The Lord's Right (13 page)

He’d told her last night that she
would have new rules, and she’s suspected as much as soon as she
found out she was going to marry him. She’d known from the time she
was a girl that marriage meant the death of her freedoms, which was
one of the reasons she’d carefully remained single. No man wanted a
woman who was quite as uncomfortably wild as she was. Accomplished
in the female arts was one thing. Accomplished in the male arts was
quite another, especially if one was skilled enough to beat one’s
husband at his own games.

She sank down onto the dusty window
cushions, gazing out into the courtyard wistfully. Amber couldn’t
imagine that countesses were allowed to roam the woods at will. She
sniffed. Technically, she hadn’t been allowed to do so for a while,
and disobeying Sir Piers had gotten her most severely punished. But
she would have been content to have endured a thousand punishments
and have gone right back to the safety of her beloved
woods.

But as a countess, she would be more
of a political and criminal target. She could be kidnapped and held
for ransom. No one would have looked at her like that in the rags
she normally wore. Oh, she could use her boy clothes, or even just
the clean but tattered clothes she wore yesterday, but she wasn’t
about to bring any sort of disgrace to Piers’ name. She knew he
thought he had to educate her about these things, and that he must
think she was going to be a distinct liability, with her strange
compulsions and skills, but Amber was determined to be an asset to
him, and she had resolved to be as obedient as she possibly
could.

But she wasn’t at all sure how long
her vow would last when put into practice, but at least she’d made
it, and she would do her level best to stick to it.

If she let herself think about it, and
she rarely did, she was beginning to realize that she was falling
in love with this man, this one man in her life who was strong
enough to exert his will over her, to hold her to account for her
actions, to impose his rules on her and then his consequences when
she chose to disregard them.

She shook her head to clear those
thoughts away. She didn’t want to be in love with him, especially
since he had had a previous love that was lodged somewhere under
their own roof. She wasn’t exactly sure where Mrs. Tulane had
squeezed them in, because as far as she knew, there were no
bedrooms left, but the nasty thought ran through her mind that she
hoped it was above the distinctly odiferous stables.

Amber heard the door being unlocked
and stood, having donned her wedding dress, since it was the only
clothing available to her in the room. She did not want to face him
nude, with the reminders of his chastisement still rife on her
posterior.

Just thinking about seeing her had his
body ready to do that which he hadn’t the time to do, and actually
seeing her had him aching to the point that he thought he would
soil himself as he stood there, gazing at her like some love addled
boy. “You must pack right now. You are to accompany the king and I
to the site of the new castle.” Shaking himself out of his reverie,
he strode into the room.

She was dumbstruck. Home. She was
going home! She flew towards the door, only to be halted by her
husband’s voice from behind her. “Where are you going,
wife?”

Amber stopped instantly and turned.
“All of my things are in my former chamber.”

Piers nodded his head. “You may go. I
will have one of the servants move whatever remains up here while
we’re gone.”

She took a step towards him, saying
calmly, “If I may, I would like to do that. I need to begin to
assume the task of running your household as your lady. Mrs.
Tulane’s been wonderful at it, but that is my duty, and the
servants should become accustomed to doing as I ask.”

He inclined his head toward her. “A
wise thought, wife. Please do so.”

Inordinately proud at his praise,
Amber dropped into a very formal curtsey, saying, “My lord,” before
she turned to leave.

She didn’t make it there before she
heard, “Come here,” and adjusted mid stride to end up at his side.
His fingers cupped her jaw and brought her face to his for an
ardent kiss. “I would more prefer a heartfelt kiss from you on
parting than any graceful curtsey, but I did like the ‘milord’
touch.” He wore a rascal’s smile, and Amber realized he was teasing
her at the end.

She wasn’t quite sure what to say in
return, but dropped an impulsive kiss on his cheek and fairly ran
to the door.

Piers watched quite avidly as she
left, thinking it was nice to see her so happy.

* * * *

Traveling with the king was entirely
different from traveling alone on a horse with Piers. They were
surrounded by a contingent of the king’s guard, who were heavily
armed. Regardless of the fact that the area they were going to was
known to be somewhat insecure, the king liked to ride up front, and
so that was where Piers was, also. Not to be left out, Lady Amber
was right behind him, and, occasionally, when she jockeyed for the
right position, she was next to him, although the men around them
didn’t like to give way to a woman.

They were a huge contingent of men and
horses, with pack animals at the back carrying all manner of
supplies. Amber, of course, had her own pack full of notions and
herbs and powders, as well as her bow and arrows, several knives,
and, just in case she needed them, her boy’s clothes. She was also
wearing a reasonable amount of discrete armament. She liked to be
prepared.

The first day passed with few
remarkable events, save their grand exit, during which Josette
prostrated herself, yet again, but this time at Fitzwilliam’s feet
instead of Piers. Amber made so bold at the time as to lean over to
her husband and whispered in his ear exactly what she was thinking,
“Fickle woman!”

And she was rewarded by his hearty
chuckle. They were both thrown an evil glare by Lady Constance, who
could not possibly have overheard the remark, but who none the less
still thought ill of the two of them, somehow, as if by
default.

Dinner that evening was plentiful
around them, but when the men had their bows out, Piers happened to
look around him and see that his wife had joined the hunting party,
too. He hissed at her to get back to their small camp and see to
the fire, which was what the rest of the men had assumed that she
was doing. He heard her exasperated sigh and knew that she would
much rather have been out hunting with them, but, to her credit,
she did exactly as he told her to do.

Piers hadn’t had a chance to speak to
her about what he expected of her now that she had had such a
sudden change—and rise—in life. He’d intended on doing that this
morning once he’d returned to their chamber, but the king had had
other ideas. He made a mental note that hunting—especially with the
king—was something she wasn’t allowed to do.

When they made it back with a brace of
rabbits, it was to a beautiful fire and the smell of roasting
rabbit. His wife was busily cleaning the skins, and King William
was rhapsodizing about what a marvelous wife he’d gotten in the
bargain. Bruce, who knew that Piers was none too happy with his
wife’s abilities in this instance, piled their kills next to Amber,
who smiled up at him. In a trice, all of the meat was cooked off,
and they probably wouldn’t have to hunt again until the return
trip, plus, once they got home, they would have new furs for
several of the soldier’s beds.

“
Amber, attend me,” Piers
ordered, grabbing a fur and trudging into the woods.

She did as she was told, as quickly as
she could, extracting herself from underneath the skins and
grabbing her pack to follow him, wondering if he’d been wounded
during the hunt and if she was bringing the right equipment to deal
with whatever medical situation might have arisen.

They walked for a good ways. Piers,
who was dealing with a wealth of anger but at the same time having
to wrestle with his ever present desire for her, wanted to be well
away from the king and their men before he spoke to her. Finally,
he grabbed her upper arm and pulled her up against him. “What do
you think you were doing back there? Didn’t I tell you just to tend
the fire?” he hissed.

Surprised, she answered, “Yes, and I
did. But it was taking you so long, I thought you might be having
problems. So I stoked up the fire and went hunting on my own. I
didn’t want the king to go hungry.”

Piers was incensed. “I will provide
for the king, wife. Not you. No more hunting.”

Amber looked crushed.
“Ever?”

“
Not without my express
permission, wife.” He couldn’t take it any longer, reaching for the
hem of her dress and tugging it up, realizing it was one of her old
ones, and noting that he needed to set the seamstresses to making
her some clothes that reflected her new station.

But for the time being, he didn’t care
much whether she was clothed or not—except when she was in front of
other men. Right now, the less she was wearing the better, although
for safety and discretion’s sake, he kept himself in check and
simply made adjustments for himself and lifted her skirt. They were
joined before she could say yea or nay, and it was the first time
he’d encountered her being even the slightest bit dry.

Even so, she sank down on him through
gravity’s assistance, slowly; feeling every inch of herself being
devoured and claimed, and he couldn’t think that that was a bad
thing, despite her low, almost anguished moan and the way her small
fists pounded futilely against his broad shoulders. Amber was the
kind of woman that benefited from the feeling of being overpowered
and taken on multiple levels. And he knew, that during the natural
course of events, she would moisten whether she wanted to or not.
He was going to see to that.

Piers backed her up against a sturdy
oak, lifting her legs around his waist and making sure her dress
was far enough up to expose her buttocks. He reached down to grab
them tightly, partly for grip, to support her and keep her in place
while he pumped into her once, hard, just testing the
waters.

She was still so tight. A newly opened
virgin. His, completely. She would never, ever know another
man.

The thought was nearly enough to drive
him over the brink, but he had something else in mind that he had
to reel himself in for.

When he arched back a bit, pinning her
with his hips and the spike of himself inside her, he could see
that her eyes were squinched closed. “Am I hurting you?” he asked,
genuinely interested in her answer.

“
No, it doesn’t hurt so
much as it aches.”

“
Good ache, or bad ache?”
He flexed his hips and she groaned, back deep in her throat. He had
his answer.

“
Good.”

“
Shh. I know.” Piers
nibbled her neck and the side of her cheek, then arched back again,
his hands still clenching her bottom tightly. “Look at me, Amber,
my flower.”

She opened her eyes, and his face was
very close to hers. His size always startled her, how they were
able to fit together at all. He always loomed so large over her,
and now inside her. She felt as if she was going to burst, she was
so stretched full of him.

“
When I tell you to tend
the fire, that’s what you do.” His hands left her rear long enough
to crack each cheek from the side, hard. It wasn’t an orthodox
position for a spanking, and it wasn’t quite as rigorous as he
would usually deliver, but it would get his point across, as he
continued to fuck her rhythmically. He wasn’t sure how long he
would be able to continue either the lecture or the spanking,
because at some point the fucking was going to take it all over,
but he would soldier on until he was overtaken. He used the thrusts
of his hips, as well as the palm of his hand, to accent certain
words. “You knew when I sent you back that I didn’t want you
hunting.”

She opened her mouth to argue with
him, and earned herself a flurry of swats that rivaled any other
punishment he’d given her. And they mixed with the distinct
pleasure of his possession, of this new sensation of being filled
almost beyond her capability. And he was teasing and tantalizing
her with his body in this new way that had her clinging to him
breathlessly.

She refused to admit that the spanking
added anything pleasurable in the least, despite the evidence he’d
shown her himself in the past. But it did. She knew that those two
very strong responses were warring within her, and that that
rivalry had already paved the way to deepen his possession of
her.

Piers could feel her distress and knew
the moment she had begun to feel her own pleasure—whether it was a
result of their joining or his palm cracking on her rear, or even
the lecture he was delivering. He could feel her tensions release
around him, feel the way slickening, and suddenly he was hilt deep
and unable to speak, spank or think.

He just wanted her.

His hands naturally found the rough
tree trunk, planting themselves there and hanging her from her
knees, leaving her completely open to him as he took his pleasure
with her. And that was what it was. He’d always prided himself on
pleasuring his woman, especially when he knew most men didn’t
bother, but this time, he couldn’t even manage to do that. All he
could do was take her, mate with her, claim her as his own with a
primal scream that he knew the men, sitting around the fire, would
laugh about.