HealingPassion (15 page)

Juliana looked stunned and more than a bit dismayed. “It is
true,” she said. Bracing herself once again, she added, “I have admitted my
guilt. It is for you then, Sir Thomas, to impose a sentence.”

“So I shall, and you shall have your punishment. But the
right to designate the time and place and method belong to me, and I do not
choose to do so here and now.”

Her expression changed to a startled frown. For a moment it
appeared she might protest, but then she shrugged and said, “As you will, my
lord.” Around him people cheered and clapped.

She stopped to look around the room, not sure how to react
to the relief being expressed. Finally she sighed, shrugged, and said, “We’re
done here. I thank you for your presence. Return now to your work.”

William Randolph sought her out before he left the room.
Thomas stood close enough to hear him thank her for sparing his son’s life.
“He’s young, and has much to learn yet,” the man said. “He’ll grow out of his
foolishness.”

Juliana nodded agreement. “Let us hope today’s lesson helps
him understand his folly and the need for more thought before he acts.”

They followed others out of the room, but Thomas went with
Juliana to the small office. As they walked toward it, he asked, “What did you
think to learn yourself from the punishment requested?”

She pondered on that a moment. “I sought no lesson, as I
think that already learned, but only atonement.”

“You feel the need of it?”

“Aye.”

“Your people would not be happy about it. ‘Twas clear from
their reactions that many of them already carry their own guilt and sorrow for
you. ‘Twould disturb them too much to see you suffer more, no matter how much
you think you deserve it. You shall have your atonement, but in private,
administered by me. Go now to your chamber, undress to only your shift, kneel
on the floor, and wait for me thus, meditating on your sins.”

He saw the flash of fear that crossed her face, followed by
acceptance. She wanted to ask what he would do, but hadn’t the nerve or thought
she didn’t deserve to know.

“I’ll await you,” she promised.

Chapter Thirteen

Juliana hurried to her chambers, threw off her cloak and
overgown, removed her leather slippers, and rolled off her stockings. Then she
knelt on the stone floor, off the colorful, woven rug in the center of the
chamber, to await him. She did indeed meditate on her sins and prayed that
somehow they might be granted a way out of this mess into happiness. If not for
the two of them together, then she pled for Sir Thomas to at least find peace
and contentment. But she couldn’t help adding her pleas that they be allowed a
future together as husband and wife.

After a few minutes, she began to worry about how long he’d
make her wait and what he would do when he arrived. Not so much how he would
punish her; she expected him to respect her need for atonement and chastise her
well. Rather, she wondered what would come after. Would he turn her over to the
king and wash his hands of her? Or would he still want her for his wife? How
could he reconcile his conscience with it if he didn’t bring her before the
king?

Her thoughts made her restless and unhappy, but fortunately
he didn’t keep her waiting overlong. Because she faced the door, she could
watch him enter. A solemn, almost grim, expression set his handsome face in
hard lines. In his right hand he held a leather belt and several pieces of
fabric that looked like lengths of silk.

“Lady Juliana, stand up,” he ordered. The words were stern,
untempered with compassion or care.

She got to her feet and stood before him.

“Remove your shift.”

She felt her eyes widen and the hot color rise into her
cheeks, but she did as he ordered, pulling the shift over her head.

He looked her over dispassionately. “You confessed your
guilt for your lies and deception, offered your repentance, and expressed your
desire for atonement. I’m here to deliver your chastisement. I warn you, ‘twill
be harsher than what you would have ordered for yourself. You’ll get a whipping
with my belt on your bare flesh. No set number of strokes, but I’ll continue
until I feel it’s enough. You’ll no doubt think it enough well before I do.” He
stopped and shut his eyes for a moment, as though fighting through pain. “Do
you agree to this?” he asked. “I’ll not force it on you if you don’t think you
can bear it.”

“‘Tis no less than I deserve,” she answered. “I do agree.”

“One thing more. You may stop it at any time if you find it
beyond bearing. Just tell me to stop, and I will.”

She nodded, but part of her wished he hadn’t offered her
that chance. There might well come a point when pain weakened her resolve and
she begged for it to end.

He moved her to stand at the foot of the bed, facing it, and
tied each wrist and each ankle to the posts on either side, so she stood
spread-eagled and helpless. He fastened another length of silk around her head,
over her eyes. She heard the sounds of him walking around, then a moment of
stillness, followed by an ominous hiss of leather moving rapidly through the
air. But it didn’t strike.

Instead he asked, “Are you ready, my lady?”

“Aye, Sir Thomas.”

This time the hiss was followed by a loud crack as the
leather smacked against her bottom. A jolting shock ran through her, stunning
her, but then the fiery burn seeped in behind it. She gasped and wiggled as the
sting dug deep into her flesh.

The second stroke came quickly after, lower down on her
bottom, painting a ribbon of fire across both cheeks. She moaned as the burn
spread into her gut and set her insides aflame. A third stroke dug into the
sensitive skin where bottom met thighs.

He continued to pepper her with slaps of the leather on her
bottom and thighs for some time. Though it burned with a deep, rending fire,
she suspected he wasn’t using anything like all the strength of his arm.

She tried to keep still, but her body reacted without her
will’s consent, wiggling and squirming, trying to avoid the fiery strokes. The
silk ties that held her in place didn’t chafe the skin, but they held fast and
gave her little range of movement. For a time, she had more success in
suppressing any outcry after that first gasp.

As each lash laid another painful stripe, she questioned
herself for wanting this. She didn’t. It was horrible. It hurt almost
unbearably. But it was just. She’d sinned, and a young man had suffered far
more pain than this as a result. And a part of her rejoiced that Thomas
understood and respected her enough to do this for her, and do it properly.

But when the next whack landed harder than previous ones,
across the tops of her thighs, all such thoughts fled. It took all her
attention to stop a yell from escaping. The burn lit up her skin and worked its
way into her blood, spreading all over her body, down to her toes and out to
her fingers. The next few were just as hard, and after a few more, she was
sobbing and struggling fiercely within her silken bonds.

She jolted in surprise and dismay when he changed direction
and lashed the strip of leather across her shoulders. A furious sting broke out
in a new place, washing her body with renewed fire. She gasped again and
whispered, “Oh, God.” It reminded her why she wanted this. A series of
Ave
Maria
s and
Pater Noster
s helped her endure the next few strokes, all
crossing her shoulders and back, lighting the flesh with blazing pain.
Eventually, though, she could no longer concentrate on the prayers.

The leather returned to her derriere, raking over skin
already grated and burning. She sobbed aloud, struggling to keep from begging
him to stop it. Between that and her efforts to keep from screaming aloud, it
took a long time to notice something else strange going on. The deep smoldering
burn from the welts left by the strap combined with the fire of each new strike
to send heat spiraling into her gut and down farther still. It roused a
pressure of need like to what she’d experienced before when he more gently
stroked her to climax. Her quim swelled and moisture seeped from it.

Yet it didn’t lessen the pain or make the sizzling agony of
each stroke easier to bear.

He kept whipping her, moving down her bottom to her thighs
and back up again, each lash rousing new fires, jolting her with even more
unbearable anguish. The silk blindfold became soaked with her tears. More gasps
and even an occasional soft shriek fought past her effort to keep quiet.

Her earlier recognition that he didn’t use all his strength
was vindicated when he whipped the belt across her derriere even harder than
previously. She arched as far as she could within the bonds, and a wailing
squeal poured out of her. The fire consumed her, melted her, destroyed all
control. “Please…” She stopped herself just short of begging him to stop it.

He heard the words, though. The rain of blows halted. A soft
step approached and his breath came loudly. “Please?” he asked. “Would you have
me stop it? Do you think you’ve been punished enough?”

She sobbed and had to clear her throat before she could
talk. “Not my will in this, but yours, my lord.”

“Ah.” That one word held both surprise and recognition, but
recognition of what, she couldn’t guess.

‘Ten more,” he said. “But these will be harder. You’ll not
be able to keep from screaming, so I’m going to stop your mouth. You’ll not be
able to beg me stop, so I ask you now to say yea or nay to this.”

Her breath clotted in her chest as sheer, raw terror poured
waves of ice down her spine and along her limbs. She wished she could see his
face. Wished she could touch him or ask him to give her some reassurance, some
comfort. But that was not for her, not now.

“I agree, my lord.”

For a moment, all was quiet, save for the sound of his
breathing and hers. Odd, that his seemed almost as ragged and stretched as her
own. Then he moved. Footsteps crossed the room and came back.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered.

When she did so, a piece of silk was pushed in, and another
tied around her head to hold it in place. Bizarrely, it occurred to her to
wonder where he’d found so much silk in such a short time.

“Get ready.”

She braced herself. But when the leather struck her back,
nothing could have readied her to receive it. It was liquid anguish, poured
over her and set ablaze. She groaned in agony, but the fabric in her mouth
smothered the sound. The bed must have been built solidly and the knots in the
silk bonds securely tied. Her wild struggles would have torn them apart
otherwise.

Two more strikes across her shoulders felt as though they
raked skin from the bone. The fiery burn sent her into a frenzied writhing
accompanied by a wild sobbing that leaked past the fabric gag as small squeals.

The fourth stroke, hard across the already raw and burning
flesh of her bottom, took her beyond any control. Her scream would have shaken
the keep had it not been contained by the fabric. Likewise, she would certainly
have begged, pleaded, even ordered him to end it. The fifth likewise felt as
though it flayed strips from her derriere.

The next two went across her thighs and burned as though a
torch had been laid on them. Pain had her thrashing mindlessly, screaming and
praying for it to end.

But she had to endure three more sizzling, rending strokes
on her bottom before it was over. By then she had screamed herself out and sunk
into exhaustion. The last lash almost didn’t register, as though her ability to
feel pain was so full, it could no longer function. A strange, floaty sensation
had taken hold by then.

She heard, but didn’t comprehend, the small clatter as the
leather strap was flung against the wall. When Sir Thomas removed the bonds
from her wrists and ankles, she would have collapsed to the floor if he hadn’t
held her. Her legs had no strength. He held her against his chest as he pushed
the sodden blindfold from her eyes with his free hand. She blinked once or
twice then stared into his blue eyes, riveted by the depths of love, concern,
and compassion there.

“Juliana?” he asked after he’d removed the silk binding her
mouth and pulled the soggy fabric out.

The one word held a world of meaning. Was she all right?
Could she hear him? Was she overwhelmed? Did she hate him? Want him to leave
her? With all the pain, it still brought another hurt to hear the fear in his
voice.

She sought to reassure him in the same way. “Thomas. Thank
you.” She snuggled against him. It comforted her and soothed her aches to feel
the warmth of his skin, the clasp of his arms as he held her against him.

He carried her around the bed and settled her carefully on
her side. “‘Tis done now,” he said. “The lies and the deception are behind us.
You’ve paid for it in full and from now it is forgiven and forgotten between
us.”

The fiery burn of welts across her back, bottom and thighs
still ached fiercely, but she nonetheless felt relieved of a burden on her
spirit. Not all was removed, but for the moment, her befogged mind could deal
with only the one issue. Sir Thomas forgave her and would put it behind them.

She reached out and took his right hand, pulling it in
toward her breasts, and holding it there with all her remaining strength. Then
she drew it to her mouth and kissed it.

“You should rest now,” he said. I’ll make your excuses at
dinner. Will you need some of the pain tincture to help you to sleep?”

She couldn’t help staring at his face, and especially his
eyes—so blue, so bright, so full of love and concern. It was a salve more
effective than any she knew. “Nay, Sir Thomas, I’ll take no medication. I’ll
rest now, but I beg you wake me at the dinner warning bell if I do not so on my
own.”

“You needn’t, my love. ‘Twill be difficult for you to sit.”

She smiled at him. “But I must. Half the household will have
guessed why we’re closeted in my quarters. They need reassurance that I’m neither
badly injured nor devastated in spirit.” She sighed. “I believe I will require
a pillow, however.”

He laughed gently, and it did her heart good to see it. “If
you insist, I’ll sneak in early and set pillows on your chair.”

“I would appreciate it. Will you lie with me a while? You
surely are in need of a rest yourself, and it would comfort me to have your
arms around me.”

His smile was like sunshine after a storm. “Aye, if it won’t
pain you.” He walked around the bed and lay down behind her. She was too exhausted
and sore to roll or turn to look at him, and though it caused some pain in her
back when he slid an arm under her neck, she nonetheless relished the joy of
his touch enough to ignore the discomfort.