Wenda gave her nurse a worried glance. Yes, perhaps it was better that the woman would not be accompanying them for the summer.
The night before she was supposed to leave, her nurse had her get to bed early, even though Wenda was anxious to see if Talus was going to return for her at all. Nicklaus was the only visitor she’d had—the only person who wanted to see her—and he had been astounded that she hadn't done her wifely duties before he left, saying that at this point, Talus could 'come to his senses and annul the marriage'.
She awoke in the middle of the night to the feeling of weight shifting on the featherbed next to her. Her eyes snapped open, her body completely still, but slowly she turned around. It was nearly impossible to see in the middle of the night, but she did make out the shape of Talus' boots in the dim moonlight threading through the windows and the low, yet steady flicker of the oil lamp upon her bed stand.
“Nicklaus said you might not come back,” she said to him in lieu of a greeting. She didn't ask, 'What are you doing in my room?' like she wanted to—he could merely reply that it was his room now, and anywhere she was would be his room from now on.
Talus grunted. Yes, it was definitely him. “Wife, there is something I should probably let you in on, now that you're old enough to hear it: Nicklaus is an ass.”
She found herself letting out a breathy laugh. “Then where did you go?”
“That’s a surprise that my wife will surely learn tomorrow evening when she gets there,” he replied mysteriously. He was playful now, when before he left he seemed so grumpy. But then, she had sort of put him in a bad situation…
“I hate surprises,” she said, rolling over in the bed. Somehow, it seemed a little naughty, laying there with a man in her bed. “Tell me now?”
“I'm adding 'patience' to the list of things you need to work on,” he replied with a chuckle.
She reached over and turned the lamp on brighter, then turned back to face him, and noticed that the swelling from his beating from her brothers two days ago had subsided into dull bruises.
He was handsome, now that she was looking at him in that way. How had she not seen before how pleasing he looked? The way his short hair fell over his forehead, or that look in his eyes he got when he was amused. It was dashing. Talus seemed roguish, rather than lordly like Nicklaus' younger brothers were. Talus was a man who'd let stubble grow on his face, and whose clothes were cotton rather than fanciful, perfect silk. He looked more like a noble outlaw than a lord.
“Are you just going to look at me or are you going to help me with my boots like a good girl?” he asked, raising his right foot slightly into the air when she sat back on her haunches, staring at him.
“I was actually just going to look at you,” she replied, but she began helping him with his boots, anyway.
“Hm?” he replied, seeming both confused and amused. “Why?”
She shrugged. “You are sort of handsome, then, aren't you?” she asked rhetorically. It apparently wasn't up to opinion. Her nurse had assured her that it was fact.
He raised one of his dark eyebrows at her, but then groaned when she succeeded in tugging the boot from his leg. “You seem skeptical in your assessment,” he acknowledged. He smirked at her. “You remind me of when I had to buy you a horse. You looked at your pony, just like you're looking at me now, and just said, 'It is a small horse, isn't it?' You didn't even notice until someone else said something.” He gave a laugh. “So tell me, who told you I was handsome?” He knew her well; it was true that she normally didn't come upon observations of this nature on her own.
“My nurse,” she said promptly, shrugging her shoulders. “And she assures me everyone else feels the same way,” she added honestly. She thought she detected the faintest flush across his face.
If he was embarrassed, he played it off well. He groaned as she tugged off the second boot, and then wiggled his toes, rolling his eyes back towards the back of his head, as if he'd forgotten how good it felt to go barefoot. When she giggled—and she couldn't help herself—he stared back down at her. “So, did you decide I'm handsome?” he asked her point-blank.
She blinked, and then her mouth felt try. Eventually, she nodded.
He looked pleased by that based on the way the edge of his lip curled, and she knew he was on the cusp of saying something that was going to make her eyes roll. But he didn't—instead he said, “Enough to kiss me now?”
* * *
The girl nearly fell off the bed when he asked it. She wobbled on her haunches, her rosy cheeks turning pale, her eyes full of indecision. She looked at him like he had said the wrong line in her little play.
There was a wealthy merchant family that Talus and his men would occasionally stay with when they headed out to the border. There was a fourteen year old girl there who chased him like a hound—she knew what sex was, he just felt that she was far too young to receive it. His eighteen-year-old bride could school that girl in innocence.
Wenda hadn't grown up with other girls her age. She had grown up with boys, and those boys had sheltered her away from their raunchy conversations. She knew very little about sex, and he was certain she had never kissed a boy behind the rosebushes growing up like he had done with many a girl when he was a teenager.
She shook her head like he had turned into a giant spider.
Well, innocent or not, she was his wife now! She had to stop looking at him like he was the big bad wolf. It was she who'd gotten herself into this. He had to remember that. He had to. “I'm going to give you a choice,” he said firmly. “You can come here and kiss me, wife, or you will perform your wifely duties this very evening. There are ways I can take you that do not involve kissing.”
Her expression turned from fear to injury. “But—but I—”
He patted his lap. “Straddle me and kiss me.” He'd pushed too far; she began to tremble. He gave a frustrated growl and went to collect her, taking her upper arms firmly in his hands and pulling her up onto his lap like she was a kitten. “One leg on each side, that's a good girl…” he said, even though he was patiently directing her movements. At least she wasn't struggling.
“Stop trembling, Wenda,” he told her, a gentle laugh in his voice. “It's just a kiss. I'm not going to hurt you.”
“I know that!” she said stubbornly, but then she looked at his lips with concern.
He took a deep breath. “Close your eyes, Wenda,” he directed. She raised an eyebrow, leery of his suggestion. “Wenda,” he said, his suggestion quickly becoming an order with his warning tone.
She closed her eyes, although hesitantly. He felt his cock twitch under her heat, which was now conveniently right over it. She was over him now, his little doll with whom he could do anything he liked. He brought up his hands to her face, brushing his thumbs against her soft cheeks. Her skin was so smooth, like silky porcelain. Her eyelashes were long and fluttery as she tried to keep her eyes closed.
He threaded his fingers into her tendrils of chestnut-colored hair, wrapping it into his hands and pulling it softly over her shoulder. It curled around his fingers as he brought it to his nose and smelt her. She was so sweet—not like flowers like some other girls. She smelt more like a rainstorm, fresh and haunting.
He adjusted himself under her, then pulled her chest towards his own and pressed his cheek up against hers. Her warm little body seemed to fit his perfectly. In this position, he could feel her little heart race like a captured bird.
Lips pressing up against her warm, sweet skin, he wondered if he had ever been so entranced by anyone. He thought back to the day before she accused him, when he was watching her pet her horse's nose and there had been something about her that made him think she was a darling angel. He hadn’t wanted to see her sullied by anyone—not by an old man, and not even by him.
Now he wondered what he'd been thinking! Her body was built for lust. His member ground up against her, and he realized that there was only the thin cloth of his breeches between them. He kissed her neck and
then licked his lips. He heard her chirp a small, nervous little moan, and then he grabbed her nape and lowered his lips to hers.
She wouldn't open her mouth until he reached up with his extra hand and pinched her chin, directing her jaw down so he could delve hungrily into her little mouth. He'd been dreaming of this for the last three days! The honey-sweet kiss of his wife with her lips as soft as rose-petals and her tongue tasting like nectar.
He teased her with his tongue, not letting her pull back, groaning into her mouth with abandon. He let go of her nape and trailed his hands up her body towards her breasts. He grabbed one, his other hand at the neckline of her chemise to pull it down so he could see those delicate little nipples—
SLAP!
The room resounded with the sound before he felt the burning sting in his cheek. It had stopped his kisses and his hands' movements, and now she was jumping off his lap, covering her breasts with her arms.
He tried to remember the last time he'd been slapped, ever.
He never had been slapped, he realized. No woman had ever had the audacity. He couldn't even form words for a moment. His mood had so suddenly changed; a bucket of ice water wouldn't have worked so well.
“That was more than kissing!” she charged angrily. “I don't know what that was, but I know what a kiss is, and that wasn't it! You—you—!”
“Husband?” He took deep, angry breaths, trying to calm himself. It wasn't working well. Pointing at her, he growled, “If you ever—ever raise your hand to me again, I will make what I gave you three days ago look like a few love-taps. If you think, even for a single moment, that I'm not going to claim you in the next twenty-four-hours, then you have a true awakening coming,” he warned. “Prepare yourself. Your breasts are mine. Your maidenhead is mine. I can touch you however I please, and I warned you that I would!”
That was the most infuriating part of all of this! He hadn’t minced words when he’d told her he'd pound her with his manhood until she couldn't leave the bedchamber. He hadn't even done that yet—he wanted to, God help him—but he hadn't!
She squinted at him angrily. “What's gotten into you?” she demanded. “Why are you so adamant about making my life horrible? If you want… if you want a woman… It doesn’t have to be me. Go, have a bastard in the bed of some commoner and I'll raise your child as mine!” she pressed her fingers to her chest, her eyes pleading. “Wouldn't that satisfy you?”
Like hell it would! He was so angry at her suggestion that he could barely think straight. How could she not want him? He'd never had so much difficulty with a woman before, never known a woman so opposed to sex—particularly not with him! He knew how women fawned over him! Why wouldn't she?
Because she didn't know passion. Not yet.
He let out a deep breath. He would spark that passion inside of her, fuel it, and then writhe in the flame of it. If it was the last thing he ever did, she would moan out his name when he took her!
“No,” he growled at her. “And that wouldn't satisfy you, either. It will never be that way for us. You will bear my children, and only you, because I'm a Christian man who will have no other! And if you even mention that idea again, I will birch you so that you will sleep on your stomach for a month.” He leveled his gaze to meet hers. “Do you understand me, wife?”
She gave a concerned wince, but then he pointed to the side of the bed where she’d been sleeping. “Get some rest,” he huffed to her. “We have a long journey tomorrow.”
* * *
Long journey was right! Wenda had no idea where she was at this point. This was a forest she'd never been to, right at the foot of mountains that she'd only ever seen in the distance.
“You're not bringing me out here to kill and bury me, are you?” she asked when the forest began to look even grimmer. She gasped and turned to Talus with large, round eyes. “That's not the surprise, is it?”
He merely frowned and blinked at her. “Where on God's green earth did you ever get ideas like that?” His brow furrowed more, seeming to accuse her with his dark glance. “If I wanted you dead, I had plenty of opportunity to do it before now,” he added.
Well, that was true. She was tired, however, and strained. She wasn't used to walking on eggshells around Talus; she was used to being herself around him. After what he had said last night, however, she hadn't been able to think of anything other than the things he planned to do with her.
She was so nervous she was wishing it was already done—that she hadn’t slapped Talus when he was about to grope her and that she had just let him carry on to his conclusion. It would have been better than walking through the forest not being able to think of anything other than Talus' hot kiss. It had been so demanding, so controlling! Her heart had been racing so quickly that she had been trying to remind herself to breath and not explode. Every touch on her skin had made her jump, wondering when the pain was going to start.
Because her cousins had told her that there would certainly be pain, and lots of it. Unfathomable amounts… She would come away feeling bruised, molested, drained, and in need of a bath… And then she would be expected to repeat it over and over for the rest of her life.
Her cheeks flushed as Talus said, “What are you thinking about, then?”
“Nothing,” she lied, giving him a sidelong glance. “Except to wonder where we're going.” She looked up at the sky and saw golden rays through the treetops, their orange color signaling that sunset was only an hour or so away. “We should probably set up a camp soon, or else we'll be walking in the dark.”
“We're almost there,” he assured, and nodded down the path. “Not over a mile now.” He continued to stare at her, taking his eyes off the path. “Are you tired?”
Was he mocking her? “I didn't sleep well last night,” she snapped.
He frowned, and she realized that maybe he hadn't been mocking her. He had been asking the question with sincere concern, and now a muscle in his jaw gave a tick. “You're not going to sleep any better sleeping on your belly because I spanked you for snapping at me,” he warned her.
Spanking? He was always threatening her with a spanking! “I'm not a child, you know,” she pouted, embarrassed that he seemed to see her that way. “You don't have to threaten me all the time.”
“It keeps you from getting too big for your britches,” he replied aloofly, before his wolfish grin appeared. “Besides, your bottom is glorious when it's been spanked.” He gave a laugh when her eyes popped wide. “You're the prettiest girl in the world when you blush,” he told her.
She gave him a stern look, trying to keep herself from blushing any more. “There's something wrong with your mind,” she simply grumbled, shaking her head.
He gave a slight, agreeing chuckle and then they turned a corner. Around the bend, in a clearing beside a small brook, was a cottage—a cottage with a very new thatched roof. It was the quaintest thing she had ever seen in her life. It was the home she had always wished she had. Of course, Nicklaus used to assure her that all peasant girls wanted to be noble ladies like she was, but in truth, all she wanted was a little hunting cottage of her own.
“Your new home for the summer months, my lady,” Talus told her, his tone proud. It must have been apparent that she was so quickly charmed by it, maybe because she'd stilled her horse right where it was so she could gaze at it.
“This is yours?” she finally asked.
“Half of the forest is mine,” he replied simply with a laugh. My new estate will be half a day down the path. This is my grandfather's hunting cabin. I thought it would be a perfect location to spend our honeymoon and get away from our more horrible relations.” He winked at her. “Never claim that your husband isn't romantic.”
Actually, she had originally chosen him because she hadn’t thought he was. Still, she found herself giving him a smile. “So this is where you've been the last few days?” she asked.
He nodded and got off his horse when they approached. “It needed a new roof,” he told her, pointing at t
he thatch. “I've rarely had time to come out here, though I'd planned on it for the summer. I just didn't expect company.” He took the reins of her horse.
She hopped off when he took her reigns, starting towards the place. “Eh!” he said, pointing at her and using a warning tone. She turned and he crooked his finger at her and held out her horse's reins to her. “I know I certainly didn't teach you to just hop off your horse to go scurry about,” he lectured. His tone was back to being… fatherly. Like it used to be.
She spun on her heel and grabbed her horse. “I thought you were romantically fulfilling the role of the stable boy.” She was surprised that she was teasing him.
“I could use the crop on you,” he suggested, but he was smirking at her playfully. She looked up at the sky, praying for patience. The stable was aged, nearly run down to stones and taken over by nature, but they watered their horses and tied them to the ruins. “I have to fix that,” he said, shaking his head at it. “But I have all summer to do it. I plan to get this place looking exactly as it did when I was a child.” He extended his hand for Wenda, and she looked at it. Her nurse had been right—his hands were big. It wasn't something she had been particularly happy about when she had been fresh from her spanking, but now that she looked at them, she saw their appeal. They were callused, strong, and manly. She bit her lip, feeling a tingle in the pit of her stomach.
“Take it,” he told her, urging her to place her hand into his.
“Oh,” she said, coming back to the present. When he took her hand, he took it like it was a fragile flower. Thinking about it now, it wasn't too different than when he'd directed her to shoot her first bow so many years ago. Had he always been gentle with her, and she had just never noticed? Her powers of observation were horrible!
He guided her around the cottage and up the small stream, chatting with her about memories he had from his time here as a boy. It was strange, and welcome. They had barely spoken to each other the entire day, and she had grown lonely for his voice without even realizing it, because the more he spoke, the more a warm feeling flooded inside of her chest.
Lords and Ladies: Two Medieval Spanking Novellas Page 10
