The Admiral's Ward

by Dinah McLeod

  “It would be difficult,” he mused aloud. “The crew is rather superstitious, and it is uncommon to have a woman aboard.”

  “But... you are the admiral. Surely if you vouch for me...”

  A smile curved his full, red lips. “Vouch for a woman I do not even know?”

  “I am a lady,” she reminded him primly. “As you yourself said. I will cause no mischief, I vow it. And... and I could stay in my own quarters—whatever provisions you allow, of course,” she spoke in a rush as the idea came to her.

  The admiral considered her with a thoughtful frown. Finally, he nodded. “Alright. It will be my pleasure to see you safely to your family. But you must abide by my rules.”

  “Of course!” she agreed at once with a delighted laugh. “Yes, yes, whatever you say.”

  But his frown deepened. “My lady, please listen: while I promise no harm will ever come to you, if you fail to follow my rules there will be consequences.”

  Delia was too pleased to see her plan working out to pay much mind to his warning. “Of course. You are the admiral, and your word is law.” She gave a little curtsey.

  His countenance did not lighten, but he nodded. Then he offered her his arm. “Right this way, my lady.”

  Happily, she took his arm, elated beyond measure to be off on an adventure and to start a new life.

  Chapter Three

  Though she had initially been thrilled to be allowed onto the admiral’s vessel, and delighted by the new sights and sounds that were part of life aboard a ship, Delia found herself soon bored with the whole experience. Though she had meant it at the time, she quickly found herself wishing she had not promised to stay in the room the admiral had given her. It was nice enough, though nowhere near what she was accustomed to. There was a bed, a dresser, and a looking glass. Nothing more.

  No books. No pretty gowns. Not even so much as a window to gaze out of.

  To make matters worse, from the first day she was aboard the ship Delia had discovered, much to her horror, that she was seasick. The rocking to and fro made her stomach heave in the most unnatural manner and left her the unpleasant chore of sitting with a foul-smelling pail.

  She supposed she ought not to complain. It was an adventure after all. Only she could not recall a single story of Miss Ashley’s involving a girl who was a prisoner with her own sick. The admiral came to visit her every day, sometimes twice, bearing meals and emptying the pail for her without a word of complaint. She knew that a man of his rank was not accustomed to such loathsome work, but she found that even that could not placate her.

  After all, she was a proper lady from an important family. With each hour she was trapped in her horrid little room the memory of what she’d run from became more distant. She had to remind herself of the odious prospect of marrying an old man, her father’s threats. But the more she tried, all she came up with were memories of her pretty things, and the servants that saw to her every need.

  That night when the admiral knocked on her door, she had come up with a list of demands. He entered without waiting for an answer, for they had decided that was best. He had come later than usual, and she noted the haggard expression on his face. Still, she did not let either of those things stop her from launching herself at him the moment he closed the door behind him.

  “It’s about time.” She knew she sounded surlier than she’d intended, but she did not beg his pardon.

  He arched a brow, but when he answered his voice was pleasant as always. “Forgive me, my lady, I did not intend to keep you waiting. It has been quite a busy day. I am sure you are hungry.” He handed her the covered tray he had entered the room with. “Your stomach seems to have adjusted to being aboard a vessel,” he noted.

  “Yes, my appetite has returned as well.” Eagerly, she snatched it from his hands and rushed to her bed, sitting down with it in her lap and lifting the lid. At once, her expression fell. She looked at him with accusing eyes. “Bread and stew again? Why, this is the same thing I have been eating since we arrived!”

  The admiral’s brow arched still higher. “Indeed, my lady. It is often so aboard a vessel. I am certain it is not what you are accustomed to, growing up in a fine household, but I am afraid it is all I have to offer.”

  “Hmph.” Delia pushed the tray aside, but right at that moment the ship swayed sharply, sending the tray falling to the floor with a clatter. She looked on in dismay as the stew sloshed onto the floor. “Well, for heaven’s sake!”

  “You really should be more careful, my lady,” the admiral advised, his tone mild. “I will bring in a mop and bucket and you can clean up this mess.”

  “Me!” Her fists were balled and frustrated tears rose to her eyes. Angrily, she brushed them away. “Why, it is not my fault this ship caused the bloody thing to fall!”

  His face changed the moment the words escaped her lips. “My lady—”

  “This whole voyage has been disastrous! How long until we reach Baasing?”

  “It shall be another week at least, my lady.” His voice was testy, but Delia had never been good at ignoring warnings, particularly when she was upset.

  “A week! A week?”

  “At least.”

  “I do not know how I shall bear it!” she exclaimed. “You must tell your crew to go faster. And while you are at it, send someone in to clean this mess.” She waved a hand at the stew congealing on the floor. “And I should like something to do if I not allowed out of this horrid room that does not involve studying the walls! And another thing—”

  “No, I think that is quite enough out of you, my lady.” The admiral’s voice had steel in it this time.

  When Delia’s eyes flew to his face she saw that his eyes glinted hard enough to match it. She swallowed over the complaints that had piled up in her throat.

  “I will be back in a moment.”

  Mutely, she nodded. The moment the door closed behind him, she felt the teensiest bit of regret come over her. Perhaps she shouldn’t have spoken so sharply.

  He will have to understand, she decided. I am a lady unaccustomed to such meager provisions. Perhaps now he will not neglect me so.

  When the door opened once more, the admiral walked in carrying the mop and bucket as he’d promised. He also was carrying half a loaf of bread, which he held out toward her.

  Her regret vanished at the sight of it and Delia’s spine stiffened. “What is this?”

  “Your dinner. Despite your tantrum, I assumed you would be more comfortable sleeping with something in your belly.”

  She visibly recoiled from his outstretched hand. “No, thank you,” she replied in her loftiest tone. “I think I shall decline your generous offer.”

  “As you wish, my lady. Then you may begin to clean up at once.”

  Delia narrowed her green eyes. “Again, I shall have to decline.”

  “Are you refusing an order, madam?” Though his tone didn’t change, there was steel glinting in his blue eyes.

  She hesitated, but only for an instant. She was a proper lady, after all. He had said so himself. He was trying to scare her into being a housemaid, and it was not going to work. “I suppose I am.”

  “You will recall that before you boarded this vessel you swore to do as I bid?”

  “I never said—”

  “To obey my rules?” he continued as though she hadn’t spoken.

  Delia faltered. Something about that did sound familiar. “Well... the rules of the ship. That was what I meant.”

  The admiral’s jaw tightened. “And do you know what the first rule of any ship is, my lady? To obey the captain. That would be me.”

  She stared at the mop in his hand. Was it possible that she had found a situation she could not sweet talk, charm, or tantrum her way out of? The thought rankled.

  “You will clean this room until it shines like new,” he continued. “But first, you will have your bottom soundly spanked for your impudence.”

  Her eyes flew to his face. She could not have possibl
y heard him correctly. Yet, at a single glance taking in the thin line of his mouth she knew that she had. “I... you cannot!”

  The admiral set the bucket down and leaned the mop against the closed door. “I am in charge of this ship and all its voyagers. That would include you, madam. And as such, it is up to me to discipline you when the need arises. Such a time has come.”

  “But...” She shook her head, sending her blonde curls flying. “You cannot,” she said again, whimpering despite herself.

  “We just established that I can,” he replied. Though his tone had softened, he still minced toward her with determined steps.

  “I... I am sorry, sir,” she told him, her bottom lip trembling.

  “I suspect you are, my lady, but not for the reasons you ought to be.”

  Delia grabbed handfuls of the sheet as though she could anchor herself down by holding the fabric. “Truly, I am. I was... disrespectful.” The admission was wrought from her most unwillingly. “I shouted at you. I forgot my place. Which is... under your supervision, for the time being.” This was the hardest one yet, but somehow she worked the words past her lips.

  “Indeed you are, my lady.”

  She relaxed. Thank goodness. She would be more careful from now on. She would mind her manners around the admiral, at least until they managed to land at Baasing. She had not the faintest idea where she would go when they got there, but she knew the first thing she would do: give the haughty admiral a good-sized portion of the tongue lashing he had coming to him. Honestly, the idea that he had any right to punish her was absurd!

  Just then, she realized that he was still moving toward her. In fact, his expression seemed as determined as ever.

  “What... what are you doing?” She cringed at the way her voice shook.

  “Exactly as I told you I would, my lady.”

  “But I am a lady! Surely, you can see reason—” Delia protested shrilly, forcing herself not to shrink back.

  “Oh, I am afraid I can, though we clearly differ on the definition of ‘reason.’” He walked toward her in resolute, purposeful steps.

  She could feel panic beating in her breast. Her eyes roved the room, searching for some escape. Then, without being certain she had found it, she launched herself off the bed, ducking around him and sprinting toward the door. She had never had cause to wonder what a trapped animal felt like, but now felt certain she knew its plight exactly.

  The only difference being that animals were trying to escape being eaten, and she was a stubborn woman desperately attempting to save herself from a deserved spanking.

  A lady of her refined upbringing was not accustomed to running—Delia was no exception. Still, she felt a burst of hope in her breast up until the moment she felt a hand close around her arm. Delia let out a terrified screech and tried to pull away, but the admiral had a firm grip and all attempts to shrug him off were futile.

  “Let me go!” she demanded, seeking another tactic. She stamped her foot for good measure.

  His handsome face creased as he peered down at her. “That behavior is most unbecoming, my lady. I begin to wonder with such manners if you are who you presented yourself to be.”

  That did it. Those were the magic words to make the fight drain right out of her. For if he began to look too closely, he might wonder about other things she had said and there was still plenty of time to turn his ship around.

  Sensing the change in her demeanor, he led her back to the bed. She followed, like a lamb to slaughter, hating every step.

  To her surprise, he sat first, pulling her in front of him.

  “That behavior was atrocious, and will not be tolerated,” he informed her, his face stern and reminiscent of stone. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” she muttered resentfully.

  Her surprise continued to mount as he reached behind her and smacked the back of her dress. His hand was swift and hard enough to be felt through all of her skirts and her pantaloons. She was so shocked that her mouth dropped open—indeed, her unladylike behavior had reached new heights in this man’s presence.

  “When I address you, you are to call me either ‘Admiral’ or ‘sir.’ It is a sign of respect that I demand of all who voyage with me. Is that understood?”

  Delia scowled at him, wanting nothing more than to spit in his arrogant—albeit handsome—face. How dare he talk to her so! How dare he treat her like she was nothing more than a commoner? Yet, she knew herself to be well and truly stuck, at his mercy, and as much as she loathed it, she must acquiesce to this horrid handling. “Yes, sir,” she said between ground teeth.

  The admiral reached behind her and smacked her bottom again.

  “Why, whatever was that for?” she demanded, her voice shrill with anger. “I did as you said!”

  “You did, my lady, though not with the countenance I’d hoped.” His voice was mild in comparison. “Nonetheless, we are not through with your lesson.”

  Her brow furrowed as her scowl deepened. This was a most unfortunate position she found herself in and she could not help but regret ever boarding this accursed vessel.

  “When I give an order, you will obey, without question.” He lifted a brow.

  “Yes, sir.” Her hands balled into fists at her sides.

  Another smack came, and even though she was prepared for it this time, that did not rob it of its sting. “When you are told to do something, you will not answer back or use oaths or other uncouth language on my ship.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  This time when his hand smacked the back of her dress she could not contain her gasp. They were really beginning to sting!

  “Very good. Now, for your spanking.”

  Delia’s mouth curved as she stared at him, agog. “What do you mean? You’ve already done that, surely.”

  The admiral shook his head. “That was a lecture, my lady. I smacked your bottom each time to ensure that you remember what I have said. Now it is time for your punishment for disobeying me, not to mention the tantrum you threw.”

  Her green eyes were widening more with each word he spoke until they filled with tears. She brushed them away with the back of her hand. It would not do to let him see how he was affecting her.

  “Now you will lie yourself across my lap, my lady.”

  For a fleeting moment, Delia thought of making another run for it. But she had to admit to herself that she could not move anywhere near as fast as he, and besides that, if she did manage to escape, where would she go? He knew this vessel well and she had never been outside this accursed room save when he’d first led her aboard.

  Swallowing back all the hateful words she wanted to spew at him to preserve the small amount of dignity that would be left to her, she bent over his lap. She had not the faintest idea of what to do with her hands, but he helped her there, too, positioning them just so until she was leaning on her elbows to support herself.

  “Very good. Now I will lift your skirts.”

  A gasp wrenched from her, Delia looked over her shoulder. “You cannot! Please! I... sir, my modesty must be preserved!”

  He considered this for a moment. “You are right, my lady.”

  She relaxed, but he began speaking again making her tense once more.

  “Therefore, I will leave your pantaloons in place.”

  The idea that he had ever intended to take them down at all was most shocking. Delia was still reeling from the news when he began to lift the several skirts of her gown. She wanted to plead with him for mercy, assure him that she had learnt her lesson, but her pride would not allow it. There was nothing to do but resign herself to this horrible fate and clench her teeth so that she did not give him the satisfaction of begging.

  Despite her resolution, she could not help but be afraid. As her father’s only daughter, she had never been disciplined in such a horrible, common way. Nor had she had any reason to suspect she would, which was why her father’s threat had shocked her so.

  At least it is not that, she thought, tryin
g to calm herself. At least I will not be whipped like an animal. It is his hand. Surely it cannot be that bad. Of course, reason told her it would be hard to take indeed given that his hand had already created such a sting in her hindquarters.

  He took his time, peeling back her skirts one at a time and laying them over her back. It increased her wait and caused her anxiety to climb. When he had reached the last one, she sucked in her breath sharply.

  “Next time you get the urge to disobey an order, or give someone a tongue lashing, I hope that you remember this spanking.” And then without another word he began.

  If Delia had thought it hurt before, she was shocked anew at the strength in his hand, particularly now that it was slapping the back of her pantaloons. He took his time, his massive hand somehow managing to slap both cheeks at once. The indignity of having such attention shown to her hindquarters was shocking in and of itself, but it was nothing compared to the pain!

  She grit her teeth down resolutely, determined not to plead for mercy. She was a lady, and ladies did not beg.

  Think of something else, she urged herself as the continual smacking of his hand in exactly the same spot on her bottom created a fire in her poor, defenseless cheeks. Anything else!

  Delia tried to turn her mind elsewhere. She began to think of her governess’s stories, trying to imagine herself one of the heroines in Miss Ashley’s tales. The lovely princess escapes the castle tower... only to find herself turned over the prince’s knee, her poor bottom smacked until she can scarcely bear it!

  A muffled sound escaped her lips before she could stop it. The admiral was no prince; indeed, she began to think he was not a gentleman at all! Only a scoundrel would dare hurt her so.

  And hurt her he did as his hand rose and fell, landing with more force each time. She began to jolt forward with each smack, feeling the resulting tingling in her poor bottom. Despite the fact that he spanked in the same place again and again, the tingling spread all over, and as her punishment continued, tingling became pain—intense, burning pain that made her wish to drum her toes against the floor.