Seducing His Sassenach

by Ashe Barker

  “There are geese,” she whispered. “Do not disturb them.”

  “Disturb the geese...?” he repeated incredulously.

  “Yes. I mean, no. They’ll make a din fit to wake the dead and everyone for miles around will know we are here.”

  “What part of ‘stay wi’ the horses’ was in any way unclear?” he ground out through gritted teeth.

  She arched an eyebrow. “I do not take orders from you, sir. And anyway, as I said, you need me.”

  He would have said more. Much more, she suspected, uneasy suddenly. But his words were forestalled by his companion’s hand on his arm. “Ye can deal wi’ her later, Robbie. Right now, we have a more pressing concern. Lass, is this the place ye came tae before? Is this where ye saw Cecily?”

  Jane nodded, quite sure of it. And she wondered what he might mean by ‘deal with her later.’

  The dark-haired Scot—Archie, she thought Robbie had said—seemed satisfied with that. “Aye, well, in that case we can all go back tae the horses an’ settle down for the night. We’ll come back here at first light an’ see what’s tae be done.”

  * * *

  Jane hurried along beside the man called Robbie. She had no choice in the matter really since he took her hand and towed her beside him whether she wanted to keep pace with him or not. She considered protesting but decided against it. He seemed... vexed. Best not to annoy him further, probably.

  Once back with the horses Archie busied himself in digging supplies of fruit, bread, and cheese from the saddlebags, then he sat down on his haunches and began to eat.

  Jane’s stomach growled. Surely these men did not mean to consume their supplies and not share with her. She opened her mouth to voice exactly that view but shut it again when she saw that Robbie had removed his cloak and was rolling up his sleeves. His expression was distinctly stern. She backed away, suddenly afraid.

  “Aye, ye may well discover some sense now, lass. Not that it’ll get ye anywhere. ‘I dinna take orders from ye,’ indeed. That is what ye said, is it no’?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “Fair enough. We shall have tae set that little misunderstandin’ straight, then. Come here, lass.”

  She frowned at him as he seated himself upon a tree stump. “What do you mean? What misunderstanding?”

  “As long as ye are wi’ the pair of us, ye will take orders from me or from Archie, here. Ye will do as ye’re told, without argument. Ye did no’ seem tae realise that before, but I mean tae make sure there is no further doubt on the matter. So, the next time ye’re told tae stay wi’ the horses, ye will damned well do that an’ not go traipsin’ off through the fucking forest.”

  She gulped. His expression was uncompromising and fierce. She did not care for it. Not one bit. Belatedly, she tried to placate the angry Scot. “I... I see. I did not realise you meant it so... literally. And, I did remember about the geese, so—”

  “D’ye think the pair of us so dull-witted than we cannae spot a goose, even in the dark?”

  “Well, no, but I simply thought—”

  “Ye have done quite enough thinkin’ for one evenin. Now, I want my share of the food afore my companion guzzles the lot. I daresay ye do too. So, get over here and lie across my lap. Given our brief acquaintance I’ll no’ require ye tae raise your skirts on this occasion, though I shall no’ be so lenient should it become needful tae correct ye again.”

  “Raise my...?” Jane gaped, open-mouthed.

  “Be quick. A spanking never improves wi’ keepin’.”

  “You... you mean to spank me?” She could barely force out the words. The very idea was... was... unthinkable.

  “I do, aye. An’ it’s likely goin’ tae hurt so ye’d best put this in your mouth tae stifle the noise. We dinna want to rouse yonder cottage, do we?” He handed her a piece of cloth, rolled into a ball.

  “You think to gag me as well?” She glared at the rag.

  He nodded. “It seems best, aye.” He paused, then, “Wench, if I have tae come over there an’ get ye, I shall think again about liftin’ your skirts.”

  “But, you have no right...”

  “Do we have tae go through all o’ that again? I already explained, as long as ye travel wi’ Archie an’ me, ye shall obey us. If ye disobey, there will be consequences. This...” he gestured to his lap, “this is consequences.”

  “Who do you think you are?” she blurted. “You have no right to...” She recognised the foolhardiness of such a remark when his features darkened but by then the damage was done.

  “Ah, yes, you are quite right. I should have introduced myself properly afore now. I am Robert McGregor, heir to The McGregor, Laird of Skye and the Outer Hebrides.” He gestured toward his companion with his thumb. “An’ that there is Sir Archibald Montgomery. His family an’ mine are close friends, an’ Archie here is captain of my brother’s guards.”

  “Your brother...?”

  “Aye. My brother is the Earl of Etal and Lord of Mortain. He is now the husband of Lady Eleanor of Ashingburn, whose baby we are seekin’ tae restore to her.”

  “Oh. I see.” She had assumed he was merely a man who had been paid to perform a task, not that he had some personal interest in this affair.

  “I am glad that ye do. So, will ye submit tae the spankin’ ye have earned, or do I have tae make ye?”

  She swung her gaze from one implacable face to the other and realised she had little choice. He meant what he said, she was sure of it. This Robert McGregor intended to spank her and there was not a thing she could do about it.

  “You will leave my skirt down, sir?” she demanded, her chin tilted at a rebellious angle.

  “Ye’re tryin’ my patience, lass,” came his answering growl. “Here, put the gag in your mouth.”

  For want of a better plan, she did as she was told. She was surprised to find the cloth was actually clean, and did not taste foul, though she found the sensation in her mouth utterly horrible.

  “Good. Now, ye can just lay yourself across my thighs.”

  She moved to stand beside him, then lowered herself cautiously to her knees.

  “Here.” He offered his hand, and she took it, then allowed him to tug her across his lap. “Ye need no’ worry about falling as I shall no’ let ye. Now, bite down on that rag an’ try tae be as quiet as possible.”

  She could only manage a muffled snort, which she backed up with a half-hearted nod.

  Sweet Jesus and all the saints, how did this happen?

  Such reverent musings were expelled from her head along with the breath from her body when the first stroke landed. Her skirts offered no protection whatsoever—how had she ever imagined they would? His palm must be the size of a cauldron and every bit as heavy.

  The next spank was even more excruciating. She squirmed and wriggled and tried to reach back to protect her poor, assaulted buttocks, but he simply grasped her flailing wrists in his free hand and held them in the small of her back. He arranged one of his long legs around hers to hold her still, and she found herself pinned tight.

  Spank after spank rained down upon her bottom, each heavier, hotter, more fiery than the last. The rag became mangled in her mouth as she gnawed at it, trying to stifle her screams but not always succeeding very well.

  He paused. “Ye’re makin’ too much din, lass. Quiet down or I shall stuff an even bigger gag in an’ tie another cloth across your mouth. I’m sure ye will nae take kindly tae that.”

  He was right. She resolved to grit her teeth and just bloody bear it.

  The Scot resumed the spanking, though she fancied he was slowing down the slaps now. She could manage to draw in a breath between each one, and if the pain was no less, at least it was not getting worse. Or maybe she was just becoming accustomed to it.

  He stopped. Or, she thought he had. Her bottom was on fire, surely, so how could she actually tell?

  “Have ye learned your lesson, lass?”

  What?

  “Jane? Have ye learned
the wisdom of obedience and humility or d’ye need tae go another round or two?”

  What? No. No!

  She struggled to scramble off his lap but his arm was around her middle and she was held firm.

  “Oh, no, ye dinna. Ye can get up when ye apologise for your wilfulness and disobedience, an’ promise tae do better in the future.”

  Really? He could burn in hell...

  “Very well, I am quite prepared tae continue.” He dropped a further three or four hard slaps onto her already scorched rump, then paused again. “An apology, an’ your promise tae do as ye’re told in the future. That is all I need from ye.”

  By now, she would have said anything to make this stop. She tried but could only manage a string of garbled nonsense.

  “Ye may spit out the gag an’ try again, lass.”

  She did so, then drew a deep breath. The words stuck in her craw, though she had no option but to utter them.

  “I am sorry.”

  “Aye, good.” He still held her in position, her bottom poised for further punishment. “Go on.”

  Was the clod-headed bully never satisfied?

  It would seem not. He sighed and raised his hand as though to start all over again.

  “I will do as you tell me in future,” she blurted, anxious to forestall any resumption in the spanking.

  “Excellent.” He lowered his hand to rest it on her smarting rear. “I am pleased ye have seen the wisdom in that. Now, are ye still hungry?”

  She shook her head. In an unaccustomed fog of humiliation and self-pity, all she wanted to do now was slink away on her own and cry.

  The huge Scot loosened his hold and helped her to her feet. Her knees were weak, her bottom burned. Every muscle hurt because she had been tensing so hard under the onslaught. Even her jaw ached from where she had bitten down on the gag.

  He eyed her as she backed away from him. Her tears were already starting to flow.

  “Jane, I—”

  She shook her head and turned her back, then fled to where the horses were tethered, There, she put her face in her hands and gave way to the tears that had threatened throughout her ordeal. She felt small, silly, worthless. She had allowed herself to be punished like a child because she had no choice. She had been helpless, vulnerable. She hated this feeling. How they must be laughing at her, these two handsome Scots, how they must have enjoyed her humiliation.

  She flinched when a blanket was dropped across her shoulders and started to resist when a pair of strong arms encircled her.

  “L-leave me alone,” she sobbed.

  “No, lass. I cannae do that.” He turned her to face him and simply held her against his solid bulk.

  Despite everything, despite her anguish and embarrassment, despite the throbbing that threatened to set her skirts alight, she leaned in and accepted the comfort. She curled her fingers in his tunic and clung to him.

  Robbie said no more until her tears were spent, then he used two fingers to tip her face up to meet his gaze. “Are ye all right now, lass?” he asked, his expression one of compassion and concern.

  She sniffled. “Yes,” came the feeble whisper, so unlike her usual strident tone.

  “Aye, I can see it. There’s food left.”

  Suddenly, she was ravenous. “Thank you.”

  He draped his arm around her shoulders and led her back to where his companion—Archie, she recalled—still sat. The man grinned at her and offered her an apple. “There’s some mead in the jug, if ye fancy a wee swig.”

  She took the food and accepted the jug of mead, took a bite of one and a long drink from the other.

  “Here, we have bread and cheese too, as well as a few berries.” Robbie sat down on the ground and dug into a leather satchel, then gestured to Jane to join him.

  She eyed the soft grass warily. She doubted that she could manage to sit ever again.

  Robbie merely smiled and tugged her back down onto his lap, but the right way up this time. “Make yourself as comfortable as ye may, lass.” He drew the blanket back around her shoulders, handed her a piece of cheese and took some for himself. “‘Tis going tae be a long night, an’ we need tae be up and away at first light.”

  Chapter Three

  Jane did not expect to get any sleep that night, so was surprised to open her eyes and see that the sun was already risen. The warmth at her back suggested that she was not alone under the snug blanket, but she could hear sounds coming from where the horses were tethered.

  “Ye’re awake, then, lass?”

  She turned her head to regard the man behind her. Robbie’s ruggedly handsome features were just inches from hers, the early morning sunlight causing the russet tones in his hair to glimmer. Viewed up close like this, his eyes were exceptionally beautiful, she noted.

  “You have purple eyes,” she blurted before she had a chance to consider. “I have never seen such a colour before.”

  He grinned. “My mother’s eyes are the same shade. ‘Tis a family characteristic.”

  “Oh. It... It is a nice colour.”

  “Your eyes are grey, the colour of a thunderstorm.” He curled his lips in a smile of careless intimacy that sent tingles straight to that mysterious spot between her thighs.

  Jane swallowed. Hard. For once, she had no pithy retort to offer.

  “‘Tis time to go,” Robbie continued. “Can ye be ready in five minutes?”

  Jane nodded, already throwing off the blanket. “I just need a few moments to... to...”

  He laughed. “Ye can use the shrubs over there if ye require a bit o’ privacy.”

  By the time she returned from dealing with the necessaries of the morning, the two men had packed up their meagre camp and were already mounting the horses. Robbie leaned down and offered her his hand, then swung her easily up before him. Jane yelped when her still-sore bottom collided with the unyielding leather of the saddle.

  Her companion gave a low chuckle and wrapped his arm around her waist. He made a clicking sound with his tongue, and the mighty stallion started forward.

  It took just a couple of minutes to close the distance between their camp and the clearing where the cottage lay. The men reined in their mounts and for several minutes they regarded the squat, rough structure from the cover of the trees. A thin wisp of smoke was already spiralling from the thatched roof since there was no chimney. The smoke from the fire would collect in the eaves and escape through the thatch as best it could.

  “They are awake, then,” Archie murmured at last.

  “Aye.” Robbie started to draw his sword. “Let us get this over with, while they still ha’ sleep in their eyes.”

  “Wait.” Jane settled her hand on his wrist to stop him from pulling his sword fully from the scabbard. “We should try to do this without a fight.”

  Both the men regarded her with interest. “I hardly think we shall have that luxury, lass,” said Archie.

  “We should at least try,” she continued. “They... they may be good people, decent people. They do not deserve to be murdered.”

  “They are holdin’ a child who is not theirs,” Robbie reasoned, frowning.

  “Yes, but according to my sister, they lost their own baby. They would have been grieving and desperate. Maybe they were asked to care for this child, thinking her an orphan. And, from what I saw when I came here, Cecily has been well cared for. The woman, the gamekeeper’s wife, she loves her.”

  Robbie’s brow furrowed. “Aye, well, ye may be right, but I still think we should—”

  Jane forestalled Robbie’s further comments by pulling a jingling purse from her pocket.

  “We could offer to buy Cecily from them.”

  “Holy fuck,” Archie breathed. “How much d’ye have there, lass?”

  Robbie was not in the least convinced by the sight of the money. “The child is no’ theirs tae sell. An’ I wouldnae mind wagerin’ that those coins you have are no’ yours tae spend.”

  “Just listen,” Jane continued, ignoring his c
omment. “It is likely, is it not, that the couple in that cottage were paid to take Cecily, so they may consider it a decent bargain to be paid again to give her back. And, it would be better for Cecily. She has already been torn from her mother’s arms once. Would you do it a second time if there was another way?”

  “That woman is no’ her mother,” Archie muttered.

  “I know, but if Cecily has become attached to her...”

  “Where did ye get those coins from, lass?” Robbie asked softly.

  “From Lady Falconer.”

  “She gave them tae ye?”

  “Not... exactly.”

  “Well, then?”

  “I... borrowed them.”

  “Ah, so ye mean tae give her ladyship the money back, then?”

  “Well, no, obviously I do not. I mean to give it to the gamekeeper.”

  “So, I wouldnae call that borrowin’, lass. I would call it stealin’.”

  Suddenly furious, she swung around in the saddle, ignoring the spasms of discomfort as her punished buttocks rubbed against the leather. “Do not dare to call me a thief, sir. I am no such thing.”

  “Oh?” He lifted a tawny eyebrow and waited.

  “Lady Falconer would have given me the money, and more besides, if she knew I wanted it to buy back her granddaughter. She would approve of what I mean to do with her coins.”

  The infuriating Scot returned her glare for several seconds, then turned to his friend. “I think the wench may have a point, Archie.”

  The other man inclined his head. “Aye. Maybe. An’ if he has been well paid, the gamekeeper is a lot less likely to go runnin’ wi’ tales tae Culpepper.”

  “True enough,” Robbie conceded. “Very well then, lass. We shall try it your way. First.” He held out his hand. “Give me the coins.”

  Jane handed the purse over. “There are twenty silver sovereigns in there. Do you think it will be enough?”

  Robbie weighed the purse in his hand, then cast a glance at the rundown dwelling. “Oh, aye, I reckon it will be.”

  * * *

  He was right. Amid much spluttering and protesting, and piteous weeping from the woman about to lose a second child, the deal was struck. The gamekeeper conceded for the sum of just a dozen sovereigns, so they had coins left to finance their journey back to Scotland.