Prologue
“Take off your clothes.”
Julia swallowed. As her trembling fingers undid the laces on her bodice, she stole a peek at her husband's face. As usual, it was inscrutable. But he had been worried about her, and she knew from experience that his worry quickly morphed into anger.
She slowly slid out of her dress and her shift, feeling acutely aware of her nudity as he watched her from where he sat on the edge of the bed.
“Come here.”
Her feet reluctantly carried her to stand before him. But he hadn't asked her to fetch his belt— that was some relief.
She was already over his knee feeling the sting of his strong hand on her bared bottom when he asked, “Why am I spanking you?”
He was spanking her fast and hard and it was difficult to answer him between her gasps. She turned her face to the side, out of the blankets so he could hear her. “For coming back to the castle after dark?” she managed to choke out.
“I was worried about you, Julia!” He did not pause for a moment from his task of chastising every part of her upturned bottom. “Why did you not bring a servant with you when you went to pick blackberries?”
“I just—” His hand continued raining down her punishment. “—wanted— to be alone,” she gasped.
He paused then and rubbed her smarting flesh, a tender act that was sometimes as effective at producing tears as a spanking. Indeed, the tears came freely now.
“I can understand that,” he said. “But falling asleep out there by yourself?” He started spanking again, just as hard, and this time she wept. Then his hand stopped abruptly, mid stroke. She held still, her muscles twitching and flinching in anticipation of the next spank. But it did not come. He lifted her back up slowly and turned her around so she sat straddling him, giving her an idea of the direction this punishment might be taking.
“Julia, why do you think you've been taking so many naps lately?” he asked, studying her face. Still weeping, she wiped at her tears with the back of her hand. Bronson must have realized she wasn't composed enough to talk yet, because he pulled her in to sniffle in his neck. He stroked her back and her heated bottom and thighs and whispered comforting words to her.
“I'm just thinking... the moon is full again and you never had your monthly courses.”
She sat straight up in surprise, her tears evaporating completely. “You're right! Do you think it could be?” She clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes dancing.
Bronson smiled brightly. “It would explain all the napping and forgetfulness.”
They beamed at each other for a moment and then she leaned forward and nipped at his ear with her teeth. “Why couldn't you have thought of that before you spanked me?”
Bronson roared with laughter. “Do you think that would've saved your pretty little bottom?” He fell back onto the bed and pulled her on top of him. “Think again, little flower,” he said, squeezing the part in question affectionately. “Think again.”
Chapter One
“STAND DOWN!” Bronson, Duke of Pembridge and Earl of Montmore bellowed at the two men engaged in what appeared to be mortal combat below him. He kicked his horse and pulled him around to find a safe path down the steep bluff from which he was looking down. God's teeth, the man on top was trying to rape the boy below him. The boy was struggling wildly, kneeing the aggressor between the legs and writhing to get free, but the man on top maintained an upper hand, striking his face and pulling his leggings down... but you can't mount a boy from that angle. A girl, then. Dressed as a boy. It must be.
He kicked his horse even harder, shouting again, “STAND DOWN. Get off NOW!” But the boy— woman— whatever, had her own salvation in the form of a dagger, which she used in one swift thrust up under the ribs of her assailant. The
“Take off your clothes.”
Julia swallowed. As her trembling fingers undid the laces on her bodice, she stole a peek at her husband's face. As usual, it was inscrutable. But he had been worried about her, and she knew from experience that his worry quickly morphed into anger.
She slowly slid out of her dress and her shift, feeling acutely aware of her nudity as he watched her from where he sat on the edge of the bed.
“Come here.”
Her feet reluctantly carried her to stand before him. But he hadn't asked her to fetch his belt— that was some relief.
She was already over his knee feeling the sting of his strong hand on her bared bottom when he asked, “Why am I spanking you?”
He was spanking her fast and hard and it was difficult to answer him between her gasps. She turned her face to the side, out of the blankets so he could hear her. “For coming back to the castle after dark?” she managed to choke out.
“I was worried about you, Julia!” He did not pause for a moment from his task of chastising every part of her upturned bottom. “Why did you not bring a servant with you when you went to pick blackberries?”
“I just—” His hand continued raining down her punishment. “—wanted— to be alone,” she gasped.
He paused then and rubbed her smarting flesh, a tender act that was sometimes as effective at producing tears as a spanking. Indeed, the tears came freely now.
“I can understand that,” he said. “But falling asleep out there by yourself?” He started spanking again, just as hard, and this time she wept. Then his hand stopped abruptly, mid stroke. She held still, her muscles twitching and flinching in anticipation of the next spank. But it did not come. He lifted her back up slowly and turned her around so she sat straddling him, giving her an idea of the direction this punishment might be taking.
“Julia, why do you think you've been taking so many naps lately?” he asked, studying her face. Still weeping, she wiped at her tears with the back of her hand. Bronson must have realized she wasn't composed enough to talk yet, because he pulled her in to sniffle in his neck. He stroked her back and her heated bottom and thighs and whispered comforting words to her.
“I'm just thinking... the moon is full again and you never had your monthly courses.”
She sat straight up in surprise, her tears evaporating completely. “You're right! Do you think it could be?” She clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes dancing.
Bronson smiled brightly. “It would explain all the napping and forgetfulness.”
They beamed at each other for a moment and then she leaned forward and nipped at his ear with her teeth. “Why couldn't you have thought of that before you spanked me?”
Bronson roared with laughter. “Do you think that would've saved your pretty little bottom?” He fell back onto the bed and pulled her on top of him. “Think again, little flower,” he said, squeezing the part in question affectionately. “Think again.”
Chapter One
“STAND DOWN!” Bronson, Duke of Pembridge and Earl of Montmore bellowed at the two men engaged in what appeared to be mortal combat below him. He kicked his horse and pulled him around to find a safe path down the steep bluff from which he was looking down. God's teeth, the man on top was trying to rape the boy below him. The boy was struggling wildly, kneeing the aggressor between the legs and writhing to get free, but the man on top maintained an upper hand, striking his face and pulling his leggings down... but you can't mount a boy from that angle. A girl, then. Dressed as a boy. It must be.
He kicked his horse even harder, shouting again, “STAND DOWN. Get off NOW!” But the boy— woman— whatever, had her own salvation in the form of a dagger, which she used in one swift thrust up under the ribs of her assailant. The
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