Taming Princess Anna

by Sue Lyndon

  She started to protest again, but he shushed her and reached for her hand, practically dragging her toward the town. His pace didn’t slow once they entered Cimastown, and she felt weary from their travels and wanted nothing more than a hot bath and a long nap. The townspeople scattered up and down the street gave them a wide birth, but their curious stares filled Anna with a sense of unease. Surely they would hate her and she’d never belong here.

  Bronson dropped her hand and slid an arm around her waist, pulling her close to the heat of his body. She stole sidelong glances at him and her heart plummeted to see the firm set of his jaw, and his eyes remained straight ahead. Not once did he turn in her direction or give her a smile of encouragement. She felt lost and hopeless as she walked beside him, and she regretted upsetting him on the hill, though he’d misunderstood her reluctance to wed him.

  They rounded a corner and Anna peered up at a small church offset from the street. Peeling white paint decorated the outside, and a short stone walkway led to bright red double doors. Statues of various deities lined the walkway. Bronson finally turned to her, and her heart sank to see no kindness in his eyes.

  He lifted an eyebrow at her. “Do not make a fool of me in there, Anna, or you will sorely regret it.”

  Anger chased away her good sense, and she straightened and glared at him with annoyance. “You don’t need any help being made into a fool.”

  His eyes flashed and he leaned down as he grasped her chin between his fingers. Fear quickened her pulse, and blood pounded in her ears. “That comment, little dove, is going to cost you a very sore bottom on your wedding night.”

  * * * * *

  Bronson knew he was sulking over Anna’s comments on the hill, but her reluctance to marry him insulted him on every level. He was saving her from certain death, yet she resisted as if marriage to him was an insult to her noble heritage. In his imaginings of this moment—the moment they stood before the priest as they prepared to exchange wedding vows—he’d thought she would have recovered from any initial reluctance and instead look upon him as her savior. He’d risked everything to infiltrate the revolutionaries and convince them to spare her life. Had they refused, they’d likely have seen him as a threat that needed to be eliminated.

  Was she seriously concerned about having to live as a commoner? He’d seen the wariness in her eyes as she surveyed the small town and the plain houses. But the sooner Anna accepted her new lot in life, the better. Hard work was the way of life in Cimastown. There were no elaborate feasts or fancy balls to attend. Everyone worked together to make the town a secure place to live. He hoped Anna found her place and would feel at home here soon, and he tried to push his annoyance over her reaction to the town away. After all, this was their wedding day.

  He only half-listened as the priest read from the Iverson Book of Common Prayers, and he squeezed Anna’s hand to get her attention. She peered up at him, her eyes brimming with uncertainty. Clasping her other hand, he turned her to face him and gave her a tender look. She responded with the ghost of a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes and swallowed hard just as the priest instructed them to commence repeating their vows.

  Bronson went first, holding her gaze as he promised to love, honor, and cherish Anna until death parted them, and in his heart he vowed to protect her always. The priest paused and flipped a page in his prayer book, and Bronson waited with bated breath, hoping Anna obediently repeated every last word the elderly priest uttered. The moment came when the priest finished speaking the first line of her vows, and the old man stopped and stared at her with a raised eyebrow and the hint of a smirk. He knew she wasn’t the most willing of brides.

  Finally, with a trembling voice she acquiesced and said her vows, her voice growing steadier as she neared the end.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the priest finally said.

  Relief filled Bronson, and the need to protect Anna surged through him. Moments later they signed the marriage documents, and Anna also signed a document renouncing her nobility. Officially, in the eyes of those who led the revolution against King Mendel and would one day install a new government, Anna was now simply Anna. A young bride. A commoner who posed no threat to them.

  “Oh, I forgot!” the priest suddenly said, winking at them both. “You may kiss your lovely bride.”

  Anna gasped and stared up at Bronson. Her lips parted, though he suspected it was due to her surprise. A pretty blush stained her cheeks and she fidgeted in place, her breath coming in quick puffs. Desire rushed through Bronson, his muscles tensing as he ached to draw his reluctant bride closer and taste her for the first time.

  Cupping her face, he leaned down to capture her lips in a tender kiss. At first she was frozen and simply stood in place as his tongue delved into her mouth. Then slowly she softened and leaned against him, her hands coming to rest upon his chest. Her tongue met his and he became lost as lust spiraled through him. Bronson clutched her face and kissed her hard, momentarily forgetting about the priest and the fact that they were inside a church. A soft moan vibrated from Anna’s throat, and he forced himself to pull away before he became completely lost in her.

  Clearly surprised by his kiss and her response to it, she stared at him with wide eyes and dropped her hands to her sides. Her chest heaved with gasping breaths. His gaze was drawn to the swell of her breasts. He brushed his thumb along her cheek and smiled.

  “Come, Anna, and I will show you to our home.” He thanked the priest and escorted Anna outside into the early morning sun. With the fog now lifted, the sun’s rays reflected off her smooth brown locks, and his fingers itched to tangle in her long hair—perhaps to hold her in place as he kissed her thoroughly.

  Bronson led her behind the church toward a path that led outside of town, farther up the hill that overlooked the shore. She remained silent, her brows creased as if she were deep in thought for the duration of their short walk to his cottage. They passed no one on the path, and Bronson was glad for it because he had no desire to introduce her to the townspeople yet. His only desire was to get her home and – then what?

  He swallowed hard, wondering if he should consummate their marriage immediately or wait until she knew him better. The faded yellow door of his cottage came into sight and his heart beat faster. Anticipation swelled within him. She was his bride and they were about to be alone for the first time as husband and wife. Certainly he was within his rights to take her, to fully claim her as his bride. He gently tugged on her hand and led her onto the stone walkway, still unsure of what would happen once they were inside.

  “This is your home?” Her tone betrayed no hint of disdain as he’d expected after their conversation on the hill. If anything she sounded in awe.

  “Yes. I helped my father build it the summer after we escaped the city.”

  She paused on the walkway and snatched her hand from his. He tensed and spun around, prepared to chase her down if need be, but Anna simply stood before him in front of the blooming purple flowers his mother had planted years ago that kept returning every season. She bent to smell one of the flowers and smiled, then rose up and took a hesitant step toward him.

  “I like it here. It’s very peaceful. The view is breathtaking,” she said, indicating the town below and the sea beyond it. Sunlight sparkled on the waves, and the horizon was turning from pink to blue. A few clouds dotted the sky, and seagulls swept to and fro. Children ran through the streets of the town, some of them headed for the small dock where the fisherman worked to ready the boats.

  Bronson turned from the scenic view and focused on Anna. “You haven’t seen the inside yet,” he said, half-joking as he opened the cottage door and gestured for her to enter.

  She picked up her skirts and swept past him, and he held his breath, waiting for her reaction. He’d tidied the place up as best he could before departing for his meeting with King Mendel, but it had seen better days, especially when his parents had been alive. The curtains on all the windows were closed, but eno
ugh light shone through the thin fabric to provide an adequate view of the cottage. A sparse kitchen with a small table and three chairs. A bedroom with one bed, a tall water basin, a large bathtub, and a few odd pieces of furniture. The smallest room, which had been Bronson’s bedroom while his parents were living, now contained only two bookcases and a trunk.

  Anna stood with her back to him, her head turning as she inspected the tiny three room cottage. He knew that her bedroom in the castle had been larger than his entire home. He removed his traveling sack, which also contained the small bag Anna had had with her at the inn, and placed it next to the door, keeping his eyes on her and waiting for her to speak.

  “Bronson?”

  “Yes?”

  “There’s only one bed.”

  He bit back a groan, took a deep breath, and stepped behind her to place his hands on her shoulders. Though she tensed initially, a shudder then ran through her, and her breathing increased. The temperature in the cottage seemed to rise, and he didn’t back down from the tense moment, instead deciding to work it to his advantage. He vaguely worried that if they didn’t consummate their marriage that she might somehow get it voided if she ran off and possibly boarded a ship on the other side of the island. Pain shot through his jaw as he clenched his teeth. He couldn’t let that happen. He was her husband by marriage, and he planned to become her husband in truth very soon.

  “Anna,” he said, loving the way her name felt on his lips. “Anna, my wife, of course there’s only one bed. It’s a bed we will soon share.”

  “But you married me to save me from the fate the nobles are suffering during the revolution. I thought”—she gulped—“I wasn’t sure if you planned to…” Her words trailed off and she shivered as he lifted her hair from her neck and brushed it to the side, exposing her creamy white flesh.

  Trailing kisses from the tip of her ear and downward along the slope of her neck, he pressed his body against hers, delighting in the small gasps issuing from her throat. He recalled their spat earlier before they entered the church, when he’d threatened to spank her if she made a fool of him during the ceremony. The retort she’d supplied had driven him over the edge, and he had promised her a sore bottom on her wedding night. Well, it wasn’t night yet, but perhaps it was time to get it over with. He wanted her now, wanted her squirming and naked beneath him on the bed while he parted her thighs and discovered the sweetness within.

  “Where did you sleep when your parents were alive?” Anna suddenly asked. “Surely I can sleep there.”

  He grinned at her attempt to stall the inevitable, and as he leaned to speak into her ear, his hard cock pressed into her bottom. “I used to have a cot in that room right there,” he said, pointing to the room with the bookcases.

  “Well, where’s the cot now?” she persisted, trying to break out of his grasp. He wrapped his arms around her center and trailed more kisses along her neck before returning to nibble on her delicate earlobe. A soft moan was his reward.

  “I gave it to a neighbor. Now stop stalling, little dove. You have nothing to be afraid of. Well, except for a sore little bottom.”

  “About that,” she began. “I’m sorry I insulted you earlier.”

  “I appreciate your apology, Anna, however I think it will help you settle into your new life here if you have a firm understanding of my expectations. I will not allow you to have such a loose tongue. I know you are used to getting your way most of the time, but I will expect you to mind me and be an obedient wife. No more wild temper tantrums.”

  She snorted and tried to twist out of his hold, but her attempt only turned her around in his arms, and a spark of indignation lit in her eyes as their gazes collided. “You make it sound as if I need taming.”

  He smiled and lowered his voice. “Do you need taming?”

  Chapter 4

  It was impossible to think in the blasted man’s presence. Anna resisted the urge to knee him in the groin. If he already intended to spank her, it probably wasn’t smart to give him another reason to apply his hand to her bottom. She stared at his chest in an attempt to quell the flutters that quickened in her stomach each time she met his intense gaze.

  Who did Bronson think he was, anyway? A few days ago she hadn’t known he was still alive, he’d been nothing but a distant memory from her childhood. A happy memory, but a memory so distant it felt like a dream. Now he’d returned to her life, told her there was a rebellion underway to overthrow her family, and forced her to marry him under the claim that it would save her life. Part of her still wondered if he was exaggerating about the danger to the nobles, as well as the danger of attempting to leave the island.

  He seemed awfully intent to make her his wife. Though she’d never kissed a man or been intimate with a man in any way before, she was certain it was lust darkening Bronson’s gorgeous brown eyes. He kept standing close to her, pressing his body against hers, and she was confused about the hardness that kept rubbing up against her. Her mother had died when she was very young and her older sisters had married and moved away long before she’d ever looked at a boy, let alone planned to marry. She felt ill prepared to face a husband in the marriage bed. Her only knowledge came from the bawdy jokes she’d overheard the soldiers telling, jokes she didn’t entirely understand.

  “Let’s get your spanking over with, Anna. I won’t have you disrespecting me, especially when we’re in town together.”

  She dug her heels into the floor and pulled against him, her heart pounding in her ears. Bronson’s strength overcame hers and he drew her to the bed. Gulping and not quite believing she was about to end up over his knee again, especially so soon, she watched as he sat on the edge of the bed. She muttered curses and stomped her foot several times in protest, but he tugged her over his thighs despite her struggles.

  “It’s not even night yet!” she protested. She didn’t know much about being a wife, but she thought husbands and wives only laid together at night. Surely spanking her and then taking her during the morning hours was improper. She felt scandalized and gasped as he flipped her skirts up and parted the slit in her drawers. “Bronson, stop it! Can’t this wait until tonight?”

  “No, it cannot. You were naughty and you must be punished.” He captured her flailing hands at the small of her back, clasping her wrists together in one of his large hands. When she tried to lurch off his lap, he wound one of his legs overtop hers, preventing her movement.

  He was spanking her for a silly reason, in her opinion. So she’d called him a fool. She bristled and squirmed, frustrated that he’d been able to subdue her so easily. “I demand you release me at once, Bronson!” she said in her most authoritative I-am-a-princess-and-I-demand-it tone.

  Tendrils of warmth unfolded in her center as he cupped her bottom, and heat surged to her face as her reaction to his touch filled her with shame. Surely she shouldn’t enjoy the warmth of his hand on her unprotected flesh, especially as he prepared to chastise her. Yet the flutters kept assaulting her stomach and warmth kept pulsing between her thighs. Her heart beat faster and her mouth dried up. She winced as he lifted his hand from her bottom.

  “You can shout orders at me all you like, Anna, but acting like a child having a tantrum will only get you spanked harder and longer.” He swatted her bottom, the sting of the first few slaps catching her by surprise even though she’d been spanked by him before and already knew what to expect.

  “I called you a fool because you are one!” she shouted. “A big, silly fool of a man!” Tears burned in her eyes as her shame heightened. He paused to part her drawers wider, and the cool air of the room kissed her most intimate places. The spanking hurt and her shouting at him only served to increase the intensity of his slaps.

  “I do think you need taming, and as your husband it’s my responsibility to see to it. Until you learn better manners, I’m going to take you over my knee for a lesson each night before bed,” he said after she hurled another volley of insults at him, calling him all the naughty words she cou
ld think of.

  The pain overwhelmed Anna, and she grew quiet, unable to form another coherent word. Moisture coated her face, and she bit her lip in an effort to restrain the sorrowful sobs that threatened to break through. She wasn’t just angry with Bronson, she was angry at the entire world. At her father and her stupid brother. At all her noble relatives who stood by and watched the kingdom disintegrate without stepping in to offer guidance to her father before it was too late. At all the guards and soldiers who obeyed her father without question, and at the soldiers who manned the city walls and made escape so difficult. If it wasn’t for them, she might be on a ship thousands of miles away at this very moment.

  A barrage of sharp smacks landed on her upper thighs and sobs erupted from her throat. Her shoulders heaved as her emotion came pouring out. Bronson gave her bottom a few more stinging blows before stopping to stroke her flaming mounds. Her backside throbbed terribly and she winced as he turned her over on his lap. Sniffling, she tried to wipe her tears on her dress, but Bronson produced a handkerchief and pressed it to her face, cleansing her cheeks with a gentle touch as he stared at her with kindness flickering in his dark eyes. The kindness confused her, because she’d thought he was angry with her.

  Yet after he finished wiping away her tears, he gathered her against his chest with her bare bottom still exposed and pressing against the hardness in his trousers. She flushed all over, vaguely aware of what that hardness meant, and couldn’t resist snuggling against him. He’d held her after he spanked her last night, offering her comfort when she was at her most vulnerable.

  “Shh,” he soothed. “Your spanking is over, my sweet.” His voice was so gentle, containing no hint of anger or sternness that she broke down into fresh sobs again. “Come here.” He drew her closer and nestled her head beneath his chin, stroking her hair as he murmured comforting words that calmed the storm raging in her soul.