The Knight's Seduction (10 page)

* * *

Daisy looked adorable when she’d been spanked. Truly, she took correction so sweetly it made him want to claim her, devour her, show her she was his entire world. She lay bent over the bed, clutching her welted buttocks like a sorry little girl, her sex glistening between her legs. He leaned over her, covering her torso, lacing his fingers over the tops of hers.

“This is another position we might try,” he murmured, praying she hadn’t been forced from behind. She didn’t struggle, so he went on. “I could take you right now, little girl.” He pressed his thickened cock against her plump folds. “I see you’re ready for me.”

She tightened her fingers around his, breathing hard.

“I think you want it, Daisy. I know you want it, but you’re scared. After I’ve possessed you in every way and every position, I will banish all other memories you have of men.”

She turned her head and he saw unshed tears glistening in her eyes.

He froze. “What are those tears for?” he asked.

“I want to believe you, Bear.”

Hope skipped across his chest.

“Believe it, little one. I will make you forget. You will only know me, my body, my love, my touch. I promise you that.”

She closed her eyes, looking troubled. “That would be so sweet.”

Saddened by her pain, he lifted her off the bed and stood, holding her against his body. After a while, he said, “I need to check on the progress of the wall. Do you wish to come with me?”

She still looked small and withdrawn. “What is my alternative?”

He smiled, toying with her braid. “I won’t lock you in my chamber. You are free to sit with the other ladies, if you like. In fact, you probably should, I think they are anxious to know you.”

She nodded. “I agree. Thank you, Bear.”

He kissed her forehead. “Be good, little one.”

“I will.”

He left her, his heart heavy for the burden his little wife carried, the trauma he hadn’t yet found a way to take from her.

* * *

Daisy laid on the bed for a while, rubbing her sore backside, her mind swirling over all the new thoughts Sir Barrett had given her about making love. She had never pleasured herself before. Maybe she had touched herself a little as a child, before her mother told her it was wrong. But she didn’t remember the incredible sensations—the heat and need, the relaxation afterward.

She was tempted to touch herself again, not to purposely disobey Sir Barrett, but because she just needed to understand it all better. And while he punished her, she didn’t actually believe he minded all that much. This was part of his game, and she was breaking rules, but at least she was playing it with him.

But the thought of meeting the ladies drew her off the bed and out the door. She found them in the spinning room, laughing and talking.

“Come in,” the princess called, seeing her hesitate at the door.

She curtsied and came forward.

The princess stood from her wheel and came forward, taking her hands. “Forgive me; I feel I have not given you a proper greeting. I am Annika. This is Greta, Ute, Grite, and Elsa. Greta and Grite are my cousins, and Elsa is my sister. Ute is Prince Erik’s sister.”

She curtsied again. “I am Daisy. I have been serving as lady-in-waiting to Princess Susanna of Hohenzollern.”

“Welcome to Rothburg. Sir Barrett has had you so… occupied. Are you all right?” she asked, peering into her face.

She felt the stares of all the women, and blushed. “Yes, my lady.”

“Sir Barrett has not treated you with the chivalry he is usually known for,” Annika said, speaking slowly as if choosing her words carefully. She glanced at the other ladies.

“But it’s plain he is quite taken with you,” Greta added quickly. She was the same lady who had told her Sir Barrett was not a complete ogre the day before.

“Yes, yes, I agree. It is wonderful to see him so engaged with a lady—unusual for him,” Elsa said.

“Does he not… has he courted any ladies before?” She didn’t know what compelled her to ask, because she definitely did not want to hear the answer. Her body tensed, her fingernails pressing into the flesh of her palms.

“No, not since I’ve been here,” Annika said, looking to Ute.

“Never,” Ute said definitively. “He probably didn’t think any would have him, since he’s a basta—” She stopped when the rest of the ladies gave her warning looks.

Daisy drew herself up, heat suffusing her face. “I don’t care one whit about the legitimacy of his birth,” she declared. “I am proud to be his wife.” She lifted her chin, daring one of them to say he was unworthy.

Annika darted forward and grasped her hand, tugging her to a chair beside her. “Sir Barrett is a brave and noble knight, well-deserving of a well-bred wife like you. Please take no offense. Rothburg has its hierarchies like all castles. Sometimes it is easier to find a mate elsewhere, as he has.”

Her cheeks still burned, but when she searched the princess’ words, she could not find any offense, so she let it go.

Chapter Six

The blizzard came out of nowhere. It had been cloudy, yes, but she hadn’t felt this storm coming. She needed to get back to the castle immediately or she could be lost out in the woods. This was the kind of storm where men became disoriented, freezing to death only to be discovered a mere twenty yards from a building.

She grasped the four white rabbits she’d trapped and ran through the snow, the cold air burning her lungs and making her chest ache. The path would be lost soon, but she wasn’t far. She had only walked a half mile or so, if she remembered correctly. She picked up her speed even more, the toes of her boots sliding out behind her with each step. Almost there, almost there.

Thank God—she thought she saw the castle up ahead. Which meant she must be out of the woods. The snow blew too hard to even see the trees. She’d come out to trap, with the idea of sewing rabbit fur into the collar of Sir Barrett and Penrod’s cloaks. She made a poor wife in terms of weaving, but the fur would set them apart, give them something special.

Why hadn’t she told anyone where she was going? If she got lost out here, no one would even know where to look. Not that she would want them to risk their lives over her stupidity. She tripped and fell into the snow, the icy flakes searing her face. Cursing, she struggled to her feet and ran on. Yes, that must be the castle up ahead.

She reached the gates just as a rider tore out of them at a breakneck speed. He must have seen her because he turned the stallion sharply in her direction, causing him to rear and whinny.

Barrett.

He had come for her. Relief, gratitude, and fear poured from her in equal measures. His destrier galloped toward her, not slowing in the least. Was it him? As he passed her, he bent down and caught her about the waist, wrenching a choked scream from her throat. She clung to the rabbits and he set her on one knee, guiding his horse in a circle and back through the gates.

He didn’t say a word.

She had no breath to speak, but if she did, she would not have known what to say to him. She teetered precariously on his knee, supported only by the strength of his arm. She did not dare steal a glance at his face, but she could feel anger pouring off him in waves. He rode the horse straight up to the castle doors and dropped her to her feet.

“Wait for me in our chamber,” he said tersely.

She rushed forward, not looking back, her heart thundering in her chest. She thought to give the rabbits to Penrod to take to the kitchen, but she did not think she could manage a conversation. Instead, she removed her wet cloak and boots and carried everything up the stairs with her. She did not have to wait long.

Barrett burst in the room, his dark eyes flashing. He looked every part his namesake: a great, growling bear—vicious and terrifying in his huge stature. She stepped quickly back, but he closed the distance between them and swept her off her feet, carrying her to the edge of the bed, where he sat and plopped her over his lap.

He began to spank her immediately, one hand tugging up her skirts, while the other already lit into her.

She tried to lie still, not wanting to further anger him, but her body had a mind of its own, jerking and wriggling under the punishing blows. By the time he had bared her bottom, the cold numbness in her buttocks had worn off, replaced by terrible, hot pins and needles.

“Ahh… ah,” she grunted. “Oh.”

“What were you thinking?” he demanded, speaking at last, but not pausing in his spanking, even for an instant.

“I didn’t know it would storm,” she protested, squeezing her eyes shut. The pins and needles were easing and now her entire bottom blazed.

“Did you ask my permission to leave the castle?”

“No, sir,” she said. Tears choked her throat, threatening to spill.

“Why not?” he demanded.

Though he’d surely seen the rabbits, she still did not want to spoil the surprise. She did not answer.

He spanked even harder, his huge hand like a wooden paddle, punishing her poor bottom with each heavy blow. “I asked, why not?” When she still did not answer, he picked her up from his lap and set her on her feet, giving her a shove toward the wall. “Stand in the corner,” he barked.

She tripped, scurrying away from him. She’d never been made to stand in a corner before, and she didn’t think it would be worse than the spanking she had just received, but it was.

“Keep your skirts lifted to show me your naughty bottom. I am not nearly through with you,” he growled.

She picked up her skirts and bowed her head, unable to stop the tears that had been threatening. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Barrett bury his head in his hands, looking defeated. She felt even worse. She sniffed and his head jerked up, as if in surprise.

“Daisy,” he said, his voice much softer. “Come here, love.”

Fresh tears streaked her face at the endearment. He couldn’t be so angry anymore, if he called her ‘love.’ She walked to stand before him, still holding her skirts up, as he’d ordered.

“Forgive me for my temper,” he said heavily. “I was afraid for you, that’s all.” He reached out and grasped her hips, pulling her closer. “Come here. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“You didn’t scare me,” she lied.

A flick of his eyebrows showed he knew the truth. “Well,
you
scared
me
. I forbid you to leave the castle walls without permission. Ever. Do you understand me?”

She nodded, swallowing back a fresh wave of tears. “I’m sorry, my lord.”

“I’m going to give you the worst strapping of your life.”

“Yes, sir,” she murmured. She hardly cared about the punishment, although she knew it would be awful. Her only concern was to make things right between them again. What could she offer him, except four dead rabbits?

* * *

Daisy slowly lowered herself to her knees at his feet, surprising him with her humility. When she reached for his manhood, his surprise turned to shock.

He ought to stop her. It was wrong of her to try to distract him from her punishment this way, but curiosity and desire got the better of him.

She palmed his cock through his leggings, then wrestled it free. She stroked it the way he’d shown her in the bath, sliding her fist up and down his length. Her expression looked half-frightened, half-determined. Of course he would have preferred aroused or excited, but he found her actions touching, considering how difficult it was for her.

She leaned her face forward and gingerly stuck out her tongue.

His cock surged with excitement just to see her intent. He resisted the urge to grab the back of her head and thrust in like she was a serving wench. Instead, he waited, holding his breath and watching as she flicked her tongue on the rim of his penis. After a just a few such flicks, his breath grew ragged. She lifted her eyes to him, her tear-stained cheeks flushed with color.

“Take him in your mouth,” he muttered, his voice rough.

She opened her lips wider and accepted his length, looking uncertain.

“That’s it,” he said. “Keep going, Daisy, it feels so good.”

She seemed encouraged by his words and picked up speed, sliding her mouth up and down his length. She didn’t take him very deep, but he didn’t mind. He wanted it to last forever, but he also wanted her first time to be easy. When she came off and looked at him uncertainly, he covered his fist around hers, pumping.

“Stick out your tongue,” he grunted. She obeyed, and he pressed the head of his cock against it while he slid her hand up and down his length. “Open your bodice,” he ordered.

She fumbled with the laces as he continued rubbing the head of his cock against her tongue. When she pulled open the front of her dress, he came, decorating her breasts with his seed.

She looked down at his artistry, confused, and he pulled her up to his lap and wiped it off with his sleeve. He cupped the back of her head and kissed her.

“I didn’t know what had happened to you,” he said, regretting his temper. “No one knew where you’d gone. I feared you’d run away, and I knew you wouldn’t live through that storm.” A muscle twitched under his eye.

She lifted her hand to touch his cheek.

“Were you running away?” he asked, his voice cracking. He had to know.

“No,” she said immediately. “I went trapping, that’s all. I didn’t feel the storm coming—I’m sorry.”

“You should have asked me first,” he said.

She dropped her eyes, and didn’t answer. The third time she hadn’t answered him.

He cupped her chin and lifted it. “Were you afraid I would say no?”

“I wanted to go alone,” she said, looking away.

His heart thumped in his chest, though he hardly knew what he feared. She kept something from him, though, and it bothered him. “Why?” he demanded.

She fidgeted with her skirt, then her shoulders sagged and she looked up. “I wanted the rabbit fur to line your cloak. I’m a terrible weaver—”

He cut her off by smashing his lips against hers, claiming her mouth with a bruising ferocity. He yanked her dress off her, then the chemise. Now he had forgotten her punishment, his love pouring out in a passion that would not wait. Standing, he picked her up and placed her in the center of the bed. He ripped off his own clothes and nudged her legs apart, settling between them. His cock nestled between her legs, and he caressed her with it, gliding his hardening shaft along her moistened slit. She stared up at him, her eyes wide but trusting.