by Marie Hall
"You brought this on," Xavier said as they reached the barrel and he reached for the ropes.
"Yes, please. I am sorry, my lord. Please do not. Please, I beg you," she cried, sliding to her knees.
"Now, Io, before these men whom you put at risk or at home before the entire of our house." He bent and pulled her up then quickly secured her hands. Her bawling was already causing the men who waited to shift and grumble uncomfortably. It also incited action from the captives, notably the one who was set on Io.
"What are you doing? Lord Brice, what are you doing to the woman?" Gaston called, trying to twist to see what was happening.
"Xavier," Io cried at the voice of a stranger. Grinding his teeth, Xavier moved to position Io before giving the command for her to bend and aiding her in doing so with a firm hand at her back.
He had to lift her to set her in position. She was already so distressed, he didn't think she was even aware as he tied first her hands out before her, and then her legs were pulled straight. He was careful to bind her securely that she couldn't move during any stroke. He never wanted any punishment to cause injury. This could, if she moved at the wrong moment and the wood fell on a place other than her arse. Collecting the canes, he selected the one he'd finally decided on and tossed the two others aside as he reached and pulled up the shift.
Io's screech echoed all around as he tucked the hem in at her neck.
"My lord, stop. It was not her fault. Not her doing. Stop," Gaston yelled as he struggled to get free. Already, the crowd of men who'd been forced to gather had dispersed, but Xavier caught one man's eye and, with a nod, sent him to the hostages in hopes he could silence at least that one.
"How many last time, my lady?" Xavier asked as Io lay panting over the barrel, his words making her sob. "How many, Io?"
"Six, my lord, please."
"And so, how many this time?"
"Three times that. Please, I am sorry."
"So, how many?" Xavier asked again and watched Io as she lay sobbing, shaking her head. If she but looked up, she'd see no man watched, but she didn't.
"Eighteen," she muttered.
"Eighteen," Xavier confirmed and tapped the hard, narrow stick against the swell of her arse. "And you will not lie to me again," he said, raising his arm.
Nothing about the first stroke surprised him. He'd enough time under the cane as wielding it, and he also knew his wife. The crack of wood against flesh, the pause through a single heartbeat and the wretched cry that followed all flowed. The welt rose up as he raised his arm to deliver the second. Again, the process played out, and then, for a third time, before Xavier paused to reposition himself to Io's other side.
"You will not keep secrets from me." Three more strokes followed, each barely with enough time for Io to draw in breath. But then again, a brief reprieve as he again shifted positions. The first six, he'd carefully laid across the fullest part of her arse. Not a single line overlapped. The next three, though, went down on her skin at an angle, hip to thigh, though not actually touching either of those two points. They bit in over already welted flesh. That he only used strokes from his elbow and not his shoulder, Io couldn't seem to tell the difference. Three quick lashes and he moved again. The last three went from right to left, the next from left to right. They fell, and once again, he paused.
Io didn't seem to recognize the break. Her screams and cries went on without a pause and as he positioned himself for the last set, he had to switch hands and wipe his palm dry before again resuming the caning.
"You will not ever be so disobedient that I must repeat this lesson," he said, doubtful she even heard him. Using only the flicking of his wrist, he delivered the final six, all to the underside of her arse. All above the crease that marked the top of her thigh. All where she'd feel it painfully every time she sat.
Io's howls didn't end, though, when the punishment did. Xavier snapped the weapon and untied her feet. She lay limp over the barrel, sobbing, screaming and gasping for breath. When the rope holding her hands went slack, she slid back and then disappeared behind the barrel.
Xavier came around to see her curled in the dirt. He was hard pressed not to collect her against him and hold her through the storm, but if he did, it wouldn't be to soothe her. He knew that. Rather, he carefully untangled the rest of the rope, tugged down her shift and then lifted her to her feet. She tried twice to get back down and hide.
"Io, come, stand up," he encouraged, trying again to pull her up.
"They look at me," she cried, dropping again to her knees.
"No one looks at you." And there he had it. Proof the worst part of this for his wife wasn't the strokes laid on her, but the idea it was witnessed. If there ever was a next time, he could begin as easily as he'd finished rather than the way he began this time. Io felt more burn in the shame than in the welts, at least for now. He was sure that wouldn't be the case in an hour or so. "Io, come, I will take you to the tent." She shook her head and tried to lie down in the dirt. "Io, look," he coaxed. "Look." And when she wouldn't, he forced her head up and pulled her so she had a view over the barrel toward the field. "No one watched, Io. No man stood past you being presented," he whispered and felt her body soften.
"Why?" she asked, even as he pulled her to her feet and started her walking back to the tent.
"Because they love you, too," Xavier said, knowing it was the truth. He let her go to spread the fur out on the ground. "Come lie here and rest a while." He helped her down, noting the sniffs and gasps came with each move she made. Maybe he was too fast to give her comfort, but he couldn't have denied it any longer if he'd had to. He waited until she was down and settled then took his cloak still hanging from the single post and covered her with it. "Rest, Io. I will be close when you are ready."
He left her then, knowing she'd come on her own time and they'd settle this completely. That she hadn't appeared by the time Andre made his way to the camp to declare his surrender didn't surprise him, but he regretted almost immediately not having publically settled matters when Gaston's first move, once free, was to rush Xavier.
He was easily thrown off, but the youth's accusations he'd abused a young woman in his care were something Andre wasn't inclined to let pass. Xavier, too, would've been compelled to address this as well.
But for the fact it meant bringing Io into the public eye before she was ready, Xavier could actually look forward to letting this puppy know he'd not be able to act as Io's conquering knight come to save her.
Io tried another small sip from the wine skin left in the tent. If her throat wasn't so raw, she'd have happily remained thirsty. The wine was Xavier's preferred drink. Stout and bitter, it had almost the opposite effect of wetting her dry mouth. She should go out, she knew, and ask someone for some food and drink.
She again put her hand back, leaving it hovering just over the meatiest part of her backside. She could feel every line Xavier laid down from hip to thigh, but where it hurt, where the pain and even the burn rested deepest was there, in the small span, no wider than perhaps his hand and not even beyond the edges of those fuller swells. He'd been far more careful and deliberate with the cane than he ever was with his hand or even many of the small things he used on her when she'd irritated him beyond his tolerance.
What she couldn't understand was why. She'd not only lied to him, something she'd not bothered trying to deny, she'd allowed herself and her friends to do something reckless. She, alone, was responsible for allowing, no, encouraging, them all to slip from the house. And while she reasoned then it'd be safe enough, and because it was only a game and a game happening as far away as Paxtir, nothing unsorted would happen.
But it had, and it happened when Io was again feeling most confident things would work out the way she wanted. It happened just hours before dawn, when everyone was making ready to return to their homes, but Io and her maids would need to wait a little while longer until the group of women they slipped out with made their way back in. They never got to rejoin t
hat group.
Io set her hand on her arse, accepting the renewed pain, wishing she was stronger, that she could press down or clutch her flesh. It wasn't less than she deserved for the misery Ann, Kate and Jude could face, may already have faced because she wasn't a good leader.
And what of the cost to Xavier? The tear slipped down her face and she let it drop off her chin. Eighty gold he paid for her unworthy hide. As well as any humiliation and shame for having to bring his disobedient wife into camp. The stunned expressions of those who'd joined Xavier in this mockery didn't go unnoticed by her, nor did the way Xavier's face colored as so many eyes followed them across the grounds. She'd deserved, too, the public chastisement she got. Her humiliation was earned with her own acts; Xavier's wasn't.
But he said none had watched. Why? How could it be she was spared when Xavier wasn't? Because they love you, too, that's what he said. It made no sense how could he claim to love her but desire her public shaming while they, who also loved her, did not? Love was madness, one that afflicted men much more intensely than females, clearly. For she'd heard Sarah, Ann and Kate all declare it for their men, but none of them were suddenly contradictory in their behaviors. Or were they? Because even with the throbbing in her arse so intense, Io wanted her husband. She wanted him close enough to lean on. He'd only, hours ago, publicly, harshly delivered his idea of justice upon her poor body, and the ache in her seat didn't come close to the one in her chest. She needed Xavier's arms around her, to hear him say the matter was settled and everything would be all right. The next tear slid off toward her ear as she tipped her head back and tried to take another drink.
"Io," Xavier said softly right next to her ear, startling so that she took a drink larger than she could swallow and began choking. The skin was taken from her grasp and he gave her back several firm pats.
"My lord," she gasped out between coughs and trying to suck in air.
"Io," he said again, a bit more chiding in his tone. "You cannot drink this." Taking the skin, he hung it back on the nail in the post then made his way into the corner to the tiny table, under which was a small pile of odd things. From there, he pulled a second skin and carried it back to her. "Try this."
"It would not be cider, perhaps?" Io asked, still trying to clear her throat.
"No, but it isn't the Godale you were trying to get down." He waited until she took the first sip. "I'll get someone to fill a few skins with fresh water." She could only nod as she already was trying to use the sweeter, second wine to wash out the taste of the first. Xavier only let her take a few more swallows, though, before pulling the skin away. "Wine makes you unpleasant, wife, and I will guess you haven't eaten anything that it will make you even more so."
She couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. His expression was flat, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. She was most tempted to tell him thrashing her made her unpleasant and yet never stopped him from giving her those. But for the fact she feared he'd tell her they didn't make her unpleasant at all. "I..."
"I..." they both started, but when Xavier indicated she should go first, she couldn't find any words. Ducking her head and giving it a shake, she yielded to him. "Io, I do not seek to rush you in your counsel, but I must ask you to settle a matter that has come up. Do you feel up to it?"
"What matter, my lord?"
"I can only say it has to do with the official surrender and end to these events," he said as he put a finger under her chin and lifted her eyes to meet his. "It should take only a moment and I will again see you are left in peace."
She wanted to tell him she didn't want to be left in peace. That, at the moment, his absence left her more in pieces than at peace. But she didn't because it'd become the way of things. She'd disappoint, he'd discipline, and she'd choose by her own actions if she felt his act was in correct measure to hers by seeking him out or not. The single time she did not, he waited three days and then came to her. And he came willing to accept her declaration he'd been unjust.
"Might you be able to do this, that we can claim victory and go home?" he asked, looking directly in her eyes.
"What must I do?" He didn't really answer, only took her hand, brought it to his lips then led her out of the tent into a group of men she'd not seen in nearly a day.
"My lady," her kidnapper called, rushing to her side and trying to pull her from Xavier.
Io recoiled at the sound of his voice, knowing now he was who she'd heard calling out while she was being punished. People had watched, strangers. The very people responsible for… No, she was responsible. Had she obeyed, she'd not have been in the glen for this man to grab.
"Io, they could not see from where they sat," Xavier said quietly as his hand settled in the small of her back and urged her forward.
"What need to see, the way you had her screaming? You are the devil's own bastard," the man snarled, shoving at Xavier, who did little more than bend back at the effort.
Io, though, had to cover her mouth to smother the sob. But for the people surrounding her, she'd have fled back inside the tent. She couldn't do what Xavier needed her to do.
"Gaston, hold your tongue," the older man Io hadn't seen before ordered. "All you do is add distress. My lady," he said and turned toward Io with a gentle smile and deep concern on his face. "Could I bother you to speak with me a moment?"
She didn't want to. She wanted to go back to the house and crawl under the bed for a week or maybe three. More pressure from Xavier's hand at her back caused her to look up at him. "Speak with them, Io. Speak as you always do, honestly and bluntly." She nodded, and his soft smile added courage to her heart. "I will be over there." He pointed, and Io made note of the spot. "I will see about something more suitable for your drink." He stepped away without a backward glance.
"Poison might be all that is suitable for him," Gaston muttered, though Io noticed it was only after Xavier was far away enough to not hear. But then he was on her again, gripping both her hands in his so tightly, her fingers turned red. "My lady, you are hurt," he started. Ignoring Io's shaking head, he went on. "It is my doing, and I will not forgive myself. Of every tale I heard told of Lord Brice's cruel nature, never once did I hear he had no restraint when it came to the abuse of women. Please, I beg your pardon. Would that I could take your pain onto myself, I would and add to it tenfold."
"For God's sake, brother, do you want to make a proposal of marriage right now, too?"
"Elliott," the old man chided.
"Have you no compassion? We, I, caused this lady's suffering," Gaston said, stepping closer to Io. "My lady, please cry now for sanctuary that I might remove you from that beast's hold."
She'd been trying to follow what was said but for the life of her, Io couldn't make heads or tails of what they were saying to her. Marriage proposal? Beast? What beast? And she was already wed.
"My lady." The old man finally stepped up and pulled her hands free. "Perhaps your name might be given, that I may speak with you."
"I am Io."
"Lady Io, I—"
"No, no lady. Just Io." She didn't want the restriction of titles in this unknown situation.
"Well, Io, my sons and my nephew." He started looking around at the men closest to him. "They say they were witness to Lord Brice's beating of you."
"I suppose they were; he made it public this time," Io conceded, not sure why it was a matter that needed to be questioned. It was common enough, and Xavier had the right as a husband.
"This time?" the man Io heard called Demetri almost shouted. "This has happened before?" Io only nodded, but it was enough. Gaston again stepped up and clasped her hands in his.
"Father, we cannot permit this."
Io almost asked if the young man was of a sound mind for his strange behavior.
"My lady, Io," the old man Io now assumed to be Andrea Deux Saunds amended as he again pulled her hands free of his son's hold, only this time he kept them between his own. "Io, you are under Lord Brice's protection?"
"Yes, by the king's command." Some grumbling.
"But you are no criminal?" Elliott asked, looking around.
"I am not," Io said, managing to put the insult she felt at the question in her tone.
"My lady," Demetri called then lowered his voice. "If Lord Brice has been commanded to give you protection, he has no justification to so abuse you. Simply speak now, and we will keep it from happening again."
"What? No, I—" What exactly were they talking about?
"Cry sanctuary, my lady, and I will never let him near you again. I swear on my life," Gaston declared.
"Sanctuary?" Why did she need to say that? And why were these men closing in on her like a pack of wolves?
"Io, it is within my power and purview to take you from Lord Brice. Place you under my protection. The king would allow this, given the mistreatment you suffer," Deux Saunds' words came soft and quiet, but the destruction they caused came roaring over her.
Take her? From Xavier? Had her actions been that bad? Did he want to be rid of her? She searched the grounds now, unable through the tears to find him. Breathing became hard, and still, they seemed to be standing to close. "No." It was all she could get out, and it was on her last breath as the world spun just a little bit. "No." He couldn't mean to have this. He couldn't. Not when he'd not even heard her apology. "No," she cried and, pulling away from the hands holding her then pushing through the crowd, she again sought out Xavier. Hands took hold of her arms and she was pulled back. She struggled to be freed, and once so, she put all she had into calling out to him, "Xavier." His name echoed back, but so did a reply.
"Io?"
She spun to see him coming at her. He'd reach her in only a few more steps, but she couldn't wait. "Xavier," she cried out again, slamming against him with enough force she stumbled back a step before he caught her up. "I am sorry, I am sorry. Please. Do not send me from you. I am sorry. I will not ever lie. I will obey always. Please. Please."
"Io, Io, settle. Settle. Shh," she heard him say as her feet left the ground. She could feel his warmth and strength, and pressing her face against his neck, she could smell him. "Io, settle. Settle. Tell me, what happened?"
