by R. R. Vane
“Will you desist now?” he inquired, giving her bottom a light, yet nevertheless stinging slap.
“No. I am sharp-tongued! Remember?” Beth countered venomously, although she belatedly recalled her bare bottom was at this very moment at his mercy.
Another slap landed on her bottom, slightly harder than the first.
“Never fear. I’ve found a good cure for your sharp tongue,” she heard Tom say smugly, and she huffed, trying to wriggle out of his grip.
The movement didn’t help, because he was holding her fast. So all she did was manage to rub her body against Tom’s bare cock. The cock in question promptly stirred.
“This time I am not going to tend to that, Tom Reed!” she told him attempting to give her voice a dignified note. “And,” she added pointedly, “I swear I’ll scream murder if you swat me again!”
“Aha,” Tom said and he didn’t seem duly impressed by her threat. “And who’s going to pay any mind to you? Do you think Micah, Declan and William will leap to your defence? For a while now they’ve been begging me to warm your behind.”
“What?”
“Come to think of it, it’s not such an unworthy thought,” Tom mused with a sigh, but to Beth’s surprise, he allowed her to wriggle off of his lap.
Beth rubbed her bottom with a dark glare at him. She had occasion to see he was struggling to keep a straight face.
“So fine of you to laugh. You’re not the one with a bruised bottom!”
“I barely touched you,” he countered with a downright smirk.
“Barely? That from a blacksmith? With a hammer of a hand?”
Tom instantly frowned looking upon his large hand.
“I spanked you far harder before, and you didn’t complain even half as much!”
“Oh, but that was before,” Beth countered with a snigger.
“Before what?”
“Before you called me sharp-tongued!”
She fluffed her pillow, and presented him with her back. A silence followed, and Beth thought Tom would settle into sleep. She scoffed when she suddenly felt him press against her from behind, although she found her quim gushing as soon as she felt his cock prodding against her bottom.
“I said I wasn’t going to tend to that,” she muttered, yet to her own ears her voice sounded unconvincing.
Tom began to plant tantalizing kisses upon the back of her neck, while his hand slid to cup her breast, beginning to toy with her nipple.
“Desist! I wish to sleep in peace!” she said pettily, mimicking his earlier words.
She didn’t truly expect him to comply, but to her surprise, Tom rolled away from her with a sigh.
“That’s all you have to say?” Beth couldn’t help asking.
“I didn’t say anything,” Tom countered, yet he rolled back, and turned her on her side to face him.
He proceeded to rain sound kisses upon her face, breasts and shoulders, and soon Beth forgot to be angry with him, and could hardly keep from smiling. Her smile vanished though when she heard him say in an utterly wicked tone of voice, “I promised not to lie to you. So I must say I think you are sharp-tongued.”
She opened her mouth, yet she didn’t have a chance to speak.
“Sharp-tongued, but diligent, and very, very, very clever,” Tom told her between kisses.
Beth nearly preened under the praise, because, in truth, he hadn’t ever praised her before. She couldn’t hold her peace though, “Are you trying to sweet-talk me?”
“Indeed I am,” Tom spoke against her lips. “Though it is true you’re diligent and clever.”
They didn’t speak again until they were both lying sated after the lusty lovemaking that they shared.
“Do you think they’ll grow to hate me?” Beth asked with a sigh.
“Who?”
“You know, the boys. They…”
“They’re just a tad upset you seek to change their ways. It will pass. Besides, they had occasion to see you are quite clever.”
“But that won’t help. They’ll only resent me more!”
“Nay. Why would that be?”
“Because… Oh, you know it as well as I. In men cleverness is thought a virtue. In women… a sin. Just like a sharp tongue!”
“I see. So that’s what’s been troubling you.”
She nodded, and Tom put one arm around her.
“Don’t let it trouble you. I do not mind your sharp tongue. And I am not as petty as to want to sneer upon your clever mind. I see it as a gift, not as a flaw. And so will certain other people. Those who are fair and do not feed on envy.”
Beth thought she’d melt under the warmth of the embrace. And she savoured its deliciousness, burying her head into Tom’s shoulder and not wanting to think of anything right now other than being with him. It was belatedly that she heard him speak, and realized she hadn’t been paying any mind to what he’d been saying.
“What say you?” he asked.
“About what?”
“You’ve not be listening to me, woman,” he said, giving her ear a nuzzle and her bare bottom a playful swat.
“Forgive me. I wasn’t. So what was it you said?”
“I had been saying that it seems a shame for you to do just household chores when you’re so good with numbers.”
“I do not mind the household chores,” Beth said in earnest. “I have been happy to do them.”
And it was so. Once she’d put to rights the things that had been long neglected, the housework here had become light – and she’d always liked to keep busy. Besides, the three growing boys reminded her very much of the brothers she’d lost. Even if they resented her scolding them, she felt it had become her duty to take good care of them, just as she’d always done with her younger brothers.
Tom waved his hand.
“The boys will have to help more with the housework. They were the ones to deal with it before you came.”
Beth harrumphed.
“And a fine job of it they did. Dust and cobwebs all around.”
“Fine. If you’re content doing all the housework, then I’ll hold my peace,” Tom said in a placating voice, and stirred her thoughts away from the talk.
Sometime later, when they had finally had their fill of lovemaking for this night, Beth found her voice to ask Tom, “But what did you mean before? When you said the boys could help with the housework? Did you mean for me to help you with your ledgers?”
He chuckled.
“I’ve had to get used to how clever you truly are. If you were able to read and write, I’d ask for your help with the ledgers, yet what I had in mind was you teaching the boys more of numbers and them showing you how to write them down as well as the letters.”
Beth sat up with a frown.
“But I can already read and write. Both Norman and English. Not Latin though.”
Tom shook his head in wonder, then cast her a smile.
“It’s well then that you can already. Not many women of our station can, and, for that matter, not many men. I taught myself, and I taught the boys some. But I’m no good with numbers and the ledgers are something I loathe.”
Beth beamed. At home, she’d always been the one to keep their ledgers, and in truth the only one of her family to read and write well.
“So would you be ready to trust me with the ledgers? Even if not six weeks ago I tried to steal from you?”
It still chafed to think she’d been ready to let go of her honesty, but things were what they were. Yet Tom cast her a steady glance.
“You’re not deceitful. And I came to understand you were grieving over your kin’s death. What you did was reckless, but people who are grieving are bound to do reckless things.”
He said nothing further, just taking her hand in his, and she was grateful for the warmth of his touch, and also grateful he’d brought himself to trust her.
“It would be no hardship to keep the ledgers for you if you wish. Just as it would be no hardship to keep doing all the housework.”
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He stared at her, and muttered something under his breath.
“What?” Beth asked impatiently.
“But it would be unfair to ask so much of you,” he told her in earnest.
And Beth recalled that day when Tom Reed had given her his hard-earned money without asking for anything in return. She hadn’t even brought herself to thank him for the deed. But she knew too well that only a man like Tom Reed would do a thing like this. She’d watched him, even when he wasn’t paying any mind to her. At first, it had seemed all he cared for was his work at the Forge. But she had watched him with his apprentices. And it was plain he was fair and caring to them. Too soft on them at times, in truth, even when he tried to be fierce. Always soft hearted even if he didn’t want to let it show. And seeking to aid others in whatever way he could, rather than try to take advantage of them.
“Nay. Not unfair. I’d like to help,” she said brushing a kiss on his lips.
Tom shook his head and cast her a steady glance.
“I will think upon a way. A way which wouldn’t burden you with more chores.”
He shushed her with a kiss of his own, and settled her head upon his chest. Later, when they were drifting into sleep, Beth vainly tried to tell herself she wasn’t already losing her heart to Tom Reed.
Chapter 6
William, Micah and Declan grumbled when Tom told them they would have to do some of the household chores they’d happily let fall on Beth’s shoulders, so she could help with the ledgers. But he lightened their workload at the Forge by taking more upon himself now that he had more time, and the ledgers would not be falling entirely upon him.
At first, Beth protested she could manage all she’d done and the ledgers, but he warned her it would be unwise to argue, casting her a pointed look, which made the boys grin and elbow themselves and whisper that, finally, the master would give Beth the good spanking she deserved for nagging upon them. Beth glared at them all, but had to comply with what had been settled. And in the weeks that came, Tom had occasion to see his choice had been even wiser than he’d thought. Beth’s eye was sharp, and instantly caught the mistakes he’d made adding numbers up, because he’d always been with his head only upon his blacksmith’s work and not on figures. And as she took things over, coin, which had always seemed scarce in their household, appeared to be more plentiful. She always recalled which customer owed what, and soon started to deal with customers in his shop, aided by his apprentices. This left Tom more time to spend at his Forge, and, as such, he could not be happier, because seeing to his work in peace was the only thing he craved in this life.
It was upon a morning that Beth called Tom into the shop, to tell him that a lord required his patronage for a contraption little seen before in their land.
“What does he want?” Tom said, rather morosely, because he didn’t like to deal with customers and had soon become quite used to Beth dealing with them when they came to his shop.
“He said he’ll speak only to you of it,” Beth told him. “Besides, he doesn’t seem to like dealing with a woman. You know fancy lords are like that.”
Tom nodded with a sigh, heading to meet the fancy lord in his shop. Beth soon left him to deal with his customer, going to the house where she’d left William tending to their fare for the day.
“Your woman?” the lord inquired with raised eyebrows staring after Beth had left, with his mouth pursed in displeasure.
“A woman who works for me, my lord,” Tom said, knowing it would be always best to hide how things truly were with Beth from people such as this lord.
“A woman keeping ledgers?” the lord asked with an arched eyebrow.
Tom didn’t answer, yet the lord kept staring after Beth.
“Her ways are bold. Too bold,” he muttered in displeasure.
“How may I be of assistance?” Tom asked tersely.
The lord dismissed his servant, who looked fearful when the lord glanced upon him, and Tom didn’t like it that this nobleman had sought his shop. He now already feared he was a nobleman of Sir Lambert’s sort.
“I wonder, Master Smith, if you could make this for me?” the lord inquired, placing down a piece of parchment with charcoal sketches on it. “It is a contraption I’ve long thought of. And I believe you’ll see it is quite clever.”
In spite of himself, Tom’s eyes lit with interest. He always liked to learn of new things, and it was upon a rare occasion that any of his customers brought any kind of drawings with them.
The first drawing depicted some kind of mask. But, when he looked better upon it, it seemed to him both a bridle and a muzzle. He shook his head in sheer wonder. The second drawing his customer showed him was that of a woman wearing this mask upon her face and mouth. Tom stared at it, feeling blood rise in his temples. He’d heard of such things – vile ways of silencing others for punishment, but he’d never seen one.
Mistaking his reaction for delight, the customer preened, “How do you like my punishment for a sharp-tongued wife? See how…”
“My lord, I am not that kind of smith,” Tom cut him off tersely. “So you will need to take your business elsewhere.”
The lord frowned in puzzlement.
“Yet I’ve been told you are an able smith and always eager to try to fashion new contraptions.”
“They must have also told you I’ve never made torture implements. That’s not my craft.”
“Torture? Fair punishment I’d say for shrewish women. Do you know how my woman presumes to speak to me? Master Smith, if you did, you’d hurry to do my bidding!” the lord said with a grim set of his mouth.
“As I said, you will need to take your business elsewhere,” Tom countered firmly.
The uneasiness of what he’d seen lingered with him, and when Beth came to ask him whether he’d taken the commission from the lord who’d come, he spoke rather sharply to her, without revealing the reason for his displeasure. Beth looked at him askance, but didn’t press, yet Tom’s bad mood lingered during the day. Somehow, he couldn’t remove the picture from his head, the servant’s fear, and the lord’s grim, determined smile when he’d spoken of punishing his sharp-tongued wife.
And come their evening meal, he had occasion to hear the word, that was now troubling him, muttered by Declan when Beth was engaged in one of her usual lectures to the boys.
“Sharp-tongued shrew,” Declan muttered, as Beth was clearing away the table.
“What did you say?” Tom found himself uttering in a loud voice.
The look on his face must have been menacing, because Declan suddenly no longer looked like his impudent self, but rather white in the face.
“Instead of berating others, you’d do well to earn your keep and clear this table,” Tom added making his voice calm, but stern.
Declan gaped at him, and Beth shrugged, coming to the boy’s defence, although the lad didn’t deserve it in the least.
“No need. I’m used to doing it.”
Tom shook his head.
“Nay. Declan should do it from now on. And he should learn to mind his own sharp tongue.”
In the rather stunned silence that followed, Declan was forced to comply. Tom watched him with grim satisfaction, knowing it was time for the boy to learn to mind his manners around the woman who tended to their house and business. He then thought of how upset Beth had been when he himself had called her sharp-tongued. At the time he’d just laughed about it and hadn’t understood why Beth would find it so upsetting, but now that he recalled the lord’s strange, twisted drawing, he was beginning to understand why. And he recalled how Beth had flinched when Sir Lambert had called her a harlot, and promised himself to always keep her from ever coming to harm from such men.
As she was putting on her shift for the night, Beth finally decided to ask Tom why his mood had been so foul this day, hoping his bad humour had already well passed. Tom sighed.
“Never you mind,” he muttered.
“Never I mind? But I do mind,” Beth retorted, becaus
e she’d had enough of his sour mood today.
It was after a while that she finally coaxed Tom to tell her of the lord’s twisted contraption. A chill went through her spine, as she pictured it.
“May the Lord have mercy on this man’s poor wife!” she said, with a sad shake of her head.
Tom nodded with a concerned look upon his face, and she pressed herself against him, understanding she was dangerously close to losing her heart to this man who could not bear it when he thought of others suffering or being treated unjustly.
“Is that why you punished me yourself in the Square?” she asked, because they’d never brought themselves to speak of this. “Because you already knew the guards’ punishment would be far more dire?”
He evaded her question, saying instead, “But you did deserve a punishment!”
She let him be, because she understood he didn’t like it when others saw how soft his heart truly was. Instead, she mused more upon the lord who had come today, thinking of him and of Sir Lambert, and of how the noblemen of her acquaintance seemed far more unkind than common folk.
“Fancy lords are so cruel! Do you know the story of the lord who had his wife wear a chastity belt on her nether parts while he went to the Holy Land? The poor woman died from it – and no wonder. To be compelled to wear that thing upon your body and be forced to endure filth and discomfort and neglect!”
Tom cocked an eyebrow.
“You do not believe that tall tale, do you?”
“Tall tale? But aren’t noble husbands always threatening their wives with making them wear chastity belts?”
“Aye, but have you ever seen one? A true chastity belt?”
Beth frowned.
“Of course not. Where would I have seen one? I do not live among lords or ladies!”
“I have not seen one either. Or heard of such contraptions ever coming to be. And I’m a smith. I know my trade. Do you not think I’d have heard of it if it were true?”
She creased her brows.
“You’re saying the chastity belt is all a lie? A tall tale to scare wives with?”
