HealingPassion (7 page)

“Tell me when you think you’ve learned to obey,” he said.
That would leave it up to her to decide when she’d had enough and give her a
way to let him know.

It surprised him when it took almost two dozen more spanks
before she finally sobbed and said, “I believe I’ve learned the lesson, my
lord.” By then her derriere was growing quite rosy, shading into red in places,
and in truth, his hand was getting sore as well. She was one strong-willed
lady.

He rolled her onto her back, keeping his eyes resolutely
away from the cleft between her legs where he longed to explore, and instead
gathering her into his arms. Unshed tears glazed her eyes, making his stomach
twist in dismay.

“Juliana, did I hurt you? ‘Twas not my intention! I thought
you understood, ‘twas all a game. You could stop it whenever you wished.”

“I know that, Thomas.” A grin made the tears still washing
her eyes sparkle. “I did not want it to end too soon. It hurt, a little, but
not so much. And it was very…exciting as well. The hurt seemed to change as it
sank in and became something else.”

“Ah, that’s as it should be. And, now, my lady, as you’ve
submitted your will to me, I have one more thing to show you.” He set her back
down on the bedcovers and leaned down to kiss her. His cock was so swollen it
hurt to move, but he forced himself to ignore it. He licked across her lips and
invaded the hot, sweet depths of her mouth, until she reached up and dragged
him down, forcing him to stretch out next to her with her legs and chest
against his.

He allowed it for a few minutes, then backed away and slid
down the bed. As he did so, he ran his tongue down her throat and along her
chest until he reached a breast. Making gentle circles, he licked around the
right one, moving higher until he finally reached the tip. She squealed loudly
when he licked across the nipple. He repeated the sequence on the other breast,
tonguing the peak until she all but sobbed. With a gentle suction, he drew the
tip into his mouth. The taste of her was sweeter than molasses, the texture of
her skin finer than the smoothest pudding.

When he moved to the other side, she threaded her fingers
into his hair and held onto him. The pressure in his groin beat so ferociously
it took every bit of his will not to let it loose on her. When he knew he could
take no more, he backed away and slid off the bed.

Her eyes widened and she looked puzzled. He came back and
kissed her temple gently, then handed her the robe. “Enough for tonight. This
is a feast not a snack, so we’ll take each course in its time.”

“As you wish, my lord.” Her tone sounded the regret she
refused to put into the words.

“‘Tis better this way. Trust me.”

“Aye,” she agreed. “Then we’ll meet again tomorrow night?”

“Save you do not wish it.”

She laughed. “Oh, I’ll wish it, Thomas. I wish it now more
than I can say. But… Tomorrow night, it should be your turn to submit to me.”

He turned to her, stunned at first, then feeling a laugh
rise inside as it sank in. She wanted to play this game as much as he did. His
joy in it struck so deep he almost spent on the spot. Fortunately he managed to
contain it long enough to help her back into her robe and escort her down the
hall to her solar.

His men weren’t in sight, thank heavens, as he raced back to
his chamber after kissing her one last time at her door. He got inside, bolted
the door and settled back onto the bed, freeing himself of his clothing as he
crossed the room. The bed groaned as he fell across it, a hand already pumping
at his raging cock.

With the memory of Juliana’s glorious, bare body fresh in
his mind, the sweet taste and texture of her still pleasant on his tongue, her
soft moans and squeals ringing in his ears, he wanted to make it last. But he
couldn’t take it slow. The force of his need refused to be contained. The
pleasure rolled over and through him like a tidal wave, sweeping all his will
and need before it. Three strokes of his hand up and down his cock and it
spurted seed onto his hand and chest.

The relief was as enormous and welcome as the need had been
hot and raging. He rested, spread across the bed, until he had his breathing
back under control and he thought he could walk again. He felt a little guilty
and a little foolish, but he could no more have stopped it than he could hold
back the wind.

After a while, he got up and rang for the servants to clean
up. How long a mourning period would be demanded, he wondered, once he
delivered his report concerning the likely demise of Lord Groswick? How long
before he could wed Juliana and make her his own in every possible way?

Chapter Seven

Juliana got through most of the morning without anyone
noticing, or at least commenting on, how distracted she was. She dealt calmly
with a dispute between a pair of crofters, a complaint by one of the
dairymaids, a crisis in the kitchens over tallow for candles, and the discovery
that mice had gotten into the linen closet.

No one reacted oddly to her or treated her any differently,
so they likely didn’t see the profound change within her, or the conflict
tearing her apart.

Whether he knew it or not, Sir Thomas was laying siege to
her heart, and she feared he wouldn’t have to fight very hard to win command of
it. She didn’t know what to do about that. It felt both wonderful and agonizing
at the same time.

Aside from her silly days back when she was eleven or twelve
and had a crush on her stepfather’s squire, no man had ever captured her
interest this way.

She had long yearned for someone to love her in the way
she’d heard of in stories told by minstrels and bards. Like most young girls,
she’d adored listening to the tales of brave, handsome knights performing
valiant deeds and rescuing lovely maidens who won their hearts. She’d quickly
grown out of believing in such tales, but a secret yearning for it had lingered
far back in her mind, even as she’d come to realize the only one who would
rescue her from anything was herself.

Sir Thomas came dangerously close to being her fantasy
knight, with his handsome looks and noble carriage. His kind heart and sense of
humor completed the picture of a valiant and noble knight. He deserved better
than the heartbreak she would bring him.

She was no beautiful, innocent maiden. Perhaps once she had
been. But now she had ugly scars marring her face, thanks to the man who should
have been her lord and protector. Worse, she had ugly stains on her soul as
well.

She should stop whatever bloomed between herself and Sir
Thomas before it turned to hate, as it would when he learned the truth. Was
there any way out of this? Any way that wouldn’t cause him heartbreak and pain?

“You were looking for me, my lady?”

The voice interrupted her uncomfortable musings. Juliana
looked toward the door. “Peter, aye, I need to speak with you.”

Among the servants and freemen, especially the female ones,
Peter Randolph, the bailiff’s son, displayed the cocky swagger of a barely
restrained peacock. In her presence, though, he acted more subdued.

“The night he arrived here, someone fired a crossbow at Sir
Thomas. I know you train with some of the other young men in using the
crossbow, so you likely know who it was. I don’t ask you to tell me, but I do
ask that you make all aware I will not have Sir Thomas or any of his men
injured or worse. Another such attempt will force me to take stronger action.”

She studied the young man’s face. His expression had slipped
into a combination of fear and resentment.

“Will you tell all and be sure they understand how much I
mean it?”

Peter nodded jerkily. “But, my lady… He is a danger to you.
He’ll learn what happened and report it to the king.”

“Perhaps he’ll learn the truth, and he’d likely report it to
the king if he does. But if that happens, I’ll face it. I’ll not have anyone
hurt or killed to prevent it happening.”

“My lady, it’s being told about that you shared his bed.”

Her blood fired with a combination of embarrassment and
anger. Her voice was harsh when she answered. “Should I have done so or not,
‘tis no concern of yours.”

“Aye, my lady, ‘tis true. I beg your pardon.” He made an
awkward attempt at a bow. “We fear for you, my lady. No one here would have
anything happen to you.”

“I know that. But some things cannot be prevented. And some
should not. Many things remain to be settled yet, and I know not how all of
them will finish. I do know this, however. If Sir Thomas or his men are harmed,
my conscience will never again know any rest at all. It will destroy me. And I
will, I assure you, learn who did the deed and see them punished severely.” She
drew a breath and looked at the young man. “Let that be known to all.”

He nodded, but there was still a mulishness about his expression
that made her fear—for Sir Thomas, for herself, and for him as well.

“Aye, my lady. If I may be excused?” The boy bowed and made
his exit.

Juliana got up and paced across the room a few times. A
series of thunking sounds outside drew her to the window to watch the
men-at-arms practicing in an enclosed court at the far end of the bailey. The
noise she’d heard was the sound of arrows hitting wooden targets. An admirable
number of them protruded from the wood, as only a dozen or so men practiced.

Closer to her window, another group watched as Sir Thomas
demonstrated some technique of sword use. Given that he seemed to move in a
fairly normal side to side manner, she couldn’t guess what he showed them. The
men, however, paid close attention, and several mimicked his motions with the
blank wood swords they used for practice.

Then he showed them something involving a lunge. The sun
glittered off his hair, turning it a bright gold color. He moved nimbly, with
an agile grace surprising in a man who was taller than all but one of those
gathered around him. The others attempted to mimic his action, and Sir Thomas
moved among them, offering a word here, changing the angle of an arm there.
Occasionally he exchanged a few words with one. The positions of their bodies
told her the conversations were friendly and the men showed him considerable
respect as well as good humor.

He would be the perfect lord for this keep—a man others
admired and respected. An honorable, noble man. One she felt sure would treat
justly with all to the best of his ability. And as he was an intelligent and
very determined man, his ability should be considerable.

Perhaps they could continue to keep him in the dark about
Lord Groswick’s fate. Let him report to the king that Groswick remained missing
and was likely dead on some foreign shore. Would the king make him baron of
this estate as reward for his service? Give him her hand in marriage? If she
made it clear she wished it, was it not likely?

She rested her head against the side of the window as she
watched Sir Thomas walk among her men-at-arms, now showing them something
involving a staff. These were good people who served them here. They’d suffered
too much under Lord Groswick’s heavy-handed rule and deserved better. They
deserved a lord who would care for them, nurture them, protect them, and help
them to a better life.

What did she deserve? She knew all too well the answer to
that.

Juliana drew a long breath and tried not to sob as she let
it out. She found a shawl and all but ran down to the chapel, which was empty
at this time of day.

She sank down on a kneeling bench, praying and weeping at
the same time. Her prayers were a muddled mix of pleas for forgiveness, for
help for the people of Groswick, for peace for her mother, for Sir Thomas’ safety,
and guidance in what to do next.

Only one answer came to her, and it was of limited use. She
could have a peaceful future here, if Sir Thomas would go away and not come
back. It would be a lonely, empty time, made meaningful only by the necessity to
do her duty for the land and people. If she wanted Sir Thomas in her future,
however, she would have to be honest with him. He deserved that, even though it
might indeed cost her his love. She couldn’t live a lie with him, knowing he
might—surely would!—someday learn the truth and have to make the agonizing
choice of what to do about it.

She needed time, however. She couldn’t tell him yet. Not
until after her mother had passed to her rest. Of course even if she didn’t
tell him, he might not go away, and he might well find out what she’d done.
What would he do then?

What she needed more than anything else, though, was
strength. Strength to do what had to be done, and when it had to be done.
Before she left the chapel, she said a pair of
Ave Maria
s and
Pater
Nosters
under her breath, begging for the courage and will she would need.

As if to mock her agony, on her way out of the chapel, a
pair of servants came to tell her a company of entertainers had arrived and
begged leave to perform for them that night. Her heart squeezed. How could she
bear to watch the antics of tumblers and jugglers when she was torn so? Yet, it
would bring pleasure to her people, and in that she found comfort and
satisfaction.

“Bid them come in and be welcome,” she told the servants as she
went to consult with the weavers over needed linens.

Late in the afternoon, Sir Thomas found her in the kitchens,
consulting with the cook over the use of a deer one of their hunters had
brought in. She finished and went with him to her office to hear his report.

“Your defenses are not so bad as you fear, my lady,” he said
when they were private. “You have a decent fighting force, though their
training is not as sharp as it might be. They’re also somewhat young.”

“A few years ago Groswick made an abortive raid on one of
our neighbors to the north. It cost us many of our men.”

“That was poorly done, unless he truly had reason to think
he could conquer.”

Juliana shrugged. “I know not. In truth I think he felt he
needed to prove something. To his men, perhaps.”

“Your captain is a competent leader and has a sensible
approach to manning the fortifications. I made one or two suggestions to him
that I expect he will employ. He’s not as strong at training the men, though.”

“I saw you demonstrating some moves to them earlier. ‘Twould
be well if you could stay for a time to train our troops. I believe you have
the gift of it, Sir Thomas.”

His expression went serious. The glow faded from his blue
eyes. “Juliana, it would give me great pleasure to do so. But that decision is
not mine. I have a mission to perform. When that is done, I hope to be able to
return. To you and to your keep.”

“It would please me.”

Perhaps fortunately, the warning bell for dinner sounded at
that moment.

Juliana could barely eat for the nerves tightening her
stomach, yet at the same time she wished it would end all the quicker than it
did. Further interaction with Sir Thomas of the sort they’d been having was
dangerous—to her heart, her soul, and her spirit. But she’d more or less
promised him this night, and she couldn’t go back on her word.

The cooks provided a superb dinner of stewed venison so
savory the aroma had her near to drooling before they began to eat. The taste
lived up to the promise of the smell, with meat and vegetables tender enough to
give easily when bitten, but not cooked mushy, and seasoned to perfection.

A day spent demonstrating fighting techniques and teaching
her men to perform them put Sir Thomas in a high humor.

“Your cooks have done themselves proud yet again, my lady,”
he said after tasting the stew. “If the quality of the meals denotes the
quality of the management of an estate, yours is among the best.”

“Perhaps it does. Or perhaps it just signifies that we are
fortunate to be blessed with such a talented head cook.”

“A blessing indeed. I have a great, empty cavern in my
stomach waiting to be blessed with this wonderful food.”

“Is your stomach then a worthy chapel to contain such
blessings?”

“I would not claim it so on my own. But with God’s grace,
aye, I believe it to be. Certainly it is eager to claim the blessing, so it
will do whatever is necessary to be found worthy. Needs it your benediction as
the lady of the keep?”

“I am not worthy to confer blessings of any sort, and only
count myself fortunate for what little grace comes my way.”

His gaze on her turned momentarily serious. “A great deal of
grace resides in you, my lady, and flows from you at every word and every
turn.”

“Nay, my lord. ‘Tis no false modesty when I say I can make
little claim on any grace.”

“You need make no claim, my lady. ‘Tis already a part of
you.”

He would continue to say sweet words to her and flatter her
throughout the meal despite her efforts to deflect him.

Once the meal had concluded, the troop of entertainers began
to perform.

The group consisted of six men ranging in age from a youth
no more than fifteen or sixteen to the leader, who was likely in his late
thirties. They were good. So very good, in fact, that for a while even Juliana
lost herself in amusement at their antics. The tumblers formed elaborate
structures of human limbs by climbing all over each other and balancing in the
most impossible positions. They bounced all around the hall, doing flips and
cartwheels, handsprings and handstands. They rolled along benches, somersaulting
the entire length of the plank, did handsprings over the tables and headstands
on them.

They clowned as well, interacting with the people present.
One lithe, handsome young man circled the room, kneeling or bowing before every
woman in the place, making sheep’s eyes at her, or presenting her a stiff cloth
folded into various amazing shapes.

The audience laughed and clapped and had a marvelous time.
Children screamed and cheered. Parents had to restrain rambunctious youngsters
from attempting the same feats they’d just seen performed. Juliana’s mother
laughed until the tears streamed down her face and she struggled to get her
breath again.

Seeing her gasp, Juliana would have called halt to the
entertainment, but her mother would have none of it. “Nay, my dear,” she
insisted even as she strove to take a breath. “It has been far too long since
we’ve had such merriment. In truth, I cannot remember ever hearing laughter
such as this in this hall. Let it go on. I’m no worse than usual and I feel the
joy lightening my soul.”

Juliana nodded and acceded to her mother’s wishes.