"Sit still, my little brat," he said, frowning. "While I look at you once more." The gentle tone was not so gentle, now, and Merrie looked up uncertainly. He reached for the jar of salve and began to rub the soothing jelly-like substance, once again, into her skin, all over her body. The smell was new to Merrie. But it felt very good.
But after a moment, he stood to his feet. "I shall go for my bath, Liliana. See if you can work your magic with her hair." He leaned down and kissed Merrie's temple, smiling. "I shall be back when you are finished, my love. I do not wish to make Liliana nervous by watching her. But," he said, frowning. "I would like to preserve as much as possible."
"I shall do my best, Sir Francis," Liliana said softly.
Merrie watched her husband go, thinking that he seemed slightly angered with her. But when he left, she looked at Liliana in the mirror. "Perhaps I should close my eyes, so I do not make you nervous, either?"
But Liliana only smiled. "You may look if you wish, milady. While I was washing your hair, I looked carefully at it. I do not believe it is as bad as I first thought."
"Then, perhaps I should close them so I do not make me nervous." She giggled.
Merrie was quiet, as the clipping began with the scissors. She was sure that she would be bald when all was said and done. Liliana did not make much conversation, either.
Finally, after a few moments, she stood back.
"You may open your eyes, Lady Merrie," she said.
FRANCIS HAD BEEN WAITING in the bedroom since rising from his bath. But he found himself growing more and more worried. He hoped for Merrie's sake that it would turn out all right.
He was still pacing, when a knock sounded on the door. He turned, abruptly, and went through the door into Merrie's suite.
His wife stood in the center of the room, holding the towel in one hand, a mirror in the other, facing him. Slowly, he moved toward her. His face broke out in a broad smile.
"Turn, my little miscreant," he ordered softly.
She obeyed silently. Her dark auburn curls ended a little less than halfway down her back; but her hair was still thick and full. There was another layer below her shoulders that curled gently. Soft bangs brushed across her forehead, and tendrils escaped at her temples. With ribbons woven through her hair, the effect was charming.
"Adorable," he said softly. "Liliana, you have done well."
"Do you really like it, sir?" Merrie grinned.
"I was forced to cut off almost a foot and a half, Sir Francis. We shall not have too many choices in the way I can style it for a while. But I am quite pleased with it."
"So, perhaps now, sir…" Merrie's dimples were showing. "You can relax."
His smile disappeared. "Relax?"
Merrie could not miss the look in his eyes as he stared down at her. Her eyes were large now; his voice fierce.
"Merriweather Lynne Adams. You. Little. Brat!" He was punctuating each word now, with narrowed eyes, as he approached her. "Relax, you say?"
His eyes caught Liliana's expression of uncertainty, and he turned to her. "Leave us, please, Liliana."
Liliana hurriedly curtsied and left the room, and Francis closed the gap between them and pulled Merrie roughly to her feet. Just as roughly, he threw her over his shoulder. "I intend to have a…discussion with you, young lady," he said, his voice gruff.
Striding into the bedroom, he sent the door to, forcefully, with his heel.
"Discussion, sir?" Merrie's eyes were pale and very wide, as her husband stood her between his legs and yanked the towel away from her.
"You. You, young lady, have finally done it. What, I ask you—what—was the very last thing I said to you before jumping out of the carriage—and again, after?"
Merrie gulped. "To…obey you…sir?" Her voice was small and meek.
"Yes. And what did you do? You turned right around and ran into a burning inferno! That is exactly what I did not want you doing—and furthermore, my little hellion of a brat—you knew it!"
Merrie gasped as he flipped her over, face down, across his lap and took her wrists in one hand, pinning them to the small of her back. Extremely hard blows began to rain down on her bottom and upper thighs, as he continued lecturing. She was gasping now.
"Francis—but I needed to—"
"And yes, I do know what you did was a great thing—do not think for one minute I do not appreciate that, young lady. Also—do not think for one second—that you are off the hook for this one. Did I not tell you that the next time you disobeyed, which caused you to be in danger, it would result in your being punished? And I believe I promised using the strap—"
"No, Francis—please!"
"Oh yes, young lady—I certainly did." Francis threw her up over his shoulder once again and walked purposely toward the wardrobe, opened it, and retrieved a leather strap from inside. Then, pulling her down over his lap once more, he began using it, as she wailed and pleaded for him to stop.
"Pleading will do you no good, this time, Merriweather Lynne Adams. I know the first question you are going to ask is what you should have done—and I shall tell you, you little brat. You were supposed to come and find me!" He was punctuating each word with the strap now. "Or Gleason—or Elias. Any. Number. Of. Us. Could Have. Gone. After. The. Baby! But you deliberately ignored me and ran in alone—" He was staring down at her bottom now, watching her fair skin as reddish stripes formed across it. Throwing the strap down on the floor, he rested his hand across her bottom and began to rub it gently.
"Merrie Lynne. You must—I repeat—must—learn to obey me. I have yet eight more years before I am forty, and at the rate you drag me through hell and back on a daily basis, worrying about your safety—"
He stopped. Merrie was lying, compliant, across his lap now, the fight gone from her.
She was weeping, ever so quietly; her hair cascading down to the floor. He traced his hand across the stripes on her bottom, and she gasped.
Finally, he lifted her up and sat her straddling his lap, tilting her chin upward. The tears still coursed down her cheeks. Neither of them spoke, when she lifted her eyes to his. But suddenly, she leaped forward, throwing both arms about his neck and held on, burying her face into his neck.
His arms enveloped her fiercely as he stood and put her down on the bed, pinning her down, and Merrie, wide-eyed, looked up into his eyes as he positioned himself, in one swift move, directly over her.
"Merrie Lynne?" It was a question; and she knew it, as he hovered.
"Yes, sir," she whispered, in answer.
He watched her face for a full minute, his eyes boring into hers. Then he nodded and thrust, quite forcefully, inside her.
CHAPTER 10
M errie opened her eyes and blinked. The sun was low in the east. It was morning. But as she looked over her shoulder, up into her husband's face, she met his dark brown eyes, watching her. She rolled onto her back and suddenly gasped when her bottom made contact with the sheets.
"Oh! Oh—"
Francis frowned. In a single moment, he flipped her onto her belly and began running a large hand across her bottom.
"Merriweather Lynne, I have left bruises." He scowled. "I did not intend to leave such a trail of stripes."
"Are you sorry, sir?" She giggled and cried out when he popped her bottom fiercely.
"If that was supposed to be whimsical, be warned. I am still quite put out with you. And the next time, my little beast, that your disobedience causes you bodily harm, you shall feel more stripes than you now have. Is that clear?"
"It is very clear, sir." Her voice was subdued. "I shall not do so again."
Her turned her onto her back and stared down at her. "As much, my beautiful little brat, as I would love to believe that, I shall wait and see." But when he saw that she would protest, he put a finger to her lips. "I believe you have the desire, Merriweather Lynne. I am just not sure that you have the ability."
Her rueful expression gave her away, and he continued, "I shall save the strap for
the occasions when you have put yourself into danger, my girl. However, I am beginning to believe that I need to begin, every single day, giving you a firm session over my knee before I allow you to leave the house. Just to remind you." Merrie looked shocked, and his brows rose. "Oh yes. I am strongly considering it, whether Miss Constance glares at me or not. I expressed to you the day I asked you to marry me that you had a strong need for discipline. Did I not?"
She looked away. Yes, sir."
"Then you perhaps need to keep that in mind, Merrie Lynne. Now, however, I am through lecturing, until you further need it. Up you go. Liliana needs to dress you, and I want to take you out to the stables."
Her eyes were hopeful now. "Shall I get to meet Toby, sir?"
"You shall. This is the time of morning that he communes with the horses."
Liliana looked sympathetic when Merrie went to her rooms.
"Do not look at me that way, Liliana." She grinned. "I truly am quite all right."
"Oh! I am so glad to hear it, milady. I was…worried."
"Yes….well…um…" She looked away. "What shall I wear today, Liliana?"
"I have chosen the green outfit, milady. But at some point, Sir Francis says that we need to choose some new gowns for you. Shall I come up with some designs? We have an order catalogue in the supply room that we could sit down with. There are lovely ones in it. I cannot draw; however, I am good at sewing, if you choose a design."
Francis came to get her a few moments later, to find her dressed and ready, and took her hand. On the way down the staircase, however, he leaned down.
"Are you all right this morning? Do not lie. If you do, I shall know it."
"I am, Francis. Truly. Just slightly…um…" She did not finish, and his brow rose.
"Yes." He nodded. "Come, my little brat."
But when they found Toby, Merrie was surprised. He was working with a horse, which had been totally unmanageable by the rest of the men. The Cherokee was totally engaged in working with a mare that had been physically restored but was emotionally fearful of everyone. Merrie watched, amazed and very quiet, after Francis had put a finger to her lips to warn her not to speak.
Toby was singing in a low, soothing, quiet voice to the animal, as he grew ever closer. The mare's eyes were wide and frightened, and he kept up his soothing voice. After a while, she allowed him to reach up and actually touch her, and before Merrie's eyes, the animal grew calm. Toby was looking and smiling gently into the mare's face and continued to sing. Now, he was touching her ears, stroking gently, and then moving backward, to her neck and down her mane.
Before long, the mare had responded to his voice and his touch and was totally calm, and he led her gently back into her stall at the stable.
When he came out, smiling, a moment later, he bowed toward Merrie.
"Good morning, milady."
"Oh, Toby, you were magnificent with her! I have never seen anything like the way you were able to calm her…"
"I work every morning with her, until she is calm. Progress has been slow, but we have made a lot."
Francis nodded. "The mare was dreadfully mistreated before she came here, Merrie Lynne. Toby has done miracles with her."
"When she heals…" Toby was grinning, "She will be magnificent. Still, we have much to do."
Merrie stuck out a small hand, grinning. "It is very nice to meet you, Toby. Francis has been telling me about you. And, Toby—thank you so much for the salve. It healed me."
Toby nodded toward Francis and took her hand, bowing. "Pleased to meet you, too, milady." He showed a mouth full of white teeth, grinning toward her.
But as Francis turned her to go back, she stopped.
"Toby?"
He paused, meeting her eyes.
"What have you named her? The beautiful mare?"
Toby paused, reverently. "She is…" He lowered his voice, "Spirit Wind…" He bowed, once again, to Merrie and was gone.
"What a beautiful name," Merrie said in wonder. "You were right, Francis. He is truly amazing."
IT WAS Indie who brought the baskets in to them that morning as they left to go to the school of Mr. Styles. Merrie expressed how much she had been enjoying the meals, prompting a wide grin from Indie's beautiful face.
"Thank you, milady. This one," she said, handing over the first basket. "Contains the lunches and this one…" The second, followed. "Has the treats."
"Which the children enjoy so much," Merrie said with a grin.
They approached the school a half-hour later. Francis looked down, scowling, at Merrie, who had closed her eyes in discomfort at the ride.
"I shall take you back to the house after this. You are having difficulty riding today."
Merrie looked up, nodding. But she put on a brave smile as they reached the schoolroom.
Mr. Styles had smiled at them as they had entered. Lucy Grace was sitting in front of the classroom, completely engrossed in her schoolwork, as were the rest of the children.
"Come in, Sir Francis and Lady Merrie," their teacher said. "I should like you to notice all of the children on the front row. We are doing something different this week."
Merrie was listening with interest as he explained.
"When we do our spelling, the first six children who answer correctly move to the front of the class. These are the children who came in first this week." He nodded toward the children, naming them one at a time, as they stood up and curtsied. "Jillian, Will, Lucy Grace." He was smiling now, at Lucy Grace's expression; she was beaming toward Merrie and Francis, as she gave a little curtsy. "Lily, John, and Amy. These are our best spellers for the week." He began to clap, and the other students followed, as Francis and Merrie joined in. "Now, children, it is lunchtime, and since all of you have been so attentive today, you may have another fifteen minutes to play outside, after you eat."
Merrie watched as they filed out. Lucy Grace was carrying, as were all of the other students today, a small basket containing her lunch. She waited until all of the students were outside, as she listened to Francis and Mr. Styles discuss the fact that the wild boar was no longer a problem.
"No. It is gone, thank you, Sir Francis. Elias came last week and took care of it. We so appreciated that. The children need to be able to get outside and use some of that energy they are blessed with."
"How is Lucy Grace doing here?" Merrie asked, desperately wanting to know.
"Very well, milady. She is an extremely bright child. I believe all she needs is a little encouragement. Her father has been working with her in the evenings, on her spelling words and her math. She is also extremely talented. Look at the drawing on the board."
Merrie looked up and gasped. There was a drawing of her, done with a slate pencil. "Oh, my! Lucy Gracie did this?"
"She did indeed. Yesterday, she drew one of her father that was quite good. When she finishes her lessons early I give her time to go up to the board and sketch. She will be amazing if it continues. Oh—and my wife found some more baskets in the General Store and is packing the extra lunches in them for the children. I have been putting them by the desks of the students who come without lunches, so that each student knows he or she has a lunch waiting for them when it is time to eat. But Lucy Grace has been bringing her lunch every day."
Francis nodded, grinning. "We are so glad to hear it, sir. Merrie, would you like to go pass out the treats? We shall need to get home in a moment."
Merrie grinned up at him. "I shall be glad to, sir. And Mr. Styles…" She smiled warmly at him. "Thank you so much for all you do for the children. And for caring so much for them."
Mr. Styles was chuckling. "I would like your permission, Lady Merrie, to make you a regular in the 'story time' hour, after lunch. The children are constantly begging me for 'Merrie stories,' after sharing one with them last week. And I do have quite a few of them to tell." He laughed now, at Merrie's rueful face. But I always have a moral to the stories, and the children know you, so they are delighted. And they are learnin
g from them. But before I continue telling them, I wanted to make sure I had your permission."
She looked up at him thoughtfully. "It is all right, sir. As long as you do not tell them about me putting the snake down Alice Miller's back. I do not wish them to get ideas."
"I shall avoid that one. And, you are quite welcome, Merrie. It is my honor to be able to do lunches for the children." He waited until Merrie had taken the basket outside and then turned toward Francis. "Thank you for the extra pay, milord. It is a great help with providing the extra food for the students who need it."
"That, sir…" Francis nodded, quietly. "Is my honor. Until next time." But as he reached the door, he turned back. A quizzical look on his face, he looked toward Mr. Styles.
"A snake? Indeed?"
"Indeed. But I cannot say little Alice Miller did not deserve that one."
"Perhaps." Francis nodded, frowning. "But I hope Merriweather was dealt with. properly."
Mr. Styles was attempting to hide his mirth at Francis' expression.
"Oh, yes. Indeed, she was," was all he said, before Francis opened the door and left the classroom.
Outside, Merrie was busy passing out Indie's treats. Lucy Grace waited until last to come for hers. "Lucy Grace, I am so proud of you for your spelling achievements," Merrie said warmly. "Mr. Styles says you are doing very, very well. Here is your cookie. And I saw your drawing of me on the board—I am very flattered that you chose me. It was tremendous, Lucy Grace."
"Thank you, milady," a whisper came from the little girl. "But I do not need any more cookies. When I looked in my basket, there were five cookies in the bottom. I have one for each of my sisters and my brother."
"Then take those home and eat them together, Lucy Grace. And eat this one now." Merrie had pulled one from the basket she held, holding it out.
Lucy Grace reached up for it. Her eyes were shining. "Thank you, milady. Papa asks how we can repay you."
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