Taming The Insolent Bride: A Raw Victorian Brat Discipline Romance

The ink had not yet dried on our marriage contract when Lydia's defiance pulled my hand around her wrist in the empty drawing room. Her full curves leaned insolently against the doorframe, daring me to respond as only a husband could in the silence of Lancaster Manor at night.

Beneath her sharp tongue lay a fear that mirrored my own, though neither of us would name it. Every insolent glance she cast my way tightened the pull to claim her fully, to correct that rebellious spirit until she yielded completely over the oak desk in my study.

Her insolence had a price, and I intended to name it. If my discipline failed to reach the woman beneath her rebellion, the fortune I secured would mean nothing against the loneliness I had long endured. I told her to be at the oak desk before the house slept.