Seducing His Sassenach

by Ashe Barker

  “Why should you ‘ave ‘er?” demanded another. “I saw ‘er first.”

  The first man aimed a punch by way of asserting his claim. His adversary ducked, then dived in Jane’s direction.

  She squealed and scurried backwards, only to encounter a wall of eager male bodies. The crowd had completely encircled her. There was no escape.

  “What the fuck is going on here?” A loud and very stern male voice rang out, drowning the rest. “Is this the way His Majesty’s soldiers behave when left unsupervised for a few moments? By God, I shall see some hides flayed for this.”

  Jane shook herself free of the hands seeking to grab at her and looked about wildly for her discarded clothing. It was nowhere to be seen, doubtless trampled underfoot by the large crowd.

  “You men, form up and stand at attention. Now.”

  The crown thinned somewhat as those not in uniform sidled away. Jane caught sight of the tall officer barking orders. She gasped. Surely that was...

  Robbie. Thank the dear Lord...

  Clad in the colours of the Earl of Warwick, Robbie strode fearlessly between the confused guardsmen who did their best to shuffle into something resembling rows.

  “Eyes front,” he barked. “The first man to move will be scrubbing out latrines for a month.” He swung the borrowed cloak that covered his lather tunic and trousers and advanced upon Jane. “And as for you...” He flung his own cloak at her. “Cover yourself, harlot, and be off.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the rear of the garrison.

  Jane did not require telling twice. She grabbed the cloak in mid-air and draped it about herself, then made a run for it. She shot between the startled, confused men and dashed around the side of the building. There was no one lurking here, thank goodness and she was able to reach the unguarded north gate without further confrontation. Once beyond the walls of the town, she hesitated.

  Which way?

  “Come with me.”

  Robbie was beside her, still clad in the disguise of an English officer. He flung an arm across her shoulders and urged her into a run.

  They sprinted along the rough track leading away from the town. Jane struggled to match the Scot’s long strides, but with his help she was just about able to keep up. Her lungs were burning and her legs felt like lead, when a voice hailed them from within a stand of trees. Robbie came to a sharp halt.

  One of their men, Alec, she thought he was called, beckoned them toward a thickly wooded area. Robbie ushered her off the track and into the trees.

  The rest of their group awaited them. Jane could tell at a glance that two were injured, although all of their men who had been taken captive showed signs of having been on the receiving end of a battering. But, they were all there, and alive.

  “Thank the sweet Virgin,” she murmured. In the short time she had known them, they had become her friends. “Is... is everyone all right?”

  “Aye, lass,” Archie replied. “An’ I gather we have ye tae thank for it.”

  “I just—”

  “Enough,” Robbie growled. “I shall deal with ye later. First, we need tae get away from here...”

  “Sir, come an’ look.” The call came from Alec, who had returned to the edge of the woods to act as lookout. “Is that Lady Falconer?”

  Jane followed Robbie to a spot where the trees thinned a little and peered along the track. Alec had already attracted the countess’s attention and now Jane’s employer was making her way toward them.

  “Can no English females follow a simple instruction?” Robbie asked, of no one in particular as far as Jane could tell.

  The countess clearly heard him. “I believed that, should you succeed in freeing your comrades, you might have need of your horses,” the lady replied, not at all cowed by his furious scowl. “Was I mistaken?”

  Robbie made a sound that Jane could not entirely decipher and could only describe as ‘Scottish.’ He beckoned to his men. “Archie, ye will have tae be on the cart for now since ye’re in nae fit state tae ride. Angus too. The rest of us will double up until we can acquire more mounts tae replace those lost tae the English.”

  The bedraggled group rushed to obey. In moments, all four horses had been untethered from the cart and the wounded men safely ensconced among their provisions, to be fussed over by a somewhat bewildered Peggy. The men leapt into the saddles. Jane clutched the borrowed cloak, conscious that beneath it she was utterly naked, and started toward the cart.

  “Ye’re with me,” Robbie commanded, reaching down to assist her onto his stallion.

  Jane did not argue. She would not have dared. His furious glare would have quelled the most rebellious of souls. Jane did not feel even slightly rebellious just at this precise moment. She felt... drained. And now that the worst of the danger seemed to be past, shock and fear were also taking their toll. She was shaking by the time Robbie dumped her unceremoniously before him in the saddle.

  “Are ye cold, lass?” he inquired as he urged the animal into a brisk canter, heading back in the direction Lady Falconer had come from.

  “No,” she replied. “I just... It was... frightening.”

  “Aye,” he agreed. “Ye certainly managed tae scare me half tae death.”

  “Our plan worked, though. All are safe.”

  “Our plan? I dinnae recall takin any part in agreein’ tae that mad scheme o’ yours.”

  “Well, no, but... there was no time.”

  He made that Scottish noise again. Jane fell silent.

  * * *

  They reached the road leading northeast, their original destination. Robbie led the way, followed by the cart and Lady Falconer on her dainty palfrey. The rest of the men brought up the rear. Their progress was slower than it had been on the journey to Stratford because they had to travel at the pace of the cart, and the horses were doubly burdened.

  Jane had no idea how far it was to Shrewsbury. Up to meeting these Scotsmen she had never ventured further than Dorchester and her knowledge of English geography was somewhat limited, let alone that of Scotland. Not only was she embarking on a journey that she was beginning to realise would be beset with peril, and to a destination quite unknown to her, but she was now doing so with no clothes to call her own. Her only dress and shift had been abandoned in the dust of Stratford-upon-Avon.

  She had begged to be permitted to accompany Cecily to Scotland, another occasion on which her heart had ruled her head. And as if that was not foolhardy enough, she had been so concerned to do anything in her power to assist in rescuing their captured comrades that she had...

  Sweet Mary, what was I thinking?

  She had actually danced naked before dozens of lusty males with not so much as a thought for how she might extricate herself from the situation once the emergency was past. Had it not been for Robbie, she would even now be languishing in that garrison herself. A prisoner accused of aiding the escape of the captive Scots. A traitor. Or worse...

  What must they think of her, these newfound friends? Her employer? Robbie himself? She had made such a fuss about not wishing to undress in order to take a bath or allow her clothes to be washed, yet she had shed every stitch out in the street, with barely a second thought.

  Harlot, Robbie had called her. And the soldiers from the garrison, the men who had gathered to watch her? They had called her much worse.

  Strumpet. Whore. Slut.

  Mistress Bartle truly would be mortified if she could see her daughter now.

  “There is a farmstead up ahead. It looks tae be abandoned.” Robbie interrupted her musing by bringing the stallion to a halt. Those were the first words he had spoken in over two hours. He waited for the rest to catch up with them, then twisted around in the saddle. “Fergus, Alec, ride over there an’ check. If the place is truly deserted ‘twould make a good place tae rest for the night.”

  The rest of the group waited in silence while Fergus and Alec, sharing a horse, cantered across the meadow and slowly circled the huddle of low stone buildings. Fergus dis
mounted and approached on foot to enter the squat little cottage. He emerged a moment later and waved both arms above his head.

  “This is where we shall make camp, then.” Robbie dug in his heels to send the stallion forward. The rest fell in behind him.

  Jane did not think the farm had been occupied for some time. It looked as though the low barn had been on fire at some stage, and part of the cottage roof was gone. Other outbuildings that might once have housed pigs, or poultry, were in various stages of ruin.

  “Put the horses and the cart in the barn. ‘Twill hide them from anyone passing on the road.” Robbie dismounted and stretched, then held up his hands to assist Jane. “Fergus, are any of the buildings watertight?”

  “The old stable looks tae be intact,” the man replied. “We could bed down in there this night.”

  Robbie nodded. “Make sure the injured are comfortable, and tended tae. The bairn too. We can risk a small fire, an’ at least we have ample by way of provisions.”

  At their mistress’s nod, Peggy and the cart driver set to helping the Scots to convey the wounded men into the relative safety and comfort of the stable. The cart was wheeled into the barn, the horses too. It fell to Wee Richard to see to the welfare of their mounts while the rest made themselves busy establishing their sleeping arrangements.

  “I shall go and help Lady Falconer with Cecily,” Jane began.

  “Not yet,” came the answering growl. “You and I have some matters needin’ our attention first, lass.”

  “Matters?” Jane tilted her chin. “What matters might those be?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I barely ken where tae start.” He held up his left hand, fingers outstretched. “First, ye blatantly disobey me...” He tapped the end of his index finger. “Then, second, ye follow me despite knowing the dangers involved. Ye deliberately put yourself in harm’s way, did ye no’?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  He continued as though she had not spoken. “Three, ye take it upon yourself tae strip stark naked an’ cavort for a crowd o’ lustful, lecherous soldiers who probably havenae seen a woman’s tits for months.” He shook his head. “Of all the wanton, brainless things ye could ha’ done... Have ye even the first idea what might have happened? What would have happened if even one o’ them had managed tae grab ye?”

  “But, they did not. And you helped me to get away.”

  “Aye, by puttin’ my own life in danger. What if they hadnae been fooled by this bloody cloak an’ a fancy English accent?”

  “Oh.” She chewed on her lip. Jane had not considered the risk Robbie had taken in coming back for her.

  “I could have just followed the rest through the back window and been clean away,” he went on, “but no, I had tae come out the front way an’ collect ye.”

  “I... I am sorry. I never thought...”

  “I ken that. Ye never do. Ye swore tae me that ye would obey me an’ Archie. We wouldnae have let ye come with us otherwise. Tell me, Jane, did ye at any stage intend tae keep your word?”

  “Yes! Yes, of course I did. I am no liar.”

  “Then, what am I tae think? Ye cannae obey a simple instruction. Whatever I tell ye tae do, if ye think ye have a better idea, ye just do as ye will.”

  “I am sorry. I only... I wanted to help. And I did help. It worked... the dancing and... and...”

  “The stripping?” he offered helpfully.

  “Yes,” Jane muttered. “That.”

  “It did work, true enough,” he admitted, though his agreement seemed decidedly grudging to Jane. “But that isnae the point.”

  “But, surely it is,” she protested. “You needed my help.”

  “I needed your obedience, Jane. That is what I asked of ye, an’ ye promised it.”

  “I am sorry,” she repeated. “Truly I am. I will never—”

  “I do believe that ye regret the danger ye caused me. I can see that much in your eyes. But as for the rest...”

  “Please, give me another chance. I will prove to you that I can obey. And, you need me...”

  “Do I? Can Lady Falconer no’ care for the bairn? As I recall, that was why we decided tae bring ye with us.”

  “You cannot send me away. Please, I beg of you. Do not leave me behind...”

  “There are consequences for our actions, Janie. Always. Ye must ken that.”

  “I do. I know, but—”

  “I spanked ye once before, for disobeyin’ me. That didnae do the trick, so I must find some other way of makin’ a suitable impression on ye.” He glanced about him. “Come.”

  “Wh-where are we going?”

  “The barn,” he replied, already striding in that direction. “Do not make me have tae come back an’ get ye, Jane.”

  She gathered the cloak about her and hurried after him. “Why are we going to the barn? There are only the horses in there, and the cart.”

  He offered no more by way of explanation so Jane could do no other than trot along in his wake.

  Most of the barn roof was gone, so there was still some light despite the gathering gloom of early evening. Jane hugged the cloak to her and peered warily into the darker corners of the ruined building.

  “Are there rats in here?” she wondered.

  “Aye, I daresay. Come over here, by the cart.” Robbie stood, arms folded, his expression stern.

  Jane approached. The men had unloaded some of the goods but most of their provisions remained on the small wagon, along with Lady Falconer’s travelling chest. She watched in puzzlement as Robbie shoved a sack of turnips further onto the cart to leave a space at the rear. He turned to regard her.

  “Last time I spanked ye I allowed ye tae keep your skirts down. Such considerations are irrelevant now, considerin’ your little display earlier, an’ ye appear tae have mislaid your clothing in any case. Give me the cloak, if ye please.” He extended his hand, waiting.

  “But... no. I... I...”

  “I ken full well that ye’re naked beneath. That is quite all right. Very suitable for our purpose here.”

  “What is our purpose?” It was an inane question, Jane knew that. It was perfectly obvious what he meant to do.

  Robbie’s response was simply to lift one eyebrow. “The cloak. Now. Then, ye may lean on the back of the cart, here an’ present that pretty bottom for me.”

  She gaped at him but could find no words of protest. None that would make any difference, anyway. Her eyes widened yet further when he started to remove his belt.

  “You... you mean to take your belt to me?”

  “Aye, since a hand spanking has failed tae impress ye overmuch.”

  “Please, do not do that.” No one had ever beaten her like this, even as a child. Her mother was a strict woman, but her brood were usually quelled by her raised voice and Mistress Bartle had no need to resort to such methods.

  “Do not make this any worse, Jane. Do as I say, and do it now, else the twenty strokes I have in mind will be doubled.”

  Twenty strokes? Dear sweet Lord...

  “Jane.” His tone hardened.

  Jane raised her gaze to meet his, and knew she had no choice.

  She untied the straps of the cloak and slipped it from her body, then handed it to him. The cool evening air caused her to shiver. Her nipples swelled and pebbled. She stood, motionless, not quite able to bring herself to walk up to the cart.

  “Please, do not hurt me...” Jane’s voice was small, barely audible. She had always prided herself on fearing no one, but her courage, if that was what it was, deserted her now. He looked so... huge. And so formidable. And so very, very frightening.

  “Twenty strokes of a belt on your bare arse is intended tae hurt, lass.” He gestured to her to get in position. “But ye need have nae fear of injury. Ye will walk away from here in one piece.”

  “What if I cannot stand it?”

  “Ye can, an’ ye will.” She fancied his voice gentled, just a little, even if his expression did not.

  His belt was n
ow in his hand, the sword removed and set down on the ground. He doubled the length of leather, the buckle clasped within his fist.

  Jane swallowed hard. This was happening, whether she liked it or not. And she did not. She did not like it one bit.

  “I shall never forgive you for this,” she muttered, at last moving toward the wagon.

  “I do not seek forgiveness. Just obedience. And I shall have it, one way or another.” He paused while she leaned forward to rest her palms on the bare wooden boards. “Wait.” He folded the cloak she had taken off and set it down on the wagon. “Ye may rest your body on that. ‘Twill avoid splinters an’ such like.”

  “Your consideration quite overwhelms me, Scot.”

  “And your sharp tongue does no’ go unnoticed either, wench. I would suggest ye do not provoke me further this evening.” He removed the cloak he was wearing, the one he had taken from the dead English officer, and he draped that over the side of the cart. “Now, lean over, rest your face an’ your chest on the cloak, and lift your bottom up high.”

  “Will this do?” She assumed what she thought might be the approximate position.

  “No, ye’re still too low. Wait there...”

  He took hold of the sack of turnips that he had moved earlier and dragged it right off the cart. Jane watched as he set it on the ground. “Stand on that,” he instructed.

  She did so and found that now when she bent forward she had to lower her upper body considerably more in order to rest upon the cloak. Her bottom was held aloft, in perfect readiness for the Scot’s heavy belt.

  “Feet further apart,” he advised. “For balance.”

  She shuffled her feet, still wearing her boots, to the outer edges of the sack.

  “Excellent,” he concurred. “Ye can make as much din as ye feel tae be needful, but ye will no’ move until I tell ye that we are done. Is that clear, Jane?”

  She managed a nod, not daring to trust her voice.

  “I should also point out, just in case ye may ha’ been wonderin’, that is a very pretty wee cunny ye have there, Janie.”