“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.”
Lizbett stared up at him, her eyes wide in disbelief, and in a moment of rebellious fury she stamped her feet on the floor.
“If you do that again,” he said quietly leaning over her and fixing her with steely glare, “I will tie your ankles to the chair, and when I eventually let you go I will strip you completely naked, and then spank you. It won’t just be your bottom that will be open to my eye.”
Her brow crinkled in dismay, and Larian raised his hand and ran his fingertips across her cheek.
“Princess, I adore you, but if you wish to be with me you will learn obedience. You must,” he said firmly. “I intended to tell you everything about me when we came in here. I wanted to sit with you, eat with you, and drink with you, but you made that impossible. Lessons must come first, so instead of enjoying our reunion with wine, you will ponder your behavior with a bit in your mouth. Do you understand?”
Lizbett gazed up at him and slowly nodded her head.
“Good girl. Now, I must wash and change. You stay exactly where you are. Let’s see if you’re capable of controlling yourself long enough to do that.”
CHAPTER FOUR
As he freshened up and changed his clothes in the anteroom off the bed chamber, he wondered if he’d find his naughty Princess still waiting for him when he returned. He had purposely left her hands and feet free; she could easily unbuckle the bit, and just as easily get up and leave. If she obeyed him all would be well, and though her education would be challenging it was a task he was eager to undertake, but if she bolted it would call into question his judgement, how he had assessed her and the feelings she held for him.
When he was near the end of his training and finally permitted to receive news from the outside, he’d not been at all surprised when he’d heard about the pampered, petulant Princess and her impossible behavior. Though she had been difficult in their youth he had recognized an inherent passion and spirit that was separate from her willful ways. The summer that he’d worked as a stable boy he had fallen utterly in love with her, and when he’d promised to return he’d meant it.
The suns and moons had crossed the sky many times during his rigorous schooling, and though theirs had been a young love, his feelings for her had not passed with time, and she had remained in his heart.
Even as the Vest of Accomplishment had been slid up his arms, and the ruler of his Principality had announced Larian had reached the rank of Warrior Of The First Order, a title bestowed upon only a few, the memory of her was alive. Later that n
ight at the banquet to celebrate the achievement, the Prince had risen from his throne and called the banquet to silence.
“It is with great pride I state the following. Lord Larian Lobergene received the highest acclaim from the Captains of each of the skills and has earned the rank of Commander. With great honor he will have a residence and lands. He may stay within the realm, or travel the lands as he chooses to rest his body and mind from the rigors of his training.”
As was the custom, the guests rose from their chairs while Larian remained seated, and lifting their goblets high in the air they called out his name. It was a solemn toast, the highest praise for a young man who had committed his energies to become a warrior for the realm, and as they took their seats, with humility and eyes lowered he left his chair and moved to kneel before his ruler.
“I thank you my Prince, and with your permission will leave for a short time, but only to pursue a maiden,” he’d declared, his head bowed.
“Seek her, and we pray you will win her,” the Prince had said in a rare moment of tenderness.
With his Ruler’s blessing, the following day Larian had written to King Handerah to beg the monarch’s permission to court his daughter.
The King’s enthusiastic reply had filled his heart, and he’d set off on the long journey to return to the Kingdom where Tholl had so diligently and thoroughly taught him about horses and their care. The last thing Larian had expected was to cross paths with the recalcitrant Princess on his way through the castle grounds. Meeting her at the wooden narrow bridge had been a delightful surprise, and he’d taken it as a sign the Gods were smiling upon him. He’d not expected to have her over his knee so soon, but when it became obvious it had to be done he didn’t hesitate, and what a joy it had been to bounce his hand of her well-deserving, beautiful bottom.
In the anteroom, staring at his reflection as he donned his clean white shirt and maroon vest embroidered with the finest gold and silver thread, a replica of The Vest Of Accomplishment, he broke into a wry grin as he recalled the picture of Lizbett’s backside through her thin silk drawers just a short time before.
“What a truly naughty Princess you are,” he muttered, “so much naughtier than I expected. Your bottom must be red and stinging frequently, and if you’re still in that chair waiting for me I will see to it; make no mistake, Lizbett, I will see to it.”
Taking a deep breath, knowing there was every possibility Lizbett’s pride may have taken hold and she’d be gone, he pushed down the handle and cracked the door to peer into the room; his heart did a tiny leap; she had fought her demons and won.
“Thank you,” he murmured, his gratitude being sent both to her, and the Gods.
Larian was right. She had fought her demons, and it had been a fierce battle. Her pride had risen up, urging her to rip off the bit, hurl it into the fireplace and march furiously from the room. Visions of banging on the door of the anteroom, yelling at him for being such a beast had danced in her head, and threats that she would have him thrown in a dungeon had flashed through her mind.
I am the daughter of the mighty King Handerah! Larian cannot treat me this way, he cannot! How dare he expect me to sit here and bend to his will. The foolish man has left me untied. Does he think I won’t spit out this dreadful thing in my mouth and hurl it at him when he returns?
But each time she had been on the verge of raising her hands to unclasp the buckle behind her head, something had stopped her; when her feet had planted themselves firmly on the ground and she was about to rise, she didn’t, and it wasn’t just her raging curiosity about why he was being treated with such honor.
She wanted him.
She wanted his arms around her; his lips against hers; she wanted to lean against his chest and nestle into his body, and an unfamiliar desire rising up from her soul, wanted to please him. It was a strong desire, a heavy desire, and the fevered conflict had begun to abate; finally resigned she’d sunk into the chair.
“What a good girl,” he announced as he reappeared, sending a surge of warmth through her heart. “I have just enough time to share a quick meal before I must make my way to court.”
He was ambling towards her, a half-smile on his face, and an expression she couldn’t read.
“I’m proud of you, Lizbett. I’m sure you were tempted to pull off your discipline bit and run out of here. If I remove it now, will you continue to be a good girl?”
She stared up at him, slowly nodding her head. An odd feeling of tears bristled just below the surface and she didn’t know why. Lizbett didn’t cry, not ever, not about anything.
You’re making me feel things, strange things, things I didn’t feel when we were together before. What are you doing to me? Are you a sorcerer? Are you casting a spell?
“I would much rather be kissing your mouth instead of punishing it, but if you insist on interrupting and speaking when you shouldn’t then it must be so. If you do those things again, the bit returns. Understand?”
She nodded her head, and as her eyes gazed into his a wave of heavy emotion sent her flippity flips flipping.
Please take me in your arms, please stroke my back, please hold-
“Perhaps you have learned,” he remarked breaking into her thoughts, and walking behind her he gently unbuckled the leather straps.
“Ooh, Larian, that was very difficult,” she breathed, rubbing her jaw with her hands.
“It was supposed to be. Lessons are only learned if they are difficult. Give me your hand.”
He reached out, and as he pulled her into his chest, and held her in a firm, gentle embrace, she dissolved against him.
“I could stay here forever,” she whispered.
Closing his eyes he drank in the feel of her, and willed his surging cock to return to sleep.
“Come, we’ll drink and eat a little before I leave,” he murmured, indulging himself for just a moment to lean in and kiss her neck.
She moaned as his lips touched her skin, and she pressed against him, tilting her head to the side begging for more.
“Please, Larian, please won’t you-?”
“No, my sweet Lizbett,” he breathed. “Come with me now, I must eat.”
Leading her to the table set against the paned windows, he pulled out her chair, then sat opposite, and lifted the thin cloth covering the meal laid out for him.
“This is so thoughtful,” he sighed. “I am quite hungry. I’ve not eaten since the dawn of the East sun.”
“Since the dawn of the East sun?” she gasped. “How can that be?”
“It is nothing,” he replied taking some of the seeded bread and spreading it with cheese and nuts. “I have gone through several passes of the moons with nothing to eat, but that which I could find under the leaves on the forest floor, or hanging from the branches of trees.”
“That sounds terrible,” she frowned.
“It is terrible, but it is also a necessary lesson. It taught me to be grateful for the fine food that crosses my plate, and if I ever need to I can survive with nothing provided.”
“Um, Larian, may I ask…?”
“Ah, manners,” he smiled, pouring some purplish wine from a carafe. “How delightful to hear you ask in such a polite way. When you do I am obliged to answer.”
Momentarily speechless she watched him raise the goblet to his lips; his compliment had sent a fresh ripple of delighted satisfaction through her heart; she had pleased him and it felt sublime.
“You are not from lowly birth as I thought,” she said softly. “I am so puzzled by everything. Please, can you tell me something of who you really are?”
“Of course,” he said. “This wine is excellent. Would you care for some?”
“I would, very much,” she nodded.
“I believe either a please or thank you belongs on the end of that sentence,” he remarked.
“Oh, yes, I would, very much, please,” she blushed.
“I shall be watching you very carefully at dinner, Lizbett. I expect nothing but c
ourtesy and humble manners.”
“I’ll do my best,” she promised watching him pour the wine into her goblet. “Please will you tell me about your family, explain this mystery to me?”
“My name is Lord Larian Lobergene, and I am from the Principality of Zanderone. My cousin, Fenderon, is the ruler.”
“Zanderone? You are a Lord from Zanderone? The men from Zanderone have fought beside the soldiers in my father’s army. They are mighty warriors. I’ve heard they are skilled in many things, not just fighting battles. Is that why you said you were immersed in your education? Why you were eating from the forest floor?”
“It is, Lizbett, and it is why I was sent here for the summer as a youth and slept in your barn with the horses. One cannot be a true and accomplished horseman if one does not know how a horse thinks and feels.”
“Oh, my goodness,” she exclaimed. “I…uh…had no idea.”
“Tholl taught me how to make their feet healthy and strong, how to find answers to their ills and treat them. Without our horses how would we do anything? When I returned home I spent one hundred passes of the moons living in our stables and caring for our mounts, then I was tested by the Captain Of The Steeds. Had I not passed I would have been sent back here to begin again.”
“This is so much to take in.”
“It was the same for each of the things I had to learn. I was sent to different places for the basics, then once home I was immersed in that particular area of education.”
“Are you saying…are you a warrior?” she breathed stunned by the news.
“I am, Lizbett,” he nodded.
“Now I understand why you didn’t write,” she murmured, “but why…uh…sorry…may I ask, why didn’t you tell me you were from Zanderone, or that you were in training to become a warrior?”
“Only your father and mother knew, and Tholl of course, otherwise I would have been treated differently. I had to learn as a mere stable boy learns, and to be treated as such. It is humbling and it is necessary. You would benefit greatly from such an ordeal.”
The Warrior and the Petulant Princess Page 3