“No one has ever touched you before,” he said.
“Not like this. And you have no right.”
“Your father granted me the right.”
“It wasn’t his to grant.”
“He’s your father,” Baxter reminded her. “He has the authority.”
“He’s never chosen to act like a father. He cares only for my sister. She’s charming and beautiful. He never needed me. My mother died in bringing me into the world. He’d rather have her back.”
“He cares for you. He wants what’s best for you.”
“He wants only what’s most convenient for him,” she corrected. “It appears you’re his current instrument in the attempt to get me out of his life.”
“I regret you believe that. Yet it matters not. It suits me to be used that way.”
“What will it gain you? What did he promise you for taming me? Do you get my hand in marriage?”
Something she said affected him. His hands stilled on her breasts and his blue eyes narrowed. “That is no concern of yours,” he answered.
“You think I’ll not care what the theft of my freedom is worth?”
He drew a deep breath but didn’t answer.
“It is not my hand,” she continued. “That would be worth naught to you. Position? Land? Gold? What is my price?”
“What do you think you should be worth?” he asked.
That stopped her for a moment, yet when the answer occurred to her, it popped out of her mouth before she could censor it. “A good man’s devotion.”
She regretted the words when she saw the pity in his eyes. “Since that’s not likely to happen,” she added hastily, “I’ll hold fast to my freedom.”
He released his hold on her breasts, took a step backward, went to the door, and called for the two women to return to the room. They came so promptly, she knew they’d been waiting nearby, probably listening at the door.
“She needs to be dressed,” he said. “Choose an appropriate afternoon gown.”
He had to release the long leather strap from the collar so they could drop the shift over her head. Fanny watched him move across the room, and when he was as far from her as he was likely to get, she broke away from the women as they prepared to put the gown on. She ran for the door and down the hall. She reached the bottom of the staircase before he caught up with her and grabbed hold of her wet hair. Unfortunately, he held on, even when she shook her head. It served only to bring tears to her eyes from the sting. He pulled her by it, back up the stairs, along the hall, and into her room.
“Leave us,” he ordered the two women who waited for them. “And close the door behind you.” The hard, cold tone made her shiver.
“I do not intend to chase you all over the castle every time I have to release you for a moment,” he said as he pulled her toward the bed. She landed face down, her upper body on the bed, her legs hanging off. When she tried to roll over, his hand pressed into the small of her back to stop her.
Her shift was flipped up onto her back, and then a hard palm smacked down on her bottom. Pain flashed through her, making her yell. She tried to wriggle out from under his hold.
“Be still,” he ordered. “You may yell as much as you like, but you’ll be still and take your punishment or I’ll call the servants back in to hold you.”
It was humiliating enough to be in that position. She couldn’t bear the thought of servants witnessing it. “No, please, I’ll be still,” she promised.
“We’ll see.” He smacked down again, hard, on her bare bottom.
Fanny couldn’t hold in a squeal, but she dug her fingers into the bedclothes and held tight to keep herself as still as possible. It stung almost unbearably.
He spanked again and again, hard. She tried not to cry out, but after a while she couldn’t hold in a squeal with each swat. It burned so much, she felt each smack down to her fingertips and toes. But it also worked its way into her loins and set something else burning inside her. Need, a pressure of desire for something, began to gather and make the flesh of her cleft swell. She managed to remain still for a while, but as spank followed spank with no break, the fire in her bottom had her wiggling and kicking uncontrollably. She didn’t release her hold on the bed, and she managed to stay in place, however.
It went on and on, until her bottom felt like it was on fire. Her moans grew into sobs and groans. Though it humiliated her even more, she was finally reduced to pleading with him to stop.
“No more, please. I won’t run away from you again. I promise,” she begged. “Please no more. No more! I can’t bear it. Stop!”
“It will stop when I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson,” he said and delivered a resounding blow that landed right at the junction of bottom and thighs.
Overwhelmed by the fire, she screamed. “I’ve learned the lesson. I promise. I’ve learned.” The final word turned into another yell as a hard spank crashed into her tender derriere. Tears ran down her face and soaked into the bedclothes. “Oh, please,” she sobbed, softer now. “Please stop.”
A series of spanks followed, not as hard, but stinging continuously. She sniffed and moaned with each one. There was a pause and she hoped it was over. But then he smacked down again, delivering the hardest blow so far. She shrieked and her body arched up off the bed. But she kept her fingers buried in the bedcover, even as she collapsed again, sobbing and rocking back and forth. Her whole body was aflame, burning up with the agony in her backside. It felt so sore and swollen, she thought it must be twice its normal size. But even within the anguish, she was aware of the sensation creeping into her loins and causing a different kind of heat.
After a while she calmed enough to brace herself for the next swat. It didn’t come. A gentle hand smoothed her hair back from her face, then moved to her bottom and rubbed the sore, stinging flesh. It helped soothe the ache. The gently kneading fingers massaged away the worst of the hurt, but at the same time they fed that other fire, deep inside the core of her.
She knew she should protest when his fingers roamed down her derriere to her thighs. It was improper and dangerous. And when he nudged her legs apart, she should have resisted. She didn’t. He stroked up and down the insides of her thighs, going higher and higher each time. It sent tingling ripples of pleasure roaring through her. He touched the sensitive flesh of her quim, and the shock made her jump and moan. She could hardly breathe for the tightness of all her muscles. He kissed each globe of her bottom, his tongue swiping across the punished flesh. More fire ripped along her nerves.
But then his fingers and tongue withdrew. He moved back with a last pat on her bottom, and drew her to her feet. She stumbled a bit as he turned her to face him and ended up leaning against his bare chest. The feel of his warm, hard body was dangerously tempting. Fortunately or not, he didn’t let her linger there, but straightened her up.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, “but I’ll do what I have to. That includes punishing you when you defy or disobey me.” He reached out and pushed back a lock of her long hair that clung to her damp cheek. “Now, listen to me. I don’t want to break you or damage you. I don’t want to deny you the only thing you appear to be interested in. But it’s time for you to grow up and face reality. You cannot simply ignore the rest of the world and what it wants from you. Your father provides you with food and shelter and clothing. All he asks in return is that you do your minimal duty as a princess. Yet you refuse to do anything at all. For too long you’ve been allowed to run wild, insult your father and his position, do whatever you wish, refuse to act like a princess, but generally behave like a selfish, spoiled, childish brat. That ends now. I’ll not tolerate it. Therefore, for the next few days you’ll spend the entire day with me and in lessons with others I bring in. Should you cooperate and make progress, I’ll allow you time for your gardening. But it will be on my schedule, not yours. You will learn your duty and begin to perform it. Do you understand me?”
Her heart felt as though it twisted up insi
de her. He didn’t understand or realize how horribly inept and clumsy she was with other people. “But I don’t want to,” she protested. “I have no talent or inclination for the games of politics and the court.”
“It matters not whether you want to do it. You were born a princess, and it’s your duty to do as your father wishes until you’re married and transferred to your husband’s authority. You needn’t get involved deeply in politics, but you must learn to be polite and gracious to guests.”
“I have no wish to marry or to be under any man’s authority. I would be my own person.” No man would want her, anyway. The few times she’d tried to flirt or even talk to an attractive man, her sister had fluttered by and drawn off all the attention.
“And continue to live off others’ charity for the rest of your life? It doesn’t happen that way, Princess,” he said. “We must all work for our keep. Even spoiled princesses have duties to perform in exchange for the food they eat and the roof that shelters them. You’ll learn to do that duty.”
Fanny shivered as she looked into his deep blue eyes. She feared him. He didn’t react to her words or her actions, and he seemed to have all the advantages in any battle between them. Worst of all, she feared that he told her a truth she couldn’t deny, much as she might want to. She couldn’t give him any answer, but he didn’t seem to expect it. She needed some time and space to consider what he’d said. Somehow she would have to manage to escape for a while so she could think about it.
“Now,” he continued. “I’m going to call the servants back in. You’ll get dressed and groomed as a princess, and we’ll begin to talk about what it means.”
Chapter 5
Baxter was fighting his own battle while he lectured her. The spanking and soothing her afterward had aroused him to the point where his cock strained against his clothes and threatened to explode at any moment. How he managed any coherent argument mystified him. Her reaction suggested something he’d said might actually have reached her, and that was nothing short of a miracle. Once the servants had returned and were working on the princess, he turned away to put on his own shirt, now mostly dried, vest, and boots.
Even as she meekly submitted to being dressed and primped by the servants, he knew better than to believe the war had ended. He’d won the first skirmish. No more. He actually looked forward to future battles, especially if they ended the way this one had. He couldn’t help but relish the memory of her gorgeous backside turning rosy under the attentions of his hand. He’d thought his cock would explode all over her more than once. And she’d been moved by it as well. Though it had hurt her, and she’d yelled and screamed, had even begged him to stop, her quim had been swollen and wet to his touch afterward.
His cock throbbed again, and he turned his attention back toward the servants now working on Princess Fanny’s hair. She grimaced occasionally when one of them pulled as they combed out the long strands, but she didn’t complain or protest. Her face looked surprisingly pretty with the faint pink flush still staining her cheeks. She’d cleaned up even better than he’d anticipated. She might never be the raving beauty her sister was, but absent that comparison, she was attractive enough to charm most men did she make the effort. The servants wound her hair into an elaborate, upswept knot that they secured with pins and covered with a veil, then they brought a deep blue overgown that buttoned down the front. The color of the gown flattered her complexion.
When they were done, he walked up in front of her and studied her critically.
“You are lovelier than I would have guessed,” he said. “You have naught to be ashamed of in any comparison to your sister.”
“I have not her gift for charming others and bending them to my will,” Fanny answered.
“Have you ever tried?”
“When I was younger. Much younger. I was not indulged in the same way she was. I soon gave up the attempt.”
“She sets a difficult comparison for you. Yet you are yourself, different from her, with different attractions and different strengths. Some things I can teach you about dealing with others. First, though, I would learn what you know of table manners. I’ve had the servants set up a mock dinner table in the next room. Come with me and we’ll see.”
He offered an elbow to her, and she put her hand on it, very prettily.
“Excellent,” he said. “Hold your head up high now and step with me.”
Fortunately she’d somewhere along the line learned excellent table manners. However, she hadn’t learned to keep a meek demeanor. She walked boldly rather than carefully and spoke far too directly. Her only conversation, he discovered, centered around plants and gardening, and she talked about that to the point of boring any listener to death.
After a while of letting her rattle on, he stopped her. “Enough about plants. You’ll have everyone in the room asleep within moments if you talk of nothing else.”
“It’s all I know,” she said.
“Not so. You know much more. You just don’t know it. And it’s not necessary for you to do all the talking in any case. Learn to draw others out to talk about themselves. It is considered much more polite.”
“How does one do that?”
“Shall we try it? You ask me something about myself. Pretend we are strangers. See if you can start a conversation with me.”
“We are strangers,” she pointed out. “I knew you not yesterday.”
“Quite,” he said. “Draw me out. Learn about me.”
She stared at him for a moment, at a loss. “What is your favorite flower?” she asked.
Baxter let his head sink down to the table for a moment. “No. No, no, no. Forget plants. I don’t care about plants. Ask me about where I come from. Who my family is. What my business is here.”
“But I know those things,” she protested.
“You know my name and place of origin. But you do not know about my childhood, my relationship with my family, what does interest me.”
“So tell me,” she said.
“No. You must ask me questions and find out.”
Again she had to think about it for a minute. “Have you any brothers and sisters?”
“Ah, much better. Yes, I do. Twelve of them, in fact.”
“Twelve! Your poor mother! How did she handle it?”
“Quite well, in truth.”
“But…”
He could almost see her struggling to find the next question. “Are they older than you or younger?”
“Seven of them are older. Five younger.” He wanted to tell her a great deal more about them, but restrained it. She needed to learn how to continue a conversation.
The silence stretched into an uncomfortable length. Finally she shook her head and said, “I know not what more to ask.”
“You might ask about my parents—what they are doing now.”
“But your papa is dead, is he not? I remember he was killed…right here. ’Twas a terrible scandal. There was a fight, no?”
“Not a fight. He was murdered. Knifed in the back in a most cowardly way.”
“Was his killer punished? I do not remember that.”
“No. We know not who it was. I’ve made it my mission to learn who did it and have my revenge.”
“How do you think to discover who it was?”
“I have a way to identify the finery of he who did the deed. A gold button that we found clutched in my father’s fingers after his death. It surely came from the robe of his attacker. I believe he who did it will not know we would recognize the buttons, and they’re too fine not to wear again. It’s my hope his killer will wear them to the wedding celebrations.”
“Is that the true reason you’re here? Am I just an excuse to get to those celebrations?”
The play of emotion across her face fascinated him. She had little ability to hide her feelings. He was surprised that she should be hurt to think she might not be the sole reason for his presence.
“Nay, ’tis only a part of the reason for my presence.”
“Ah, I forgot. Papa promised you a reward for teaching me my duty.”
“Aye, he did. And I plan to collect it. I need it very badly.” He picked up Princess Fanny’s hand. “Princess, I realize you do not like me being here. But this you may rely on. I will try hard to be as fair to you as I may be. When I make a promise, I’ll keep it. When I tell you something, it will be the truth. I truly believe you need to learn the things I would teach you to ensure your future happiness.”
“Why do you need the reward so badly?” she asked.
“That is another good question,” he said. “My oldest brother is now the lord of our lands. My second brother is a knight, a warrior. My third brother is the steward of the household. The land is prosperous, but it cannot support so many lords. I have had a notion that there is a place for someone to bring goods from the east to this land, and it could prove a prosperous enterprise. But I need gold to begin, gold I hope to get from your father.”
At that moment, the bell sounded, warning that dinner would be served shortly.
“We have just a few more minutes,” he said to her. “At dinner, I’ll see you have a chance to practice on one of the guests.”
“Now?” Panic shot across her face. “I’m not ready for it. Surely it can wait until tomorrow.”
“Nay. We’ll begin tonight. Here are some other things you might ask a stranger to open a conversation. Ask about his lands, what the country is like, what crops grow, what livestock they keep. Ask about his family, his children, his serfs. Learn if he likes music or games or riding. Ask about the hunting on his land.”
“I’ll never remember all those things.”
“You have only to remember a few of them.” He stood, slicked his hair, straightened his vest, and offered her an elbow. She took it reluctantly and walked with him down to the great hall.
Chapter 6
Conversation buzzed from various groups of people gathered in the great hall as they approached. But when they entered the room, it gradually died away. A few exclamations of surprise broke the growing silence. Fanny’s hand tightened on his arm. She slowed, trying to pull him to a halt. He tugged her forward, refusing to give her a chance to stop or retreat.
Crown Jewels Page 3
