Chosen by the Doctor Page 6

  “What is it?”

  She turned away. For fear of scaring her, I didn’t touch her to make her turn back around.

  “It’s a terrible, shameful thing, sir.”

  “Tennie, surely it can’t be that bad?” The tightness from my chest had made its way up my throat and I could barely get the words out. What on earth could she have meant?

  “Dr. Renshaw, sir, I can’t read. Or write.”

  It felt like a thousand pounds of weight lifting from my chest at once. My first instinct was to laugh, not at her, but out of delight. I still thank whatever kept me from doing so. I realized how terrible she must feel and I reached out to her then with a hand on her shoulder.

  She turned and fresh tears were streaming from her eyes.

  “Tennie…” I said, the sound of her name on my voice like the taste of honey on my tongue. “You’ve nothing to be ashamed of. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. It can easily be fixed.”

  Her face twisted in disbelief and shame. “It can?”

  “Of course it can. That’s… that’s one of the reasons why you’re here. So I can help.”

  “But is it not too late? What if I’m too old?” The pain on her expression was making my own heart ache.

  “It’s never too late, Tennie. You’ll see. It’s not too late.” And then I couldn’t resist stepping closer and bringing her into my arms again. She looked so frail and spent.

  She didn’t resist. She let me embrace her and I felt her body seeking comfort in the warmth of mine. What an effort it was not to kiss her right then.

  We decided to postpone our first lesson, on account of the emotions that had worn her out. We took lunch in the parlor and then went out into the gardens to begin naming trees and plants.

  The whole time, that whole day I could have told her. There were many opportunities to slip it into the conversation, to remind her about the room downstairs. But I didn’t. I wanted her to falter and I knew she would. I knew she would by the way her eyes glanced at the stairway downstairs when we passed it after lunch.

  I wanted her to fail, to give me a reason to test whether she wanted my correction as much as I wanted to give it.

  Chapter Ten

  Tennie

  It was not only relief that I felt that day when Dr. Renshaw had wrapped his arms around me and told me everything was going to be alright. For the whole day, every moment spent with him was full of warmth and safety and unlike anything I’d ever felt. The way he’d patiently guided me through my lessons, the calm and even tone with which he spoke, all served to make me feel that there might be hope in my life and that he would be the man to guide me toward it.

  Yet even with everything that had happened that day, my mind would still not give me peace about those stairs or what lay at the end of them. Through the long walks in the garden, through Dr. Renshaw pointing out some bird or flower or tree and telling me its name, my mind crawled down the dark corners and imagined what might lie beyond the door.

  The only thing that could take my mind from that subject was the memory of what it felt like to be held in his arms. I knew he’d not meant it in any sort of romantic way. I knew he’d only been consoling me, he’d only done it because of my tears and hysteria, I was sure of it. And yet, I wouldn’t let go of the faint glimmer of hope that had somehow wedged its way into my heart since he touched me. That sliver of light shone in me, taunting me that maybe there was some other motive behind his embrace. Or that maybe he, too, had felt what I’d felt when our bodies touched, a warmth unlike any other and a safety and comfort I’d never known.

  Between those two ideas bouncing around in my head for attention, I found it hard to concentrate on the afternoon lesson. He didn’t seem to mind. We took our dinner early and it was just as well because I was exhausted and didn’t know how much longer I could stay awake.

  But the moment Mrs. Gibbins closed the door to my room after bidding me good night, my eyes were wide open and my mind was racing, planning, and making excuses for what I was about to do.

  I waited until the house fell silent under the darkness of night. Once it did, I slipped from my bed in my nightclothes and stole toward the door.

  A life of sneaking around at night in the orphanage had prepared me well for such a mission as I was embarking on then. Pull door handles up so the door lifts in its hinges, preventing a squeak. Stay close to the wall, where the floorboards are nailed so as not to make them groan. I was standing at the head of the stairs leading toward the basement in no time.

  My heart thundered. The blood raced through my veins. There was still time, I knew. I could still turn back. But I knew I wouldn’t. I knew my curiosity would never let me, no matter what the cost. With a deep breath, I descended the stairs.

  It was cold and dark down there and I wished I’d brought a candle or at least a match to light. It was too much risk to go back upstairs for one now. Now I still had the chance of not being caught, if I kept quiet enough. Hoping that there might be a cellar window in the basement, I tried the handle.

  The latch clicked open. The door swung open inside.

  I was breathing quickly now and for a moment, a doubt flashed through me. What if it were some terrible animal kept there that would maul me or try to eat me alive? It was too late now, though. Even if it was that, I knew I had to find out. I stepped into the darkness.

  There was a tiny window in one corner. It let just enough light in for me to be able to make my way across the floor without bumping anything. I peered into the room.

  At first, it seemed that nothing was odd or amiss there at all. There appeared to be tables and chairs in the corner. Some hooks hung on the wall. Some ropes were piled in a corner. The box that had been delivered earlier was pushed against the wall.

  But the closer I looked, the more a feeling of dread gripped me at what I saw. The equipment on the tables was not for carpentry or laundry or anything of the sort. Long black braids of leather attached to wooden stems lay there. What looked to be restraints adorned the walls.

  The memory of my fears was suddenly at the fore of my thoughts. Was it true what I’d come up with? Did he really bring the young women down here and…?

  “Miss Butler.”

  The sound of my voice being spoken in the darkness should have made me scream. Instead, it froze me to the floor. It was him. It was Dr. Renshaw and he was not more than three feet away from me.

  I tried to run. I wanted to run. I wanted to hide. I couldn’t. I was terrified, my whole body readying for a fight.

  He lit a match.

  With my pulse racing I turned to look at him; dark shadows were dancing across his eyes.

  He touched the match to a candle and soon the room was bathed in faint yellow light. It felt a little better, seeing him the way he looked during the day. His expression made me frightened though. Frightened and what else? Why did I feel like this? Why could I feel a dampness in between my legs already at the thought that he might punish me?

  “Did you forget the rule?”

  My throat was dry. I opened my mouth but the words wouldn’t come. I shook my head.

  “So you willfully came down? After I told you not to?” he growled.

  I nodded.

  He held me with his gaze.

  “Turn around,” he said, “and put your hands on that table.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Dr. Renshaw

  The shadows falling on her face from the light of the candle made her look more beautiful than she looked in the light of day. My cock was already hardening, just at the sight of her. I’d known by the look in her eye that she would venture to this room, but I hadn’t expected it to be so soon. My blood was racing in my veins as I stood watching her through the darkness.

  “Dr. Renshaw, I…” she began, but I cut her off.

  “I said turn around.”

  I could see her pulse throbbing in her neck as she turned and did what I asked. Her nightshirt fell across her pert bottom as she leaned forwa
rd and I felt a surge of lust pulse through me. I stepped closer. Now I could almost touch her. I caught her intoxicating scent. My cock flexed against my trousers.

  “You’ve deliberately gone against my wishes,” I said, my voice low.

  “I’m… I’m sorry, Dr. Renshaw,” she stammered. Her hair was swept to one side of her neck, revealing the other side. How I longed to lean in and kiss her pale skin, to feel the warmth of it against my lips. I looked down and my gaze settled on her haunches once more. It was all I could do to resist reaching out and touching her. Pulling up her nightshirt and pressing my hand between her legs. She was like a sapling, lithe and supple, ready to be bent to my will.

  “I’m afraid sorry will not be enough in this case,” I explained, my eyes running up and down her trembling frame. “I asked you not to come here because this is where I keep my secrets, Tennie. I only reveal my secrets to those closest to me.”

  She didn’t answer. I looked up, expecting to see tears in her eyes but I found none. She didn’t look fearful or worried. No. There was something else there and I felt another pulse of hot lust course through me at the possibility that it might be what I hoped. Was she as happy to have been discovered by me as I was when I heard the door open and watched her step inside?

  “What should I do, Tennie, with someone who is not close to me but has made it their business to snoop on my secrets? What would an appropriate treatment be for such a scoundrel?”

  She turned her head to one side. Our eyes locked. Her lips were slightly parted. My body was screaming to take her nubile body and press into it and make her mine.

  “I think such a person should be punished.”

  Her words shook me to the core. “And what would an appropriate punishment be for this misdeed?” I growled.

  She didn’t hesitate. “Whatever you think I deserve.”

  * * *

  Tennie

  I’d never felt more exposed and vulnerable in my life. Strangely though, I’d never felt safer than I did right then, standing in the darkness with Dr. Renshaw’s imposing frame towering over me. I still couldn’t believe I’d said what I’d said, but I had. It was as if every fantasy I’d ever dreamed of were coming true in that dark room.

  When he asked me what he should do, I didn’t know whether I could bring myself to say it. I didn’t even think I’d willed myself to say it. It just seemed to come out. And now I was at his mercy. I had told him he could do with me as he pleased.

  I felt the hem of my nightshirt gliding up my leg. I felt the heat of his hand close to my rear as he tugged at the material. My heart thundered as I felt his strong fingers, the ones that had touched my hand in the conservatory, hook into my underwear.

  He pulled them down with a yank, making me gasp. And suddenly there I was, bare and exposed to him. I’d kissed some boys here and there but never had I done anything like this. Never had I had anything like this done to me.

  I expected the first slap of his palm landing on my rear. I felt the opposite. The warm sensation of his hand as it settled on the soft skin of my behind sent a syrupy swell of pleasure coursing through me.

  I felt my own warm wetness pooling between my legs at his touch. His hand flexed, squeezing my buttock. My fingers dug into the table. Then it was gone but only for a moment.

  His hand crashed against the roundest part of my bottom, sending a searing, stinging pain through my whole body. He raised it and soon slammed it against my other cheek, making me whimper. He was holding his other hand firmly on my back. I was unable to move.

  Over and over his stiff palm cracked against my buttocks. With each swift punishment, more tears stung my eyes and I felt my rear reddening under his firm command. Even though the pain was great, I reveled in each correction. I felt myself getting wetter between the legs and I wondered if the rest of my dream would come to be.

  On and on the punishment went until I was sure that my backside was the bright red of a late summer tomato. My whole body burned with pain but I did not cry out. I took my punishment as I deserved and desired.

  Finally, he relented. His palm came to rest on my backside, where he had first placed it. He pushed it against me firmly. It kept the heat in, making the pain even greater.

  I had no idea why I felt the way I did, why I took so much pleasure from his rough treatment, nor did I have the mind to explore the question then. My mind was in one place and one place only. It was on my backside where his hand now rested. I closed my eyes and hoped I would start to feel it slide lower and in between my legs.

  “Do you think that was punishment enough?” he growled so close to my ear I could feel the heat of his breath on my cheek.

  I opened my eyes and turned to look at him. “That is for you to decide. Sir.”

  His gaze deepened as he stared into my eyes. It felt like his very being was coming through that stare and into me, deep into the darkest part of my insides. Like he was trying to know every part of me he could. It only made me need him more.

  His hand moved. I felt a finger drift lower. I parted my lips. If only he would lean in a little closer…

  Then his hand was gone and I watched him step away. I gasped at the sudden feeling of his absence. Did he not feel what I did? Did he not feel what was between us?

  “Go upstairs.”

  I felt a pained expression spread across my face. Upstairs? Why?

  “Sir…” I begged. I’d never been so desperate for someone else’s touch as I was for his then.

  “Now.” He only said it once, but there was no mistaking the tone he spoke it in. I straightened, stiffly for the burning in my rear, but without trying again, turned and walked back up the stairs.

  I listened for him, listened for his footsteps as I lay on my side in the bed, crying softly. Was this to be the end of it all? Had my curiosity and mischief ruined the only good thing that had happened in my life?

  Chapter Twelve

  Dr. Renshaw

  I did not sleep well that night. Never before had I crossed the boundaries of propriety with any of the young women I’d brought from the orphanage. I had women in my life who fulfilled those needs so there was never any temptation. Why was Tennie different? How could I feel so strongly about her when I hadn’t felt a thing in years?

  It wasn’t just the pull of her attraction that frightened me, though. It was that at times, I felt powerless to stop myself.

  My mind rolled over and over the feeling of my hand crashing into her rear. Watching her flesh turn a bright red under my correction had made my cock stiff and my body crave hers in a way I’d not felt in a long time. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to do it. What if she didn’t feel the same thing? What if she was simply submitting to me the same way she was surely used to submitting to Everton at the orphanage?

  I thought over and over about how to find out. I would not let this compromise what I planned to do for her. I would not let this spoil the chance I was going to give her at a good life. But my body craved hers immensely. I lay in the darkness, thinking how to reconcile the two.

  The following morning, with darkened circles around my eyes, I dragged myself to the breakfast table and waited for her there.

  “Was it a bad night, Dr. Renshaw?” Mrs. Gibbins asked, pouring me a cup of black coffee.

  “Disturbing dreams,” I muttered, picking up the paper.

  She didn’t respond to this, only busied herself fetching my breakfast. When Tennie walked in through the door, it took every effort within me to treat her as I had the day before, as if nothing had happened in the night between us.

  “Good morning, Tennie,” I said, rising as she approached the table. I saw her studying my eyes but only for a moment.

  She smiled. “Good morning.”

  An excitement gripped me as I helped her settle into the chair. Did she know what I meant by my silence about the previous evening? Had she, too, laid awake thinking of what things might be like? Or would she begin to speak about it the moment we were alone together? I coul
dn’t help but watch her as she ate her breakfast.

  She did not glance at me again, except to make polite conversation. No furtive glances. No long stares. It was as if nothing had happened at all.

  “We shall begin with reading this morning,” I said after we’d both finished our breakfast.

  She smiled and nodded. “I would like that very much.”

  * * *

  Tennie

  I’d held my breath when I walked into the breakfast room. I hadn’t known what to expect, but I’d known that if Dr. Renshaw was through with me that was most likely when he would inform me of his decision. When I found him sitting reading the paper, I’d felt there might be hope. When he stood and smiled and helped me into my chair, I had been elated.

  I wasn’t sure what it meant, that he did not mention the night before, but somehow I found it more reassuring than if he had brought it up. Maybe he had felt what I’d felt after all? I dared to let myself daydream of returning to the basement that night. Not for too long, but I couldn’t help but entertain the thought.

  When we went into the study and he closed the door, I wondered for a moment whether things would change between us now that we were alone, but they didn’t. He kept his same manner from the day before, before my outburst. Friendly but detached, never getting too close.

  I learned to read and write three words that day. The. And. I. He showed the utmost patience for my terrible penmanship, stepping in and helping guide my hand when I needed it and then retreating as soon as I could make the shapes myself. With each new letter that I wrote I felt as if I were becoming lighter, as if somehow the world were opening up to me again. I lost myself in the experience of learning something new so much that I barely realized it had turned noon and it was time for lunch.

  “Your music lesson will have to wait until tomorrow,” he said, opening the door and escorting me to lunch.