by Starla Kaye
“I fear we will butt heads often,” Nicholas said, certain that was true.
“I want ye to know no’ me or any of my men wanted to fire upon ye. The lass… well, she has a tendency to set her mind on something w’ou’ thinking it entirely through.”
They walked toward the bailey where Nicholas’ and the Urquhart’s men were practicing with wooden swords. Gerald seemed determined to make sure the Scots honed their skills well. But then he usually rode hard on Nicholas’ men in practice.
Several young women were working in the nearby garden and glanced in their direction. One in particular, a pretty petite redhead, couldn’t seem to take her gaze off Gerald. Nicholas noticed his friend appeared to be showing off on her behalf.
“Good Lord, he’s smitten,” Nicholas said in surprise. He’d never seen Gerald behave in such a manner.
Douglas chuckled. “Fia is, too, I’ve heard. One look at yer mon and she canna keep her head on her work.”
He looked at Nicholas and added, “She and Anice will be traveling with ye. Fia is Maggie’s dearest friend, her maid as well when either of them wishes it. Anice, she used to be Maggie’s nursemaid and now her … well, ‘tis hard to describe her position.”
Nicholas gave him a curious glance. “Her maid?”
“No’ exactly. Truth is she’s kinda the woman who stepped in as substitute mother. Alan had her help raise the lass because he was off on some business or another so often. He held estates throughout Angus and Eastern Scotland. Maggie’s always needed a strong guiding hand, if ye ken my meaning.”
It took Nicholas a second before he thought he understood. “Anice has taught Maggie proper behavior you mean.” He frowned and felt the twinge of pain in his thigh. “I think she failed in teaching your Lady how to greet visitors properly.”
Douglas grinned, again, both his obvious pride in and understanding of Maggie showing. “She doesna always learn well. There be a tawse in Alan’s solar and a paddle in Maggie’s bedchamber. I ken ye will need to take both with ye, along with Anice to deal with her when she steps out of line.”
Nicholas thought about what he’d learned and knew even more now that he’d taken on a potentially difficult situation in agreeing to be Maggie’s ward. He had enough problems ahead. He would not put up with misbehavior and disobedience from her. He was not at all opposed to burning a woman’s bottom when necessary, but he didn’t need someone else doing what he could do.
“We will take Fia with us, but Anice can stay. Maggie is old enough to get along without a nursemaid. And I can certainly deal with any problems she may cause.”
Douglas gave him an approving look. “I thought as much. In truth, Anice has grandchildren here and wouldna be anxious to go.”
They approached the door to the keep and Douglas glanced back at the bailey. “I will join them in practice now.” He faced Nicholas again, a serious expression pinching his brow. “Ye’ll find the tawse in the desk’s right-hand drawer.” With that he walked away.
Nicholas watched him for a minute, made sure everyone was working hard at practice, and then he walked into the keep. He’d basically just been given permission to thrash the Lady of the castle, not that he needed anyone’s permission. He’d already planned to do so this day. And he was fairly certain she knew as much, since she’d been avoiding him all morning. She had even managed to break her fast before he got to the Great Hall.
As his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the large space lit only by candles and torches, he knew the time of reckoning had come. He needed to make his authority clear before they even left Urquhart.
* * *
Maggie had received word while she worked at some of the endless mending that she was needed in the solar. Occasionally she and Douglas met there to go over some of the castle business, but he usually came to get her himself. So she was filled with trepidation when she walked into the large room, its walls holding a number of tapestries. One in particular depicted the castle and had been done by her mother soon after her parents had married. Just the sight of it brought tears to her eyes. As well as the knowledge that never again would she see her father here in this room he loved.
A clearing of a throat drew her attention to the other end of the torch-lit room. Nicholas stood behind her father’s large desk. She bristled at him being anywhere near it. She might be annoyingly attracted to him, but he was English. She had trouble getting past that.
“What are ye doing in here? ‘Tis a private place.” She stood stiffly in the doorway, wishing she could grab him and toss him out. Wishing she could toss him and his men completely out of the castle.
“Close the door,” he said quietly, his tone full of command. He held her gaze and stood tall and arrogant, although she noted lines of pain around his mouth. A mouth she’d become far too interested in of late.
“Why?” She regarded him warily.
He pulled open one of the desk’s drawers and took out the all too familiar tawse her father had favored when punishing her. Just the sight of the two-foot long, thick piece of hard hide with three tails had her cringing with dread. Her stomach contracted like a fist. She wanted to run, strongly considered it, but finally turned to close the tall wooden door. She didn’t take discipline without difficulty, but fierce pride made her accept her due when she knew she’d done wrong. She wasn’t as cooperative when she didn’t necessarily agree. In this instance, her father would have been outraged at what she’d done; even her men were embarrassed by her headstrong action. Although she struggled with who this man was, she acknowledged that she had acted rashly.
“I told ye I was sorry for shooting ye with my arrow.” She heard the resentment in her voice, no matter that she knew she’d done wrong. English, the enemy. The words constantly played in her head. She detested having to apologize yet again.
“Would your father have let you off so easily? I think not.” He ran the length of the rarely used tawse over the palm of one large hand. “I hear you are familiar with this.”
Heat crawled up her face and she stiffened her spine. “Anice told you?” The realization was a bit humiliating. Had the woman told him that she still punished her—even at nine and ten—from time to time? It was not uncommon for women of varying ages to feel the sting of someone’s hand upon their bottom. Usually it was their husband’s hand. Nicholas Neville was not her husband.
He held her gaze and she thought she noticed a hint of regret in his dark eyes. But then he shook his head. “No, it was Douglas. He also told me where to find the leather. And he advised me to bring it and the paddle your nursemaid uses as well when we leave.”
Her face flamed even more at Douglas’ odd betrayal of her this way. ‘Twas more than embarrassing. She wanted to flee from the room in mortification, yet she couldn’t make her feet move. Nor could she stop watching him stroking the instrument of great pain.
When she realized what she was doing, she thrust her shoulders back. “I am no’ leaving with ye. I’ve already told ye that.”
He moved confidently around the desk and continued to hold her gaze. “You’re wrong about that. The decision has been made. Douglas will control Urquhart until…. I’m not certain until when. I’m only certain that you will not be here longer than another day or so.”
Only another day? Dear God! She put a hand to her roiling stomach. How could she bear leaving her home? With him, a despised Englishman. It didn’t matter to her that her people had seemed to accept him, particularly Douglas. Usually her baliff was a better judge of character. What did he see in this powerful English lord? Yes, she’d heard him speak reassuringly to the Urquhart castle’s staff, even to the warriors who had first been wary of him. He didn’t talk down to anyone, but all understood his authority. The only one he appeared to have a problem with was her. And that was, regretfully, her fault.
As the troubled thoughts continued to tumble through her mind, he remained silent. Waiting. Patient. Until he clearly decided he’d waited long enough. He motioned her to him.
She didn’t move. Her palms felt moist and she rubbed them against the sides of her skirt. The time of reckoning had come. Run. As fast as you can. Still, she didn’t move.
His eyes narrowed and his voice turned cold. “Do not make me come fetch you, Lady Urquhart. This will be unpleasant enough, without me adding more lashes for additional disobedience.”
More lashes? How many did he plan on giving her? Dread gnawed at the pit of her belly. She knew what to expect from her father or Anice. But this man, this hardened knight who now watched her with such determination? She had no idea what he would do, how hard he would strike her, or for how long. She didn’t want to do this and she had a sudden wish that she’d put her arrow in his black heart instead of his leg.
The notion horrified her. Yes, she’d killed at least one of the English soldiers who had attacked her home. That had been justified. But Nicholas and his men hadn’t come here to battle her warriors, to take her castle. He’d come with a message about her father and brothers. He had also come to Urquhart to take her away from here as her guardian, appointed by King Edward. She hated that. At the moment, that was beside the point. She must pay now for acting irresponsibly, for letting her temper once more get the best of her common sense.
He remained coolly watching her, a vein starting to tick in the side of his neck. Every second she delayed this was only making her situation worse. Swallowing hard, she slowly made her way to him. She wasn’t a coward. Foolish at times, but not a coward.
“Very good,” he acknowledged and nodded at the desk. “Now bend over, chest pressed flat.”
She took a last glance at the tawse and her mouth felt dry. “I would not allow this if I didn’t know that I shamed my people.” Memories of other thrashings passed through her mind. Unpleasant times because she’d acted rebelliously or disrespectfully. “I let my bitterness toward the English overpower my thoughts. All I could think about was those I had lost earlier, the damage done to our home.”
He gave a curt nod. “I understand your distrust after what had happened here. ‘Tis not why you are about to experience a taste of the tawse.”
She looked him squarely in the eye. “’Tis because I shot ye with my arrow. Because ye were embarrassed in front of yer men to be wounded by a mere woman.”
“Nay, ‘tis far more than you shooting me with your arrow.” He drew in a breath that made his broad chest expand, made her admire it in spite of the serious moment. “You endangered your men, your people by such a foolish action. You, as you claim, were their leader. And you let your temper, your irrational dislike for all Englishmen, get the better of your reasoning.”
“I….” What could she say? He was right. Her shoulders slumped.
“What if I’d had more men beyond the hill? What if I hadn’t been able to keep even the men with me from retaliating for your attack? Good men, loyal villagers, could have suffered greatly because you didn’t act responsibly.”
Tears of shame filled her eyes. All the terrible things she could have brought on her people. Miserable at the realization, she didn’t answer him, simply bent over the massive wooden desk. She shifted forward until she gripped the far side with nervous fingers. Whatever he did to her would not make up for what she could have caused.
“A thrashing’s lesson is best learned on a bare bottom.” He stepped closer and reached down to pull up her long skirt and chemise.
“Nay, please! ‘Tis no’ proper,” she gasped in panic, craning her head around to look back at him.
He hesitated for a second and then flipped the garments over her back. She wore no braies as some of the women did. Her face heated even more as he stared at her bare backside. It had been humiliating enough when her father had disciplined her this way. But now…with this handsome stranger….
He blinked and appeared to force his thoughts under control. But she did see how his breathing had become ragged before she turned her head away again. His voice was husky as he said, “’Twill be a shame to mar such creamy flesh.”
“Then dunna,” she answered quietly, with little hope of changing his mind.
She sensed him moving to her side, still holding her clothing over her back.
“We both know it must be done, Lady Urquhart.” He lightly lay the tawse against her buttocks, making them automatically quiver in anticipation. “You acted irresponsibly, thoughtlessly. Suffering this way will be nothing in comparison to what could have happened at your rash action.”
Her cheek pressed against the desk top, she mumbled, “Aye, I let my people down.” If her father from his grave had witnessed what she’d done, he would be ashamed of her. Her brothers as well. She held the far edge of the desk even tighter.
The first lash blazed across the center of both buttocks.
“Ohhh!” She jerked forward, hissing. He had cut her no slack. She felt certain the lesson would be sound and one she would remember for days. Even knowing that, she would not fight him. She owed him, owed her people, owed even his men.
She hadn’t moved, but he said grimly, “There will be a dozen. You will stay in position for them all, understood?”
A dozen? As hard as the first one? She’d suffered worse punishments, but knew she would have trouble staying still. “Aye, understood.” She would try her best; prove to him that she could accept her due. Even though he was no longer among the living, she would make her father proud. She sniffled at that heartbreaking thought or her lost family.
The next lashes fell on one cheek. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! And then another stinging set on the other cheek. Thwack! Thwack! She danced up on her toes and fought to stay in place. In a strained whisper, she cursed him in Scottish.
He planted a hand in the small of her back, a sign, she knew, that the worst was coming. She sucked in a breath and squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation. But she’d been wrong. He thrashed her fast, but these three lashes were much lighter. Still, the tawse landed on every inch of her buttocks. Although falling softer, over the first hard strikes, they still hurt.
“Three more,” he said gruffly. His focus shifted to the under curve of her bottom.
She hissed with each one, each slightly harder. From experience, she knew she would remember these every time she sat for at least a day, which she knew was the purpose of them. Tears trickled down her face; her breaths came in short pants.
“’Tis done.” He stepped back bare seconds later.
“Done?” she questioned in surprise, sniffing back tears. It was over already?
“Aye. I said there would be only a dozen lashes.” He sounded odd, husky. “Do you wish for more?”
She remained in place, puzzled. She was in pain, but only minor pain really. She’d expected much more of a lashing. “Ye held back your strength. Why?” Why did you ask such a foolish question? And why are you still lying here?
Disgusted, she scooted off the desk. Her clothing fell over her throbbing bottom and she wanted to cover it with her hands, too, but refused to do so. When she looked up, he was watching her. His eyes had darkened with a heat she didn’t fully understand.
“You needed to be punished, but after what all you’d been through…. Well, I couldn’t thrash you as soundly as you probably deserved.” He frowned, apparently as puzzled as she was at his decision.
The sting was settling in now. She dashed away the tears. “Are we good now?” She wanted to go to her bedchamber and recover her dignity in private.
“Aye, for this we are good.”
He was still studying her, his brow furrowing with his thoughts. It made her uncomfortable. “Can I go now?”
With a nod, he carried the tawse with him as he went to open the door. “We leave in two days. My leg will be healed more by then and you should be able to sit well enough.”
Ignoring the fact that he’d just disciplined her for being foolish, she walked right up to him and glowered. “I willna go with ye!”
“You would go against King Edward? Against your own family’s wishes?” He
held out the tawse and met her eyes in challenge. “Mayhap you need a lesson in obedience. Because you are coming with me. It matters not to me if you can’t sit for a week of the journey.”
Maggie wanted to resist and to stand her ground, but she could tell in his expression that he meant it. She would be going with him even if he had to tie her to the horse, as he’d already threatened. And he would certainly give her another thrashing should she resist him now. A real thrashing this time.
With a heavy sigh of resignation, she grumbled, “Verra well, I will go with ye. Know this, though, I am no’ in favor of what has been decided.”
He lightly patted her bottom as she swept by him and then had the gall to chuckle when she snarled at him.
“Two days.” He raised the tawse. “Oh, and I will be taking this fine instrument with us. Along with Anice’s paddle. I fear I will have much need of them in the future.”
* * *
They had been traveling for two horrendously long weeks. Maggie was driving him crazy. She and Fia, in truth. Fia batted her long eyelashes and smiled constantly at Gerald. The man could hardly focus on anything but the young temptress. In all the years they’d traveled and fought together, gotten drunk and eyed lovely ladies together, Nicholas had never seen his friend so besotted. It fairly turned Nicholas’ stomach to watch their awkward, flirty interplay.
Maggie, too, appeared annoyed at her friend’s behavior. On more than one occasion he’d heard her snap at Fia about behaving foolishly with an Englishman. The word “Englishman” was always said in distaste, with a curling of her lip. He’d tried to let it go, knowing after having her home attacked by a troop of English soldiers she deserved to be out of sorts with them. But he’d finally overheard one too many snipes about the English and taken her to a private spot away from camp last night to discuss the matter. Needless to say, the discussion had not gone well. He’d ended it by pulling her over his knee and whaling the blazes out of her bottom with his hand.