The Lord's Right (16 page)

And the first stroke fell.

Long before the last one, she had
soaked the fur beneath her face. He had blistered her bottom, and
the backs of her thighs, and then the backs of her calves, which
was worse than either of the others, she swore, as they were the
tenderest and the least used to punishment.

But the worst thing he did, by far,
was to have her spread her legs as far as she could and take the
very end of that belt, and slap it down hard on the very delicate
insides of her thighs.

The combination of those two things
was what had brought her to uncontrollable tears.

And in the end, it was his mouth that
soothed her, that kissed the raised ridges of her pain and trailed
wetly up the length of her spine as his hands reached forward,
fingers splaying and claiming as much of her territory as he
could.

Amber wiggled and tried to writhe, but
found her movements severely limited. She couldn’t touch him,
couldn’t move away from him. She was, as he put it quite succinctly
when his mouth finally reached her ear, staying put.

There was something about him that
drove her beyond control. And the better he got to know her, the
worse it seemed to get. Even before his fingers found what they
sought, she knew what he was going to do to her, and her body began
to prepare itself. Her body had already begun submitting to the
inevitability of him—his mastery of her, his control of her, his
domination—even without the consent of her intellect.

It drove her mind crazy that she
couldn’t reel that part of her in and say no, don’t do that. She
felt he shouldn’t be able to do that to her, and yet it happened as
naturally as if it was exactly what God intended, and, of course,
he would say that that was exactly correct.

He loved how wet she got in
anticipation of his touch. It was a point of glory to him, a
trophy, a ribbon. If he could have worn something or toted
something around that said that his wife was constantly wet even
when he didn’t have his hands on her, he would have. She knew the
exact tone of the sigh he would give once those marauding fingers
found their target.

And she still thought of them as
marauding and invading, even though he rarely sought to hurt her
with them, unless he was spanking her. In fact, it was the exact
opposite; he sought to please her much more often than he spanked
her, and it was her own problem that she chafed at that, too, just
as much if not more than the spankings.

It was control. She was controlled by
both the pleasure and the pain, and he knew, expertly, how to
administer both of them, just right, for her.

“
Mmm.”

There it was, and there she was. She
couldn’t possibly think any more. She couldn’t be annoyed or
resentful. She couldn’t try not to respond. It was a lost cause,
and had been, probably, since that first time he’d touched her
intimately. He knew her too well, and her body wanted him above all
else. Above food and air and water, it wanted his hands on her and
his cock inside her.

It wasn’t going to get the latter this
time, but she knew he would bring her to fruition, and that he
would definitely enjoy the fact that she was bound and couldn’t
interfere with his intentions.

Her own body worked against her,
easing the way of the two fingers he worked gently up into her,
taking her from behind with one hand while the other rubbed over
and over her most sensitive part, whispering in her ear things he
knew she liked and hated to hear—how red her bottom was, how strict
he was going to be with her now that she was his countess, how he
couldn’t wait to get her back home where he could attend to her
properly, how he thought that he’d include a punishment room just
off their chambers in the new castle, so that he’d have a place
that wasn’t their bedroom in which to discipline her.

But mostly he described how much he
enjoyed touching her like this, when her hands were bound and her
dress was up to just under her breasts, and there was nothing she
could do to avoid the pain he’d given her moments ago, nor the
pleasure he was inflicting on her now. He understood the dichotomy
that she was: that she had to be in control, but that she needed
not to be sometimes, and that having basic control taken away from
her was very thrilling to her.

He understood, and what’s more, the
usurping of it was thrilling to him, too.

They fit together, almost
frighteningly well, and he intended to exploit that in every way he
possibly could.

Eventually, he would work on making
her control her pleasure, so that she didn’t let go until he
allowed her to, among other things. But right now, he just wanted
her to enjoy herself. She was working herself into a nub taking
care of the leader of their country, and he knew she needed some
release.

“
Let go now, Amber. I want
you to let go. You can scream. We’re well away from everyone. Do it
now, my flower. I have the belt right here. Do it now.” Learning to
release on command was another thing he’d teach her eventually,
too.

When she screamed, and she did, long
and loud, he closed his eyes and absorbed it into himself, not
letting her escape one bit of pleasure, playing her fully to the
end, coaxing every last drop of ecstasy from her body, and then
some, until her legs became jelly and he released her from her
bonds to hold her in his arms and rock her reassuringly.

His own needs presented themselves
urgently, but he ignored them in favor of seeing to her. Piers
carried her back to the cottage, giving her his own small pallet in
the barn to sleep on. He stayed close, making sure no one disturbed
her so that she got several hours of good, solid sleep.

* * * *

It was nearly a week before they were
ready to travel, and the trip home took twice as long as the trip
there, because the king was too uncomfortable to spend long on his
horse. But it was a smaller crew coming home, and they grew much
closer to His Majesty because of it.

Two others had become quite close, and
there had been a small addition to their cozy entourage that Amber
was somewhat unsure about. Bruce and her sister, Starr, had become
quite friendly while the men had been staying at their family home
and watching after the monarch. Amber knew about Starr’s animosity
towards the fact that she had pretty much refused to get married,
but she wasn’t any too happy about the fact that Starr was now
going to profit from the fact that she’d been married—against her
will—to a count.

She supposed she should forgive and
forget, but she knew herself and doubted that that was going to
happen any time soon. So she decided to ignore the situation as
much as possible.

But leave it to her husband to latch
onto something like that. One night, the last night they would be
away from Fordwick, when they were all settled down for the night
and supposedly sleeping, he whispered into her ear, “You and your
sister don’t seem to be very close.”

“
That’s very astute of
you, milord,” she answered, not trying to hide the sarcasm behind
the statement.

Piers reached down and pinched and
twisted her nipple, hard, holding his hand over her mouth as he did
so, so that she wouldn’t disturb the others, especially the king.
“I didn’t ask for a cheeky response, did I, wife?” He still held
and pinched the nipple tightly.

“
No, my lord.”

He released the injured part. “There
are ways to punish you that don’t make a sound, Amber, so watch
your tongue. Why don’t you like your sister?”

She relayed the reasons for their
animosity, explaining that it was much more the other way
around.

“
Well, I meant what I said
about having them come live with us, so I want you to make peace
with her.”

Amber thought, “With any luck, she’ll
be married off by then.” But she knew her husband well enough that
what she said was, “Yes, my lord.”

“
Do you think that she and
Bruce are a good match?”

“
Do you want my real
opinion, or do you want me to say what I think you want to
hear?”

Piers rose up on his elbow, looking
down at her. “I always want your truthful opinion, Amber, but I
always want it delivered in a respectful manner.”

“
I think he’ll have his
hands full. I think that–” she cleared her throat, treading
carefully, “–if he’s as strict as you are, he’ll be fine. If not,
she’ll run roughshod over him in a fortnight.”

“
Wise counsel, as always,
my flower.” He kissed her on the temple, saying, “We best get some
sleep.”

It wasn’t more than three weeks later
that she received a visit from her sister. Only it wasn’t really a
visit, it was more like a confrontation.

“
Sister, what were you,
out of your mind to tell him that I needed to be handled strictly?”
Starr burst into Amber’s chambers one morning when Piers was out
with the men.

Amber rose to what there was of her
full height, which wasn’t as tall as Starr, but she’d come into her
own a bit in the past few weeks. She’d stepped into her role as
countess more, and Starr was just about to learn that.

“
Curtsey when you enter a
room where you find either my husband or myself, Starr. Neither of
us is a country bumpkin, but rather we are peers of the realm, and
we will have that respect from you,” she said, in a tone that
brooked no disobedience.

Stunned, Starr nevertheless did as she
was told.

“
And you will address me
as ‘my lady’ in public from now on, Starr. Sister is fine when
we’re private, but the proprieties must be upheld.”

She was slowly taking the wind from
Starr’s sails. But Starr was no more easily deterred from a point
than her older sister. “Did you or did you not tell your husband
that I needed a strict hand?”

Amber smiled. “I did, because it’s the
truth.”

Starr fairly wailed at that admission.
“Then it’s because of you that I got this last night from Bruce!”
She turned around and showed her sister a bottom that had had very
close attention paid to it by, if Amber had to guess, someone’s
very broad palm, and then something probably leather—a strap or
belt. The backs of her thighs weren’t ignored, either, and the
entire of her backside looked fairly dreadful.

“
Dear me. It must be quite
painful to sit down.”

“
It’s all your fault!” she
cried. “Bruce said that I needed to be taken in hand, and that, if
we were going to be married, that he was going to take his
husbandly duties—all of them, especially the ones having to do with
chastising his wife—quite seriously.”

By way of answer, Amber rose, and
lifted the beautiful green tunic her husband had bought her in
Sunder, and showed Starr the results of the chastising she had
received from her own husband recently. “This was from night before
last, for sassing him and forgetting to say ‘my lord’.”

Starr put her hand over her mouth and
wept openly. “How do you stand it? It’s much worse than when father
did it!”

This was dangerous territory, as far
as Amber was concerned. What worked for herself and her husband
wasn’t necessarily going to be right for anyone else. “Do you like
Bruce?”

“
Yes, yes, I
do.”

“
Do you … desire him in
your bed?”

“
What do you
mean?”

Sighing exasperatedly, and realizing
she was going to get nowhere with Starr, she gave the girl a
sweetmeat and sent her to her chambers, which had recently been
vacated by Josette and Lady Constance, who were on their way with
the newly created Earl to claim his territories.

And not a moment too soon, either.
Amber had been instrumental in hurrying them on their way when
she’d found Lady Constance beating one of the servants. She’d
happened on them in the corridor on her way to her chambers. Her
husband was waiting for her after the evening meal. She could hear
someone crying in distress and hurried her steps, only to see that
the person in distress was one of the young maids, and the distress
was being caused by Lady Constance, who was wielding some sort of
leather thong and beating the girl about the back with it quite
mercilessly.

Amber wasn’t about to abide that
within her household. If anyone needed beating, she would do it,
and if that meant it wasn’t likely to happen—which it wasn’t—then
that was her problem to deal with, as she was in charge of the
household. Disarming Lady Constance was like taking candy from a
baby. It was obvious that no one had ever confronted her before,
because all Amber had to do was walk up and take the thing from
her.

The look the old biddy gave her was
priceless. She stopped in mid stroke, wondering where her implement
had gone, until Amber brought it down three times, hard, on the old
lady’s back, to see if she liked it herself.

Then she pocketed the implement and
helped the maid to her feet, quite ignoring the huffing and puffing
that Lady Constance was doing. Amber made sure that the maid was
all right. She gave her a coin from her own allowance, and sent her
to her room for the rest of the evening.