The Blacksmith's Woman

by R. R. Vane

  Now she was plainly mocking him. And at this point, Tom decided he’d had enough.

  “A switch?” he asked, as his eyes fell upon the implement she’d named, which was already lying on a pillow in their bed.

  Beth beamed.

  “Will it do, you think?”

  Tom cursed both her and himself under his breath. So this was the game she wished to play? Fine. Then the game was on. Though he doubted that at the end of it he would be the one crying his eyes out. He went to the bed, making a show of testing the switch against his palm.

  “‘Twil serve,” he said tersely.

  He didn’t give her time to say anything more. He placed the pillow in the middle of the bed, and he made her lie over it on her belly, making short work of hoisting her skirts. The pillow served its purpose, because Beth’s bare bottom was now thrust towards him, in a position for him to put the switch to good use. He didn’t waste any more time.

  “Ouch!”

  Beth’s voice was filled with surprise at the sting of this new implement, whose touch she probably found somewhat unexpected. Tom suppressed a half-satisfied half-malicious grin, because, having been on the receiving end of this implement several times in his childhood, he knew only too well how much it stung. Yet, while its sting during the punishment was fierce, the damage from it was mild in the end, even milder in fact than that which his big blacksmith’s hand could bestow upon Beth’s behind. So Tom went on with his switching, beginning to paint pink and then red stripes upon the bottom of the woman who’d taunted him to spank her. It had been her wish to receive a stern lesson, hadn’t it? So that was what he was in truth providing. The very lesson she’d asked for.

  He hadn’t been counting, yet it was perhaps on the fifth lash of his switch that Beth began to sniff, and asked in a quivering voice, “Tom, don’t you think I’ve already learnt my lesson?”

  He smiled to himself wickedly.

  “I think not,” he replied, brandishing the switch with even more vigour.

  Beth bucked and wriggled under the new, harder lashes she received, yet, to her credit, she didn’t attempt to leave her position or protect her bottom in any way.

  “Ah… It stings so!” she complained at last, in a voice that already seemed to be filling with tears.

  “And so it should!” Tom countered, hardening his heart against her.

  Yet, he laid the switch only a couple of more times upon her rounded bottom, shaking his head to himself, and knowing his anger against her was already beginning to melt. Foolish, stubborn woman! What had she thought to accomplish by goading him so? Did she think by angering him further he’d forgive her for not loving him at all? For not wanting to be bound to him?

  Beth was already crying softly, when he discarded the switch, flinging it aside.

  “You asked for this,” he found himself muttering grimly, seating himself on the bed and beginning to rub his temples.

  She attempted to sit up, but at this time his spanking must still sting fiercely, so she chose to remain lying on her belly.

  “It is not at all as you seem to think. It is not because I don’t love you, you know,” she told him quite suddenly in a tearful voice.

  There was something simply heart breaking in her voice, and, at this moment, while she hadn’t uttered downright that she loved him, Tom understood she was in truth telling him she really did. He’d gotten to know Beth in the months they’d spent together. And she was not a woman who would ever utter the words ‘I love thee’ outright. That she’d brought herself to even say as much as she had to him was something he should cherish. He still didn’t understand why she wouldn’t bind herself to him in Church, but at this moment, it no longer mattered.

  “Dearling,” he said, now cross with himself for having judged her unfairly in thinking she didn’t care for him.

  It was plain she did. And he’d been foolish enough to let himself get carried away by anger and mistrust.

  “Forgive me!” he said, moving to bestow an ardent kiss on her lips.

  Her face was tear-stained and her nose blotchy, but to Tom it seemed she’d never looked more beautiful.

  “You really set my bottom on fire, you know!” she complained, with a small sniff which hid a half smile.

  Tom shrugged with a sheepish grin.

  “I wasn’t asking your forgiveness for that.”

  She creased her brow.

  “You weren’t?”

  “I wasn’t. I was asking you to forgive me for the way I acted towards you in the past days. Yet,” he added pointedly, wagging his finger, “that didn’t mean you should have behaved like that to De Brunne!”

  When she tarried to answer, he patted her spanked bottom lightly, which was now rather deliciously striped with red.

  Beth stirred under Tom’s touch, seized by both tantalizing pain and scorching pleasure. What he did at the next moment was something he’d not done before. Bending his head, he began to lick the very stripes he’d mercilessly bestowed upon her earlier. His tongue was soothing and stirring at the same time, like a balm on her poor scorched bottom, yet, at the same time…

  “I can see how much you’re enjoying this, Tom Reed! My misery and discomfort after your hard spanking!” She made a show of complaining.

  Tom chuckled softly.

  “I suppose that as a blacksmith I’ve got used to trying to bend metal to my will.”

  “Is that what you mean to achieve by spanking me? Bend me to your will?” she asked with an arched eyebrow, not liking the thought.

  “Yet as a blacksmith,” he added as he began to brush his fingers across the red stripes on her behind, “I am always aware that metal always has a will of its own.”

  “Still, you keep trying to bend it.”

  “Aye, but metal is far more stubborn than you think and it always has a very good memory. It always recalls the first shape it was first wielded in. And the blacksmith may think he has managed to mould it to his liking, but he never does in truth mould it. As years pass, it is perchance the metal that in truth moulds him.”

  Beth laughed with a shake of her head.

  “You’re not as unskilful with words as you sometimes lead others to think. Now you’ve started to speak like a minstrel. But I cannot fathom what you’re trying to tell me.”

  “What I was trying to say is that it is not only you who bends to my will, but I also bend to yours, even when I take it upon myself to teach you a lesson.”

  She heaved a sigh.

  “Is that meant to make me feel better about the sore bottom you’ve given me?”

  Yet she could well see what Tom was trying to tell her. She didn’t feel he lorded over her, not even when he spanked her, and, in truth, Tom was never unfair or overbearing. As for the spankings… She had to admit it to herself she’d already ceased to view them as discipline. They were all in truth love play, although she already knew that neither she nor Tom would ever openly call them that. It was the way things stood between them, and it was far more diverting not to call them by their true name. Because it was like that between Tom and her – some things were better not spoken in words. They were beyond words, just as her love for him.

  “You know too well I love you. Marry me!” he urged her, and kissed her ardently.

  She’d been unfair to him, and she was well aware of it. And it would be the right, sensible thing to say aye to what he was asking. Yet she still had a stubbornness of her own, and he needed to see it was not for the pleasure of refusing him that she was doing this.

  “I will. One day,” she said soothingly.

  He frowned upon her.

  “Not now?”

  “One day,” she vowed looking steadily into his eyes.

  She didn’t want to speak the words to him that would make him understand. She just wanted him to see this for himself and simply trust her judgement. For a moment it seemed he was again angry with her. But, after he stared at her for a while, he shook his head, raking his dark hair in that way of his t
hat had become so dear to her.

  “Fine, stubborn woman. As you wish. As long as that day doesn’t come when I’m old and on my deathbed.”

  “It won’t!” she vowed, brushing a light kiss upon his taut lips.

  Epilogue

  It was little more than a year later that Beth came upon Tom saying she had to speak to him of a certain matter. He had been, as usual, engrossed in his work at the Forge, but he was alone at this time.

  “Something amiss?” he asked, putting his hammer down, because it was unlike Beth to come upon him in the middle of his work.

  She was usually just as busy as he was, with sundry chores of her own, which now involved not only their trade and household, but many other errands and visits she made around the city. She was different from him, and always ready to laugh and talk and gossip with those she came to call her friends. And Tom had begun to see she’d made a lot of friends, many among the wives of the craftsmen and tradesmen in the neighbourhood. By now, there was no one left in their neighbourhood who seemed to think ill of Beth, as they’d gotten to know her and see her worth. For some months already, everyone had been calling her Mistress Reed, and they spoke of her as if she’d long been Tom’s wife. Tom himself had gotten so used to this that at times he truly forgot Beth and he were not married in Church true and proper, even if the priest chided them every month for tarrying. In truth, busy with his work as he was, lately he’d not even recalled to renew the one question that, for a while, he’d asked her every single day.

  “How fare you, dearling?” he inquired now, coming to softly brush his hand against her cheek, because he suddenly perceived she looked rather pale and tired.

  He chastised himself for not paying more mind to his woman, and silently vowed to watch her more closely from now on. He loved to work hard, and didn’t tire easily. But that didn’t mean that those around him couldn’t tire when far too much was put upon their shoulders.

  Beth shrugged away his question with a smile.

  “You do recall the vow I made you?” she asked him rather suddenly.

  “Which of them?” Tom countered in a soft voice, now tracing the sweet curve of her cheek.

  In truth, she’d made several vows to him, among which that of behaving herself. But that was a vow she never seemed to keep.

  “You know… The one I promised I’d fulfil long before you’re old and on your deathbed,” Beth told him pointedly.

  His heart skipped a beat, because he’d become nearly resigned she’d never want to marry him in Church.

  “Ha…the vow,” he muttered as if he couldn’t quite recall it, because he was unable to resist having his own revenge on Beth for rejecting him the first time he’d asked.

  She punched his arm.

  “Oh, that vow,” he added with a mischievous grin.

  He simply couldn’t help himself. He added even more mischief.

  “What makes you certain I still want to marry you?”

  She glared at him, and he shrugged, then went on, because it was far too tempting not to.

  “Or perchance I should answer just as you did. One day. Yet, to be sure, before you’re old and on your deathbed.”

  Another punch landed on his arm, and this was one he felt somewhat.

  “Not one day, Tom Reed. As soon as can be, because I’ll have no wagging tongues about the child we’re bound to have,” Beth scolded.

  For a moment, the Forge seemed to be spinning around him. The first thought which came upon him then was that he should feel joy. But then his heart was seized with fear. He felt afraid of what might happen to both Beth and their unborn child.

  “Tom, look at me,” his woman told him in a soothing voice. “You’ve naught to fear. I know all will be well.”

  If someone else had uttered the words, Tom would not have brought himself to believe them, but he had come to set great faith in this woman of his. So he chose to believe Beth, thinking she must already have the right of it. All would be well.

  R. R. Vane

  I discovered romance in a shop which sold used books when I was a teen and I have been writing romance novels in my head ever since. My first ever draft was a medieval romance with a gray-eyed knight, and I still want to finish it one day. For me writing is a dream come true and I always try to stay true to my dreams. So I write historical/paranormal/fantasy romance. My first book (A Deep Dark Call, published as Rose Vane) is a Gothic romance set in nineteenth-century Romania. A Stern Knight for My Lady is the first medieval romance I ever published.

  Visit her website here:

  https://rosevane.com/

  Don’t miss these exciting titles by R. R. Vane and Blushing Books!

  Her Stern Husband Series

  A Stern Lord for My Lady

  The Blacksmith’s Woman

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