Fanny overrode his words. “Rather, you forced him to spend the time with you or risk being rude,” she said.
Fanny’s voice was rising, and other people in the room were beginning to turn toward them to watch the quarrel. She was too deeply into the emotional reaction to notice.
“Hardly forced,” Merry said, with a low, cruel laugh. “He could have walked away at any time or found some other to engage in conversation. He chose not to.”
“I lost track of the time we spent together,” he said, realizing as he did so that it wouldn’t help the cause. It didn’t matter, however, since they were still paying him no mind.
“Because you exercised your witchery over him and ensnared him.”
“Witchery, is it?” Merry’s voice rose now as well. “You call me a witch, sister?”
Fanny’s temper was up now. Baxter tried to reach for her wrist, but she moved away. “Do you deny it? You attempt to put every man you meet under your spell.”
“And do you think I conspire with the devil? And make cattle sick? Oh, you’re a wicked girl even to suggest such a thing.”
“You’re putting words in my mouth. I did not say you were evil, only self-centered and vain.”
“And that’s better, I’m sure!”
Beyond that he lost track of the words, only that the two young women were screaming at each other. Merry finally broke down in tears and ran from the room, yelling, “She said I was a witch! My sister said I was a witch!”
The king, who’d come over to intervene, followed the older princess out of the room. Baxter saw his hope of reward going up in smoke.
Chapter 12
Fanny drew a deep breath and looked around the room. When she saw everyone staring at her, she turned toward Baxter. Her eyes held a mix of fading anger and dawning chagrin. She sighed deeply. “I’ve failed again,” she said sadly. “I suppose I must make my apologies.”
“Not yet,” Baxter said. He took her arm and pulled her out of the room. In silence he marched her up to her quarters. Her maid waited in her room, and Baxter asked the girl to leave, saying he’d ring when and if she were needed.
When the girl was gone, Fanny closed her eyes for a moment, opened them, and said, “I…I’m sorry. But I don’t suppose that’s adequate. Are you going to punish me?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, forcing himself to calm. “I’m not sure it’s worth the effort.”
She drew in a sharp breath, bent over a bit, and wrapped her arms around her middle. She looked like he’d stabbed her with a knife to the gut. After a moment, she sighed and straightened up.
“If I…if I promised it will never happen again, would it make any difference?” she asked.
“Why should I believe you?”
“I don’t know. But I will keep my promise…for your sake. I know you have no reason to believe that, but it’s true.” She looked at him. “You said, before, that even if there were no reward, you would still work with me. Because…” Her voice broke and it took a moment before she regained sufficient control to continue. “Because you cared for me. Is that no longer so?” It was more question than challenge, a small, sad, despairing question.
His anger faded some. “It’s still true.”
“Then what will happen now? What can I do?”
He considered if there was any way to rescue the situation. Perhaps not, but they could try. “Tomorrow, you’ll go to dinner, but before it starts, you’ll apologize to all present, including your sister, and tell them that you regret your words and actions and have been punished for them.”
“Must I truly say that?” Panic flashed across her face.
“You must. And I’ll stand beside you and say a few words of apology myself.”
“You will?”
“I have some responsibility for what happened,” he said. He drew a deep breath. “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll be right back. Undress yourself while I’m gone.”
She nodded.
Baxter went and got the switches he’d collected days ago. When he returned to the room, she’d removed her head veil, shoes, stockings, and overgown, and was shrugging out of her shift.
She pulled it over her head and stared at him. Her gaze went to the switches and her eyes widened, but she said nothing.
He pulled the chair he’d occupied on the day he’d met her into the center of the room. He led her to the back of it and bent her over it. “Hold onto the edge of the seat,” he ordered, “And don’t let go.”
His cock grew hot and heavy, full and aching at the sight of her lovely, slender, bare body bent over and ready to submit to his punishment. Her round bottom made a full, inviting target with the folds of her quim just peeking out at the junction of her legs.
Baxter selected three of the switches and put the others aside. He’d cut them all to the same three-foot length and stripped them of leaves and loose bark. She shivered delicately when he measured them against her derriere and tensed when he tapped a light, experimental swish.
Then he drew back his arm and snapped the switches forward, right across the fullest part of her bottom. She jumped and squealed as they bit into her flesh, swinging her bottom from side to side. Three pink lines, spanning both rounded cheeks, showed where each branch had landed.
The next cut fell lower and bit harder. Fanny gasped and moaned. Her bottom clenched and unclenched spasmodically while three more long, narrow welts swelled out from the flesh.
He laid the next three strokes on smartly, at the same rhythm, concentrating on the lower part of her buttocks, just above the crease where they joined her legs. She yelped and squealed after each blow, and on the third, the squeal swelled almost to a scream. Most of her derriere glowed in shades of pink and rose, with a network of welts rising from it. She straightened suddenly and reached back to rub her sore flesh.
He gave her a moment, then ordered her to get back in position. The next four cuts went across the backs of her thighs, painting them with the same rosy glow and lacing of weals. Fanny sobbed and moaned and yelped. The fourth stroke came down hard enough to break off two of the switches. The princess screamed shrilly and bounced up again.
Since he had to replace the broken branches, he gave her a few minutes to calm down. She sobbed as she rubbed at her bottom and danced from one foot to the other. When he was ready, he told her to get back down.
She obeyed, but she also moaned. “Stop, please, my lord. It hurts! I can bear no more.”
“Punishment is supposed to hurt,” he answered. “How else will it deter you from repeating your errors?”
“I’ve learned my lesson,” she promised. “I won’t do it again. I swear.”
He brought the fresh switches down sharply on her derriere, slanting them so that the marks rode upward from left to right, crossing some of the earlier welts. She shrieked again and kicked out one foot and then the other, without rising from her bent position.
“Please. Oh, please,” she sobbed.
Baxter put the switches aside for a moment and rubbed a hand across her bottom. The flesh was hot and rough beneath his fingers. She moaned again, but he didn’t think distress had drawn that particular sound from her.
He probed into the crack dividing the globes of her bottom and ran his fingers down along it, over the nether opening to her quim. Her legs parted enough to give access to his caressing fingers. She was soft and moist down there and quivering a bit. He stroked along the folds of flesh and sought within for the pearl that centered her pleasure. Her body relaxed under the sensual assault.
He removed his hand and picked up the set of switches again.
“No more,” she begged. “Please, no more.”
He tapped the switches against her thigh. “Five more.”
Her soft sob changed into a shriek when he cracked the switch on her bottom again, slanting it downward from left to right. He waited for her gyrations to calm somewhat, delivered the next stroke lower down, and again paused while she bounced up and down and wail
ed noisily.
The third stroke buried itself right in the crease between buttocks and thighs and drew a scream from her, a yell that swelled when he laid the next one across the same target.
“God help me,” she prayed on a series of noisy sobs. “God, please! I can’t bear it.”
He laid the last stroke across the fleshiest part of her bottom again, bringing the switches down with force enough to crack loudly. All three branches broke off. The princess’s body curved into a taut arc while a low moan swelled into a howl that went on and on. He tossed aside the stubs of the switches and put his arms around her, drawing her to her feet and turning her to face him.
A finger under her chin tipped her face up. He leaned forward and kissed her, taking into himself the last of her sobbing moans. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed, pressing her shuddering body against him. He held her until most of the shaking and sobs had ceased then he led her over to the bed and helped her stretch out, face down, on it.
He wasn’t sure what to do next, until she looked at him, her brown eyes wide and sparkling with the remains of her tears. “Please,” she whispered. “Do you still care for me?”
“Of course, I do,” he answered.
“Then show me.” She shifted onto her side, making room for him beside her on the bed and parting her legs.
He reached out a hand to touch her bottom but stopped. “Make love to you? Can you bear it?”
“Yes. Oh, yes.”
“If you’re sure,” he said, quickly stripping off his clothes.
He lay beside her and fingered her breasts until her breath came quickly and her body shivered in tension. He rolled her onto her back and then his mouth followed where his fingers led, licking her nipples into sharp peaks, sucking them till she squirmed, nipping at them to bring a deep, prolonged moan from her throat.
His hands sought the treasures between her legs. She was moist and open for him.
“Please,” she groaned. “Take me. Please, take me now!”
He moved toward her, then realized he’d be pushing her sore bottom into the bedclothes. “Roll over,” he said, “and get up on your hands and knees.”
She followed his orders. He knelt behind her with his cock aimed at the slit beckoning to him. He ran his hands over her bottom, feeling the network of weals with his fingers. She moaned and shuddered.
He positioned himself and thrust forward into her. She stiffened for a moment, then softened. He stroked her pendulous breasts while he pumped in and out of her. His balls slapped against her quim, drawing a moan from her each time he buried himself all the way. She tightened around him spasmodically and he yelled with the pleasure of it. Her cunt was so hot, so slick, so deep and warm. He filled her so completely, and she squeezed him in a way that made bright sparks of light flood through his system.
He pumped harder, the fullness and pressure mounting until he could hardly bear it. Their panting moans and harsh breaths combined in a chorus of need. Her nipples bounced against his hand and her bottom pushed toward him. Faster and faster they rocked, until she suddenly yelped and bucked, with spasms of release washing over her. It tipped him over the edge. His cock spurted into her like a dam bursting, letting the fierce pleasure wash back through and into him.
He half-collapsed on top of her, keeping a hand down to support his weight, struggling to get his breath back under control. Waves of pleasure, one after another, washed over her, making her shudder against him. He treasured the feel of her body rocking in the aftermath of pleasure he’d brought her. He relished the power he had over her, and the hold she had on him.
Eventually he withdrew from her and drew her down with him onto the bed so they lay side by side her back to him, his arms wound around her.
She didn’t relax completely, though, even as he began to doze. “Will this cost you your reward from the king?” she asked him.
“I know not. Perhaps.”
“Then I must make my first apology to you. I know how important it is to you. Is there aught else I can do to set things right again? I’ll do whatever you wish.”
Baxter thought for a moment. “We’ll try the effects of an apology to all tomorrow. Beyond that, we cannot plan.”
Chapter 13
As the time approached for dinner the next day, Baxter’s nerves became stretched almost as badly as Fanny’s. For most of the afternoon, they’d worked on creating her speech—reworking it word by word more times than he could count. Once they had a version they could both accept, she practiced delivering it. It took her several tries before she could get through it without breaking down and crying.
“I can’t do this,” she wailed after the second attempt ended in tears.
“You can,” he insisted. “Hold the bracelet while you run through it this time.”
She wound the fingers of her right hand around her left wrist, over the bracelet. Her next recitation was perfect.
Nonetheless, they both had rubbery knees as they approached the dining hall that evening. Fanny seemed so shaky, he feared she would fall down if he didn’t hold onto her.
The room grew quiet for a minute as she entered, then a buzz of conversation erupted. He didn’t have to hear it to know most of the talk centered around the princess and the argument with her sister the previous evening.
Instead of continuing on to his seat, he remained standing behind her chair until the king entered and signaled the room to silence.
“First I’d like to welcome all guests here tonight. I rejoice that so many of you have gathered to take part in my daughter, Princess Merry’s, coming nuptials. A toast to all of you.” He raised his cup and took a sip of wine.
The gathered crowd raised cups also and returned the greeting. After a moment, the king held up a hand to request silence again.
“Before we begin the meal, my daughter, Princess Fanny, has asked if she might say a few words to you concerning what happened here last night.” The announcement set off a buzz of conversation that died down just as quickly when Fanny rose to her feet.
“I behaved in an unforgivably rude and uncivilized manner yesterday evening,” she said, her voice shaking slightly on the words. “I want to tender an apology to everyone in the room and especially to my father and my sister. I deeply regret having embarrassed them with my words and behavior. I have been punished for it, and I hope you will all forgive me.”
The last few words were spit out in a rush and he heard her struggling with tears again. She sat down abruptly and winced, underscoring the truth of her words in a way everyone could see.
Baxter spoke up once she was in her seat. “A moment, if you please, ladies and gentlemen.” He put a hand on Fanny’s shoulder and felt how tense she was. “I want to tell you how much I admire Princess Fanny for her actions just now. She was not solely responsible for what happened here last night, but she has taken responsibility for her part of it. For that she deserves congratulation and recognition of how much courage and nobility it took for her to stand up here and make that speech. Many of us also had some part in the contretemps that occurred, and for my part, I, too, apologize. I hope others will also recognize their guilt in the matter as well.” He carefully looked out over the crowd, at no individual in particular.
He nodded to the people gathered there, hanging quietly on his words, and went around the end of the table to take his seat. Conversation erupted in loud spurts all over the room.
Fanny gave him a wide-eyed, rather teary smile. Once dinner began, though, she became caught up in conversation with her neighbors at the head table. He glanced over at her several times as they ate, but she seemed at peace, talking with her neighbors at the table, even smiling a few times.
Music and dancing followed the meal.
Unlike previous evenings, the men did not flock to Fanny’s side to claim dances. A few of the more daring did approach her, but even a couple of those retreated under the glare of disapproving mothers or sisters. Unfortunately her first dance was claimed
by Sir James. Baxter made sure he was in the same set with them. He had to force himself to stay calm and banter with his partner when he saw the way the man touched the princess and devoured her with his eyes. He sizzled inside when Sir James swirled her harder than necessary and caught her with an arm around her shoulders and a hand that ventured closer to her breast than was seemly. Baxter had to remind himself repeatedly that the man’s actions were not out of line. And as her tutor, he himself had no particular claim to her and no right to bar any other man from paying court to her, no matter how much he might dislike Sir James personally.
He didn’t react quite so violently when others danced with her, but he still found himself resenting each one who touched her, received her smiles, and shared her witty remarks.
The one time that evening he danced with her himself, he felt as though something that had been binding him was released, allowing him to breathe freely in a way he never had before. It was at once exhilarating and frightening. She’d be marrying someone else shortly, and he would have to pursue his own plans. For some reason, his schemes didn’t seem so compelling as they once had. Something important would be missing from his life once she was no longer a part of it. The warmth, the sunshine, the radiance of the day, all would be lacking if she weren’t there to share them.
Chapter 14
The wedding party accompanying Crown Prince Rodo of Malandria made its processional entrance early the next day. Baxter stood on the wall with many of the other residents of the castle to watch the parade approach.
Outriders bearing colorful banners led the way, followed by a set of trumpeters blaring gustily, a few coaches, and a company of knights. Behind the knights came several more coaches, including the grand one decorated with bands of gold and silver and bannered with silk that must contain his highness himself. Behind that strode a small army of servants afoot with a line of wagons loaded with baggage bringing up the rear.
Fanny sat on the dais set up in front of the castle’s main entrance, along with her father and sister, waiting to greet the party. As the initial company of outriders and knights on horses drew up, they spread out to make a fan in front of the dais, leaving an aisle for the carriages. The first couple of coaches also drew to the side, but the very grandest of them proceeded directly ahead, stopping only when it was directly in front of the dais.
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