent seat. He shifted in his chair, finding it difficult to take a comfortable position in his increasingly tight trousers. Damn her! He was already hard as a rock just seeing the provocative way she sprawled across the sofa.

"Reputation is hardly a subject to be made light of Miss. It is something that must be closely guarded if a lady is to keep it."

"What a talent you have for impressions Jonathan. Your mouth is moving and yet all I hear is my father's voice. I'd say you should go into the theatre but sadly the performance is not an entertaining one. Not entertaining in the least." She snapped her fan shut emphatically.

"Fortunately, I haven't any aspirations of the theatrical kind. Your father had been good to me and so I have no intentions of leaving the employ of the Albray family."

"Tell me Jonathan, are you too loyal to leave my father's service or simply too unimaginative?" She asked while holding her head with an outrageous degree of loftiness.

"I may not be as imaginative as some but having seen how that imagination might be misused I'm content to be guided by loyalty. And as a loyal servant I feel I must take steps to protect the standing of the family name against those who might tarnish it. Even you."

The words came out before he could stop them. Lord knows why he said it, was it the years of taunting, the lack of sleep or just the intolerable conceit in her voice. But whatever the cause Jonathan decided he was finally going to tell her what he really thought of her. This very night.

Julia heaved a weary sigh. "I have a terrible suspicion that you are on the verge of a lecture."

"You are in need of one, Miss Julia." He lowered his voice to match the gravity of his words. "You're playing a dangerous game. You should hear the tongues wagging below stairs when you dance with this valet or make eyes at that gamekeeper."

"Tongues will always wag. Am I to be guided by tongues?" She asked, toying with the handle of her fan the way she toyed with her servants. "What next, taking advice from spleens or following the council of a kidney?"

"At least you could try using your bloody head!" He blurted and thumped his glass down upon the table. How to make her understand that he was only trying to help her? "You're not a child Julia. You know such chatter can be ruinous to a woman's reputation and consequently the reputation of her family."

Julia thrust her dainty chin even higher. "So it is your duty to scolding me? Me? Your social superior in every way. Next you'll be ordering me about like a common scullery maid."

"Someone ought to." Eyes locked, the threat hung between them for a long, tense, moment.

"Get me more champagne." Her terse command finally broke the silence.

"But your glass is still full." Jonathan noted quite reasonably.

She lifter her glass and emptied it in one swallow. Then she tossed it to him with a bit more force than was strictly necessary.

He plucked the projectile deftly from the air and put it aside, unfilled. "Need I remind you that we servants are not your playthings. Some of us have real work to do."

"But you do not. Not today anyway. It is your day off is it not? And yet you are still wearing your livery." Her sharp blue eyes glittered with mischief as she demanded he "take it off this instant."

"That's an order." The little lioness growled. Her eyes veritably blazing with wicked amusement. Jonathan intended to extinguish that wicked blaze. Come hell or high water, he would bring her to heel. Perhaps he might even enjoy the exercise.

"As you wish, Miss Julia."

She looked a bit shocked that he didn't try to resist her command. In fact, as his fingers undid the first button at his neck a pretty blush began to spread across her cheeks. Yes, he was definitely going to enjoy it.

Slowly he complied, working his way down the row of glittering gold buttons. Straightening his spine and steeling his nerve, he began to shuffle off his coat, resolving to show no weakness.

*

As Jonathan peeled the coat gradually down his toned body Julia reminded herself to show no weakness. Even if that weakness had presently situated itself in her knees and was threatening to knock them together.

Jonathan already looked so fine in his sleek, buttoned-up uniform. But without it he looked better than fine- he looked exquisite. Soon his waistcoat was also removed. The contours of his rigid muscles were clearly visible through the confines of his thin linen undershirt. She tried her best not to gawk at the hard plains of his chest, the bulge of his biceps, the narrowness of his waist. Her heart picked up pace at the thought of all that the strength and power separated from her by one thin layer of fabric.

Any effort not to gawk outright was forgotten as her eyes drifted further down. If Julia was not entirely mistaken, and she almost never was, the always prominent bulge in his close-fitting breeches seemed to grow further in prominence under her gaze.

Giddy on champagne and power, she held out one shapely leg and ordered in a husky voice, "now kiss my shoe."

He hesitated for only a moment before dropping to kneel before her. Gently, almost reverently, he touched the hem of her garment and ever-so-slowly lifted her skirts til the lacy top of her garter was just visible. Her pulse jumped when his lips touched the soft leather of her shoe.

Gazing up, he held her in a look that can only be described as dangerous. "Little girls who play with fire are bound to get burned."

"And are you the one who is to wield the flame?" She challenged, knowing full well just what and whom she was playing with.

Abruptly his grip tightened. With a sudden jerk, he pulled her forward and flung her face down across his lap. She found herself dangling over his hard thighs, staring at the floor in shock. Before she even had the presence of mind to object her skirts were pulled up and Jonathan had commenced to spanking her as if she was a naughty child.

"Put me down right now!" She squealed as his hand landed hard on her bottom with a crack of fire.

"I think not." He said, the other hand pressed firmly into the small of her back to restrict her struggles. "I've been wanting to do this for some time."

A hot volley of blows fell at an alarming pace. Each spank produced a resounding smack followed by a burning bloom of pain. The sound echoed off the walls, as did her accompanying screams. She had wished to provoke a reaction from Jonathan and now she certainly had one. Regrettably, she hadn't anticipated this particular outcome. Be careful what you wish for.

"Stop this! I am the daughter of a Baron." Julia protested with as much condescension as should could muster in her current state of ignominy.

"Then you should start behaving like one." He scolded. "This is for gambling with those salacious Willoughby girls." Smack! "And this is for running your poor lady's maid ragged with ridiculous requests." Smack! "And this is for your shameless flirtations." Smack!

Thoroughly ashamed, Julia hid her red face in the material of her upturned skirts. She didn't know which stung worse, the cruel contact of his palm or the cutting truth of his words. Tears of frustration began to blur her vision and spill down her cheeks. Still he continued to punish her posterior with a steady stream of stinging swats.

The whole area below her waist was beginning to grow hot and swollen. Unable to keep still, she practically danced on her toes. Whenever her legs would kick up he would slap the back of her thighs to force them back down to the floor. After a few more wallops she stopped wriggling and started whimpering.

"Oww," she cried but what she really meant was oh, no. Because underneath the pain and embarrassment and outrage lay another equally raw and unwanted emotion; lust. It pooled in her heated center and snaked through her veins like liquid fire, converting the stinging ache in her core into teasing pleasure. Appalled by her body's sordid response, Julia hid her face deeper in her skirts but she couldn't hide from the barrage of conflicting sensations.

"Ohh," she meant to complain but the sound came out more like an entreaty. An entreaty for what exactly, she did not know. The whack of his hand hurt, there was no denying that. But in the pain's wake came a strangely pleasant throbbing. She wanted to shy away but her hips had a mind of their own, arching up to meet his punishing hand. Jonathan spanked her again and again until her breath came in ragged pants. Awash with confusion, Julia was no longer sure if it felt good or bad or frightful. Perhaps all three.