The Knight's Seduction (2 page)

“He is a fair and kind master,” Penrod piped in.

He smiled at his squire. “Thank you, Penrod.”

The lady flushed. “Sir, I did not mean to question your suitability. I am sure you would make a most chivalrous husband. I just cannot marry a man.”

“Do you love another?”

“No, sir,” she exclaimed, so quickly that he had no doubt of the veracity of her words.

“Well, look around. If you see another man you prefer, I will release my claim.” His teeth clenched as he spoke the last words.

She cast her eyes out to the bailey, but gave her head a small shake. “Please, I will go as your servant, but I do not wish to be a wife. I will serve in your kitchens, or wherever you have need of me.”

He frowned. “No. You are a lady and you will be treated as such. You will come as my wife. Enough arguing, now. You are freezing out here. Let’s gather the rest of your things before they are taken like your harp,” he said, grasping her elbow and propelling her toward the door.

“Sir Barrett,” Penrod said, trailing behind. “Should I look for a wife?”

“I don’t know, Penrod,” he said, as they stepped down the spiral staircase. “It seems to me like you have just discovered the fun of rolling a serving girl in the hay. Are you sure you’re ready to care for a wife? It’s a big responsibility, and one I would not allow you to do poorly.”

“Why did you decide to take a wife now? You always said you wouldn’t.”

He felt Daisy’s eyes on him, waiting for the answer. “I would not trust her keeping with any of the other men,” he answered lightly. He couldn’t explain the other reasons because he didn’t understand them yet, himself. Daisy was special—he’d known it the moment he laid eyes on her. She was a bundle of contradictions—a refined lady who shot a bow and arrow and played the harp. His attraction went beyond her beauty or her courage. Perhaps it lay in the combination of it all—along with the underlying vulnerability that made him want to protect her to the death.

“Where is your chamber?” he asked when they arrived at the base of the stairs.

She darted a nervous glance at him and swallowed. “Over here,” she said, leading him to the main floor, then up the stairs of another tower. She opened the door to what must be the maiden’s room, an expanse of six pallets and trunks lining the floor. “This is mine,” she said, pointing to one of the trunks.

He shook his head. “We cannot bring the entire trunk. You’ll have to pick your favorite things and a dress to change into now.” Because he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her walk through the castle in those leggings. He’d be beating the men off her.

She opened the trunk and took out a few dresses, hair combs, and ribbons. “Is this too much?” she asked.

He left one of the dresses for her to wear and picked up the rest of the bundle, handing it to Penrod. “Take these and the harp. Wait outside the door.”

Penrod obeyed and Daisy stood looking at him uncertainly. She held the dress up to her torso. “Do you have to—would you mind turning around while I change?”

He lifted his eyebrows. She’d have to get used to showing herself to him sooner or later, but he didn’t have to push the point now. Folding his arms, he turned his back and began to remove his own armor. He heard a rustling, then a gust of cold air hit his back. Whirling, he saw her head disappearing as she climbed out the window.

He cursed and dashed to the window just as his lady screamed.

Daisy had lost her grip and clung to the windowsill by just the fingertips of one hand, her legs kicking wildly below her. Before he could grab her wrist, her fingers slid and she dropped. She screamed again and caught the water spout, which she clung to with both arms, her legs thrashing.

He snatched her up by the armpits and hauled her inside, his heart thundering. She’d nearly died there. The idea that she risked her life to escape him disturbed him. She had courageously defended the castle, but she seemed particularly afraid of marriage.

She shook in his arms, her breath coming in gasps.

He sat down on a chair and held her on his lap. “That was foolish,” he said mildly, stroking her back to quiet her.

“Yes,” she agreed in a shaky voice.

* * *

Sir Barrett’s arms enveloped her, his enormous body dwarfing hers. It felt odd and not altogether unpleasant to be held as if she were a small child. She did not look at Sir Barrett but she could feel his breath against her neck.

“I ought to punish you,” he murmured.

She stiffened as her imagination took flight. That’s right. Despite his courtly manners, he had laid claim to her. Unless she escaped, he would become her husband and master. How would the huge knight choose to punish his wife? What things would he punish for? Would he thrash her? A mixture of fear and something else slithered in her belly. Her entire body grew prickly and warm despite the open window.

She needed to make him understand she could not be a wife. She could not offer her body up night after night for that horrific act. She looked at the door, but remembered his squire stood just outside. Sir Barrett had dropped his armor and sword by her door, but a dagger hung from his belt, just within her reach. Could she use it on him? She doubted it. She shivered and he lifted her to her feet.

“Get dressed now, lady. We must to get on the road or we’ll not make it to Rothburg by nightfall.”

He moved to close the shutters to the window, which still stood open.

Desperation took hold. Without a plan, she lunged forward and snatched the dagger from his belt.

He whirled, his hand flashing out and snatching the dagger. He grasped her arm and slapped the flat of the blade to her backside. “Now you most certainly earned a punishment,” he said, not sounding the least bit angry or even disappointed that she had just attempted to threaten his life. In fact, he seemed almost amused.

Dropping the dagger into his scabbard, he picked her up by the waist and carried her back to the chair. She caught a look of merriment in his eyes just before he tugged her across his thighs and lifted her tunic up her back. His huge paw clapped down on her upturned backside and she jerked, closing her mouth to the squeal that rose to her throat. He applied his hand four more times then created a new panic in her by yanking down her leggings to expose her bare bottom. She struggled against his hold, but he held her fast with an arm around her waist.

He picked up spanking again, slapping one cheek then the other in rapid succession. “We’re going to have a hard time together if you insist on trying to kill one or both of us,” he remarked, sounding quite calm considering how hard his hand connected with her stinging cheeks.

“I wasn’t going to kill you,” she said, as sulky as a child. Her initial gratitude at being punished with nothing more than his hand faded as her buttocks grew sore under his continued assault.

“No? What were you going to do, my lady?”

“I know not! I just—”

He chuckled, his hand still slapping a steady rhythm. “I enjoy your pluck, little one. But you’ve proven yourself dangerous. I will have to bind your hands until I’m sure you won’t kill me or run off.”

She wiggled and bounced, trying to dodge his hefty palm.

When she kicked her legs, he said, “You earned this spanking, little one. Lie still and take it or I’ll use my belt instead.”

She froze, crossing her ankles together and squeezing them to keep from moving. The strange, squirming sensation in her belly returned. “Please,” she cried. “Please, just let me go.”

“Go where, sweet lady? I will gladly free you if you can prove to me you have a place to go where you will be safe and well cared for. Do you have such a place?”

She moaned. Of course she had no such refuge. And her poor bottom burned as if on fire now. More than that, she wanted out of the humiliating position. She imagined the picture she made with her leggings around her thighs and her bare bottom angled up for his view. And could he see… the other?

“Forgive me!” she cried.

He stopped spanking and lifted her to stand between his knees. “I do forgive you, little one. I know you’re just frightened about what your future will hold,” he said. “But I still cannot allow bad behavior to go unpunished.”

She could not bring herself to look at him, her eyes dancing around the floor. Her face burned nearly as much as her bottom. She bit her cheek to keep her lips from trembling. It would be foolish to cry from a simple hand spanking. Still, she did not know how to act after the humiliating punishment.

Fortunately he did not demand she answer to him eye-to-eye. Instead, he bent down and pulled her leggings to her ankles, then wrestled them off over her boots.

She tugged down her chemise, which had been tucked inside her leggings, trying to cover her intimate parts.

He stood and pulled her tunic off over her head, leaving her in just the chemise. “Bring me your dress,” he said. He sounded perfectly businesslike, as if stripping and dressing women was an ordinary activity for him.

Her face still burning with embarrassment, she darted to the trunk and picked up her gown. She didn’t bring it to him, though. Instead, she pulled it over her head as quickly as possible, anxious to cover her body. She sensed him behind her and whirled.

He picked up her wrists, one of her ribbons dangling in his hands. “Hold them together for me,” he said.

She considered resisting, but realized she wouldn’t succeed, and her bottom already smarted enough from the spanking. She didn’t want another one. She took deep breaths, trying not to panic as she held her hands out.

He wound the ribbon around and around.

She stood on trembling legs, her emotions brewing just beneath the surface. She hardly knew what to think or how to act after that spanking. She certainly wished it had never happened. Part of her wanted to curl up and cry, the way she had as a child, but that was foolish—it hadn’t hurt that much. Still, she felt quite chastised—ashamed of her foolish and desperate actions. She also experienced a curious fluttering sensation in her stomach. Not fear so much as… something else.

Her bottom clenched just looking down at the knight’s large hands. She stole a glance at his face. He had a rugged appearance with a large head and strong, square jaw. Smile lines around his eyes and mouth softened the look. He wore a bear claw on a cord around his neck and his barrel chest rippled with solid muscle under his tunic. Her skin prickled at being so close to him. Or was that his heat burning right through her dress to warm her skin?

He wrapped the entire length of ribbon before tying a knot.

At first she thought it might be easy to escape a simple ribbon, but he’d fastened her wrists so securely she could not twist or wiggle them at all. Grinning at her, he bent forward at the waist and caught her hips with his shoulder, heaving her up like a sack of potatoes.

“My lord,” she exclaimed. “Please… this is entirely undignified.”

“Sorry, lady,” he said, striding toward the door. “You gave up your right to be dignified when you tried to climb out that window.” He opened the door and stepped out in the corridor. “And you gave up your right to the free use of your hands when you reached for my dagger. For now, you must resign yourself to being at my mercy. And if I were you, I would remember there are consequences to your actions.”

His squire fell in behind them, looking amused, but Sir Barrett growled, “Not a word, Penrod.”

“Of course not, sir,” the young man said, his expression turning blank as he hurried to keep pace.

Chapter Two

For a man who had not come looking for a woman or wife, Barrett’s sense of victory at claiming Daisy soared as he carried her out. He loved everything about her, from her misguided courage to the way she’d turned docile when he chastised her. And oh, that spanking…

His mind had been seared by the sight of her bare buttocks bouncing under his hand and the humility with which she’d stood before him afterward, unable to meet his eye. She would be easy to correct, as a wife. Her defiance had been sparked by fear, not pride. Once he earned her trust, she’d be tame as a kitten. Not that he minded her misbehavior or additional opportunities to correct her.

The castle priest stood by the portcullis, performing brief marriage ceremonies for each couple departing. He dropped Daisy to her feet and stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her and covering her bound wrists as they faced the priest, simply out of respect for the church.

The priest looked grim, as if he did not approve of the task given him, but knew no better option. He cleared his throat. “What is your name, sir?”

“Sir Barrett.”

“Sir Barrett, wilt thou have Lady Daisy to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

He rubbed Daisy’s arms to comfort her trembling. “I will,” he answered solemnly. He worried what would happen when Daisy refused her half of the vows, but the priest wisely skipped the lady’s part altogether.

“Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder. Bless our brother and sister, oh lord. We pray for your guidance that Sir Barrett may honor his vows until death parteth him from his wife.” With this pronouncement, the priest fixed him with a beady stare.

He quirked a smile. “My vow is true.”

The priest placed a hand on Daisy’s head, his brows knit with concern. “May God watch over you and protect you as you begin your new life.”

“Thank you, Father David,” she said, her voice sounding choked.

“I will watch over and protect my wife,” he said, more gruffly than he intended.

A line of couples had gathered behind them. Lord Gallien of Minrova held a reluctant lady’s arm and appeared to be reasoning with her. Daisy cast an anxious look over her shoulder.

“She will fare well,” he assured her. “Lord Gallien is a well-bred and chivalrous knight.” He lifted her into his arms, cradled baby-style this time, and carried her to where his small troop had gathered.