Cait and the Devil (7 page)

He pulled her resisting figure over to a nearby stump. He sat and drew her over his lap.

“And I don’t mean to frighten you, or hurt you capriciously. I only mean to teach you to obey.”

He began to draw up the skirt of her gown, his hands skimming over the hem to touch her pale, lovely skin. His eyes drank in her shapely legs as they were revealed to him. She was rigid across his lap, blushing red.

“Everyone will see if you punish me here. Can’t you do it somewhere more private?”

“No.” If he took her anywhere private right now things would end only one way. “There’s no one at work in the orchard this afternoon. If you are quiet enough, no one will know.”

“Please!” she pleaded as he bared her bottom to his gaze, trying to cover herself with her hands. “Please, I’m—”

“Ashamed? You should be for your behavior today.” He took her hands and held them fast at the small of her back. He couldn’t help noticing how tiny they were. She was so delicate. Now, holding her petite frame across his lap, he was more certain than ever that she’d never withstand childbirth.
All the more reason to rule her with a heavy hand.
“Now lie still across my lap.”

He spanked her once, watching the pink blush spread across her cheek. He spanked the other cheek and she
moaned,
a desperate pleading sound in her throat. He was only warming her up, just getting started. He intended to spank her soundly, but to his chagrin, he found himself distracted by her perfect, round globes. He spanked again, and again. She cried out and wiggled as a scarlet flush spread across her bottom. Spank marks soon rose to the surface. My God, the way she tensed waiting for the blows. The entire exercise was ridiculously arousing.
Focus.
The important thing was to teach her that disobedience was not acceptable. He increased the intensity, tightening his grip on her when she began to struggle.

“Please, that hurts! Please stop!”

“Hush.”

He continued to rain strict, stinging spanks on her bottom until her fervent pleas turned to helpless moans and breathless sobs.

“Okay,” he said finally, resting his hand on her trembling, bruised cheeks. “I believe I’ve made my point.”

She didn’t answer, only lay limp over his lap, her soft cries and whimpers a more erotic sound to him than any on earth.

“Okay,” he murmured. “It’s over now.” He allowed himself one final caress, brushing his open palm slowly across her burning skin. He pulled her skirts back down over her lovely bottom, her silken thighs. He took a deep breath, trying to erase the memory before it drove him mad. He pulled her up into his lap. He held her as he’d promised to, cradling her close. She sobbed into his chest, squirming as her sore bottom contacted the hardness of his thighs.

“
Cait
.”
He stroked her hair lightly. “It’s over now. Do you feel you’ve learned your lesson?”

“Yes! I don’t like it when you’re angry with me. I don’t ever want you to do that again. It hurt!”

“I hope it will hurt for a while, lass. I meant for it to.
A lingering reminder.”
He rested his chin on top of her curls.

“But it...it feels good to be held,” she whispered.

Lord, but the lass told the truth. It felt too good. His rod had begun to rise the moment he drew her skirt up. Now he was aching and heavy with need. He shifted, trying not to reveal the extent of his desire. He’d put her through enough for one afternoon.

“How long will you hold me?” she asked, nestling her head into his neck so that he felt the wetness of her tears.

Forever.
As long as I possibly can.
Which means I shouldn’t be holding you at all.

“It’s getting late, Caitlyn,” he said. “We should return to the keep.”

* * * * *

Cait
slumped against his chest, enjoying the final moments of closeness with him. The rocking motion of the horse made her sore bottom smart anew with each step. Well, she had wanted his attention and she’d gotten it. Who knew when next she’d get it again? She was still considering if it had been worth it now that she’d had a taste of punishment over his lap. Devil indeed. It was an apt name for him, because her bottom hurt like the devil and his hand had given her pain like Beelzebub himself.

It had hurt more than anything she’d ever experienced. Perhaps she’d led a protected life in her cottage in the woods but she’d never, ever been struck in anger, with the intention to inflict pain. Even now her bottom throbbed, felt twice its usual size. But afterward, to be cradled in his arms...that had made it all worthwhile.

She could have snuggled against him for an eternity. Never mind that he had just spanked her so that she’d broken down in tears. It was all forgotten the moment he gathered her up in his arms and held her close. She had felt so lonely, so unwanted and bereft since Erma had died and circumstances had thrust her into the cold, wide world alone. It felt so amazing just to be held, just to be touched. Even if he’d only done it to get her down out of the tree, it was still the most wonderful moment she’d had in weeks.

Even now, leaning back against him while they returned to the courtyard, she still basked in his comforting warmth. How on earth had she not realized how cold she’d become? She shifted to press back even closer to him. Her thighs rested on top of his, and her head nestled perfectly under his chin so that each time he moved she could feel it. Closer, closer still…

“Enough.” His voice rumbled against her ear. His hands clamped down on her hips, holding them away from him. “Sit still.”

“It hurts.”

“I know. It’s supposed to. Now cease
your
squirming before everyone in town knows exactly what happened to you.”

She blushed. Would they know? The townspeople threw many smiling glances their way.
The earl and his new bride, how charming.
Hopefully none of them realized what he’d just done to her. That would be too humiliating. She looked down at his rough, suntanned hands on the reins in front of her. How striking they were. She’d known almost no men in her sheltered existence, and been this close to no other man at all, not ever in her life. She’d never even imagined a man might touch her where he’d touched her, on her bare skin, on her bottom, that he might hit her there so mercilessly with stinging, burning slaps. She supposed this type of thing must go on between man and wife or he wouldn’t have done it so matter-of-factly to her.

But for her, there was nothing matter-of-fact about it. It had been a traumatic day, and she was awfully upset over what he’d forced her to submit to. Although to be honest, she had asked to be punished. She had intentionally disobeyed him and been quite disrespectful at the same time. He had told her exactly what would happen. She’d disobeyed him anyway and reaped the consequences. So why did she feel more needful of him than ever? Why was she dismayed that they were almost to the keep?

He dismounted in the courtyard and lifted her down. His expression remained darkened by a frown.

“Are you still angry with me?” she asked.

“No. But I’ve wasted the better part of the afternoon dealing with your disobedience. I have work to do. I want you to go to your room and stay there until dinner and think over your behavior today.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And
Cait
,” he added, tilting her face up to his. “I expect to see you in the hall this evening sitting at my side, no matter how much the sitting
hurts
. Do not think for a minute of testing me and not being there.”

“No, sir.”

He looked at her another long moment, and she wasn’t sure what she read in his eyes. She still saw anger. She didn’t know why. He said he was no longer angry with her, that afterward all would be forgiven. Perhaps he assumed she was terribly disobedient and expected her to disappoint him soon again. Well, she wouldn’t. She would be the perfect wife. She would do whatever she had to do, whatever it took, if she could only get him to hold her like a treasure again.

* * * * *

It was absolutely intolerable what the girl did to his mind, not to mention the more sensual regions of his body. He pressed his cock in frustration.
Down, boy. Not now. Not ever.
He had no sympathy for her. He’d suffered at least as much as she had from the spanking, probably more.

He had
work
to do. He had to get his mind off her, but he’d see her at table. He decided that every day he would spend time with her at the evening meal. That would have to be enough. It would be safe; there would be nothing harmful he could do to her within sight of the entire hall. Time together with him would soothe her insecurities as a wife. He would give her his undivided attention, ask her about her day, gently touch her hand,
share
his cup with her. It would have to be enough. It was all he could safely give her. It would have to be enough for them both.

He thought for the millionth time that he ought to move her to a different bedroom. As it was, she was far too near. He fought the urge every night to stride through her door and drag her back to his bed. Or take her right there in her little maiden’s bed. What difference did it make as long as he was buried deep inside her?
No, no, no, no, no.

There were other ways to be inside her. He would need to teach them to her soon or else risk going mad with lust for her, or risk getting her with child, which he wasn’t going to do. Soon he would have to teach her, when the drive, when the desperate need wasn’t so strong and he could be certain of staying in control.

Spanking her bare bottom hadn’t helped matters. Even now he was replaying her punishment again in his mind. The lovely cries, the hapless kicking and squirming and struggling against him. The tensing of her supple, round, perfectly shaped buttocks—it was a miracle he hadn’t come in his trousers from administering the punishment. And for some godforsaken reason, he’d walked the horse back to the grounds at slower than a snail’s pace just to feel her fidget and shift in his arms. She was a sickness.
Torture, plain and simple.
She
galled
him and stole his reason and peace of mind.

He threw his energy into his duties and expended all his frustration on the practice fields where his men noticed a new edge to his fighting. He stayed longer than he should have, and found himself without much time to bathe before the dinner hour. To make matters worse, Henna came in to attend him, taking the opportunity to pour recriminations in his ear.

“Duncan! What are you about now?” she lectured as she scrubbed his back. “She’s upstairs crying on her bed looking as forlorn as a lost lamb!”

“What did she tell you?”

“She wouldn’t say a thing, but I can see she’s
hurtin
’. What did you do to the poor wee lass?”

“The poor wee lass disobeyed me directly and taunted me from the top of an apple tree. She got her bottom spanked for it.”

Henna gasped in outrage.

“You didn’t!”

“I did, and I will again if she won’t stay safely by her guard. She knew the rule as well as the consequence, Henna, so keep your judgments to yourself.”

“Well, I didn’t raise you to be one of those who hurts a weaker creature than yourself, I really didn’t!
Especially a woman.”

“Henna, I’m a soldier and an
earl
. I have to hurt ‘weaker creatures’ all the time. For what it’s worth, I don’t think much more was hurt than her pride and her sensibilities.”

“For a woman, that kind of pain is the most humiliating and cruel.”

“I have to disagree with you. It was important for me to show her who was in charge, and how important her safety is to me. I know it will surprise you to learn that I’m coming to care about the little scamp.”