The Knight's Seduction (7 page)

She practiced on a target, day after day, until the squires stopped teasing her. Later, when she grew older, she took up hunting and trapping—always alone, though many a squire offered to accompany her.

A bell rang for dinner, and Sir Barrett appeared beside her, offering his arm like a gentleman. She almost asked if he intended to tie her wrists again, but bit back the impulse in time. She did not want to suggest it if he had decided it was not necessary.

He swung one leg over the bench in the dining hall and tugged her onto his lap.

She winced, squirming at the soreness.

“Do you prefer the hard bench?” he asked in her ear, mistaking her squirming as an attempt to free herself.

“Yes, I do,” she said, her stubbornness rising.

He pushed her off his lap and she grunted at the impact of her raw flesh with hard wood. Ridiculously, she found she missed his lap. Not because of her sore backside, but because she suddenly felt quite alone in a totally foreign environment. As much as she’d hated his manhandling, he’d made it easy for her to fit in at Rothburg. Her place had been simple: she belonged to Barrett. Now she sat facing the rest of the high table, seeing the curious faces for the first time.

She remembered the prince, Barrett’s half-brother. Beside him sat a pretty woman who must be his wife, the princess. A dozen other men and women sat at the high table with them.

“You’ve untied her,” one of the knights remarked.

“For the moment,” Barrett said, cutting a piece of meat and placing it on her plate.

“He’s really not a complete ogre,” one of the ladies-in-waiting said, looking sympathetic.

“How would you know?” Sir Barrett shot back, breaking a chunk of bread off the loaf and splitting it between their plates.

The poor lady became flustered, as if Sir Barrett had suggested she had carnal knowledge of him. “I wouldn’t know anything like that!” she exclaimed and everyone at the table laughed.

“Daisy, you are welcome to join us in the spinning room after the meal,” the princess offered.

“Not today, thank you,” Sir Barrett answered for her. “I cannot trust her to roam about unsupervised.”

The princess looked puzzled. “Why not?”

“She’s shown a propensity to try to either kill me, kill herself, or make an escape.”

Everyone at the table stared at her, and she flushed. She wanted to deny it, but of course, it was true. Now they probably all believed her to be half-mad. She shot Sir Barrett an angry look, and as usual, he grinned. Catching her nape in his large palm, he tugged her head forward and planted a kiss on the top of it. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he murmured so only she could hear.

God help her, she wanted only to crawl up into his lap and let him comfort her. She truly must be going mad.

Chapter Four

Barrett locked Daisy in his room after the midday meal. She looked so tired after eating, he didn’t want her to go back outside and work. She protested a little, but he showed her that she would have a view of him from the window and if she wanted to come out after resting, she could call to him.

When he returned to the solarium, he noticed a great many people loitering about in the tower stairwell and on the landings. At his doorway, he discovered the reason: the most beautiful music emanated from his room.

Smiling, he unlocked the door and slipped inside. Daisy sat on the bed, the harp between her legs, her fingers dancing along the strings and the sweet honeyed notes of her voice rising to match the music.

She did not notice him at first, but when she did, she abruptly stopped playing and stood up.

“Please don’t stop.”

She looked peevish. “Is it time for supper?” she demanded, ignoring his request.

“Yes,” he said. “Are you hungry?”

She looked away, toward one of the windows. “Please do not lock me in here again,” she said stiffly.

He frowned. “Why did you not call to me, as we arranged, if you wished to come down?”

She stalked past him, toward the door.

He caught her about the waist and hauled her back against his front. “Answer me when I speak to you,” he murmured in her ear.

“I felt foolish, all right? Your men already think I am fodder for their jokes—”

“That is not true,” he said, then amended. “Or perhaps I should say I will not allow any jokes at your expense.” He turned her in his arms, distressed to see tears glinting on her eyelashes. “Little wife,” he said, cupping her chin. “I would flatten any man who insulted you.”

She blinked rapidly, meeting his gaze and swallowing.

“You are my wife, subject to my rules and punishments like every wife here at the castle. If the men enjoyed our public difficulties, it is only because you are so beautiful and they are unused to seeing me attend to a woman. I’m certain they love seeing your fire as much as I do.”

Her lips moved, then closed again. She swallowed. “My fire?”

He showed her the swollen bite mark on his hand. “Aye, your fire. Tell me, which is more exciting to watch—the training of a new colt, born in captivity, or of a wild stallion?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying I’m a wild stallion and you’re taming me?”

“Well, mayhap a mare,” he said with a grin.

She rolled her eyes. “I thought you said you weren’t trying to break me?”

He chuckled. “So I did. And I meant it. I am trying to woo you, little bride.” He grasped her braid and tugged her head back, nipping at her neck. “And I will not stop before your heart is won.”

“My heart or my body?” she asked drily.

“Your body already belongs to me,” he reminded her, traveling up her neck to take her earlobe into his mouth. “The little matter of our consummation will soon be settled. Nay, it’s your heart I aim to capture and keep for my whole life long.” He touched his fingers to the fluttering pulse at her throat. “I think that excites you.”

She pulled away, stumbling back. “No, sir. It does not. I assure you, men do not excite me.”

He gave her a wolfish smile. “I’ve never seen two women together, but it might interest me to watch.”

She gave him an effectual shove. “I’m not interested in women, either, you boar!”

He laughed. “Mind your manners, or I’ll have you over my knee before supper. In fact,” he said, scooping her up by the waist and carrying her kicking and thrashing to the bed. “Let’s see how your little bottom fared after that thrashing I gave you this morning.”

“Stop,” she squealed. “No more spanking! No, please!”

“Good,” he said, wrestling her to his lap on the bed. “I’m glad you’ve finally learned to fear my punishments.”

“Stop it, you oaf.”

He delivered a slap to her wriggling arse. “Now I am an oaf? I wasn’t planning on spanking you, but if you keep it up, you will soon be sorry.”

“What are you doing?” she demanded, craning her neck to look over her shoulder. “Not… the other thing?”

“What other thing?” he asked, hiding his smile as he pushed her skirts up to reveal her pert, round bottom. He ran his roughened palm lightly over her skin. She bore marks from the whipping that morning but it did not look quite so tender as it had hours before.

Daisy had stiffened, her struggles ceasing as she lay over his thighs, panting, seeming to wait to see what he would do.

He took his time, lightly stroking her baby-soft skin, tracing circles around her twin globes, trailing his palm down the backs of her thighs. After a moment, he smelled the scent of her arousal. He pulled one of her thighs open and lightly brushed a finger along her slit.

She jerked and tried to close her legs, but he had anticipated her move, and held her thigh open.

“You’re wet for me, Daisy,” he murmured.

“I… I don’t even know what that means,” she said.

“I know, love. You don’t know anything about passion yet. But I will teach you. Little by little I’ll win your trust until you believe that what I offer you is something altogether different than what you’ve known.”

“Please,” she pleaded, sounding distressed.

He gave her bottom another pat and pulled her skirts down. “Let’s go down for supper,” he said, lifting her to her feet.

She hurried to the door without looking at him, but to his satisfaction, did not open the door. She stood facing the exit, waiting for him.

He smiled. Either she feared going out without him, or she was growing fond of him. Probably the former, but he’d take what he could get.

* * *

Sir Barrett had a bath sent up to his room after supper. To Daisy’s annoyance, the same serving wench from outside, Margrite, was one of the women who carried up buckets of warm water. She paced a small path near the window where she’d watched her…
husband
all afternoon. It seemed impossible she could be married, and yet Father David had pronounced them man and wife. She now had a husband. She belonged to Sir Barrett.

How odd that the thought did not distress her nearly so much today as it had the day before. The bedding part, yes. She still did not want to have anything to do with coupling, not even the electrifying things he had done to her the night before. But she liked Sir Barrett, despite it all. He had spanked her—three times already. He had tied her wrists and made a spectacle out of feeding her on his lap. He had locked her in his room like a prisoner of war and yet… she could not hate him. She could not even dislike him. In less than two days’ time, he’d already become familiar to her. Here at Rothburg, he was the only person she knew. But more than that, she felt close to him. As close as she’d felt to her sisters, God rest their souls. He knew her darkest secret, after all.

Margrite and her cohort clomped into the room again, carrying two more buckets, which they emptied into the wooden tub in the center of the room. “Is that enough for you, my lord?” Margrite asked.

Sir Barrett looked at the water level. “Yes, that should do. Thank you.”

Margrite set her pail down and sauntered over to stand far too close to Sir Barrett. “Would you like us to bathe you, my lord?” she asked in a sultry voice.

Sir Barrett smirked. “No, I have a lady wife for that now,” he said, tossing Daisy a wink.

“Are you sure?” Margrite asked, her voice dripping with honey. “We could show her how you like it…”

“Out,” he said, making a shooing motion with his hand. “Go on, move out. I am married now, and your flirtation offends my wife.” He did not seem angry with the wenches, though, only amused.

It irritated her even more to think he offered that same patient amusement with all of her antics. Mayhap she was not special to him at all, but just a female who offered a challenge for his seduction. She folded her arms across her chest and glowered at him when they left.

“You cannot be angry with me for the girls I tumbled before we were married. I will not be unfaithful to you unless you drive me completely from our bed.”

A cold, sinking sensation took hold in her abdomen. It was the answer to her dilemma—the way to be rid of his amorous intentions. And yet, the idea of him lying with another made her almost dizzy with nausea.

She looked up to find him studying her. “You are actually considering it, aren’t you?” he asked, sounding offended for the first time since she’d met him.

She hesitated. Lying would only earn her another trip over his knee. She shook her head and turned away. “I’m just—confused,” she said, which was truth.

“Fair enough. Come here, little wife and learn to serve your husband.”

She walked to him and knelt at his feet, unlacing his boots.

His large hand tangled in her hair, mussing her braid. He lifted the plait and cut the thread securing the end with the blade of his dagger. “Unwind your hair,” he said, his voice deepened.

She closed her eyes, breathing. Why did such a simple command have an effect on her body? Her breasts had grown heavy, the nipples tight and achy. The now-familiar swirling sensation had taken flight in her belly. Her fingers shook as she unwound the braid until her blond hair fell across her shoulders in thick waves.

Sir Barrett pulled off his tunic and undershirt, revealing his chiseled muscles. She had never found men appealing, but the mere sight of his chest made her heart pick up speed. Something about the power so evident in his naked form made the muscles clench between her legs in a mixture of fear and… what? Desire? Surely not.

She scrambled back and lurched to her feet, away from him when he pulled off his leggings. It may have been better to stay close, because now she had a clear view of his manhood, standing straight out like a jousting rod.

She must have shown her shock, because he grinned and covered it with one fist as he stepped into the tub. “Don’t be afraid of it. I’ll never take you before you’re ready.”

“Before I ask, you mean,” she said.

“Yes, that, too. But I mean after you’ve asked, when you’ve given yourself wholly to me. I still would never let it be difficult for you.”

Panic at the topic only added to her confusion. “I-I’m afraid I do not understand you, my lord.”

“Come over here,” he said.

The last thing she wanted to do was get closer to his naked body. But they had made a bargain, and if she wanted him to uphold his end, she had to keep hers. She came two steps closer.

He patted the floor beside him. “Right here. Kneel by my side and wash me.”

Bubbles of fear fizzed inside her but she obeyed, lowering to her knees and picking up the scrap of linen. Her hands refused to touch him with it, though. She just remained there, frozen by his side, staring into the water at his enormous cock.

“Wash me,” he commanded, his voice a shade more stern. She pushed up her sleeves but he shook his head. “Take off that gown or it will get soaking wet.”

It was a reasonable request, but it made her heart skitter around in her chest like a rabbit on the run from a hawk. She stood up and peeled off the dress, praying he would not also ask her to remove the chemise. Lowering back to her knees, she dipped the cloth in the water and dabbed his knee with it.

Sir Barrett’s beefy arm snaked around her waist, the heat from his flesh seeming to scald her. “Higher,” he murmured.