“I spanked you earlier for disobedience and for endangering yourself. Lying to me will invite even harsher retribution. You will feel the sting of the switch against your delectable bottom soon enough, my lady. For now though, I invite you again to lean on me. You can relax. Sleep if you will. I will not let you fall.”
My words are met by a sharp hiss of breath, then, slowly but surely, my bride leans back into my arms. I shift her a little to ensure she is both comfortable and secure, then draw my cloak around her small form, enveloping her in warmth. I hope it will be enough.
Several hours pass. The silences between us are lengthy, but companionable enough. The beat of hooves at our rear signals Karl’s arrival. The convoy carrying most of our belongings is some way behind him, destined to arrive at Richtenholst a day or two after we do.
Karl’s destrier canters alongside mine. He answers the enquiring tilt of my chin with a curt nod to signal all went well with our departure from Hohenzollern, before wheeling his steed around to take his place in the convoy a few yards behind us. I note that he has brought his mount up alongside the cart carrying the new servant.
It is nearing nightfall when we crest a small hill to see a village laid out on the other side. A scattering of dwellings can be discerned in the gathering gloom, rough constructions made of mud, stones, branches, and whatever else the villagers could find to cobble together. The roofs are mainly thatched. Most important of all though, I see a church.
The chapel is modest, but I do not doubt it will serve our needs well enough, provided the priest is in residence. I haul on the reins to pull Hades to a halt and turn to scan the column at our rear. Karl spurs his horse forward to regain my side.
“What village is that, do you know?” I point down the hillside.
“I know not, sir. Would you like me to ride down ahead of the rest and enquire?”
“No, but you can accompany me. Bring half a dozen men. And the maid. We’ll be having a wedding.”
Natalia stiffens in my arms, but has the good sense to remain silent. I am relieved. I will permit her to speak freely when her words are for my ears only, but I will not accept insurrection in front of my men at arms. This marriage is to happen, and it is to happen now.
The chapel is mercifully more impressive upon internal inspection than it appeared from outside. The walls are plastered in smoothed mud and painted with colourful frescoes that cast a suitably reverent mood for the undertaking I have in mind. The altar is adorned with a red damask covering, and gold candlesticks perch at either end though the candles are unlit. The font is small, embedded into the wall. Rows of rough wooden benches serve as seating, and from the numbers supplied it would appear the chapel is well used, though we are the only occupants now.
“Approach the dwellings close by, find out the whereabouts of the priest, and have him attend us here.” I send one of my guards to do my bidding whilst Karl moves about the small church lighting candles. The flickering glow creates an illusion of warmth in the place, though barely.
I cast a glance at Natalia. She is white-faced, and looks nervous, though not inordinately so. I suppose it is her right; this is her wedding day after all.
“Would you like to sit for a while, Tally? We must wait for the priest to arrive.”
She obeys me in silence, her shoulders drooping beneath her voluminous cloak. I find her apparent dejection to be a sight I do not care for. Apart from the potential impact on my prospects for domestic contentment, her mood puzzles me. I spanked her, true enough, but the pleasure I gave her afterwards amply made up for the discomfort and indignity.
In truth, I was gentle with her. I know she enjoyed my touch, responded to it with a passion and fervour I could not have dreamed of. To the best of my knowledge she had no prospects at Hohenzollern apart from those afforded by her connection to the royal house. Any such expectations are gone now, the princess is taken prisoner, Hohenzollern destroyed. She should be jumping with joy at the opportunities and security offered her by this marriage. Certainly, it is an improvement on the life of poverty, prayer, and perpetual toil that would likely have been hers had she entered a convent.
I seat myself alongside her and stretch my arm across her shoulders. She begins to stiffen, would have turned from me but I firm my grip and pull her around to face me. Her eyes are downcast, but I catch the glitter of moisture on her lashes.
“Why the tears, my lady? I have sworn to be a good husband to you, and asked nothing from you in return save honesty and obedience. This is not such a bad bargain, is it?”
She does not answer me, though I see her lips working. I have the unhappy suspicion she is fighting back sobs. I cup her chin with my hand and lift her face.
God’s blood, even so woebegone she is lovely.
“Is it, Tally?”
“What, sir? Is what?”
“This, marrying me. Is it such a bad bargain?”
“No, my lord. It is not, but…”
“But?”
“What will happen to me, my lord? If I refuse to marry you?”
“You cannot refuse. You already tried that as I recall, but look, here we are, in a church, awaiting the arrival of the padre.”
“If I did not say the words though, what will happen?”
I draw in a long breath, considering my response with care. If she was a virgin maybe, in love with another perhaps, I might relent. A forced marriage would ultimately benefit no one. She is no innocent, I know that, and her arousal by the spanking I delivered suggests that while she may not fully appreciate it yet, her natural desires are not incompatible with mine. It also makes a mockery of her assertions regarding taking the veil. She would simply wither away in a convent.
“Is there someone else, another man perhaps?” Unlikely, but I have to ask.
She shakes her head, her denial vehement. “No, no, of course not. I told you my reasons. I am… I was to be a nun.”
“You were, perhaps, but no more. You are to be a duchess. And in answer to your question, if you do not give the proper responses you will accompany me into yonder vestry where you will bend over and lift your skirts. I will remove my belt and apply it to your delightful bottom until such time as you inform me that you have reconsidered and are ready to attempt the ceremony again.”
“You would beat me? Here, in a house of God?”
“Beat you? No, I would never beat you as you put it. But I will spank you if need be, and I will use whatever implement I deem most effective and appropriate. I will spank you here, and I trust in the lord to sympathise with my dilemma. You owe me your obedience, and I will have it.”
“Not yet. I owe you nothing until I do become your wife in a true ceremony. Your property.”
“A moot point, my lady. I beg of you, do not push me on this as you will not win.”
A rattle of the outer door at the end of the knave heralds the arrival of the guard I dispatched to find the priest. He is accompanied by the padre himself, rushing toward us in a flurry of brown robes.
“Your grace, my apologies that I was not here to greet you. I was busy about the lord’s work, attending to the needy among my flock. I have many responsibilities, you understand…” The priest comes to a halt before me, his visage lit by a willing, and I suspect optimistic, smile. Without doubt he views my unexpected visit as an opportunity to enrich his ecclesiastical coffers. He is probably correct in that assumption, I am prepared to pay handsomely for a speedy resolution to my current state of uncertainty. The sooner Lady Natalia’s station is elevated to that of duchess of Richtenholst, the sooner we can all move on.
“Indeed, and I apologise for the disturbance. I have need of your services, father…?”
“Father Paul, my lord. And I have the honour of addressing the duke of Richtenholst, I understand?”
“You do. And this is Lady Natalia de Chapelle, widow of the late count de Chapelle.” I reach out my hand. To her credit and my relief Natalia takes it and rises to her feet. She makes a graceful curtsy
to Father Paul before positioning herself at my side.
“Of course, of course, I am delighted to make you your acquaintance, my lord. My lady. And how may I help you this evening?”
“We wish you to perform a wedding. Between myself and Lady Natalia.”
“Now? Tonight?” The priest’s demeanour is less enthusiastic now, though only marginally. “This is most—sudden.”
“Yes, now, tonight. And I can appreciate that our plans might seem somewhat precipitous from your point of view. My betrothed and I have however been aware of our intentions for a while.” A short while, in fairness, but I see no need to trouble this busy padre with the details. “We have witnesses,” I gesture to my men at arms. “We have a bride and a groom, and a generous purse with which to bless the parish funds, so perhaps we could proceed?”
Mention of the purse does the trick. The priest beams at us both.
“Of course, at once. If you would just step forward my lord, my lady, and kneel before the altar. And your witnesses…?”
“Karl, Berthe, you will serve, will you not?” I am relieved that I took the trouble to learn the girl’s name as I gesture to the two of them to follow us down the aisle to face the altar, where his reverence is already fiddling with his incense and such other trappings. He turns to face us, prayer book in hand. His countenance is beatific, no doubt at the prospect of my likely generosity.
“A widow you say? May I enquire who gives this lady in marriage?”
“Gerhard of Bavaria, though he is regrettably not able to be present in person. You are of course free to make enquiries, though perhaps you could do that afterwards. I would not wish to delay, nor to be forced to seek a different church to bless our union.”
“That will not be necessary, my lord. Not necessary at all. Perhaps if one of your attendants could act as proxy for his lordship…?” My implied threat of the lost revenue has dispelled any remaining doubts on the part of the priest. I summon the nearest of my men at arms to join the wedding party at the front of the chapel. Now all I need is for Natalia to do her part.
She does. Tally speaks her responses in a low but even tone, exchanging vows with me. Ten minutes later we emerge from the church as man and wife, and the priest is several silver pennies the richer.
I chance a brief glance at my new bride. She looks positively wretched. I had intended to press on for Richtenholst immediately, but the sight of Tally’s depressed features generates a more urgent need. This marriage needs to be consummated, and quickly. My own desires aside, though I confess they are substantial, my bride needs to rediscover the joy to be found in intimacy. She needs to be fucked, and she needs that to be done both thoroughly and well. And it needs to be now.
“Karl, do you think you might secure us lodgings for the night?”
Before Karl has any chance to respond, Father Paul is chirruping again at my elbow, this time drawing my attention to the dwelling of one Mistress Lars who has a clean and weather-tight barn we might like to make use of.
“She had a man, and two grown sons, but they are all gone now. She would be glad of the coin, my lord, I am sure. And she will provide you with adequate sustenance too, I can vouch for that. She’s my sister, you see…”
Ah, right, a family concern. Still, it looks like this will be the best we can manage at short notice.
“Thank you, father. Could you direct us to Mistress Lars’ home, please?”
“I will take you there myself, my lord, with pleasure. Please, follow me.”
I am not sure whether the good father’s diligence is borne of a desire to see us comfortable in our lodgings or a reluctance to allow potential further income to slip through his fingers. After all, we might still remount and carry on our way. We do not do that though, and the next half hour sees us cosily ensconced in Mistress Lars’ own cottage.
The priest’s sister would not hear of us sleeping in her barn. She insisted that Lady Natalia’s wedding night must be conducted in more salubrious surroundings. Whilst I might have struggled to apply that description to the humble widow’s cottage, the place is at least clean and warm and I am happy enough to hand over two more silver pennies for the privilege of using it for the night. Mistress Lars draws our attention to the pot of lamb stew simmering on the fire, then bustles off to oust her brother from his bed. I suspect the padre could end up in the barn.
Meanwhile, Natalia and I are quite alone.
Chapter Seven
I am numb, though not from cold. His grace made sure of that on our journey here, insisting that I snuggle up close to his body, absorbing his warmth while he enveloped me in his thick cloak.
I was warm, comfortable, I even slept. I was in his arms, and I felt safe there. Even his brute of a horse seemed less terrifying after a while, the steady gait beneath us, the rhythmic clip-clop of the steel-tipped hooves pacing the distance, laying mile after mile behind us, taking me farther and farther from Sophia.
His grace told me she would be taken to Vienna, which lies somewhere to the east of us, I think. I have lost my bearings somewhat, though I know our destination lies south of Bavaria. Richtenholst is a long way from Vienna, from Sophia.
Richtenholst. My new home, whether I wish it or no.
It is done now, I am wed. I obeyed, as I always do when intimidated. I gave my responses, and I did what was expected of me. I am married, for the third time. This time though it is to a man I hardly know and already fear.
He hurt me. He spanked me, and he will do so again when the mood takes him. He as good as said that. He has talked of using a switch on me, and his belt. I will be black and blue, if I survive at all.
“It is our wedding night, Tally. I intend to make it memorable for you.”
The duke’s voice is soft from across the small room that serves as living area and sleeping quarters for Mistress Lars. I lift my gaze to meet his, conscious that I am wringing my hands together. It is a nervous habit. I suspect I will be doing it a lot from now on.
My husband is lying on the narrow bed. He looks at ease, comfortable. Everything that I am not. He smiles at me, and despite my inner tension my stomach flips over. My quim is damp too, disgustingly so. There must be something in the human condition that creates this reaction to wedding nights, I can think of no other explanation for my embarrassing condition. Though neither do I recall any such effect with either of my previous nuptials. To the best of my recollection both those occasions were somewhat stilted, painful, and not especially pleasant.
Based on this morning’s demonstration of the duke’s prowess, and my incredible response to it, I do not expect tonight to follow the same pattern. What I do expect lies somewhat beyond my powers of description.
“I would like you to undress, please. When you are naked, come and lie here beside me.” He delivers his instructions in a calm, matter-of-fact voice, his expression inscrutable.
I do not move.
“Tally, I think you know by now that I prefer not to have to repeat myself.” His tone has hardened, gone is the lover-like lilt. Now his words are tinged with an edge of command, a timbre that demands obedience, expects it. I have no doubt that he will punish anything other.
I should be afraid. I am afraid, but it is more. Without doubt I am aroused too, my inner muscles clenching at the harsh, uncompromising thread of steel that laces his curt commands. I do not want to be here, I have not chosen to be here, did not wish to be his wife. But regardless, here is where I find myself, Stefan’s duchess, and I have enough experience of the married state to know what is coming next.
I untie the ribbons at my throat and slip the cloak from my shoulders. Mistress Lars has banked up the fire so the room is warm. Still holding my husband’s gaze, I reach behind me for the ties fastening my kirtle. I loosen them and slip that from my shoulders too to pool around my feet. Clad now in just my shift, I break eye contact as I bend to pick up my clothing and drape the garment over the back of a small wooden chair. I do not look back at him as I perch on the chair
to unfasten my sturdy leather shoes and remove those too.
I am left in just my heavy cotton shift. It is serviceable, fashioned for warmth not seduction, though I doubt I would need to apply much in the way of effort. His grace seems to know what he is about, he is in control here. My role is to obey.
Despite the unexpected intimacy that occurred between us this morning, nudity does not come easily to me. The duke’s instruction was quite specific though; he told me he wanted me to be naked. I see no viable alternative but to obey him. I am embarrassed, mortified with humiliation as I stand to slip the remaining garment from my body. My every instinct screams at me to cover myself, at the very least to wrap my arms across my chest, but I fight that urge. He would simply instruct me otherwise if I tried such a tactic and I would be compelled to submit yet again to his wishes.
The duke rakes his eyes along my body, from the top of my head to my toes. His expression does not alter. Seemingly satisfied with his perusal, he pats the mattress at his side, a reminder that I have not yet fully complied with his requirements. My heart is in my mouth as I move toward him, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other until I reach the narrow cot. Taking care not to touch him, I lie down at his side.
At first I lie on my back, staring up at the ceiling. Then it occurs to me that he may expect something less passive from me. Anxious not to attract further censure I roll onto my side to face him.
“My lord, I am not sure what…”
“No matter, Tally. I am sure, sufficient for us both. Lie on your back, please, and put your hands above your head.”
His tone is less harsh now, though could hardly be described as soft. When he spanked me this morning he instructed me to remain still. Perhaps he intends such again. I position myself as I have been told, only to squeal in alarm when he takes my wrists in one of his hands and produces a strip of fabric from somewhere beside him. In moments he has tied my hands together, and secured them both to the bed frame behind my head.
The Conquered Brides Collection Page 28