The Warrior and the Petulant Princess (3 page)

“My bottom hurts,” she whined.

“I know, my sweet Lizbett, as it should. Your bottom should be made hot on a regular basis. You need strong, loving discipline.”

“I’ll be good now,” she vowed shifting back and lifting her eyes to meet his. “I will, I swear it.”

“You feel that way now, but in a little while, a day, a week, you will be petulant and stubborn again, your temper will blaze, and then you will need to be reminded, and that reminder will be in the form of punishment.”

“But I won’t, honest.”

“Oh, Lizbett, if only that were true,” he sighed, “but we will not speak of this further. There is something else that needs attention.”

“There is?”

“Yes, there, is,” he purred, and moving his hand to the back of her head he clutched a fistful of her long, curly, red hair. “Close your eyes.”

She could feel her heart pounding and the delicious hot wetness surging between her legs. His lips brushed against hers, and uttering a moan of hungry need she surrendered her mouth, sinking into his kiss. The flippity flip transformed into a thousand butterflies as her arms moved around his neck, urgently clinging, and when he finally pulled back she let out a choked cry.

“Larian, I have missed you so.”

“Lizbett, such a heartfelt, honest confession. This is the real Lizbett and I am so happy to see you. I have missed you as well, very much. I could not write, I was far away, immersed in my education, but now that is over. Now I am here to speak to your father, about you and me, but only if you want me to.”

“Oh, I do,” she breathed.

“It will mean many spankings, Lizbett, all kinds of spankings.”

“But I will be good, Larian, you won’t have to spank me.”

The comment sent a broad smile across his face and he kissed her lightly.

“I’ll do other things as well, all sorts of things.”

“Like what?”

“Tie you up, blindfold you, make you kneel in supplication before me.”

A gentle shiver rattled down her spine as a fresh surge of sexual energy swept through her body, and her entire being began to tingle.

“Larian.” she whispered, “I want you. Do what you will.”

“Then we will ride back to the castle and I will speak with the King. He is expecting my visit.”

“You wrote to him but not me?” she frowned.

“I told you, I wanted to surprise you.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right.”

“Do I detect a little petulance from my Princess already?”

“No, no,” she said quickly.

“Will you be able to ride?” he asked releasing her from his hug and sitting up.

“Um, yes, I think so, maybe a bit uncomfortably,” she replied feeling oddly shy.

“I’m pleased that this will be the last time I’ll be seeing you straddled in such an unseemly fashion,” he remarked standing up and reaching for her hand.

“I do prefer riding the way men do,” she sighed as she rose to her feet. “It’s so much easier.”

“Perhaps there is a compromise,” he offered putting an arm around her and walking them back to their horses.

“There is?”

“In public, you will ride in a way that befits your station, as both a woman and a Princess, but when we are alone you will be permitted to ride as you like.”

“Larian, that’s an excellent suggestion. I approve.”

“You approve?” he grinned down at her.

“I do,” she declared.

Taking hold of Scarlet’s reins he handed them over to her.
You have much to learn, Lizbett, and learn you shall.

CHAPTER THREE

A
s they approached the castle the guards in the turrets called for the drawbridge to be lowered. The moat’s baby pink water that appeared so inviting was lethal should anyone attempt to swim across; the pink was created by an algae that stung any living creature, man or animal, to its death. Though the times were peaceful, the King had created that peace through strength, but in so doing had made some vengeful adversaries.

“There is nothing so inviting as a King who has not been beaten,” he’d once told Lizbett. “Treat the populace fairly, be generous and merciful, and if the Kingdom is ever in jeopardy they will rise to your aid, not side with the enemy.”

Handerah was in his court listening to gripes and offering advice to those fortunate enough to have been granted an audience. He opened his doors often, and regardless of their reason for wishing to be heard he would listen patiently, then treat the visitor to a sumptuous buffet after their consult.

But the King was no fool, and lurking in the crowd were trusted servants who listened to the conversations, determining if there was dissent and taking note of any praise. Handerah loved his Kingdom and its people, and he knew it was important to keep an ear to the ground so he could address any unrest quickly, whether by a strong hand or a generous one. The unknown spies in the crowd was only one of several covert methods he had in place to remain informed; his rule was stable and he intended to keep it that way.

Though Larian didn’t know the details of Handerah’s methods, he was aware of the King’s strong but loving leadership, and how deeply he was respected and admired by the neighboring realms and noble families. Many had tried to emulate Handerah’s style but he was unique; it wasn’t just what he did, it was how he did it.

For Larian, however, Handerah was a puzzle.

How could a man so indomitable, have failed to raise his daughter with the same caring but unconquerable will? How was it that the beautiful Princess had ended up such a pampered, petulant brat?

As they entered the courtyard the stable hands rushed to help her, but as she slid off her saddle and petted her mare the young men hung back, their heads bowed.

“You may take her,” she finally decreed.

Tholl had lumbered out to oversee things and recognized Larian immediately.

“Larian, look at you. What a man you’ve become,” he exclaimed, “and what a steed you have.”

“This is Thunder, because that’s what he sounds like at a full gallop.”

“I can well imagine,” Tholl grinned. “Larian, I am so proud. I’ve heard tell of your many achievements.”

“What achievements?” Lizbett interrupted. “Did you win some contests?”

“Thank you, Tholl, and it’s marvelous to see how well you look,” Larian replied ignoring Lizbett’s inquiry.

“Thank you, may I take your horse? What a beauty he is.”

“Yes, please, he’s had a long journey. He needs water, as much hay as he wants and a soft bed,” Larian said pulling a large cloth bag from the side of the saddle.

“He shall have it all,” Tholl promised with a slight bow of his head.

“Larian,” Lizbett interjected again. “By achievements does he mean contests? Did you win some contests?”

“No, Lizbett, not exactly,” Larian patiently replied, and slinging the bag over his shoulder he placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her to the door that would take them inside the castle. “I might tell you what Tholl was referring to later.”

“Might? What do you mean, might? I insist.”

“I thought you said you were going to be a good girl,” he remarked raising his one eyebrow.

“I will, I am, I’m just-”

“Being pushy and rude,” he finished. “My audience with your father is in a short while and I’d like to freshen up. He’s expecting me to stay at least a couple of days. Who should I speak with about my accommodation?”

“Oh, that would be Delina. She’s in charge of our guests, but I’m surprised. Only important people stay here in the castle. My father invited you? For two days? I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain, but not right now,” he said firmly. “Where can I find her?”

“She’ll probably be in the receiving room.”

As they walked through the wide, opulent passageway, everyone they passed lowered their eyes, and if they were in conversation they stopped speaking as Lizbett passed by. It seemed to Larian they were afraid of her, and he wasn’t very pleased with the look in their eyes when their gaze dropped as she approached.

At the end of the hallway was a large, arched double door, and pushing it open Lizbett gestured for him to enter. An older but handsome woman was seated behind a large desk, and stood up and smiled as he moved towards her.

“You must be Larian,” she smiled. “First, may I say what an honor this is. The King has spoken of little else since he received your letter, and The Queen was deeply disappointed that she is missing your visit. She was so looking forward to seeing you.”

“Thank you, Delina. Yes, I would very much have enjoyed meeting with the Queen. She is a remarkable woman.”

Lizbett listened to the exchange in complete bewilderment. Larian may have improved his station in life, but Delina was carrying on as if he was a noble, and to say her mother was sorry to have missed him was very strange. Her mother met with the royalty of other Kingdoms all the time, and did nothing but complain about the chore. Larian had been a mere stable boy when he’d been there in his youth; none of what she was hearing made any sense.

“Which is his chamber?” Lizbett asked sharply. “He’s tired, he’s been riding for…well…a long time. He needs to-”

“Lizbett,” Larian said quietly, dropping his head and catching her eye, “I’m perfectly capable of speaking for myself.”

Though unsure whether Delina had heard the discreet reprimand Lizbett felt a flush of embarrassment, and nervously ran her hand through her long, red hair.

“I will ring for the boy to show you the way,” Delina smiled, and moving to a rope hanging from the wall she gave it a sharp tug. “There are refreshments waiting for you, Larian. Some billberry wine, some of our wonderful breads, and a few other foods you might find appetizing. Ah, here he is. Boy! Show our guest to Chamber Five.”

Lizbett stared in wonder. Chamber Five was their finest guest apartment, and held in reserve for the most important of visiting dignitaries. Before she could comment the boy hurried forward, and with a strength that belied his size, threw the bag over his shoulder just as Larian had done, then stood waiting, staring at Larian for his cue to move.

“Thank you, Delina. Will I be seeing you later?”

“Yes, Larian, at the dinner the King has arranged to welcome you,” she replied.

“That’s very kind of him,” Larian remarked. “Then I shall see you there. Boy, if you would, please show me to my chamber.”

“Yes, Sir,” the boy nodded.

Lizbett stared at Delina for some kind of clue, but she was already back at her desk with her head focused on some papers in front of her.

Father has arranged a dinner to welcome him? What is going on? I knew there was a banquet tonight, but for Larian? First I’ve heard of this.

Though Lizbett was anxious to speak, to ask a thousand-and-one questions, Larian’s quiet scolding was keeping her tongue still, but she was determined to interrogate him the moment they were alone. As she caught up to him in the hallway he lowered his lips to her ear.

“You will come into the chamber with me and stay quietly. You will not speak until I ask you to. Understood?”

“What? Why?” she muttered.

“Understood has only two possible answers,” he quipped, “neither of which I heard.”

“But-”

“You have one more chance to answer correctly.”

“Oh, uh, yes,” she mumbled.

“Yes, what?”

“Uh, yes, Larian, I understand,” she whispered.

A trembling warmth was flooding her sex, and as they moved up the few steps to the landing that would lead into Chamber Five, she felt a sudden weakness and leaned against the wall for support. Larian, with a knowing look in his eye, smiled down at her.

“Lizbett? Do you need help?”

“No, I’m fine, just a bit…uh…I’m fine,” she stammered.

The boy had already entered the room and was placing the bag on the low trunk at the foot of the bed.

“If you’re fine, then please go in ahead of me and sit down,” he said softly. “I don’t need you fainting, but the rule still applies. You will not speak until I give you permission.”

“But why?” she mumbled.

She was rewarded with a smile and a shake of his head, and with a swift move of his hand he grabbed her elbow and began to shuffle her inside.

“I can manage,” she said curtly, but when she attempted to pull her elbow from his grasp she found it impossible.

“Thank you, boy, that will be all.”

The boy had been standing next to the bag with his eyes downcast, and with a quick nod he hurried out the door closing it behind him.

“Would you please let go of me and tell me who you are?” Lizbett demanded. “I mean, who you are really? Why were you working here as a stable hand if you’re someone so important? I don’t understand any of this.”

Dropping her elbow Larian moved across to the door and checked that it was locked, then returning swiftly to his bag he withdrew what looked like a horse’s bit, but it had thin leather straps on either end.

“You are a very naughty girl,” Larian declared walking towards her. “I gave you a simple instruction and you not only chose to ignore it, you began questioning me as if I was one of your servants.”

“I have a right to know about-”

“You will sit, immediately,” he growled, “unless you want me to turn you over my knee again, and bare your bottom for more punishment.”

“You wouldn’t, not here, not in the castle,” she gasped. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“If you don’t sit down right now, you’ll find out,” he said sternly.

Quivering, Lizbett moved quickly to the chair by the desk near the fireplace and perched herself on the edge of the seat.

“Wise decision,” he said solemnly. “Now, with no back talk, no arguments, no questions, close your eyes and open your mouth.”

She stared at the odd bit-like object in his hand, a rush of fear shivering through her, but afraid he would indeed, throw her over his lap and bare her bottom, she did as he instructed.

It was a flash of seconds before the rubber bit was between her lips, and the leather straps were being buckled behind her head. She let out a muffled cry of protest, but the bit was effective and she couldn’t form any words.

“There, now perhaps I can have a moment or two of peace, and you will learn another lesson. When I instruct you to be quiet and not speak until I give permission, I mean it. If you don’t wish to obey me then you will face the consequence.”