Lord Tristram’s Love Match: Her Stern Husband Book Three

by R. R. Vane

  She strived to put her worries aside and behave graciously to a man who had been nothing but courteous to her. Not knowing what to say to him, she inquired idly how long he and her husband had been acquainted.

  Sir Bertran smiled, and told her with a shake of his head, “We were in fosterage together, and trained under the same lord. It seemed the only thing to do was to become friends with one another. At first we had no choice but to stick together, but soon we came to see each other’s worth.”

  Judith cast him a puzzled look not understanding what he meant.

  “Stick together?”

  “Aye, you see, the other boys – they disparaged both of us.”

  Judith raised her brows in sheer wonder. She already knew Lord FitzRolf was one of Henry’s most trusted advisors, and Tristram came from one of the highest-ranking families in the realm. Besides, Tristram was Tristram, always the best-looking and best-spoken man wherever he went. How could anyone ever look down upon Tristram? His skill with a sword was known to everyone.

  “Disparaged? How so?” she asked.

  “Well,” Lord Bertran said, speaking in his mellow, good-natured voice. “You see, I was born a bastard, and it took tedious years of arguing with the Church to establish my birth was legitimate. At the time I was in fosterage, I was thought a bastard, no matter the truth of my birth.”

  Judith now nodded, recalling the story of Lord FitzRolf’s birth whose parents’ marriage had been annulled at the time of his conception. The Church had eventually relented and his bastard status had been rescinded, yet it had taken years to do so. She could see how Sir Bertran had suffered, but it was hard for her to ever imagine anyone ever disparaging Tristram.

  Lord Bertran must have caught her dismay, because he added with a shake of his head, “They called me a bastard and Tristram a girl. He had been raised by a widowed mother and had no brothers, but only sisters. And he was gently bred, not rough like them, and used to spending his time with women rather than with men. Besides, it took a while for him to come into his full height and strength. At the time he was quite scrawny and far shorter than all of us. He did his growing later on, later than most.”

  Judith stared at Tristram’s friend in sheer surprise, and Lord FitzRolf chuckled. “I see you do not know of this. It is a tale I assume he doesn’t often share. It is a good tale though – the others’ disparagement, it made me better than I was because I learnt not to care for their ill thoughts upon me. This taught me to rely just on myself. As for Tristram – it also made him better than he was. He strived to show them he could fight even better than they did, even in spite of his lack of strength at the time. And there is one more thing. It taught him not to be vain. You might have perceived Tristram is not vain, in spite of his good looks and wit and skill. Wit he may have been born with. Yet his skill he earned through hard work. And he grew late into his good looks.”

  Lord FitzRolf now gazed at her pointedly. “And he is never petty or cruel to others. Because he’s learnt first-hand the damage cruelty can do. Rather, he seeks to protect those he cares for from it, even if it is at a cost to himself.”

  With this and a bow of his head, Lord FitzRolf rose from the table, to go to the practice field and train with the men. Judith spent her next hour musing upon FitzRolf’s words and remembering a time when she’d thought Tristram the kindest man in this world. Later, she had occasion to glance upon the practice field, and found Tristram there, engaged in swordplay with his friend. Both knights seemed evenly matched and at first it was hard to tell who would best the other with the sword, but Tristram’s moves were faster and more graceful than those of Sir Bertran. Where his friend was strong, Tristram was quick, and Judith soon came to understand Bertran FitzRolf’s fame as the best jouster in the land might well be true, yet Tristram de Brunne truly deserved his repute as King Henry’s best swordsman. She’d always thought he’d come easily into his skill, just as she’d always thought his other gifts had come easy to him. Still, it was not so. She understood he’d worked hard for the skill he now possessed. And his friend had not been mistaken. Whatever else he was, Tristram was not vain. And truth be told, he’d never made her feel plain under his gaze. Instead, at times, when she’d seen herself mirrored in his eyes, she’d started fancying herself beautiful. And she clearly recalled the night he’d told her he loved her, he’d called her beautiful. All lies – she had decided later, when she had learnt he loved another. Judith gnashed her teeth recalling the searing pain she’d felt that night, and now she simply strove to forget what had been. It was of no matter. Now Tristram had grown to hate her.

  Chapter 14

  “Tomorrow is Friday. A day of fasting and prayer and of contrition. A day you should observe, just as you vowed.”

  Tristram sighed deeply upon hearing his cousin’s surly voice. It was a voice he’d come to hate. And he decided he’d erred when thinking his cousin was not entirely a bad man. Perchance it hadn’t been so when he’d entered the Church. But now Tristram hated Isidore and his malice. And he hated what his cousin said next.

  “You’re to chastise your wife properly! You have tarried long enough and you know it. Today she seemed to me even more defiant, casting you dark, venomous looks. It has to end! So put an end to her defiance, unless you want me to act in your stead! I have the Church behind me and I will, if need be.”

  Tristram found himself growling in sheer fury, “You will not touch her!”

  His cousin cocked an eyebrow, and tossed out in a voice as cold as ice, “Then do your duty as you vowed! And show me that this female does not rule you.”

  Tristram looked grimly upon the implement which his cousin tossed on the table in front of him. It was a birch switch, and the purpose his cousin had in mind seemed clear. Tristram was still mutely staring at it when Judith suddenly came upon them, and when her eyes fell upon the birch, it was plain she also understood its purpose.

  “So,” she said in a mocking voice, which sounded unconcerned and defiant.

  And Tristram knew there was no return from this, because he understood too well his cousin meant to act not only due to his mad religious zeal, but also because Judith had humiliated his family in the worst possible way when she’d let it known a De Brunne had been unable to bed her. Tristram had not truly cared for the insult, because he’d been too pained over the failure of his marriage, yet his family had deeply cared, and they would not let this be, enlisting both Henry and the Church’s support to punish the woman who’d offended them so grievously. Tristram’s own pleas had not made Henry fully relent, even if the punishment decided upon Judith had ended up being far milder than the one his family had wished for.

  “Many thanks, cousin, for this much-needed tool,” Tristram made himself toss out, plastering a careless smile upon his face and picking up the birch.

  He then did the only thing he could do when his cousin was staring at Judith with such spite in his eyes. He took her away from there, hoisting her over his shoulder. He felt relieved she did not struggle or protest, which made easy his way up the stairs to their bedchamber.

  At last, he cast his wife on the bed, tossing the birch aside.

  “Listen to me well, you foolish, reckless woman! Listen to me for once...” he started.

  Judith shrugged with a gleam of sheer hatred in her brown eyes.

  “Do what you will and have your revenge! I do not care.”

  Tristram raked a hand through his hair, because it seemed Judith had not understood at all the message he’d thought to convey through Lady Fenice. It had been his belief that the wise Lady Fenice would make her daughter see reason, and that Judith would listen to what her mother had to say, but he had been mistaken. He sighed, knowing there would be no return from this. His cousin must go from Redmore, once and for all, and there was only one course to take. He would have to deliver another punishment – one which was even sounder than the one he’d delivered upon the day of his arrival. Yet not one which was unduly harsh, because he could not bear
to hurt his wife, even if she had hurt him deeply. He reasoned he could make Judith humble and repentant without inflicting too much pain upon her. Certainly, he would trample upon her pride in order to do so, but he reasoned it was far better he did so now, rather than have his cousin cruelly flog her in Church for all to see.

  He made his voice dispassionate and hard. “You shall be punished. At once and well punished. And, after you’ve been punished, you’re to go down the stairs and tell all and sundry you’ve been soundly chastised for defying me. You are to tell them, loud and clear, that you are at last humbled and repentant.”

  Judith said nothing, just staring at him, tight-lipped and pale.

  “It’s either this punishment, in the privacy of your own chamber, or a punishment in front of all to see, and far harder than the one you underwent when Redmore surrendered!” he threatened in a stern voice.

  Judith cast him a mutinous look, yet he knew her well enough to understand she would rather submit to a punishment in the privacy of their chamber. He felt relieved, but nevertheless aware he had a hard task ahead of him. He had to make her look truly repentant, and persuade his cousin he’d brought his miscreant wife to heel.

  Suppressing a sigh, he took hold of the birch, knowing he would not get to use it much, but that it had a portentous part to play in the punishment he would deliver. He placed a chair in the middle of the room and beckoned Judith to him with a grim look in his eyes.

  “Come here, hoist your skirts and place yourself across my knee.”

  Judith’s eyes darted to the birch he held, and he began to perceive fear in them. It was good she now finally felt afraid, he thought in mirthless satisfaction. It would work better and make the punishment seem to her more hurtful than it was in truth.

  He raised his eyebrows at her when she tarried.

  “If you do not come here at once, there’ll be a renewed lesson of this tomorrow at first light. And you might not wish to have a second lesson on an already tender bottom.”

  Judith bit her lip and for a while looked mutinous. To his relief though, she strode at last to where he was, and obediently draped herself across his lap.

  “Good,” he said. “I’m pleased you’re learning to obey at last.”

  What she uttered sounded suspiciously like a muffled curse, and Tristram suppressed a sigh. To think he’d ever believed Judith was a sweet, mild-tempered woman who was shy! He tossed the birch aside, because he had no intention to use it yet, and he proceeded to warm his wife’s bottom with a hand spanking. He was careful to increase the heat of his spanking gradually so that he wouldn’t end up bruising her.

  He spanked slowly and methodically, covering Judith’s plump bottom with a faint shade of red, then going to attend to her sit spots in the same manner. He willed himself to be calm and dispassionate and not to become aroused by what he was doing, because in order for all to be persuaded she repented at last, his wife needed to see this as a genuine punishment, and not as love play. So he ignored the heat in his body as he delivered the spanking. And he ignored the way in which Judith started to stir and moan under the mild spanking meant only to warm her bottom. When he was satisfied that both her bottom and upper thighs were a faint shade of red, he began to spank hard and fast, barely allowing Judith to gasp for breath between his rapid spanks. He alternated between the left and the right buttock until his lady’s bottom was a deep shade of red and she started sobbing softly. And then he mercilessly attended to her sit spots, causing her to sob harder and harder. He only stopped when her body seemed to become pliant and resigned under his spanks, and she began to plead with him.

  “Please,” she muttered incoherently, and Tristram felt his heart clench in compassion for her.

  He hardened his resolve to have this done and over with once and for all. He paused, resting his hand on Judith’s now blazing bottom.

  “We’re done with this part of the punishment. You have yet to feel the birch upon your bottom.”

  “W-what?” Judith sobbed incredulously.

  “You will spend the time I decree with your skirts hoisted, facing the wall, so you have time to think upon how you’ve behaved towards me. Then you will get the birch,” he told her in a voice which he made calm and smooth.

  He knew she would find this punishment deeply humiliating, and this was what he needed at this time. As for the birch – it was more of a threat, because he would use it only sparingly upon her, and just so that neither of them would be forced to lie in Church if his cousin asked them whether it had been indeed employed.

  Judith began to wonder, through the haze of her tears, how she’d ever thought there could be nothing worse than the belting she’d received from Tristram in the bailey. Tristram hadn’t used his belt now, but this spanking already stung worse than the one she’d first had from him. And he’d only used his hand. He’d yet to use the birch.

  She sniffed, unable to wipe her tears because she was now holding her skirts with both hands and facing the wall, just as Tristram had instructed. And she was well aware that the fiend was now staring at her with his brooding dark eyes, undoubtedly pleased with his handiwork. She didn’t have to peek at her bottom to know it was crimson from his hard spanking. And the demon was most certainly rejoicing in the pain he’d caused her. While she sobbed now, understanding that no matter how hard he’d spanked her and no matter how much he hated her now, she was entirely in his thrall. She loved him, as always, like a besotted fool. In truth, her defiance of him was just a desperate attempt to resist him and the power he had over her.

  “Stop fidgeting,” Tristram called to her callously from behind. “You’re to stand still. Unless you want the birch to fall even more harshly upon you than I already mean it.”

  She sobbed, knowing he’d already achieved what he wanted. She feared that birch as she had feared nothing in this world. And at the same time, there was a deep, abject heat in her quim and a shameful enjoyment of the threat he was now making. She did not know how long she spent striving to mind Tristram’s stern command, yet the time spent facing the wall was even more excruciating than the spanking. She desperately wanted to rub her poor scorched bottom, but she knew Tristram would not allow her this, nor a release of the maddening fire she now felt burning inside her sex. She already understood he didn’t mean to thrust inside her after this punishment, and she hung her head in deep shame, hating herself for craving his touch.

  “Good,” Tristram said at last when Judith had begun to think this agony would last for all eternity. “Now it is time for the birch.”

  Judith nearly opened her mouth to plead with him, but at the last moment she bit her lip, resolving she would not humble herself even further by entreating her lord anew.

  “You are to stand just as you are, with your skirts hoisted. And you are to receive the birch upon your buttocks and thighs without attempting to run from its sting. Do you understand me?” Tristram asked.

  Judith found herself almost unwittingly saying with a pitiful sniff, “Aye, husband.”

  “Good,” Tristram said, and Judith gritted her teeth for what she now expected to be excruciating pain.

  She heard the dreaded swish of the birch before she felt its maddening sting. Once. And she gritted her teeth, willing herself to be still and obedient. Twice. New tears started flowing down her face. Oh, but it burned so, and Judith opened her mouth to beg for Tristram’s forgiveness because it no longer mattered she didn’t think herself in the wrong at this time. All she wanted was for him to stop. And… blissfully he did.

  “‘Tis done,” he told her tersely.

  She didn’t dare to move though, because she was astounded. He’d only birched her twice, and while the sting had been fierce, she understood he’d not done it as hard or as savagely as she’d thought he would. She’d thought this was only the beginning of her new punishment, but it seemed she’d been wrong.

  “You may let go of your skirts and you may turn to face me,” Tristram commanded.

  She di
d just as he’d ordered, feeling a strange wave of gratitude towards him. He could have birched her mercilessly. Yet he hadn’t. She suppressed a sigh as she turned to face him, still loath to meet his eyes, and knowing her face looked swollen and blotchy. Why was she grateful to him instead of hating him as she should?

  “Now this part of the punishment will be the hardest to bear. You are to state you’ve been soundly chastised in front of all the people we’ll call upon to gather in the Hall. You are to tell them you’ve learnt true repentance,” Tristram said, and for a moment it seemed to her his voice sounded warm and compassionate.

  She lingered though, because he had the right of it. Humbling herself in front of her people would be the hardest thing of all to bear. Far harder than the spanking she’d just borne.

  “You will do this, unless you want all of your people to see me birch your already crimson behind in front of them!” he threatened, his voice now hard and cold again.

  She bit hard into her lip, but she made herself follow him because she knew there was no choice and that what he threatened to do would be even more humbling than what he was now asking of her. She braced herself for it, striving to take her mind away from what was happening. It was as in a dream that she and Tristram walked in front of all the people that had gathered in the Hall. Judith knew only too well Tristram was still carrying in his hand the birch from her punishment. She suppressed a deep sigh, telling herself she should no longer care. They all gathered there, at Tristram’s behest, Sir Roderick, all her people, Tristram’s men and Lord FitzRolf who was now looking at her with a sympathetic expression on his face, as well as Tristram’s dour cousin who was casting her a look of dark triumph. She opened her mouth to speak the hateful words Tristram had commanded her to say, yet she didn’t have the chance to utter them.