The Lord's Right (17 page)

Lady Constance had turned to open the
door to her chambers, but Amber twirled her around and gave her
what for, telling her that she was, under no circumstances, to ever
lay a hand on any of the servants, villagers, peasants, animals,
birds, visitors or vermin anywhere within a ten mile radius of de
Montforte land, or there would be a lot more than three strokes of
the leather coming to her, and they’d be delivered by Amber’s own
hand.

Of course, Amber had lived to regret
what she’d said—and done—to the old woman. Luckily, the king was
already gone, but he was sure to hear of it eventually. She was
also a peer, and Amber couldn’t go around assaulting fellow peers
willy-nilly.

But she defended herself that night,
after Lady Constance had come whining to her husband about the
bruises on her back, however faint. She wouldn’t even let Piers
look at them, due to modesty, so they were probably nonexistent,
anyway.

Piers was beginning to wonder if the
excitement ever ended with his new bride, as he came to stand at
the end of the bed and rub his eyes and sigh.

Amber leaned up against the head of
the bed, pulling the furs around her chin, wishing he wouldn’t look
at her that way. “But she was beating the girl for no reason! She’d
just brought her the wrong kind of cheese. There’s no such thing.
Cheese is cheese!”

The bad thing was that he agreed with
her. Not that he could let her know that. He didn’t like other
people stepping in for him. He would never countenance anyone else
disciplining his wife but him. Anyone else who laid a hand on her
would be killed as soon as he found out about it.

But this was different, and Amber, as
altruistic as her motives, needed to learn to rein them in
sometimes, and apply different measures, especially those that
didn’t involve smacking old ladies with titles.

“
Come here.”

He was gratified to see that she had
learned to obey him, instantly, almost always. There were still
some times when she hesitated, but those were few. And he could see
that there were more times when she wanted to hesitate and didn’t,
but those were fewer still. Usually, she came to him when he asked
her to.

She came into the circle of his arms
quite willingly, even if she knew she was to be punished, and he
found that gratifying to no end. It felt like he was doing
something right for her, as if she was acknowledging it without
having to acknowledge it, which he knew would be a very hard thing
for her to do.

“
You have to be punished,
you know,” he murmured against her hair, which smelled like the
English sunshine and flowers, as it always had.

“
No, I don’t. I’m right!
Why should I be punished when I’m right?”

“
Because it’s not right to
hit old women.”

“
It’s entirely right to
hit old women, who are hitting younger women.”

“
Amber.”

That tone meant that the argument was
over, and he had declared that she had lost, even if she didn’t
think she had, she had to stop arguing with him about it. It was a
very unsatisfactory outcome, as far as she was concerned, mostly
because she knew that the next step was a spanking.

And it was.

Having called her to him, he hugged
her tightly, then carried her back to the bed. She gave him a
quizzical look, but he just shrugged his shoulders and said, “I
changed my mind.”

She was already naked, which he pretty
much required when they were alone in their chambers, and he lay
her right across his lap, which was a position he didn’t use very
much, although he enjoyed the level of intimacy it afforded.
Usually, what she’d done called for a more serious level of
correction. And it could be argued that this did, also, but he
wasn’t of a mind to agree with that, probably because if he had
come upon that scene instead of Amber, he might just have done much
the same thing, only he might not have stopped at giving the old
biddy only a few strokes of her own medicine.

So he was happy that she’d been able
to keep it down to only a few licks across the old wench’s back.
But still, she needed to know that he wasn’t happy with her actions
overall.

“
You understand why you’re
here, don’t you, my flower?”

Amber sighed. “Yes, milord. I
shouldn’t have strapped Lady Constance, despite the extreme
provocation.”

That was about right, and she’d
managed to say it without sounding sarcastic.

Piers had taken to running his hand
over her bottom and back possessively. Jesu, her skin was like
silk. He never tired of touching her. There was just something
about her, about the fact that he could reach out in the middle of
the night, under the pile of furs, and pull her against him, and
claim her body with his, and she was always receptive, her skin was
always warm and pliant and she was moist and hot and–

And if he didn’t stop thinking about
such things, she would end up well fucked instead of well
punished.

The spanking was administered with the
flat of his broad palm, and each swat made her catch her breath as
if he was using a strap instead. It had been a few days since she’d
been punished—probably the longest stretch since they’d been
married, actually—and her bottom had returned to its normal creamy
white color, which pinked immediately on the first round through,
then down the backs of her thighs, which had her kicking her feet
high, lifting her legs, first right then left, depending on the
cheek the swat landed, always one behind.

One heavy leg over those calves solved
that dilemma, though, but had her whimpering like a kitten and
Piers chuckling at the sound. His wife didn’t often whimper, except
occasionally, when he was pleasuring her.

As an afterthought, he commanded, “Put
your hands out in front of you, and don’t move them, or this’ll get
worse.” If she behaved, this wouldn’t be very bad at all. But
whether or not she would behave during a spanking was a big
question with Amber.

He snorted. Whether she would behave
at all was a big question with Amber.

He brought that luscious skin from a
rosy pink to a deep rose, then beyond, just watching it change and
listening to her trying to absorb the pain, doing her best not to
react, as well as trying to keep her arms out in front. She was
doing an excellent job, and he knew she needed some kind of reward,
beyond the one that was inevitable from him, so he made a mental
note to send someone to bring the rest of her family to live with
them. They were going to end up in the new place anyway, and he
knew that it would make her very happy to have them with her, and
maybe it would ease the tensions between the two
sisters.

It did, to a certain extent. Da and
Faine arrived not long after Starr barged into Amber’s room. Amber
spoke to her husband as soon as she could about how he needed to
speak to Bruce about introducing the complimentary element to
punishments, which he didn’t seem to be doing for Starr, who wasn’t
very enchanted with just the punishment aspect.

And her husband wasn’t very enchanted
about the idea of having to broach that subject with his friend. He
wasn’t at all sure how to go about it. Amber told him she wished
desperately that she could be a fly on the wall to hear that
discussion between those two brawny men. Especially Bruce, who
tended to be a bit shy around women in the first place, and she
could imagine that he would be that way around men, too. He never
really said much of anything to anyone, and she could feel Piers’
sincere discomfort at the mere thought of having to discuss this
topic with him.

But he must’ve done something right,
because they were betrothed within the next month and married the
customary forty days later, in the great hall with all of the usual
celebrations that followed.

Since they were motherless, Amber took
it upon herself to speak to Starr the night before her wedding the
way Mrs. Tulane had tried to talk to her, only she hoped she would
be a bit less embarrassed and a whole lot more
informative.

Starr’s chamber was a lot smaller than
hers, but she’d done it up nicely with tapestries and flowers.
Since they weren’t the best of friends, it was unusual for Amber to
be there, but nonetheless, she sat down next to Starr on the bed
and patted her hand.

“
I don’t know where you
are with this, so I’ll just say it. I’m not making any judgments or
assumptions. You’re going to be married tomorrow anyway. But if you
have any questions about what goes on in the marriage bed, I’d be
glad to answer them for you.”

To her surprise, Starr began to
giggle. “Sister, I was going to ask you if you had any
questions.”

“
Well, I guess that’s
that, then.” Bruce must have taken his talk with her husband to
heart, then. When she reached the door, Amber turned and asked,
“Are you happy, then, Sister?”

Starr shook her head vehemently. “Yes,
I am. Are you?”

“
Oh, yes.”

“
Then we can count
ourselves two very lucky women.”

Amber grinned and laughed. “With two
very lucky husbands.”

With her family around her, and the
castle coming along, and a husband that watched over her lovingly,
Amber fairly bloomed in her new role. She took a lot of the strain
off Mrs. Tulane, who was able to go back to her gardens full time,
with the eager help of the mistress of the house, who made some
makeshift changes for the time they were there to keep them
comfortable until they could move into their new abode.

Later the next year, they received a
congratulatory dispatch from the king himself when their first
child, a son, William Piers Bruce de Montforte, was born and named
after the king. Piers was to be granted a new title—he was now the
Duke of Montforte, having been given the title, in part, due to his
wife’s successful efforts at saving the king after he was attacked
by rebels.

The night after they received the
news, Piers held his wife and his baby in his arms, feeling the
weight of them in his arms and his heart. He was, indeed, a very
lucky man to have found such treasures amidst such
enmity.

The words "spanking" and "discipline"
have always sent a shiver up Carolyn Faulkner's spine.

She knows she's not alone.

Writing started as a way to explore
her feelings. Soon short stories flowed from her pen featuring
reluctant heroes taking the leading lady in hand, but always for
her own good.

Today Carolyn is the author of dozens
of books. She writes from her home in Maine, where she lives with
her husband and leading man.

You can read an interview with Carolyn
here:

http://www.blushingbooks.com/blog/?p=175

You may check out her website while
it’s under construction here:

http://www.carolynfaulkner.com

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