The Princess Brat

THE PRINCESS BRAT

Katherine Kingston

Prologue The tavern was crowded and noisy, but the two men in the corner paid no attention to the chaos. They’d discussed the usual mundane things over an excellent dinner of stew and fresh bread: women, the stingy pay from the lords who hired them, which champions would participate in the tournament next week, women, which tavern had the best ale, women, and what their next jobs would be. Both were young, single, attractive, and scions of noble families. Baxter had the greater looks, but little money. Ryal had sufficient money for his needs, and looks usually adequate for drawing female attention. Both had dreams, ideas, and schemes, though Baxter’s always seemed more practical than Ryal’s. He was at an impasse at the time, however. Once they’d finished dinner and were deep into their mugs of ale, Ryal got down to his purpose in asking his friend to meet him. “I heard the king is looking for a tutor for his younger daughter. It’s the opportunity you’ve been seeking.” Ryal looked up and signaled the tavern wench to bring another round of ale. “It’s a way to get into the Grimmerson Court.” “It’s an invitation to hell.” Baxter smacked his tankard down on the table. “I’ve heard the stories about Princess Fanny. Spoiled brat was the kindest description anyone’s given her.” “All the better an opportunity. You get her sorted out, and the king will grant you anything you want.” Ryal looked at Baxter. “He might even make you a knight.” “I don’t want to be a knight. You have to practice with swords and lances. I’ve done all of that I ever want to do in this lifetime. And armor…armor’s hot and heavy and it clanks when you move. I don’t want to clank. I want gold. I’ve an idea for a business to bring merchandise to the country.” “I know. And you want to find the scurvy bastard who killed your papa,” Ryal pointed out. “And kill him,” Baxter added. “And kill him. How will you do that if you don’t want to practice with a sword or lance?” “My dagger.” Baxter pulled out the weapon in question and laid it on the table. The tavern wench delivering the ale saw it and pulled back for a moment. Baxter smiled at her. She blushed and put Ryal’s fresh tankard in front of Baxter instead. “Dagger’s no match for a sword.” Ryal grabbed the ale and frowned at the girl. “From behind. Same way the bastard killed Papa. I’m not stupid.” “Not very honorable, though.” “Honor’s worth naught to you if you’re dead,” Baxter answered. “I prefer to stay alive.” “That’s a lower-class attitude for a baron’s son,” Ryal commented. “A baron’s sixth son. Papa was a randy old rooster, but he didn’t deserve to die with a knife in his back. And he raised hearty sons. Many of them. With five living older brothers, I’m looking to secure my own future. I need gold to invest in my merchant plan.” “But being a baron’s son, even if it is a sixth son, you have a nobleman’s education. You would qualify for the job of making the princess presentable to the suitors the king’s rounded up for her.” “I can’t produce miracles, so I am not qualified,” Baxter insisted. “And I’ve no wish to do other than tup the bratty princess, perhaps after I’ve thoroughly tanned her bottom. This is not the

job for me. I’ll find another way to get into the court and the king’s good graces.” Ryal studied his old friend with a thoughtfulness born partly of copious quantities of ale and partly of a natural cunning. “I do believe this is exactly the job for you. The king wants a strong man to take her in hand as she’s apparently run off every female and elder he’s had work with her. You’re strong enough for it, and that ridiculously pretty face of yours seems to have every woman you come across swooning to do whatever you will. Why should she be any different? At least go and speak with the king about it. Perhaps you’ll see another way while you’re doing so.” “Perhaps.” Baxter drained another tankard of ale. “It might serve, at least to get me into the court. I’ll talk to him.” Baxter would later conclude he must truly have been in his cups to agree to do even that much. He would certainly have time and occasion to rue his concession.

Chapter 1 He really never had a chance. The gatekeeper at the main entrance and the guard at the door of the keep asked only for his name and place of origin. They admitted him with no hesitation when he provided the information. The doorkeeper to the main chamber asked the same thing. Baxter identified himself by name, and as the son of the late Lord Marko of Denzwig and brother to the current lord. The man followed up with, “Your business with the king?” “I understand the king seeks someone to assist him in certain personal matters.” “Ah.” A huge grin spread across the doorkeeper’s face. “You’ve come to take charge of the princess. Do you think you’ll have more success than the others?” “I didn’t necessarily come…” The doorkeeper ignored him and called to a woman he spied down the hall. “Lady Syndal, come anon. This lord’s son has come to take Princess Fanny in hand.” “But I didn’t—” “I believe he might be more effective than some of the others,” the man continued. Lady Syndal laughed heartily and bustled up. “Aye.” She studied him, running her eyes up and down his form in a way that made him blush. “Lord…Baxter,” she added when the doorkeeper repeated his name. “You’ve a rare face and form. Perhaps that will find favor with the princess. She’s had enough sour-faced harridans, old and young, and a few fierce gentlemen. None so winsome as you, though,” she said. “Mayhap it will be just the combination to win her cooperation. But can you be strong enough and stern enough to take her in hand? It’s a powerful will she has, and it has defeated all who’ve tried to tame her thus far. A pity she’s not more like her sister, as sweet and pretty and biddable a girl as anyone could want to see.” “My will is equal to any woman’s,” Baxter said. “But that is not really—” “Ah well, I hope it is so,” Lady Syndal said. “Come, let’s go to the king.” She took his arm as the doorkeeper opened the portal to allow them entrance to the main hall. He had no choice but to proceed down the aisle to the dais at the far end in her company. Most of the gathered throng took no notice of them, continuing their conversations in small groups scattered around the huge hall. The king sat on an enormous throne on the dais, consulting with a group of three men who

stood around him. Nearby another group huddled around a very pretty young woman who wore rich robes and a silver coronet on her smooth, dark, glossy hair. She laughed with her admirers, encouraging their flirtations, showing charming dimples in her cheeks and sparkling lights in her blue eyes. Baxter couldn’t help but stare at her for a few minutes. The glowing vision was no doubt the elder princess. “Your Majesty,” Lady Syndal said to draw the king’s attention, at once curtseying and elbowing Baxter in the side to remind him to bow. “I have here the Lord Baxter, son of the late Lord Marko, who has come to take charge of Princess Fanny. He believes he can take her in hand.” Baxter coughed and said, “Well, in truth, I’m merely—” “My Lord Baxter! Son of my old friend, Marko!” The king stood up, stepped down from the dais, and came forward to envelop Baxter in a huge bear hug. The fur on the royal robe tickled his nose, and he feared the king would smother him in his enthusiasm. Breathing was touch and go for a few minutes until the king finally released him and stepped back. Baxter sucked in a good lungful of air, trying not to be too obvious about it. “You’ve heard of my difficulties with my younger daughter?” “Aye, Your Majesty, but I know not—” “She’s a wild one is Fanny.” The king bore on, ignoring his incipient protest. “Try as we might, everyone has failed to make her behave as suits a princess. If you can manage the task, I’ll be in your debt. The rewards will be considerable.” “But Your Majesty, I’m not sure if—” “You may have a free hand in her training. Use whatever methods you deem necessary. Short of taking her life, I give you free rein to do as you will with her.” The king sighed and turned away for a moment to stare at the lovely young woman Baxter had noticed earlier. “My elder daughter, Merry.” The king nodded toward the girl. The princess turned and inclined her head in his direction, giving him a brilliant smile. The king beamed on her. “She’s to be married next month. It would suit my purposes well should Fanny be tamed and trained to suitable behavior by then. There will be a number of nobles there that might be candidates for her hand, and I’d be pleased if she were to show well.” “Your Majesty, I’m—” “I am truly glad you’ve come,” the king added. “I do believe you’re just the man to take Fanny in hand.” While Baxter was trying to frame a suitable reply, the vision of loveliness that was Princess Merry drifted over to join them. “Did I hear correctly?” she asked in a soft, almost childish voice, addressing the question to Baxter. “You’ve come to take my sister in hand and train her?” Baxter found himself near speechless in the presence of such perfection. “Aye, Your Highness.” He almost tripped over the words. “You have my most absolute admiration,” the princess said. “Fanny has been such a trial to all of us. Mucking around in the dirt all the time, screaming at people, driving away all who would help her and teach her more civilized ways. She insists on reading books and conversing with her plants rather than coming to state dinners and fulfilling her duty to assist our father in matters of state and entertain his guests.” “I believe I can succeed where others have failed.” He turned back toward the king. “I must have your complete support, however, if I’m to have a chance. Some of the things I do may seem a bit…outrageous to you. I must have your assurance that if Princess Fanny complains to you about them, you’ll lend me your support. And I must be able to call on some of the resources of your

household.” “Whatever you need,” the king assured him. “You have but to ask. I’ll give you a token to present to anyone in the castle to get whatever you need. As I said before, short of taking her life, you may do as you wish with her. She’ll get no support from me or my household in any battle with you.” Baxter had a momentary twinge of sympathy for Princess Fanny, who apparently had no loyalty from her family. It didn’t last long. She’d had numerous opportunities to win their sympathy and had instead alienated all. In any case, he needed a completely free hand to put in place the plan beginning to take shape in his mind. “My thanks, Your Majesty,” he said. They dismissed him. Lady Syndal showed him to a suite of rooms that adjoined Princess Fanny’s quarters and gave him a key to the princess’s own apartments, then left him to get settled. After putting away the few belongings he’d brought with him, Baxter went in search of the things he would need. It took him most of the rest of the afternoon to acquire the equipment, but by the time the bell rang for dinner, he was satisfied with what he’d accumulated. Instead of joining the household for dinner, he let himself into Princess Fanny’s bedchamber and settled into the only comfortable chair in the room. While he waited, he surveyed the room, trying to get a feel for the young woman who was soon to be his unwilling pupil and charge. The trappings were pretty much what he would have expected of a princess’s chambers. An enormous bed was hung with yards and yards of velvet from the canopy, while the windows, too, were draped with the rich blue fabric. A plush, woven carpet covered most of the floor. The dressing table bore various pots and trays, but most all were pushed to one side and appeared not to have been used.. What struck him most forcefully about the room, however, were the drawings. Charcoal sketches of plants and flowers covered nearly every surface. Twenty or more of them were tacked to the wall, while others were stood against the mirror on the dressing table and the back of the writing desk. The drawings were skillfully executed and showed considerable detail. He recognized a few of the more obvious ones, though he knew next to nothing of gardening or horticulture. He had a good bit of time to study them and was beginning to doze off when the rattle of the door latch roused him. He was sitting upright and staring alertly when the door opened and the princess walked in. Though he’d been warned, he still could barely contain his astonishment when he saw her. He couldn’t imagine a young woman who looked any less like a princess. Her clothes were old, threadbare, and filthy. Mud caked her worn boots and splattered her clothes and face. He sniffed as something unpleasant assailed his nose. Was that dung he smelled clinging to her? She pushed strands of reddish-brown hair out of her eyes. It had been hastily twisted and pinned to her head, but small streams fell loose around her ears, dripping down onto her shoulders, showing streaks of mud there as well. Her hands were filthy. He winced at the sight of dirt caked under her short, ragged fingernails. There was a great deal of work to be done here. He’d seen scullery maids with better grooming. Still, without the mud and the windburn that roughened her cheeks, she might be passably pretty. Her features were well-shaped and the sparkle in her eyes could be appealing. Fanny started to pull off her cloak, but stopped, frozen in the motion of removing it when she spotted him. “Who are you?” she demanded. “What are you doing here?” “I’m your new tutor.”

He waited for her to object or scream or run away. Instead she stared at him for a moment, then said, “No, you’re not. Get out.”

Chapter 2 Fanny struggled to get her breath under control. She’d come back to her chamber, wanting only a bath and a bit of food. Finding a man waiting there startled her so that for a moment she hadn’t been able to say or do anything more than stare at him. When he’d announced he was her new tutor, she was even more stunned, but anger followed right behind the astonishment. She sighed, but tried to keep him from seeing or hearing it. Would her father ever leave her alone and stop trying to turn her into what he thought a princess should be? And what was this new tactic? Did he think she’d be more susceptible to a handsome young man than to the others? She repeated her order to get out, and he ignored it, just as he’d ignored her the first time. Instead he sat and watched her with that wicked grin curving his beautiful mouth and lighting his gorgeous, brilliant blue eyes. “I am your new tutor,” he repeated, “and I don’t plan to leave until we’ve settled a few things.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “You smell bad. I hope you’re going to take a bath.” She wouldn’t tell him that was precisely what she’d planned to do when she came in. “And why, exactly, should I be interested in doing anything that would please you?” “Because it will make life easier for both of us if you will cooperate. Fighting is so exhausting, and is mostly a futile waste of energy.” “I’m nineteen years old,” she informed him. “For approximately seventeen of those years I’ve been fighting to be what I want to be and to do what I want to do. Mostly I’ve succeeded. I would not say it was a waste of energy.” “Even when a bit of compromise would save you a deal of arguing?” “You do not know my family. There is no compromise, only winning or losing.” “If we have to argue, I’m going to win.” His confidence infuriated her. “Who are you and what makes you think you can succeed where so many others have given it up?” “I’m Baxter of Denzwig, son of Lord Marko of Denzwig and brother of the current Lord.” She waited for the rest of the answer, but he seemed to think that was adequate. “If you think a handsome face and too much charm will move me, you must needs think again,” she suggested. “I’ve thought about it a great deal, in truth. I have a plan, but looks and charm have no place in it.” “And what does?” she asked. “Until I’m ready to put it in practice, I see no point in giving you the advantage of knowing.” He stood up with a slow, graceful ease. He was several inches taller than her and nicely built. His tunic fell from broad shoulders to a narrower waist, and the legs outlined by his leggings were muscular and well shaped. “However,” he said, lazily, “I’m hoping it will not be necessary to use it all. You will not defeat me,” he warned. “But I’m willing to discuss a compromise.” “I see no need to discuss a compromise. I want only to discuss your leaving my chamber. Immediately.”

“But it doesn’t suit me to leave at the moment.” “Then I’ll do so.” She turned and went to the door. “If that’s what you wish,” he said. “But I’ll be here when you return. No matter how long it takes. I’m a very patient man.” “A very stupid one,” she said. “You’ll get hungry.” “I’ve already arranged for food to be sent should I ring.” He nodded toward the bell. “You’ll get sleepy.” “The chair is quite comfortable. Or perhaps I’ll move to your bed. In any case, I’m a light sleeper.” “You’ll be bored,” she predicted. “Nay, Your Highness. I have all your lovely sketches to study.” She felt the heat rise in her face, and her anger began to expand past her control. “Get out of my quarters!” He gave her a slow, lazy look. “If you’ll agree to work with me, I’ll consider leaving you in peace for a time.” She was in a corner. He no doubt had her father’s backing, so if she went for guards to remove him, they’d likely refuse. She suspected he meant what he said and would remain in her quarters for longer than she’d want to stay out of them. “If you’ll get out and leave me alone now, I’ll meet you in the morning.” She hadn’t fooled him, but he was considering settling for it anyway. “I won’t be unreasonable,” he said. “If you’ll spend some time with me in lessons, I’ll allow you some time to work in the garden. That is what you prefer to do, no?” Fanny sighed. The pretty face hid a clever mind. He could be a problem. “I’ll meet you tomorrow morning,” she said. “Now please leave.” He stood up and strolled past her. His face wrinkled in a frown as he went by. “Take a bath,” he suggested. “You smell like you’ve been mucking out the barn. The room next door, an hour past morning bells.” She watched him go. She didn’t let anything show on her face, but mentally she cursed him for being too good-looking, too charming, and too clever. He was far too much of a danger to her peace. As was her norm, she rose with first light the next morning, grabbed some bread and cheese in the scullery, and went out to work in the garden. The weeds were beginning to multiply, and she preferred to do the heavier work early before the temperature grew uncomfortably hot. There were seedlings that needed to be moved as well. She nearly lost track of the time as she sank into the joy of working with the dirt and the plants. The sun moving high in the sky reminded her that she had a promise to keep. She’d told Baxter she would come to him in the morning and so she would. He’d specified the time, but she’d not specifically agreed to it. If she were fortunate, he’d have given up waiting for her and would have gone seeking entertainment and company. In case he hadn’t, she didn’t bother to clean up, but went straight to the room between their quarters, in her filthy clothes and dirty face. He wasn’t there. Fanny breathed a sigh of relief. She could say she’d come to him. She’d tried to keep their bargain. She went through to her own quarters, intent on washing up and changing clothes. She’d gotten a new book on annual plants from a traveling tinker who came through periodically and knew her interests. There was a lovely, cool, quiet corner of the garden near the stream with a

comfortable wood bench where she could settle down for a relaxing read. Perhaps she could talk Cook into saving her some meat from the roast they’d be serving at the noon meal. Rolled up with a slice of bread, it would be a fine treat. She wasn’t paying much attention, but she likely wouldn’t have seen the danger even if she had. Before she could react—other than to shriek in surprise—someone who’d been lurking behind the door took hold of her arms, dragged them around behind her back and fastened her wrists together with what felt like a leather strap. She tried to struggle, but without her hands, she could do little. Moments later he wrapped a piece of something cool and firm around her throat and fastened it in the back. “Since you chose not to honor our bargain,” Baxter said, speaking from behind her, “I see no point in arguing or trying to bargain with you further.”

Chapter 3 “What are you doing?” she yelled at him. “How dare you? You cannot do this! It is an outrage.” “A necessary outrage.” Baxter turned her around to face him and winced at her filthy state. “Made so by yourself. You refused my offers of a compromise and reneged on our bargain. I see no other choice than to force you.” “My father will have your head for this.” “On the contrary, Princess Fanny, I expect eventually to have a reward from him. I have your father’s permission to do whatever is necessary to tame you, short only of taking your life.” “You have no right.” “Perhaps not, but all who know you would disagree. Have you the right to disrupt the lives of your family and the entire court with your behavior, to fail in your duty to your father, and give him no end of trouble?” he asked. She struggled to get away from him, but he had only to hold tight to the length of leather he’d attached to the collar. He’d made sure the leather circling her neck was well padded, so it wouldn’t chafe, and only tight enough to keep her from sliding it off, not so tight as to be uncomfortable or choke her. The princess yelled, wriggled, stamped a foot, and shouted in a most undignified way, but she couldn’t escape his hold. Finally she calmed enough to ask, “What are you going to do to me?” She sounded resigned, but he thought he knew better than to believe it. “First, we’re going to get you a bath, then dress you in some decent clothes. I’m interested to see what you look like without layers of mud and dirt all over.” “And after that?” she asked. “We’ll discuss it when you smell better.” He rang the bell and told the woman who answered what he wanted. A few minutes later the servants began to arrive with the tub and buckets of water. While they waited for the bath to be readied, Fanny sat in the seat he’d persuaded her to take, glaring at him. All her fuming would serve for naught, however. He had no intention of allowing her any freedom until they’d come to an accord. He suspected it would be a while. When it was ready, he pulled the princess to her feet. “Time to get in,” he told her. He reached for the fastenings of her gown and she yelped. “You can’t,” she said. “You’re a man.”

“So I am,” he answered. “And beneath all the grime, I believe you’re a woman. Now that we’ve established that, what of it?” “You must leave and give me privacy to bathe. I promise, I’ll not try to escape.” He stared at her. Her eyes were a nice, warm brown with flecks of green and copper. Her genuine distress moved him, but not enough. “I regret it, Princess, but you’ve already shown I cannot rely on you to keep your promises. However… If you’ll allow two of the female servants to bathe you at my direction and make no complaints whatsoever, I’ll turn my back and promise not to turn back around until you’re bathed and clothed again.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “What of it?” Her eyes and lips narrowed. It galled her to concede anything to him. The struggle lasted only a few moments before she gave in and nodded. Maintaining his hold on the strap connected to the leather collar around her neck, he whispered a few directions to the two servants he’d asked to remain. He also warned them that she would no doubt try to get them to remove the collar, but that they were not to do so under any circumstances. Both agreed. Baxter turned away, facing toward the windows, though he kept the end of the strap firmly in his fist. Behind him he heard the sounds of the servants helping Princess Fanny to undress and then get into the tub. For several minutes, he heard only the sound of water splashing and the murmur of voices. He wondered how long she’d cooperate, especially when it became obvious the servants were thoroughly enjoying being able to give orders to the princess, knowing she would have to obey. It took longer than he anticipated before he heard her give a small shriek and protest: “No, no, not there. You may not touch me there.” “My Lord Baxter said we were to wash every inch of you,” the servant said. “But not there,” the princess returned. “Not there. It is not decent.” Baxter turned around. “Enough,” he said. “I agreed not to turn around so long as you cooperated. Now, you choose not to.” He looked at the two female servants. “You may go,” he told them. “Nay, you cannot do that,” she protested. “Stay here,” she said to the servants. They stopped and looked at each other. “I can,” he said to the princess. To the servants, he said, “You may go now. I’ll ring if I need you.” The two women vacillated a moment longer, then left the room. He turned to the princess again. “You made the bargain and agreed to the terms. You chose not to honor the bargain, and now you pay the price. I’ll have to wash you myself.” He fastened the lead that was attached to the collar to a bedpost, so that she wouldn’t be able to go far should she slip out of his grasp, then he took up a washcloth and began to bathe her. He washed her arms first, moving over to her chest. When he attempted to move the cloth along to her breasts, she wiggled and shrieked at him to halt. She began writhing so violently, he could barely keep a grip on her. Water flew all over the place and his clothes grew soaked. “Be still,” he warned her, but she chose to ignore it. She deliberately splashed water in his face and tried to kick him in the groin. He caught and lifted her leg before the effort connected with a vulnerable portion of his anatomy. He couldn’t help but admire the shape and length of her leg, the graceful slenderness and smooth skin. She jerked it back out of his grasp and tried for a punch instead. It came close to hitting him. Exasperated, he put a hand on the top of her head and pushed down until her face was briefly submerged. She grabbed at his wrist and tried to claw him. Her fingernails were too short to do any damage, and he was able to ignore the attempt. He let up the pressure after just a few seconds.

She raised her head, sputtered, and yelled at him. “You’re trying to kill me. I’ll scream and let the king know how you’re mistreating me. He said you couldn’t kill me.” “Scream away,” he invited. “Would you have all in the castle come and see you as you are now?” She drew a sharp breath. “Aye,” he said. “Now, be quiet so we can finish this.” He went back to work with the washcloth. She was quiet and mulishly still until he began to run the cloth up her legs. As he approached her upper thighs, she began to wriggle and squeal protests. “Be still,” he warned again. Instead she squirmed even more and splashed water on him. He was soaked already and getting tired of leaning over, trying to wrestle her down. Baxter kicked off his shoes, shrugged out of his vest and shirt, then climbed into the tub with her. It wasn’t a huge tub, so once in, he found himself straddling her. To forestall the kick he saw coming, he squatted down to drop the weight of his body on her legs. She yelled in mixed shock and surprise. “How dare you?” “You’ll have to learn, Princess Fanny. I dare much in pursuit of my goals. At this moment, my goal is to have you clean and sweet-smelling.” He reached over, picked up the cloth, and began to wash her again. She squirmed and protested, but soon realized the futility and instead tried to remain completely still. It worked for a while, but he noted that when the cloth ran over her breasts, she sucked in a sharp breath and grew tense. He worked there for a while, watching her face soften. Then he raised the cloth. Very gently, he washed the remaining dirt from her face, dabbing here and there. She’d been watching his hands, but now looked up and met his gaze. Her eyes were large, soft, and brown. Her skin was clear and smooth, the lines of her face graceful and elegant. She might not be the beauty her sister was, but he suspected she would be quite attractive in pretty clothes, with her hair arranged nicely. He finished with her face and slid the cloth down the side of her neck, along her throat and chest, and lowered it to her abdomen. She sucked in a harsh breath but didn’t protest. He moved back as far as he could, parted her legs the few inches possible in the confines of the tub, and began to scrub carefully along the insides of her thighs. She let out a small, mewling cry that was nearly a sob. “What are you doing?” she whispered. “It’s not decent.” “But it feels good, does it not?” he asked. She didn’t answer but he didn’t need it. The way her breath hitched in her throat told him enough. He wiped the cloth across the slit between her legs. She jerked and groaned and her face tightened with the pleasurable strain. When he lifted the cloth away, she sighed lightly. Baxter could hardly remain unaffected himself. The heat and pressure gathered in his groin. He wanted desperately to free his cock and bury it in the soft folds he’d just washed. It took all the willpower he could summon to resist the temptation. He took her arms and turned her around, fitting her back against his chest. She struggled for a moment, but he wrapped his arms around her and rested his palms on her breasts. The mounds were pleasantly soft and warm in his hands, the size a perfect fit. A sharp breath squeaked from her as he rubbed gently. When she squirmed, though, his hard, full cock poked into her bottom. She shifted uneasily. “Tip your head back,” he told her. “I’ll wash your hair, but I don’t want to get soap in your

eyes.” To encourage cooperation, he leaned over and put his lips to her neck, nibbling and licking at the tender skin there. Her resistance softened. His cock did just the opposite. He soaped her hair and massaged the lather into the long strands. They slid like silken ropes through his fingers as he worked them clean, and the fragrant aroma of the soap finally drove away the smell of the dung. She sighed as his fingers rubbed her scalp. The sensation was surprisingly pleasant for him as well. After a while he scooped up water and began to rinse the soap away. Once her hair was clean, he pulled her back against him and wrapped his arms around her again. She rested her head on his chest as his hands covered her breasts. There was something oddly endearing—childlike and trusting—in the way she leaned against him. His palms rubbed in ever-tightening circles around the mounds, circling in toward the tips. When his fingers closed in on her nipples and each traced a quick dash across the sensitive tips, she jumped and squealed. He gave her a few more flicks and taps, until she moaned deep in her throat. Then he moved her forward and stood up. He stepped out of the tub and leaned over to draw her to her feet. Her eyes were still wide and dazed, but she tried to cover her breasts and groin with her hands. The effort was in vain, and he could barely take his eyes from the loveliness she displayed. She was slender but well-shaped, with breasts a perfect size to fit in a man’s hands, and gently rounded hips. Baxter reached for a cloth and wound it around her. It just barely covered her breasts and quim. He sighed as he struggled for control. Her eyes widened as they ran down his body, settling on the bulge of his cock, clearly visible beneath his soaked leggings. Her expression changed as the shock of pleasure wore off and transmuted into frustration. “My lord, you dare much,” she accused him, her eyes full of sparkling anger. “Too much.” “I dare what I must,” he said. “You’ll have cause to regret it.” “Perhaps so,” he admitted, “But if I do, you’ll regret it even more.”

Chapter 4 Fanny suspected he might be correct, but she dared not give him the satisfaction of letting him know. She’d fought too long and too hard for the independence to do what she wished. She had to get away from him. She needed time to think about what had happened and decide how to proceed. His presence was overwhelming her. She’d nearly given into him entirely in the tub. When he touched her so intimately, she couldn’t find the outrage she knew she should feel. It just felt so incredible, so wonderful. Even now, watching him, seeing the strong muscle of his chest, the bulge of his cock, made something tighten inside. He was too good-looking, too much for her senses to handle. But he was clever, too, so she’d have to be even smarter. His arms came around her waist and lifted her out of the tub. It set off the fluttering in her stomach again. He was stronger than she’d guessed, and his body was warm and hard against her. She kicked at him, but he wrapped an arm around her legs after the first blow. “Stop that,” he said. When she ignored him and continued to struggle, he slapped her sharply on the rear, just below the edge of the towel, so it landed on bare skin at the spot where her bottom met her thighs. She squealed. It stung, but it also sent a thrill flashing into her loins that was as much pleasure as pain. A very dangerous thrill. She subsided rather than risk another smack.

He set her on her feet. The towel slipped down off her breasts, and she grabbed at it. His hands covered hers before she could pull it up. “Don’t,” he said. “Your breasts are beautiful. Let me look at them for a moment.” His hands slid upward, lifting and cupping her breasts. “Nay,” she whispered to him, barely able to get the words out past the constriction in her throat. She hated that he would know it affected her, but he could see it anyway. Still, if it would help put him off guard… “No one has ever touched you before,” he said. “Not like this. And you have no right.” “Your father granted me the right.” “It wasn’t his to grant.” “He’s your father,” Baxter reminded her. “He has the authority.” “He’s never chosen to act like a father. He cares only for my sister. She’s charming and beautiful. He never needed me. My mother died in bringing me into the world. He’d rather have her back.” “He cares for you. He wants what’s best for you.” “He wants only what’s most convenient for him,” she corrected. “It appears you’re his current instrument in the attempt to get me out of his life.” “I regret you believe that. Yet it matters not. It suits me to be used that way.” “What will it gain you? What did he promise you for taming me? Do you get my hand in marriage?” Something she said affected him. His hands stilled on her breasts and his blue eyes narrowed. “That is no concern of yours,” he answered. “You think I’ll not care what the theft of my freedom is worth?” He drew a deep breath but didn’t answer. “It is not my hand,” she continued. “That would be worth naught to you. Position? Land? Gold? What is my price?” “What do you think you should be worth?” he asked. That stopped her for a moment, yet when the answer occurred to her, it popped out of her mouth before she could censor it. “A good man’s devotion.” She regretted the words when she saw the pity in his eyes. “Since that’s not likely to happen,” she added hastily, “I’ll hold fast to my freedom.” He released his hold on her breasts, took a step backward, went to the door, and called for the two women to return to the room. They came so promptly, she knew they’d been waiting nearby, probably listening at the door. “She needs to be dressed,” he said. “Choose an appropriate afternoon gown.” He had to release the long leather strap from the collar so they could drop the shift over her head. Fanny watched him move across the room, and when he was as far from her as he was likely to get, she broke away from the women as they prepared to put the gown on. She ran for the door and down the hall. She reached the bottom of the staircase before he caught up with her and grabbed hold of her wet hair. Unfortunately, he held on, even when she shook her head. It served only to bring tears to her eyes from the sting. He pulled her by it, back up the stairs, along the hall, and into her room. “Leave us,” he ordered the two women who waited for them. “And close the door behind you.” The hard, cold tone made her shiver.

“I do not intend to chase you all over the castle every time I have to release you for a moment,” he said as he pulled her toward the bed. She landed face down, her upper body on the bed, her legs hanging off. When she tried to roll over, his hand pressed into the small of her back to stop her. Her shift was flipped up onto her back, and then a hard palm smacked down on her bottom. Pain flashed through her, making her yell. She tried to wriggle out from under his hold. “Be still,” he ordered. “You may yell as much as you like, but you’ll be still and take your punishment or I’ll call the servants back in to hold you.” It was humiliating enough to be in that position. She couldn’t bear the thought of servants witnessing it. “No, please, I’ll be still,” she promised. “We’ll see.” He smacked down again, hard, on her bare bottom. Fanny couldn’t hold in a squeal, but she dug her fingers into the bedclothes and held tight to keep herself as still as possible. It stung almost unbearably. He spanked again and again, hard. She tried not to cry out, but after a while she couldn’t hold in a squeal with each swat. It burned so much, she felt each smack down to her fingertips and toes. But it also worked its way into her loins and set something else burning inside her. Need, a pressure of desire for something, began to gather and make the flesh of her cleft swell. She managed to remain still for a while, but as spank followed spank with no break, the fire in her bottom had her wiggling and kicking uncontrollably. She didn’t release her hold on the bed, and she managed to stay in place, however. It went on and on, until her bottom felt like it was on fire. Her moans grew into sobs and groans. Though it humiliated her even more, she was finally reduced to pleading with him to stop. “No more, please. I won’t run away from you again. I promise,” she begged. “Please no more. No more! I can’t bear it. Stop!” “It will stop when I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson,” he said and delivered a resounding blow that landed right at the junction of bottom and thighs. Overwhelmed by the fire, she screamed. “I’ve learned the lesson. I promise. I’ve learned.” The final word turned into another yell as a hard spank crashed into her tender derriere. Tears ran down her face and soaked into the bedclothes. “Oh, please,” she sobbed, softer now. “Please stop.” A series of spanks followed, not as hard, but stinging continuously. She sniffed and moaned with each one. There was a pause and she hoped it was over. But then he smacked down again, delivering the hardest blow so far. She shrieked and her body arched up off the bed. But she kept her fingers buried in the bedcover, even as she collapsed again, sobbing and rocking back and forth. Her whole body was aflame, burning up with the agony in her backside. It felt so sore and swollen, she thought it must be twice its normal size. But even within the anguish, she was aware of the sensation creeping into her loins and causing a different kind of heat. After a while she calmed enough to brace herself for the next swat. It didn’t come. A gentle hand smoothed her hair back from her face, then moved to her bottom and rubbed the sore, stinging flesh. It helped soothe the ache. The gently kneading fingers massaged away the worst of the hurt, but at the same time they fed that other fire, deep inside the core of her. She knew she should protest when his fingers roamed down her derriere to her thighs. It was improper and dangerous. And when he nudged her legs apart, she should have resisted. She didn’t. He stroked up and down the insides of her thighs, going higher and higher each time. It sent tingling ripples of pleasure roaring through her. He touched the sensitive flesh of her quim, and the shock made her jump and moan. She could hardly breathe for the tightness of all her muscles. He kissed each globe of her bottom, his tongue swiping across the punished flesh. More fire ripped along her nerves. But then his fingers and tongue withdrew. He moved back with a last pat on her bottom, and

drew her to her feet. She stumbled a bit as he turned her to face him and ended up leaning against his bare chest. The feel of his warm, hard body was dangerously tempting. Fortunately or not, he didn’t let her linger there, but straightened her up. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, “but I’ll do what I have to. That includes punishing you when you defy or disobey me.” He reached out and pushed back a lock of her long hair that clung to her damp cheek. “Now, listen to me. I don’t want to break you or damage you. I don’t want to deny you the only thing you appear to be interested in. But it’s time for you to grow up and face reality. You cannot simply ignore the rest of the world and what it wants from you. Your father provides you with food and shelter and clothing. All he asks in return is that you do your minimal duty as a princess. Yet you refuse to do anything at all. For too long you’ve been allowed to run wild, insult your father and his position, do whatever you wish, refuse to act like a princess, but generally behave like a selfish, spoiled, childish brat. That ends now. I’ll not tolerate it. Therefore, for the next few days you’ll spend the entire day with me and in lessons with others I bring in. Should you cooperate and make progress, I’ll allow you time for your gardening. But it will be on my schedule, not yours. You will learn your duty and begin to perform it. Do you understand me?” Her heart felt as though it twisted up inside her. He didn’t understand or realize how horribly inept and clumsy she was with other people. “But I don’t want to,” she protested. “I have no talent or inclination for the games of politics and the court.” “It matters not whether you want to do it. You were born a princess, and it’s your duty to do as your father wishes until you’re married and transferred to your husband’s authority. You needn’t get involved deeply in politics, but you must learn to be polite and gracious to guests.” “I have no wish to marry or to be under any man’s authority. I would be my own person.” No man would want her, anyway. The few times she’d tried to flirt or even talk to an attractive man, her sister had fluttered by and drawn off all the attention. “And continue to live off others’ charity for the rest of your life? It doesn’t happen that way, Princess,” he said. “We must all work for our keep. Even spoiled princesses have duties to perform in exchange for the food they eat and the roof that shelters them. You’ll learn to do that duty.” Fanny shivered as she looked into his deep blue eyes. She feared him. He didn’t react to her words or her actions, and he seemed to have all the advantages in any battle between them. Worst of all, she feared that he told her a truth she couldn’t deny, much as she might want to. She couldn’t give him any answer, but he didn’t seem to expect it. She needed some time and space to consider what he’d said. Somehow she would have to manage to escape for a while so she could think about it. “Now,” he continued. “I’m going to call the servants back in. You’ll get dressed and groomed as a princess, and we’ll begin to talk about what it means.”

Chapter 5 Baxter was fighting his own battle while he lectured her. The spanking and soothing her afterward had aroused him to the point where his cock strained against his clothes and threatened to explode at any moment. How he managed any coherent argument mystified him. Her reaction suggested something he’d said might actually have reached her, and that was nothing short of a miracle. Once the servants had returned and were working on the princess, he turned away to put on his own shirt, now mostly dried, vest, and boots. Even as she meekly submitted to being dressed and primped by the servants, he knew better

than to believe the war had ended. He’d won the first skirmish. No more. He actually looked forward to future battles, especially if they ended the way this one had. He couldn’t help but relish the memory of her gorgeous backside turning rosy under the attentions of his hand. He’d thought his cock would explode all over her more than once. And she’d been moved by it as well. Though it had hurt her, and she’d yelled and screamed, had even begged him to stop, her quim had been swollen and wet to his touch afterward. His cock throbbed again, and he turned his attention back toward the servants now working on Princess Fanny’s hair. She grimaced occasionally when one of them pulled as they combed out the long strands, but she didn’t complain or protest. Her face looked surprisingly pretty with the faint pink flush still staining her cheeks. She’d cleaned up even better than he’d anticipated. She might never be the raving beauty her sister was, but absent that comparison, she was attractive enough to charm most men did she make the effort. The servants wound her hair into an elaborate, upswept knot that they secured with pins and covered with a veil, then they brought a deep blue overgown that buttoned down the front. The color of the gown flattered her complexion. When they were done, he walked up in front of her and studied her critically. “You are lovelier than I would have guessed,” he said. “You have naught to be ashamed of in any comparison to your sister.” “I have not her gift for charming others and bending them to my will,” Fanny answered. “Have you ever tried?” “When I was younger. Much younger. I was not indulged in the same way she was. I soon gave up the attempt.” “She sets a difficult comparison for you. Yet you are yourself, different from her, with different attractions and different strengths. Some things I can teach you about dealing with others. First, though, I would learn what you know of table manners. I’ve had the servants set up a mock dinner table in the next room. Come with me and we’ll see.” He offered an elbow to her, and she put her hand on it, very prettily. “Excellent,” he said. “Hold your head up high now and step with me.” Fortunately she’d somewhere along the line learned excellent table manners. However, she hadn’t learned to keep a meek demeanor. She walked boldly rather than carefully and spoke far too directly. Her only conversation, he discovered, centered around plants and gardening, and she talked about that to the point of boring any listener to death. After a while of letting her rattle on, he stopped her. “Enough about plants. You’ll have everyone in the room asleep within moments if you talk of nothing else.” “It’s all I know,” she said. “Not so. You know much more. You just don’t know it. And it’s not necessary for you to do all the talking in any case. Learn to draw others out to talk about themselves. It is considered much more polite.” “How does one do that?” “Shall we try it? You ask me something about myself. Pretend we are strangers. See if you can start a conversation with me.” “We are strangers,” she pointed out. “I knew you not yesterday.” “Quite,” he said. “Draw me out. Learn about me.” She stared at him for a moment, at a loss. “What is your favorite flower?” she asked. Baxter let his head sink down to the table for a moment. “No. No, no, no. Forget plants. I don’t care about plants. Ask me about where I come from. Who my family is. What my business is here.” “But I know those things,” she protested.

“You know my name and place of origin. But you do not know about my childhood, my relationship with my family, what does interest me.” “So tell me,” she said. “No. You must ask me questions and find out.” Again she had to think about it for a minute. “Have you any brothers and sisters?” “Ah, much better. Yes, I do. Twelve of them, in fact.” “Twelve! Your poor mother! How did she handle it?” “Quite well, in truth.” “But…” He could almost see her struggling to find the next question. “Are they older than you or younger?” “Seven of them are older. Five younger.” He wanted to tell her a great deal more about them, but restrained it. She needed to learn how to continue a conversation. The silence stretched into an uncomfortable length. Finally she shook her head and said, “I know not what more to ask.” “You might ask about my parents—what they are doing now.” “But your papa is dead, is he not? I remember he was killed…right here. ’Twas a terrible scandal. There was a fight, no?” “Not a fight. He was murdered. Knifed in the back in a most cowardly way.” “Was his killer punished? I do not remember that.” “No. We know not who it was. I’ve made it my mission to learn who did it and have my revenge.” “How do you think to discover who it was?” “I have a way to identify the finery of he who did the deed. A gold button that we found clutched in my father’s fingers after his death. It surely came from the robe of his attacker. I believe he who did it will not know we would recognize the buttons, and they’re too fine not to wear again. It’s my hope his killer will wear them to the wedding celebrations.” “Is that the true reason you’re here? Am I just an excuse to get to those celebrations?” The play of emotion across her face fascinated him. She had little ability to hide her feelings. He was surprised that she should be hurt to think she might not be the sole reason for his presence. “Nay, ’tis only a part of the reason for my presence.” “Ah, I forgot. Papa promised you a reward for teaching me my duty.” “Aye, he did. And I plan to collect it. I need it very badly.” He picked up Princess Fanny’s hand. “Princess, I realize you do not like me being here. But this you may rely on. I will try hard to be as fair to you as I may be. When I make a promise, I’ll keep it. When I tell you something, it will be the truth. I truly believe you need to learn the things I would teach you to ensure your future happiness.” “Why do you need the reward so badly?” she asked. “That is another good question,” he said. “My oldest brother is now the lord of our lands. My second brother is a knight, a warrior. My third brother is the steward of the household. The land is prosperous, but it cannot support so many lords. I have had a notion that there is a place for someone to bring goods from the east to this land, and it could prove a prosperous enterprise. But I need gold to begin, gold I hope to get from your father.” At that moment, the bell sounded, warning that dinner would be served shortly.

“We have just a few more minutes,” he said to her. “At dinner, I’ll see you have a chance to practice on one of the guests.” “Now?” Panic shot across her face. “I’m not ready for it. Surely it can wait until tomorrow.” “Nay. We’ll begin tonight. Here are some other things you might ask a stranger to open a conversation. Ask about his lands, what the country is like, what crops grow, what livestock they keep. Ask about his family, his children, his serfs. Learn if he likes music or games or riding. Ask about the hunting on his land.” “I’ll never remember all those things.” “You have only to remember a few of them.” He stood, slicked his hair, straightened his vest, and offered her an elbow. She took it reluctantly and walked with him down to the great hall.

Chapter 6 Conversation buzzed from various groups of people gathered in the great hall as they approached. But when they entered the room, it gradually died away. A few exclamations of surprise broke the growing silence. Fanny’s hand tightened on his arm. She slowed, trying to pull him to a halt. He tugged her forward, refusing to give her a chance to stop or retreat. He covered her hand on his arm with his own to keep her from shaking herself loose and led her across the room to where a servant distributed cups of ale. Mercifully, the second bell sounded, calling everyone to take their places for dinner. Baxter escorted her to the head table. The king took his seat in the center and Princess Merry positioned herself on his left. He led Fanny to the seat on the king’s right. He had no right to sit at the head table himself, but he secured a seat at the table nearest to her position. He was close enough to see the panic in her eyes and could only hope she wouldn’t turn and run from the room. Her terror mounted when an elderly lord, one Baxter didn’t recognize, took the seat to her right, with the younger Lord Foxworth beside him at the end of the head table. An attractive young woman sat down on his right side and did her best to engage his attention. Baxter struggled to keep up a pleasant, lightly flirtatious conversation with his neighbor, while keeping an eye and ear on Fanny at the same time. The Princess’s conversation seemed to remain on general introductions while the servants brought in the food and began to pass it out. Fanny spoke a few quiet words with her father, then the two men on the other side of her each greeted her. Baxter held his breath for a moment when the older of the two asked her why he hadn’t seen her before. “Has your father been hiding you from us? He’s soon to lose one of his treasures.” The man glanced toward Princess Merry. “Does he fear losing both?” Fanny hesitated for a moment. “It is no fault of my father’s,” she said. “I have not been ready for this heretofore. I’ve been involved in my studies.” “Ah, an educated young lady,” the older man said. “I’ve always said it would benefit us all to have ladies better educated. They must run a household and keep the accounts.” “It has always seemed dangerous to me,” Foxworth said. “The man is the lord of the household. Ladies should not believe they’re the equal of their lords.” It took an effort for Baxter to restrain himself from saying something. “But surely,” Fanny said, “the more a lady knows, the more she’ll realize the natural superiority of her lord.”

Baxter caught her eye, smiled and raised his glass in salute. Her words made the older lord smile and quieted the other one. “So, what do you study, Princess?” the older man asked. Baxter drew in a sharp breath, but he had to respond to a question from the woman next to him lest he seem unbearably rude. “Aye, my father was Lord Marko,” he told her. “My older brother is the present lord of the land.” He turned again in time to hear Fanny saying, “…numbers are quite fascinating, but I prefer to read about and study plants. There are so many things to learn from plants.” She looked up and saw him watching her. She turned back to the older man. “And yourself, my lord? What is your favorite area of study?” Baxter silently applauded her. He had to respond to the woman beside him again and for a time he let his attention center on her since Princess Fanny appeared to be handling herself well enough. The young lady on his right was sweetly engaging and not hard on the eyes, though not so attractive as the princess. He relaxed and began to enjoy the wine, which was potent, the food, which was delicious, and the company, which was pleasant. It was all too pleasant, and he should have known better than to relax quite so much as he did. But most of the meal went quite smoothly. Each time he glanced toward Fanny and the two men beside her, all seemed to be well. They talked, laughed, and seemed to be getting along well enough. When the disaster happened, there wasn’t much he could have done to prevent it in any case. In fact, he didn’t even hear it happen. He just heard the appalled gasps of the king, Merry, and Lord Foxworth. He turned from something the young woman beside him was saying to turn toward the head table. The older lord closed his eyes and looked horribly pained. Fanny looked puzzled, Foxworth angry, and the king and Merry astonished and disbelieving. Silence spread around the room as people began to realize something interesting had happened at the head table. After a moment, Princess Merry sighed dramatically and leaned across her father to face the old lord. “Please forgive my sister, Lord Drake,” she said. “We fear she spends too much time with her head in the clouds or wherever it is. She means no harm, but she has much to learn yet about thinking before she speaks.” Fanny looked more puzzled yet, and completely shattered. “I do not need you to make apologies for me, sister,” she said. “I can do so myself should it be called for.” She turned a pleading glance on Baxter for a moment. Her father grabbed her arm, pulled her toward him, and whispered something in her ear. Her expression changed into a horrified frown, then she turned to the older man. “Lord Drake, I apologize for saying anything that would cause you pain. Please attribute it to ignorance rather than to ill will and forgive my stupidity.” Her voice wobbled on the last few words. She turned toward her family. “Since I cannot be trusted to guard my words, I beg you’ll excuse me before I do more harm.” She turned and all but ran out of the room. Baxter leaned toward the young woman next to him and excused himself hastily, while rising to his feet. When he reached the corridor outside the great hall, he saw no sign of Princess Fanny. Torches lit the hallway, although a window at the far end showed twilight hadn’t yet faded into darkness. He headed toward the stairs up to the princess’s quarters, but hesitated on the first step. Instinct told him she wouldn’t have gone there. She would seek solace in the place she felt most comfortable. The layout of the castle still confused him, so he had to find a servant to direct him toward the gardens. He lit a candle-lantern and brought it with him. The day had been warm but was now

cooling down to a pleasant temperature as the daylight faded. He picked his way through a kitchen herb garden, a formal hedge planting, and an extensive series of flowerbeds before he found her. She sat on a large, flat stone, staring out over a narrow creek that threaded through the grounds. “I suppose you’ve come to drag me back in and make me apologize to everyone,” she said, without turning to look at him. “Nay.” He walked over to the rock. “You made the only apology you needed to make.” “And to the only person I didn’t intentionally offend,” she said, on a soft sigh. “He was the only one to whom you owed an apology. I’m proud of you for realizing that.” “Are you going to take me in and spank me again for making a scene?” “Do you think you deserve it?” “Nay, I do not.” He was pleased to hear a spark of spirit reasserting itself on the words. “I had no intent to offend Lord Drake,” she continued. “How should I have known that his lady wife was a madwoman who’d killed his only child and then herself? No one saw fit to warn me.” Anger gradually replaced the dismay in her tone as she continued. “My father made no effort to smooth it all over, but assumed, as always, that I was deliberately offensive. And my sister…” “Did all she could to make you look even worse, and herself better by comparison,” he finished for her. “I suspect that is an old pattern between the two of you. Her ‘help’ is carefully calculated to make you look the worse for it.” For the first time she turned to look at him. Twilight had by now deepened into near-full darkness. The lantern he still held provided the only light, so he doubted she could see more of him than he could see of her. He could just barely discern the expression on her shadowed face. “You see now why it is hopeless,” she said. “I regret you’ll not get the reward you sought, but it will not be possible.” “Because your family, knowing or unknowingly conspire to keep you as an embarrassment?” He laughed lightly and set the lantern down on the ground near the rock. “May I join you?” he asked, nodding toward the empty space beside her. “If you will.” He hoisted himself up on the rock. “It is not at all so hopeless as you suppose.” She shook her head. “Do you think you can change my family that much?” “Nay. But I can teach you how to cope with it. Perhaps even to turn their words and actions back upon themselves to show them for what they truly are.” “I do not understand.” She had picked up a fallen branch and was systematically stripping, rolling, and folding the leaves she pulled off and then shredding them into small pieces. “In there, earlier, your sister asked Drake for pardon, saying something like, ‘My sister is not noted for taking care with her words, my lord. It is a limitation that seems born in her, so I hope you’ll forgive her for it.’ And you immediately got angry and said, ‘I do not need you to make excuses for me. I can make my own apologies.’ Truth, but not well put. Consider what it might have been like had you remained calm and said to her, ‘Not so, sister. I care much for my words and regret it deeply when anything I say hurts or insults others.’ Say that very sweetly to her. You may rely on it. She and many others will understand both your meanings.” She paused in the act of pulling another leaf off the branch. “That is clever.” She sighed. “But I haven’t the wit to come up with such answers.” “Most certainly you do.” “Nay. I cannot think so clearly at those times.”

“You can learn to do so,” he said. “With practice. Consider this: your father introduces you to some minor lord and comments, ‘Fanny is my younger daughter. She has not the polish of Merry, but she is learning.’ What say you?” She considered it for a moment. “Now that Master Baxter is here to provide a sterling example of good behavior, I am indeed learning.” He broke into laughter. “Perfect. Oh, excellent indeed. Never say you haven’t the wit for it.” “But it is one thing to think of such words here with you in the garden, and another to do so when the words are needed.” “Aye,” he admitted. “But with practice, you can learn.” He stood up and turned to her. “Now, let’s go back inside. Tomorrow we’ll begin your lessons in earnest, and they’ll include learning to control your temper, so you can better defend yourself when others are belittling you.” “I would rather not go in just yet,” she said. “But you will. I say it is time to go in.” “I need time to think.” “You may do so in your own quarters. Now come.” She looked stubborn and didn’t move. “If you wish me to carry you in and up to your quarters, I’ll do so,” he said. “Is that your wish?” Her breath caught. “Nay.” “Then come now.” She sighed again and stood beside him. The scent from her hair mingled with the fragrance of some flower from the garden in an enticing mix. He fought the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her. Instead he took her arm again to lead her back into the castle. “You did not answer my question,” she said to him. “Will you punish me for leaving dinner tonight?” “Nay, not this time. But from this moment on, you’re not permitted to leave the castle for any reason, save with my permission. Tomorrow we begin the lessons in coping with your family and your position. If you cooperate and make progress, I’ll allow you some time to work in the garden. If you disobey or do not cooperate, you will be punished.” “I still do not think it’s right,” she said. “It doesn’t matter.”

Chapter 7 The next day was a trial to both of them. He started the day by bringing Lady Syndal in to work with Fanny on deportment and also to fill her in on the guests currently in the castle as well as those due to arrive soon. Afterward, he and Lady Syndal played out various scenarios with her, where she needed to converse with a guest, while either her sister or father made cutting comments. Unfortunately the princess had little success in dealing with the verbal barbs. She was easily angered, and when her temper roused, she would say only what came first to her mind. It was rarely helpful. After the fourth or fifth time, she stamped her foot and yelled. “I cannot do this. I can’t. It’s

pointless to try. Leave me be.” She tried to run from the room. Baxter caught and held her. “Lady Syndal, I believe we’re all in need of some refreshment. Would you see about having something brought up to us?” The lady understood what he asked and left the room. He went to Fanny and caught her arm. “You are not trying,” he said. “I expect more cooperation.” “I am!” she protested. “I’m trying. I just cannot do this.” “You can do it. If you want to spend some time in your garden, you will have to do better. Try harder. You must learn to control your temper. You’ll do better if you don’t get so angry. “ “You expect too much. I cannot do it. I cannot stop my anger.” “You can. Just stop and think before you say anything. Take a deep breath and count to ten.” “‘It will not work.” “It will if you’ll try.” A knock on the door preceded Lady Syndal’s return. Two servants followed her, carrying trays laden with bread, slices of meat, fruit, and tankards of ale. They spent some time eating, then resumed the lessons. Despite his urging, the afternoon’s lessons went little better than the morning’s had. Fanny tried once or twice to hang onto her temper, but for the most part she didn’t seem to make any effort at it. In one scenario, Lady Syndal pretended to be Sir James Devenish, a famously lecherous old knight. In the role, the lady, put her hand on Fanny’s thigh, as Sir James had been known to do on many an occasion when seated next to an attractive young lady. The first time, Fanny just nudged it off. The second time, she turned and said, very loudly, “Take your hand off my leg. It is unseemly.” In the role of her father, Baxter said, “Fanny, behave. It is even less seemly that you should make a scene. Behave as suits a lady.” “Is it right for a lady to make no protest when a man touches her in an unseemly fashion?” “A lady knows how to handle such situations without making a scene about it.” She drew a deep breath and glared at him. “Then it is clear I am no true lady.” She turned away and tried to leave the room. “Stay,” Baxter ordered. “You will not leave.” He abandoned the voice he’d used to mimic her father. “Come and sit down. Lady Syndal—had you been in this situation, what would you have done?” “I’d have quietly moved his hand off my thigh the first time,” she said. “When he did it again, I’d have nudged or kicked him under the table. Did that not work, I would whisper in his ear that did he not remove his hand, I would be forced to do something that might embarrass him. If he still attempted to feel me, I should look under the table, and let everyone know something brushed my leg. I’d say I feared a mouse or rat. In truth, all would know what had happened. He would not do it again at that meal.” Fanny sighed. “I cannot think of doing these things at the time.” “You can if you will just remain calm and think, instead of immediately getting angry or trying to do something.” “I don’t know how to do that,” she protested. “Next time, when something happens that upsets you, I want you to sit still and say nothing for an entire minute,” he said. “Count out the sixty seconds under your breath.” She said nothing but frowned and shrugged.

The next time they played out a scene of a young man harassing her, Baxter waited for her to hesitate and think. It didn’t happen. She immediately grew angry and told him to “take yourself away and leave me in peace.” “No,” Baxter reminded her. “Calmly, Princess. Think what you can say to him. Comment on his sterling wit being so overwhelming you can scarce bear its brilliance. Ask him why he believes such words should impress you. Tell him your poor mind is simply not equal to the depth of his understanding. Anything of that sort will tell him what you truly think of his foolishness.” “I cannot think of those things,” she insisted. They made little real progress that afternoon. Though they continued to replay various scenarios that upset her, she could not seem to remember to stay calm and count instead of shouting or saying something she should not. By dinnertime, they’d achieved almost nothing. All three of them were annoyed and frustrated by the lack of progress. Baxter did not want to risk taking her to dinner in public, so he had a dinner for the two of them brought up, while Lady Syndal went down to the state meal. Their private dinner was a quiet, tense time with neither of them eating more than necessary to keep them going. Baxter spent the time considering how to get through to her. When they finished he escorted her to her own quarters and set a guard at the locked door to prevent her from leaving without his permission. As he laid in bed that evening, he had an idea. It seemed rather drastic to him, perhaps even somewhat cruel, yet it might have an effect where his words did not. It came to him as he considered that Princess Fanny had grown up with no guidance or discipline, so it was much harder for her as she tried to learn it now. He remembered how his father had enforced discipline on his headstrong brood when he’d been a youngster. The strap had been painful and effective, though it had only been applied a few times. It took only a few spankings. After those, the mere threat of another produced the desired results.

Chapter 8 The next morning, he dug out his heaviest leather belt, brought it with him to the room where he would work with Fanny, and warned Lady Syndal of what he planned. The lady was initially shocked and dismayed. As he explained his reasoning to her, she came to accept it. “Aye, perhaps ‘twill work,” she agreed. “I hope you’ll not need to be unduly harsh with her.” “I would prefer not to be.” Princess Fanny was definitely not in favor of the idea. “You will spank me each time I fail to control myself?” she said, sounding disbelieving and outraged. “Surely even you cannot be that cruel.” “It is not cruel,” he said. “We need to try a different way to teach you to control your temper. Words and encouragement and practice did not help yesterday. I’ll not be overly harsh. The first time, you’ll get only one swat, the second time two, with another stroke added to the total each time you fail to control yourself. Should you not only control yourself, but answer a jibe in a reasonable or effective way, I’ll take a stroke off the total for next time. It’s not my wish to hurt you, but you haven’t learned any self-discipline heretofore, so now we must use drastic measures to teach you quickly.” “It is harsh and cruel,” she protested. “Lady Syndal, surely you cannot condone this!” “My dear, I’m fond of you, you know,” the lady answered. “But Lord Baxter has a point, and I

think it is worth trying. I’ll not let him hurt you badly, but you do need to learn this lesson.” Because she started out angry, the first few tries did not go well. Stubbornness disinclined her even to try to control herself. Their first playacting scenario was a simple one where Lady Syndal pretended to be the acidtongued daughter of the Earl of Scottsleigh. That young woman would find something to criticize about anyone. When Lady Syndal, in character, made a comment about Fanny’s heathenish manners, the Princess exploded in a tirade. Baxter took her arm, bent her over the back of a chair, and snapped the heavy belt down on her backside. The clothing no doubt absorbed most of the force of the blow, but she shrieked a protest anyway. “This is not fair,” she said. “It’s cruel and brutish.” Baxter and Lady Syndal ignored her protests. “Sit down,” Baxter told the Princess. The next few scenarios went just as badly. By the time of the noon bell, Fanny was up to receiving six strokes. She yelled protests each time, screaming, calling him names, describing him as a brute, an animal, and using language he would not have guessed she knew. She refused to stay in place, and tried to kick and punch him, until Lady Syndal had to hold her down. After the six-stroke penalty was delivered, they broke for a quick repast, then resumed the lessons. By the time they got up to eight strokes, in mid-afternoon, Baxter wondered if he were indeed being too harsh and cruel. Though all the punishments had been over clothes, by that time, she had to be getting quite sore. As usual, Lady Syndal had to hold her over the chair and it was clearly a struggle for her. The Princess screamed with each stroke of the belt, though he did not strike very hard, until the sixth swat. Following a loud, prolonged yell on that hit, she broke into tears and began to plead, “No more. Stop. Please, no more. I cannot bear it. Truly, I cannot bear it.” She sobbed in a way that made his stomach clench in sympathy. The last two strokes were no more than light touches of the belt to her derriere. Yet even when it was over, instead of jumping up and abusing him loudly, as had been her wont, she remained bent over the chair, sobbing relentlessly. Lady Syndal patted her hair and tried to calm her. Baxter lifted her from the chair and turned her toward him. She didn’t resist or protest when he pulled her into his arms and wrapped her up, pressing her face against his chest. Above her head, Lady Syndal caught his eye and nodded toward the door. He nodded back and the woman left the room. For a while, he let Fanny cry and wail. Her tears soaked his shirt, but she said nothing. He ran his hands through her hair to soothe her and held her close. When she began to calm, he put a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face. Her eyes were red and swollen. Tears dampened her cheeks. She looked soft, sad, and vulnerable. He couldn’t help himself. He leaned down and kissed her. Her lips quivered and parted slightly in surprise at the contact. She tasted as sweet as the jam in his favorite pastries. It shocked him. He’d meant the kiss to be a brief, comforting salute, a sign of affection. Nothing more. But when his lips were on hers, everything seemed to change. He couldn’t bring himself to break the contact. He wanted to know more of her. His tongue couldn’t bear not knowing the taste of her lips, so he swiped it across them, back and forth. She shivered against him but didn’t pull away. She opened her mouth a little more. His tongue needed no more invitation to move in, brush across her teeth, and taste the rich, warm depths of her. She moaned deep in her throat. Heat and pressure gathered in his groin as his cock rose in salute to her. Strange. He rarely lost control of a situation so thoroughly, but she was tying him in knots. He’d had a few women before, but not a one of them had gotten under his skin to the extent

she did. Some of them had been prettier or more attractive than Princess Fanny. All of them had been better-natured, sweeter, more accommodating. It had never occurred to him that sweet and good-natured might prove boring, but at the moment, he couldn’t imagine being excited by a gentle, biddable woman. Baxter ran his fingers across her cheeks into her hair. It felt like silk against his hands. Her breasts pressed into his chest. His hands slid down along her shoulders, and around under her arms, fingers spreading so that his thumbs were against the undersides of her breasts. When he nibbled at her lips, she sobbed lightly and wrapped her arms around his waist, drawing him even closer against her. Lack of breath finally forced him to draw back, but he didn’t let go of her. He half expected her to try to slap or kick him, or at the least call him several names he would certainly deserve. She didn’t. Fanny looked up at him, her eyes wide, soft, pleading. “Why?” she asked him. “Why? Why what?” “Why do you kiss me? You don’t care for me. I’m a way to get what you want. Or is that what the kiss is about? Another form of cajolement to induce me to do as you wish?” “Why do you assume I don’t care for you?” “Why should I assume anything else?” Baxter sighed. “In truth, no reason at all. Yet, you should have more belief in yourself. You’re a lovely, attractive woman.” “And still you see me only as a way to get what you want.” “Not so,” he said, but honesty forced him to add, “Or not only so. Though I might prefer it, and it would certainly make my life and task easier if I did not, in truth, I’ve found I do care for you.” “You show it rather oddly then, insulting me and spanking me past bearing.” “Not so. Parents discipline their children because they want them to learn proper behavior. They care for their children and want to train them to be ready to deal with the world when they are grown. It’s a pity you did not learn those lessons as a child. It’s that much more difficult now.” “You tell yourself it’s so, yet in truth, I believe you only do this to earn the reward my father offers.” Baxter drew a deep breath. There was truth in what she said, but yet… “When I first met you that was the case,” he admitted. “Yet over the past couple of days, as I’ve come to know you, I’ve also come to admire many things about you. If your father were to change his mind now and say there would be no reward, I would yet continue to try to teach you.” She stared at him, studying his expression, possibly trying to gauge the truth of his words. After a minute, she sighed deeply. “I wish I could believe you.” He shook his head. “What are we to do with you, Princess Fanny?” he asked. “I wish you wouldn’t spank me anymore. I’m sore enough, in truth.” He made a quick decision. “There will be no more today. For the rest of the day, we’ll study other things. How well do you dance?” he asked. She shook her head and raised a shoulder. “Not at all well, I fear. I’ve watched others dance, and once or twice attempted to imitate the steps, but it’s another thing for which I seem to have no talent.” “Talent has little part to play in dancing of this sort. You simply have to do it often enough to learn the steps. We’ll start with the simplest steps and work from there.”

The remainder of the afternoon passed more pleasantly than the first part of the day had. Lady Syndal found a lute player to come in and pick various tunes for them, while she called the moves. Baxter partnered Fanny. She moved with a natural grace that made watching her a delight, and her innate sense of rhythm meant she learned the moves fairly quickly. They began with the most simple turns and dips, and she mastered those rapidly. It took a bit longer when they moved on to more complicated maneuvers. They had their share of missteps and falters, but they didn’t seem to anger and depress her the way their verbal teasing of earlier had. Once she’d grasped the various steps, he showed her how to put them together into a simple round dance. Normally it would involve another couple with the four of them in a circle, but failing the presence of others, they imagined a second couple and proceeded with the steps as though they were there. She liked dancing. After just the first few rounds, the frown she’d worn most of the day softened and lightened. Her face flushed lightly with the exertion and enjoyment of it. “You step lightly, princess,” Baxter said to her as they briefly came shoulder to shoulder on a diamond pattern. Her eyes lit with pleasure as she turned to look at him. “Years of working in the garden have made me limber.” “It has clearly planted a natural grace in you.” A becoming flush rose in her cheeks. “I’ve grown into it,” she admitted. “Does it stem from all the work you do for the plants?” “I believe it is cultivated along with them.” “You thrive as do they. And dancing appears to make you bloom.” Her eyes shone with delight as she stepped toward him again “I feel a kinship with the flower opening to the sun.” “And where does the light come from in this case?” he asked. “What shines so brightly that your petals unfold to it?” Several beats went by before she answered. “Possibly it’s the music that invades my soul. Or perhaps it’s the glitter of your words, my lord, showing me possibilities undreamt before.” That stopped him for a moment, as he considered what she implied. “Perhaps there’s light all around you, waiting to nourish you, would you just remove yourself from the shadows,” he answered. “Perhaps I’ve never been able to see anything but the shadow until now and knew not that such sunlight even existed.” “Perhaps you didn’t wish to know. Your shady place was so comfortable. You felt no need to emerge and see if there was anything else.” She stumbled a bit and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her. Aware of Lady Syndal watching them, he dared do no more than rub her arms and smile into her shining eyes. “I beg pardon, my lord,” she said. “My roots are inclined to tangle themselves.” “It’s common for all of us to trip occasionally,” he said as they resumed going through the steps. When she joined hands with him for a twirl, he asked, “But what would you say if your sister were behind you in the line and said to me, ‘Forgive Fanny, my lord, she has no grace’?” She stepped back curtseyed and moved forward again. “I’d say, ‘Please forgive Merry, my lord, she is lacking in kindness.’” “Perfect,” he said, grinning at her. “And if your father were to say, ‘Fanny, can you not learn

to do anything without making a gubble of yourself?’” “I’d say, ‘Your pardon, father. Of course I can learn, if someone were so inclined to teach me.’” “And he’d say, ‘But you’ve allowed no one to teach you until now. You’ve fought and screamed and driven away all those who would have taught you.’” Fanny gave him a wry smile as she curtseyed and twirled. “Is it my fault you’ve found no one who was able to teach me? Until now, that is? I believe the fact that Master Baxter has done so argues that the fault was in the other teachers rather than in myself.” He tilted his head toward her as they did a hop and skip step. “Well done!” He threw other insults and derogatory comments at her, but she fielded most of them with equal wit. The warning bell sounding the alert that dinner would soon be served interrupted their revels. Baxter dismissed the musician to prepare for the evening. “I must needs sort myself out as well before I go down to dinner,” Lady Syndal said. “Will you be coming?” “Not this evening,” Baxter decided. “Tomorrow perhaps. Will you have something sent up for us?” “Of course,” the lady agreed. “You know the guests are beginning to arrive for the coming nuptials. Will you be continuing your lessons tomorrow?” “Aye, but in a somewhat different vein. Lady Syndal, have you a guest list for the celebrations?” “I can obtain one.” “Excellent. Would you do so tonight? Then come on the morrow and go over it with Fanny. I’d like you to tell her about each person coming. Everything you know of their background, their family, their special interests, and most particularly any gossip concerning them. Can you do this?” The lady smiled at him. “Most assuredly. It will be a pleasure in truth. The king frowns on the transmission of gossip. Or so he says in public. Privately, he dotes on it and is much discomforted if he be not the first to know of any good story.” “Then I’ll give the morning over to you for a lesson with Fanny. Please have a seamstress here in the afternoon.” The lady nodded and departed, giving the pair of them an arch smile as she went. “Do enjoy the rest of the dancing lessons,” she said, in a most suggestive manner. “Let’s step through the Black Pattern again,” he suggested. Fanny didn’t hesitate. Her eyes were alight and her cheeks flushed with pleasure. If she were at all tired, it didn’t show. He was beginning to feel his breath come hard, but not so uncomfortably that he needed to call a halt. A knock at the door preceding the arrival of their dinner spared him the necessity of admitting his lack of stamina. The lamplighters placed fresh torches in the brackets and set them alight while a pair of maids set out platters of bread, meat and vegetables and poured wine into cups for them. He held out an arm for the princess when the servants had departed. “Will you join me for dinner this evening, your highness?” he asked with studied formality. “My gratitude, my lord, and I will.” He helped her to sit before he took a seat opposite, facing her across the small table. “No pretending this evening. Just talk so we can relax and be comfortable.” And so it was. He told her about his family, drawing out every funny story he could recall to amuse and entertain her. With so many brothers and sisters, he had a wealth of material to draw upon. Nor did he spare himself. He even recounted the embarrassing time when they all went down to the river for

a swim one warm summer’s day. He and his brothers played a game where they chased each other around. He ended up tangled in a thorn bush in his bare skin. It took all of his brothers almost an hour to get him free and left him covered in scratches from head to foot. Fanny laughed so hard he feared she would split her clothes. After the meal they practiced dancing again, without music or anyone calling the steps. They went through the moves for a couple of line dances, doing the hays and caprioles with imaginary fellow dancers. One that they repeated time and again was called “Toss the Duchess.” Their favorite part was the section that gave it the name: the lady would hop toward her partner, who would catch her in the air and toss her to the side. Fanny began doing variations, kicking out to one side or the other or raising her arms and clapping while she floated to the side. When she attempted a pirouette in mid-air, however, she stumbled on the landing and would have fallen had he not caught her. He should have let her go right away, but instead he pulled her against him. With her soft breasts pressed against his chest, her silky hair alongside his face, and her hands on his arms, he couldn’t bear to release her. When she looked up at him, her lips parted slightly, he couldn’t help himself. Her expression begged him to continue, to teach her what a woman could feel. He had to dip his head and taste the sweetness. Her lips were warm and firm. She shivered delicately against him as he nibbled at them. Heat poured through him, gathered in his groin, and pushed his cock to rigid attention. When he probed with his tongue, she opened for him. The inside of her mouth was warm and slick, just as her quim would no doubt be hot and tight and sleek around his cock. His hands stroked down her back and along her sides. She was so warm, so soft, so delightfully alive and full of spirit. “You’re so beautiful,” he said to her. “Clearly the dancing agrees with you. Your eyes are sparkling and the color is high in your cheeks.” He stroked his palms up and down her arms under the loose sleeves of her overgown. “But aren’t you warm? Perhaps if you were to shed this, you would feel cooler dancing.” Her large brown eyes went wide for a moment, then a small smile crooked her mouth again. “Perhaps you’re right, my lord,” she said. “Would you do me the honor of assisting me in removing it?” “With pleasure.” He loosened the laces that held the overgown in place and helped her slide it off. She looked lovely in just the thin, sleeveless shift covering her tall, slender body. “Now let’s do the Surrey Bransle again,” he suggested, holding his hand out for her to partner him in the dance. They did a highly energetic run-through of the dance, ducking around imaginary fellow dancers, adding in extra capers and twirls, touching each other quite a bit more than the dance itself called for. The feel of her hand against his chest was a sweet torture. At the end of the dance, she shocked him by saying, “You appear rather flushed and overheated, Lord Baxter. I believe you’d best remove your tunic so you may cool off.” Her tone was serious but a mischievous devil of amusement glittered in her eyes, though she tried to keep her expression otherwise serious. “Perhaps you’re right.” He wiped away a quite genuine bead of sweat that rolled down his temple. “Would you assist me?” Her breath caught and she hesitated for just a second before she nodded and reached for the lacings at the side. Once she’d released them, he pulled the tunic over his head and laid it aside. Fortunately his shirt was long enough and loose enough to effectively cover the bulge of his engorged cock, which strained at the tight fabric of his breeches. They did a Sir Andrew McKinley, another line dance that involved imaginary fellow dancers. They ducked under the arms of invisible partners and whirled around empty air. When they came together, they fitted their bodies much closer than would be considered proper. Throughout the

dance, her gaze rarely moved from his, save to roam down his body and up again. In fact, she all but devoured him with her eyes. As they finished the last twirl and flourish, she leaned against him, her hand pressed to his chest. “My lord,” she said, “I do believe you are still quite warm. Perhaps you should remove this as well.” She fingered his shirt. He stopped her hand, by pressing his own over it. “Princess Fanny, we venture into dangerous territory here. Perhaps you don’t understand the peril, but I am a man, and I have only so much control. It’s stretched already quite thin.” She drew a deep breath. “Nay, my lord, I understand the danger, though I have not the depth of knowledge I would wish. But consider: I’m to be married before long, yet I have no mother to teach me about the ways of men and women. My sister will not do so. You’re my tutor, hired to school me in the ways of a lady. Is this not one of the duties of a lady? To know how to please her lord?” He had no immediate answer for her. His instincts said this course was fraught with danger, though the main peril might be to his own heart, which was becoming far too wrapped around the princess. But she was right in having no one else to school her in those things, things a husband might expect her to know. He sighed. “You’re sure of this?” “I think so,” she answered. He gathered the bottom of the shirt and pulled it over his head. She stared in fascination at his chest, then looked down and let her gaze rest on the bulge his cock made. She drew a sharp breath but didn’t say anything. He led her into the steps of a Clevian Gavotte, a dance that brought partners together more often and more closely. Each time she stepped forward and they were face to face, he drew her against his body, letting her breasts crush into his chest, while the bulge of his cock pressed against her abdomen. Whenever she could, she put a hand on his chest, feeling the muscles there, or stroking the skin. A couple of times he had to grit his teeth when her touches aroused him so fiercely he feared he’d explode. He wanted more of her. Much more. Without breaking stride, in the midst of the dance, he said, “My love, I fear you are much too warm as well. Remove your shift.” A look of panic flashed across her face and she stumbled. He caught and righted her. “You needn’t do this, if you don’t wish it,” he said. “Nay, my lord, I wish. I’m just somewhat…nervous.” She backed up a step and drew the shift up and over her head. While she took a moment to remove her slippers and stockings, he kicked off his boots. When he looked back at her, his knees went wobbly and he could barely stand. She was even more beautiful than he could have imagined. It wasn’t the round, full-figured beauty much in favor at that time, but a graceful, slender loveliness. Her breasts weren’t large, but just plump enough to make a nice handful. His palms itched for the feel of them. Her hips had a nice, gentle curve and topped long, slender legs. He extended a hand. “Shall we dance some more?” he asked. She nodded and put her palm on his. He couldn’t take his eyes from her. Her legs moved in lovely lines and her breasts bobbed lightly as they hopped and swirled. The pressure in his groin made movement almost painful. Each time the dance brought her close to him, he pulled her against his chest and kissed her deeply. She moaned and ran her fingers into his hair, holding his mouth to her own. He slid his hands down along her back and hips to cup her buttocks and press them against his groin.

“You’re killing me,” he murmured against her mouth. “I want you so badly it hurts.” “Teach me,” she answered. Her fingers hooked in the top of his breeches, the only piece of clothing remaining on him. She tugged the fabric down, letting his cock spring free. Her eyes widened as she stared at it. “It’s so big! Surely not all men are of such a size. How do you conceal this beneath your breeches?” “It grows bigger when a man is in the presence of a woman who attracts him.” He stepped out of the breeches. Once they were off, he led her through the door into her quarters. He was grateful for the private, connecting door. He didn’t favor traipsing through the halls naked. He lifted Fanny onto her bed and leaned down to kiss her. He let his lips rove from her face down to her breasts. He licked and sucked, relishing the soft firmness of the flesh, pulling the tips into his mouth, caressing her until she was moaning and growing tense. She tasted as sweet as anything he’d ever had on his tongue. He nudged her thighs apart and ran his hands up and down the tender skin of the insides, working upward. When he slid a finger along her slit, she jumped and squealed. She was already damp and slick there. He parted the petals of her quim and stroked the folds within. Fanny moaned and began to pant as she grew stiffer. “My lord,” she groaned. “What are you doing to me?” “Preparing you,” he said. “Do you not like it?” “Yes, but—oh,” she said, on a long moaning sigh. “Relax into it.” He found the pearl, the center of her woman’s pleasure, and began to stroke it. Her face screwed up into a tense frown of unbearable pleasure, while her entire body grew stiff and tenser as he continued. With his other hand, he inserted a finger into the opening to her womb and felt around until he encountered the barrier of her virginity. He probed no farther, but stroked the inside of her womb, while with his other hand, he petted her quim harder. She squealed and squirmed until finally she shrieked and her body convulsed around the finger he had inside her in the spasms of release. He gentled his stroking while the waves of release continued to roll over her. When she’d finally calmed, she looked at him and said, “You have a most amazing way of preparing a lady.” She reached for his face and pulled her to him for a kiss. He stretched out alongside her on the bed and cuddled her in his arms. “Not all men know this secret to readying a lady for his entry, but if your future husband does not, you must tell him about it.” He didn’t want to think about her with another man. He tightened his hold on her as though he could keep her in his arms forever. But that wasn’t to be. Rather than dwell on uncomfortable thoughts, he moved to kneel between her legs. “I believe it is generally uncomfortable for a lady her first time. I’ll be as gentle as I can, but you must tell me if you can’t bear it.” “I trust to your gentleness, my lord,” she said. Her brown eyes were soft, her expression quietly tender as she watched him. He pressed his cock into the folds of her cleft, seeking for the entrance. Finding it, he began to slide into her, watching her face. The barrier of her maidenhead stopped him. So far she seemed to be tolerating his bulk, but there was no easy, gentle way to do this. He withdrew, then plunged hard into her, pushing through the barrier. She cried out, and he stilled, waiting for her to adjust to the intrusion. It was agony to control himself and be quiet within her when his cock screamed for action. Nonetheless, he owed it to her and made the effort. He brushed a hand through her hair. “The worst of it is over now,” he promised. After a minute or two, she began to relax. Keeping his motions gentle, he started to slide in and out, carefully, watching to be sure he didn’t cause her unbearable discomfort. He couldn’t control

himself much longer. She picked up his rhythm and began to move with him. Gentleness gave way to a harder, fiercer pounding. She didn’t seem to mind and tried to keep pace with him. It quickly drove him over the edge and he spilled his seed into her. Afterward they lay together quietly for a while. She pressed against him and he held her to him. Another wave of possessiveness rolled over him. The thought of another man doing this to her roused a violent revulsion. He wanted to keep her with him always. When a soft snore indicated she’d fallen asleep, he got out of the bed and went to collect the clothes they’d left scattered. Realizing he wasn’t ready to sleep as yet, he returned to his quarters, found his sword, and took it back to the large room where he’d have space enough to practice a few moves. He had no idea how long he feinted, parried, ducked and whirled, but at last his body grew tired enough to overrule his restless mind. When he lay down, he fell asleep quickly.

Chapter 9 The next day, as he’d requested, Lady Syndal did a quite thorough job of filling Princess Fanny in on all the gossip she knew about everyone currently in residence, visiting at the castle, or expected to arrive for the wedding. Fanny listened avidly, questioned in some cases, and even once had the Lady draw a diagram illustrating the complex tangle of family relationships snarling one group. In the afternoon, a seamstress and her young assistant came in to work on Fanny’s wardrobe. He wanted her to shine more brightly than the torches in the company of the court. She wasn’t as obviously beautiful as her sister, but her fiery spirit and innate grace could make her more attractive. She wasn’t thrilled about standing and posing for the seamstress, but she submitted to it with resigned exasperation. When he told her he wanted her to go down to dinner with her family that evening, a look of utter panic flashed across her face. “I don’t know how I can do it,” she said. “After the last time… I’ll be too embarrassed.” “What is anyone likely to say?” he asked. “Merry will be sure to comment on my past failures.” “What do you think she’ll say?” “I suppose she’ll say something like, ‘You’re back again! I hope you won’t embarrass us so this time.’” “And how will you respond to that?” he asked. “I don’t know,” she said, plaintively. “Of course you do. Think about it in a different way. What would I say to her, did she say that to me?” “Oh. You’d probably say something like, ‘I don’t think so. I’ve been studying to learn courtesy in all things. I’ve even learned that it’s not courteous to remind others of past mistakes.’” “Very good! And why could you not say that to her?” Her frown softened. “I suppose I could, did I think of it in time.” He nodded. “You will. What other things might she say?” “I suppose she might say, ‘You won’t ask any improper questions this time, will you?’”

“And I would answer—?” “None more improper than the question you just asked,” she answered. “Excellent. I knew you could do it.” “But how will I think of them at the time?” “How do you think of them now?” “I know not. As you suggested, I think of what I would expect you to say were you in my place, and the answer seems to come to me.” “Then that is what you will do at dinner tonight. When anyone makes a hurtful remark to you, you will stop and think what I would say, and you’ll know how to answer. And… I have something for you to help you remember to think of what I would say.” She smiled with the eagerness of a small child promised a sweet. “What is it?” “A moment and you’ll see, but I must go retrieve it. Wait here.” He left and returned shortly with the pouch. It looked as though Princess Fanny hadn’t moved a muscle in his absence. When he handed it to her, she held it for a moment, stroking the soft fabric bag as though savoring the possibilities. She loosened the string and upended the pouch, allowing the gold chain bracelet to slide into her palm. Her eyes and mouth widened with surprise, then a slow, delighted smile replaced the shock. “It’s beautiful.” She lifted it and let the gold catch the light. He shrugged. “I doubt it can match the glory of the jewels your father has provided to you. It’s not so very elaborate or heavy.” “It’s the loveliest thing I’ve seen. I may have jewels that shine brighter, but none that mean so much. How long may I keep it?” “It’s yours,” he said. He wondered if anyone had ever given her a gift with no lecture accompanying it, a gift given in pure love. She seemed both shocked and overwhelmed by it. Tears started in her eyes and one slipped down her cheek. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.” Her hand shook as she tried to fasten the catch to hold it on her left wrist. He reached out and fastened the clasp for her. “I noticed you look down at your hands when you’re disturbed or trying to think. Whenever you see this, it will remind you to consider what I’d say in the circumstances.” She sucked in a couple of hard breaths, trying to control the impulse to sob, then she flung herself against him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Thank goodness, Lady Syndal had declared after the noon meal that she had matters to attend to and excused herself for the rest of the day. Baxter held Fanny close, kissing and fondling her. The tapes of her gown came free easily when he pulled. He reached down under her shift, found a ripe nipple, and began to caress it. She groaned and reached beneath his tunic and shirt for his breeches. His cock swelled and pressed against the fabric, begging to be freed. Fanny’s breath came in hard gulps. “Please,” she begged, “Quickly.” He pushed the fabric of her shift downward until one breast popped into view. He leaned down and tongued it, drew the nipple into his mouth, sucked on it, and closed his teeth around it, nipping gently. She squealed and clutched at his shoulders. He put his hands around her waist and lifted her, sitting her on a table nearby. He pushed her shift and gown up so they bunched around her waist, leaving her slit open to him. While he slid his fingers over her quim and nibbled at her breast, she worked her hands under his clothes again

and pushed down his breeches, freeing his straining cock. “Lord, my lord, please! Now!” He slid her forward as he pushed into her, impaling her on his shaft. She moaned as he entered and filled her. A momentary frown showed she still had some soreness, but the expression soon gave way to intense pleasure. Her breath panted as he pumped into her. He felt her getting tighter and tighter. He reached around her thighs and caressed her pearl, above where his cock was joined to her. He tipped her back a little and probed at the nether hole. As his finger entered there, she screamed and climaxed in a huge, shuddering jolt. It pressed his cock so sweetly hard, his seed exploded from him in a rush that left him shaking as well. They collapsed against each other as the aftershocks rolled through them. He stroked her hair while they struggled to get their breath back. The warning bell for dinner sounded. Baxter lifted her down and helped her straighten her clothes and put her hair back up. “We’d best be on our way down to dinner.” Sudden panic showed on her face, driving away the flushed and sated look she’d worn moments before. “I’m not ready,” she whispered. “My sister will say something and I’ll be at a loss.” “Nay. You won’t,” he assured her. “Keep in mind that by commenting she seeks to make herself look sophisticated and clever, at your expense. She believes she can goad you into acting badly. If you’ll remain calm and poised, you’ll look more graceful and wiser than she. It truly is that simple. And if you make it impossible for her to succeed in inducing you to poor behavior, she’ll have to either give it up or try harder, thus making herself look worse. So, if you cannot think of a good response, even by imagining what I might say, then simply keep silent and offer the calmest, most superior smile you can manage.” She nodded and drew a deep breath. He offered an arm and together they went down to the great hall for dinner. “Head up,” he whispered to her as they approached. “You’re lovely and you’re ready. Look at the bracelet, then look at everyone else in the room.” She glanced down at her wrist, then back up at him. Her smile hit him hard, right in the middle of his stomach. He realized with some dismay that this woman had gotten into his heart, and it was going to hurt like hell when he had to turn her over to the man her father would arrange for her to marry.

Chapter 10 Baxter escorted Princess Fanny to her seat at the head table, helping her into the chair on her father’s right. A very young man already occupied the seat to her right, with a stout older matron on the other side of him. Fanny’s arrival brought the older woman’s ongoing exposition to a momentary halt. The look on the young man’s face suggested any interruption was welcome, but the smile and blush that covered his face when Fanny turned to greet him indicated he found her more than just a diversion. Lady Syndal passed by him as they made their way to their own seats. “I contrived to have her seated with two who will not challenge her unduly,” the lady told him in a low voice that only he could hear amidst the hum of conversation around them. “Master Thomas is so painfully shy, he’ll hang on every word she says and object to nary a one. But the princess won’t have a chance to speak much in any case, as Lady Garlind rarely stops talking long enough to allow anyone else to

put in an ‘if’ or a ‘but.’” He nodded. “Very good. And thank you.” The dinner went just as the lady had predicted. Baxter was astonished that Lady Garlind consumed as much food as apparently she did, as every time he looked that way, she was expounding on one subject another to a bemused audience of Princess Fanny and Master Thomas. Nonetheless, he several times saw food deposited upon her plate, and when next he looked it was gone, so barring an invisible dog beneath the table, it made its way into her by some extraordinary means. Only one incident occurred during the dinner to arouse his tension. After the soup had been served, Fanny’s father turned to her and said, “We’re pleased that you grace us with your presence tonight, my dear.” Princess Merry added, “And very surprised. Your last time with us ended so poorly.” Baxter said a silent prayer and willed Fanny to look down at her hands. Amazingly, she did so before she lifted her head, turned toward her sister and smiled serenely. “But at that time I lacked the necessary example for proper behavior,” she said as sweetly as possible. “Master Baxter has since shown me how such incidents should be approached.” Merry looked stunned but almost immediately responded. “It’s a pity you couldn’t benefit from the examples you already had.” Fanny glanced down at the bracelet before she answered. “Perhaps it’s a mercy I had examples I could not learn from.” Merry looked puzzled by that, but before she could work it out, the gentleman on her right made a comment that distracted her attention from the interplay with her sister. Fanny looked back at him to see if he approved of her handling of the situation. Baxter raised his wine cup in salute of her cleverness. Happiness spread in a warming glow across her face. The rest of the dinner proceeded quietly. With so many visitors beginning to gather, the king had arranged for a group of musicians to entertain and provide accompaniment for dancing. Baxter partnered the princess for the first couple of dances, but the number of gentlemen eager to have a turn with her forced him to relinquish his position to others after that. He watched her carefully, though, even when she danced with others, and he made sure he was always in the same group, so the steps brought her near him often. In company her dancing was far more restrained and dignified than it had been the previous evening, for which he was grateful, but still her grace and charm worked on her partners. By the end of the evening, she had a line of suitors clamoring for a dance or just a chance to speak with her. He didn’t have a chance to speak with her until the festivities wound down and she left the room. He’d watched and waited for the opportunity, and ran to catch up with her as she headed toward her quarters. “You did very well this evening,” he told her. “Every man in the room had his eyes on you, and the unmarried ones all clamored for your attention.” “It was gratifying,” she said. “I admit to taking more pleasure in seeing my sister’s reaction to my words than was quite seemly.” “You’ve been too long on the wrong end of her sharp tongue. Now you have a way to defend yourself.” He turned toward her. “I’m very proud of you. You’ve done so well, if you like, tomorrow, you may spend the morning working with your plants. I ask only that you bathe and then come to me in the afternoon.” “Oh, I will,” she said, doing a hop and a skip in the corridor. Then she paused and turned toward him again. “Will you come out with me tomorrow? I’d like to show you some of my

plants.” “Aye, I will. I’ll not be out as early as you, no doubt, will be. There are people I need to talk with. But I promise I will come. In the meantime, get your rest tonight.” She looked up and down the corridor to be sure they were alone before she said, “But won’t you be with me tonight?” “Not tonight. You’ll be sore enough as it is. It’s better we don’t couple again just yet.” She nodded, accepting it reluctantly. In the morning, he requested an audience with the king, which was immediately granted. “My Lord Baxter,” the king said to him. “We’re delighted with your efforts with Princess Fanny. She was a great credit to us last night.” “I believe she is a jewel, Your Majesty,” he answered. “But the jewel has been obscured and difficult to see, especially in the presence of one who shines more brightly.” “You have polished the jewel quite effectively, my lord. She glitters now. Already I’ve had some inquiries from prospective suitors. When she is betrothed, I’ll grant the reward you request.” “My thanks, Your Majesty, but please do take a care as to whose suit you accept. She has a strong spirit, but it’s brittle and easily bruised. Grant her to one who will understand and nurture her many virtues.” The king nodded. “Thank you for your concern for her. I will consider carefully before I approve a mate for her.” Baxter recognized the dismissal and retreated. After words with a few other persons in the castle, he went out to the garden to find the princess. A disheveled Fanny knelt on a pad while she pulled weeds from a bed of red and yellow flowers. “My lord.” She looked up and gave him a smile that rivaled the sun for brightness. “Welcome to my garden. Look at how the primroses and hollyhocks are thriving.” She pointed to a corner where some tall, leggy flower stalks leaned against a rough wood fence. She took him on a tour of the beds and paths, identifying a wide variety of herbs and blooms. He was impressed by how much she knew about the plants. Using weeds she’d pulled, she showed him the root systems, how they grew and spread into the ground to collect water and whatever they needed from the dirt. With a pointed metal tool, she explained how she turned over and chopped up the dirt to prepare it for seeds. Taking him up onto a part of the battlement nearby, she pointed out how the garden was laid out, how she arranged for plants that needed some shade to be in places where they’d be sheltered by walls or trees, while those that thrived in full sun were situated where nothing would obstruct the light. Her explanations and demonstrations intrigued him so much, he ended up spending the rest of the morning outside with her. At the midday bell, though, they both went inside and bathed before eating. In the afternoon, they practiced more responses to snide comments, and also discussed the various duties of a lady in charge of a household. Some facets she already knew well enough: she could run a kitchen smoothly enough and knew how to keep accounts. But the niceties of entertaining guests, organizing the household servants, and dealing with the demands of rank among friends and visitors escaped her. Dinner that evening went smoothly again, with no incidents to mar it. Princess Merry made only one nasty comment, but Fanny brought out one of the ripostes they’d practiced and the older girl backed off. The next day, he actually spent some time helping her in the garden in the morning, then they

continued their lessons in the afternoon. The crowd at dinner had swelled with the arrival of more guests for the wedding ceremony now under a sennight hence. The meal itself proceeded peacefully enough. He no longer felt constrained to keep such close watch over her. He had no chance to partner her for even a single dance that evening, she was in such demand. Each time she retreated to a corner for a rest or a table for refreshment, the men swarmed around her. At least once he looked over to Princess Merry and caught her frowning at her sister and the group of swains surrounding her. It worried him a little. The older princess was used to being the center of attention. Her soon-to-be husband hadn’t yet arrived, but she still had her own group of admirers. Clearly though, her sister’s popularity detracted somewhat from her own. But the trouble that evening came from a different direction entirely. Among the swains swarming the princess, Baxter noticed one figure that looked vaguely familiar—and made him distinctly uneasy, though he could remember no reason for his reaction. He was a dark-haired older man, getting heavy around the middle, but still handsome in a fleshy way. Baxter finally had to ask Lady Syndal to identify the man for him. “That’s Sir James Cannedy,” she said, then lowered her voice. “He has a dreadful reputation. He shouldn’t be anywhere near our princess.” Baxter remembered the man then, though not the reasons for his poor reputation. “He was a friend of my father’s.” “Your father thought he was a friend, and it pleased Sir James that Lord Marko should believe it so.” “Was he not a true friend, then?” “I thought not, but I never had any proof to lend to your father.” “On what is his ‘dreadful reputation’ based?” “Things I’ve heard,” she answered. “His first wife died of a convenient illnesses after he’d run through her fortune. His second wife wore always a few bruises somewhere on her person. Many have doubted that she truly died in a fall as he claimed.” “Bad,” he admitted, “But no more than rumors and gossip.” “True. But I’ve always felt there was something not quite truthful and honorable about Sir James. And I’m uneasy at the idea of him paying court to Fanny, though I doubt her father would grant any petition of his. The king looks to a better match for her.” Baxter finally remembered that when he’d been about eight years old, Sir James had visited their household. Evidently it had been on some matter of business, of which he had no notion at the time, but he remembered taking a dislike to his father’s guest. The man had made at least one serving maid break down in tears and had caused one of the stableboys to get a whipping for not caring for his tack to his exacting standards. Baxter kept watch on Fanny through the evening. Sir James partnered her in one dance set. Fanny’s expression gave no clue to what she thought of the man, but she certainly didn’t seem overwhelmed by him in any way. Toward the end of the evening, Baxter was waylaid by an older woman who’d known his father and mother well in her youth, and naturally wanted to learn all she could of what had befallen them since. As a result, he was unable to leave the hall when most of the guests and household retired. He didn’t see Fanny leave, but the next time he allowed his attention to wander discreetly from his companion to scan the room, he couldn’t find her. Most likely she’d been tired and made her way to her chambers for the night. He could barely hold his own eyes open longer when he finally found an opening to bid the

woman good even and retire to his own quarters. He met no one else in the hall or on the stairs. Until he got to the next floor, he heard only the scuffing of his boots on the stones and an occasional door opening or closing. As he started down the hall, though, he heard a strange squeal come from a dark corner and turned that way. Sir James had Princess Fanny backed into a niche, and he was attempting to kiss her. The squeals and grunts she made, together with the way she tried to push him off, showed clearly that she didn’t favor the attempt.

Chapter 11 Baxter went over and tapped Sir James on the shoulder. “I don’t believe the lady is enjoying this,” he suggested. “Perhaps you should leave her in peace and retire.” The older man turned, and glared at him with eyes narrowed and mouth pressed into a thin line. “This is no business of yours. Go your way and pay no mind.” He leaned forward in a way meant to intimidate. He partly succeeded. Sir James was a couple of inches taller and probably fifty pounds heavier than Baxter. Had he not known Fanny well enough to be sure she did not want his kisses, Baxter might have gone off and let him be. “But it is my business,” he answered instead. “Perhaps you’re not aware that I’m the lady’s tutor. It’s clear to me that she does not choose to be here with you, so I believe I must ask you to let the lady go.” Sir James’s frown deepened. His dark eyes glittered with anger and irritation, but after a few tense moments, he evidently decided against a fight and dropped his hold on the princess’s wrists. “Go to your quarters,” Baxter told Fanny. She hesitated for a moment, and he read concern for him in her expression. “No one wants to make a great deal of noise and commotion at this time of night,” he reassured her. “I just want to have a word with Sir James.” She nodded and hurried down the hall. Both men watched until she disappeared around a corner. The older man leaned toward him again. “I do not know who you are,” he growled, “but I do not allow anyone to interfere in my business. Especially not servants, even when they call themselves tutors.” “I’m no servant,” he said, struggling for calm in the face of the man’s insult. “But what concerns the princess is my business. You’ll not harass her or take liberties.” “I intend to offer for her hand, and I believe the king will consider my suit,” Sir James said. “Therefore she is my business.” “That will be determined when you’ve presented your offer and been accepted. In the meantime, leave her alone.” Baxter turned to go, but stopped and whirled toward him again. “Oh, and I am not a servant. I’m Baxter of Denzwig, son of Lord Marko.” He turned again and walked away, leaving a glowering Sir James staring after him. He went into his room, through the connecting door to the room where they’d had their lessons. At the far door, he stopped and knocked briefly before opening it and peering in. A servant had helped the princess out of her gown and was now brushing out her hair. Baxter asked her to leave them for a few minutes. “Are you all right?” he asked her.

Fanny stood up and ran to him, threw her arms around him, and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m fine. He took me by surprise or I’d have run away from him. But I worried for you.” “You needn’t.” He debated whether to tell her Sir James’s plan, but decided not to. In all likelihood, the suit would be quickly quashed and she need never worry about it. Her fingers were pressing into his bottom and her hips grinding against his. His cock sprang to immediate attention, but he pushed her back. “Your maid is waiting. Let her put you to bed, and I’ll come to you in a little while.” For the next few days, Baxter arranged for a maid to accompany Fanny at any time when he couldn’t stay at her side, even when she worked in the garden. Though it kept her from being cornered or surprised, Sir James still managed to have himself seated next to her at dinner one evening and claimed her for a couple of dances. They had several peaceful days where Fanny gained confidence and ease in attending family functions. Merry had learned not to goad her sister, and the king seemed thrilled with her blossoming. Baxter kept watch and realized he wanted her more and more with each passing day. The thought of turning her over to another man was a burning poker in his gut, but he knew he’d have to accept it. Meanwhile, Merry had learned not to challenge her sister in verbal battle, but began to work a different sort of competition. She put herself to even more effort to attract the attention of every available man, though she herself was bespoken. Until her future husband arrived, she apparently felt free to flirt and entangle as many others as she could. It didn’t bother Fanny, since she found most of the men occasionally interesting and moderately appealing but no more. He knew part of the reason for that lay in her feelings for him, and recognized the danger in her attachment. He could only hope that she’d be able to adjust to belonging to another man when the time came. He didn’t recognize that it represented a danger of a different sort until too late. As usual dancing followed dinner, with pitchers of ale, wine, and water set out on the tables pushed back against the wall. With the wedding so close now, the crowd in the room had swelled. Baxter joined various groups for conversation and met several people who knew various members of his family or other acquaintances. When Princess Merry approached him, he assumed she was performing the duties of a polite hostess. He enjoyed partnering her in a country dance. Though Merry’s conversation consisted mostly of gossip about various guests and comments on their clothing and other personal features, he still found her intriguing. She wasn’t as intelligent or sharp-witted as Fanny, but she was quite lovely and extraordinarily charming when she chose to be. Though he realized Merry was exerting a particular effort to be ingratiating and command his attention, he still found it hard not to be charmed by her and caught up in her enchantment. He lost track of time as he partnered the princess in several more dances and listened to her chatter. Only when Fanny joined them and said, “I hope you’ve had a pleasant evening,” did he realize that the crowd had thinned and more guests were departing to their rest. Merry gave her sister a grin whose surface charm didn’t entirely disguise the malice beneath it. “We’ve had an entirely pleasant evening. Lord Baxter can be a most stimulating partner when he chooses.” “I’m well aware of that, sister,” Fanny responded. “Then it’s a pity you cannot always meet his needs for companionship.” Fanny drew a hard breath. Baxter wanted to reach out, grab her wrist, and press the bracelet

to remind her to think. Unfortunately, he stood too far away. “If that’s so, why does he then spend so much of his time with me?” Fanny asked, the effort to keep control clear in tone. “Because he has a task to complete, of course,” Merry responded. “Papa has promised him a reward for taming you.” “I wouldn’t describe it as taming,” Baxter said. “More like guiding. Or teaching.” Neither woman paid any attention to him. All their focus was on each other. “But he has spent time with me in the garden, purely for companionship. Not all our time together is lessons.” “Are you sure?” Merry asked. “There may be lessons of another sort going on even there. But look, tonight, when he no longer believes he must keep watch over you every minute, he gladly spent time with me.” “Well, no, it wasn’t exactly like that,” Baxter tried to put in. Fanny overrode his words. “Rather, you forced him to spend the time with you or risk being rude,” she said. Fanny’s voice was rising, and other people in the room were beginning to turn toward them to watch the quarrel. She was too deeply into the emotional reaction to notice. “Hardly forced,” Merry said, with a low, cruel laugh. “He could have walked away at any time or found some other to engage in conversation. He chose not to.” “I lost track of the time we spent together,” he said, realizing as he did so that it wouldn’t help the cause. It didn’t matter, however, since they were still paying him no mind. “Because you exercised your witchery over him and ensnared him.” “Witchery, is it?” Merry’s voice rose now as well. “You call me a witch, sister?” Fanny’s temper was up now. Baxter tried to reach for her wrist, but she moved away. “Do you deny it? You attempt to put every man you meet under your spell.” “And do you think I conspire with the devil? And make cattle sick? Oh, you’re a wicked girl even to suggest such a thing.” “You’re putting words in my mouth. I did not say you were evil, only self-centered and vain.” “And that’s better, I’m sure!” Beyond that he lost track of the words, only that the two young women were screaming at each other. Merry finally broke down in tears and ran from the room, yelling, “She said I was a witch! My sister said I was a witch!” The king, who’d come over to intervene, followed the older princess out of the room. Baxter saw his hope of reward going up in smoke.

Chapter 12 Fanny drew a deep breath and looked around the room. When she saw everyone staring at her, she turned toward Baxter. Her eyes held a mix of fading anger and dawning chagrin. She sighed deeply. “I’ve failed again,” she said sadly. “I suppose I must make my apologies.” “Not yet,” Baxter said. He took her arm and pulled her out of the room. In silence he marched her up to her quarters. Her maid waited in her room, and Baxter asked the girl to leave, saying he’d ring when and if she were needed.

When the girl was gone, Fanny closed her eyes for a moment, opened them, and said, “I…I’m sorry. But I don’t suppose that’s adequate. Are you going to punish me?” “I don’t know,” he admitted, forcing himself to calm. “I’m not sure it’s worth the effort.” She drew in a sharp breath, bent over a bit, and wrapped her arms around her middle. She looked like he’d stabbed her with a knife to the gut. After a moment, she sighed and straightened up. “If I…if I promised it will never happen again, would it make any difference?” she asked. “Why should I believe you?” “I don’t know. But I will keep my promise…for your sake. I know you have no reason to believe that, but it’s true.” She looked at him. “You said, before, that even if there were no reward, you would still work with me. Because…” Her voice broke and it took a moment before she regained sufficient control to continue. “Because you cared for me. Is that no longer so?” It was more question than challenge, a small, sad, despairing question. His anger faded some. “It’s still true.” “Then what will happen now? What can I do?” He considered if there was any way to rescue the situation. Perhaps not, but they could try. “Tomorrow, you’ll go to dinner, but before it starts, you’ll apologize to all present, including your sister, and tell them that you regret your words and actions and have been punished for them.” “Must I truly say that?” Panic flashed across her face. “You must. And I’ll stand beside you and say a few words of apology myself.” “You will?” “I have some responsibility for what happened,” he said. He drew a deep breath. “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll be right back. Undress yourself while I’m gone.” She nodded. Baxter went and got the switches he’d collected days ago. When he returned to the room, she’d removed her head veil, shoes, stockings, and overgown, and was shrugging out of her shift. She pulled it over her head and stared at him. Her gaze went to the switches and her eyes widened, but she said nothing. He pulled the chair he’d occupied on the day he’d met her into the center of the room. He led her to the back of it and bent her over it. “Hold onto the edge of the seat,” he ordered, “And don’t let go.” His cock grew hot and heavy, full and aching at the sight of her lovely, slender, bare body bent over and ready to submit to his punishment. Her round bottom made a full, inviting target with the folds of her quim just peeking out at the junction of her legs. Baxter selected three of the switches and put the others aside. He’d cut them all to the same three-foot length and stripped them of leaves and loose bark. She shivered delicately when he measured them against her derriere and tensed when he tapped a light, experimental swish. Then he drew back his arm and snapped the switches forward, right across the fullest part of her bottom. She jumped and squealed as they bit into her flesh, swinging her bottom from side to side. Three pink lines, spanning both rounded cheeks, showed where each branch had landed. The next cut fell lower and bit harder. Fanny gasped and moaned. Her bottom clenched and unclenched spasmodically while three more long, narrow welts swelled out from the flesh. He laid the next three strokes on smartly, at the same rhythm, concentrating on the lower part of her buttocks, just above the crease where they joined her legs. She yelped and squealed after each blow, and on the third, the squeal swelled almost to a scream. Most of her derriere glowed in shades of pink and rose, with a network of welts rising from it. She straightened suddenly and

reached back to rub her sore flesh. He gave her a moment, then ordered her to get back in position. The next four cuts went across the backs of her thighs, painting them with the same rosy glow and lacing of weals. Fanny sobbed and moaned and yelped. The fourth stroke came down hard enough to break off two of the switches. The princess screamed shrilly and bounced up again. Since he had to replace the broken branches, he gave her a few minutes to calm down. She sobbed as she rubbed at her bottom and danced from one foot to the other. When he was ready, he told her to get back down. She obeyed, but she also moaned. “Stop, please, my lord. It hurts! I can bear no more.” “Punishment is supposed to hurt,” he answered. “How else will it deter you from repeating your errors?” “I’ve learned my lesson,” she promised. “I won’t do it again. I swear.” He brought the fresh switches down sharply on her derriere, slanting them so that the marks rode upward from left to right, crossing some of the earlier welts. She shrieked again and kicked out one foot and then the other, without rising from her bent position. “Please. Oh, please,” she sobbed. Baxter put the switches aside for a moment and rubbed a hand across her bottom. The flesh was hot and rough beneath his fingers. She moaned again, but he didn’t think distress had drawn that particular sound from her. He probed into the crack dividing the globes of her bottom and ran his fingers down along it, over the nether opening to her quim. Her legs parted enough to give access to his caressing fingers. She was soft and moist down there and quivering a bit. He stroked along the folds of flesh and sought within for the pearl that centered her pleasure. Her body relaxed under the sensual assault. He removed his hand and picked up the set of switches again. “No more,” she begged. “Please, no more.” He tapped the switches against her thigh. “Five more.” Her soft sob changed into a shriek when he cracked the switch on her bottom again, slanting it downward from left to right. He waited for her gyrations to calm somewhat, delivered the next stroke lower down, and again paused while she bounced up and down and wailed noisily. The third stroke buried itself right in the crease between buttocks and thighs and drew a scream from her, a yell that swelled when he laid the next one across the same target. “God help me,” she prayed on a series of noisy sobs. “God, please! I can’t bear it.” He laid the last stroke across the fleshiest part of her bottom again, bringing the switches down with force enough to crack loudly. All three branches broke off. The princess’s body curved into a taut arc while a low moan swelled into a howl that went on and on. He tossed aside the stubs of the switches and put his arms around her, drawing her to her feet and turning her to face him. A finger under her chin tipped her face up. He leaned forward and kissed her, taking into himself the last of her sobbing moans. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed, pressing her shuddering body against him. He held her until most of the shaking and sobs had ceased then he led her over to the bed and helped her stretch out, face down, on it. He wasn’t sure what to do next, until she looked at him, her brown eyes wide and sparkling with the remains of her tears. “Please,” she whispered. “Do you still care for me?” “Of course, I do,” he answered. “Then show me.” She shifted onto her side, making room for him beside her on the bed and parting her legs.

He reached out a hand to touch her bottom but stopped. “Make love to you? Can you bear it?” “Yes. Oh, yes.” “If you’re sure,” he said, quickly stripping off his clothes. He lay beside her and fingered her breasts until her breath came quickly and her body shivered in tension. He rolled her onto her back and then his mouth followed where his fingers led, licking her nipples into sharp peaks, sucking them till she squirmed, nipping at them to bring a deep, prolonged moan from her throat. His hands sought the treasures between her legs. She was moist and open for him. “Please,” she groaned. “Take me. Please, take me now!” He moved toward her, then realized he’d be pushing her sore bottom into the bedclothes. “Roll over,” he said, “and get up on your hands and knees.” She followed his orders. He knelt behind her with his cock aimed at the slit beckoning to him. He ran his hands over her bottom, feeling the network of weals with his fingers. She moaned and shuddered. He positioned himself and thrust forward into her. She stiffened for a moment, then softened. He stroked her pendulous breasts while he pumped in and out of her. His balls slapped against her quim, drawing a moan from her each time he buried himself all the way. She tightened around him spasmodically and he yelled with the pleasure of it. Her cunt was so hot, so slick, so deep and warm. He filled her so completely, and she squeezed him in a way that made bright sparks of light flood through his system. He pumped harder, the fullness and pressure mounting until he could hardly bear it. Their panting moans and harsh breaths combined in a chorus of need. Her nipples bounced against his hand and her bottom pushed toward him. Faster and faster they rocked, until she suddenly yelped and bucked, with spasms of release washing over her. It tipped him over the edge. His cock spurted into her like a dam bursting, letting the fierce pleasure wash back through and into him. He half-collapsed on top of her, keeping a hand down to support his weight, struggling to get his breath back under control. Waves of pleasure, one after another, washed over her, making her shudder against him. He treasured the feel of her body rocking in the aftermath of pleasure he’d brought her. He relished the power he had over her, and the hold she had on him. Eventually he withdrew from her and drew her down with him onto the bed so they lay side by side her back to him, his arms wound around her. She didn’t relax completely, though, even as he began to doze. “Will this cost you your reward from the king?” she asked him. “I know not. Perhaps.” “Then I must make my first apology to you. I know how important it is to you. Is there aught else I can do to set things right again? I’ll do whatever you wish.” Baxter thought for a moment. “We’ll try the effects of an apology to all tomorrow. Beyond that, we cannot plan.”

Chapter 13 As the time approached for dinner the next day, Baxter’s nerves became stretched almost as badly as Fanny’s. For most of the afternoon, they’d worked on creating her speech—reworking it word by word more times than he could count. Once they had a version they could both accept,

she practiced delivering it. It took her several tries before she could get through it without breaking down and crying. “I can’t do this,” she wailed after the second attempt ended in tears. “You can,” he insisted. “Hold the bracelet while you run through it this time.” She wound the fingers of her right hand around her left wrist, over the bracelet. Her next recitation was perfect. Nonetheless, they both had rubbery knees as they approached the dining hall that evening. Fanny seemed so shaky, he feared she would fall down if he didn’t hold onto her. The room grew quiet for a minute as she entered, then a buzz of conversation erupted. He didn’t have to hear it to know most of the talk centered around the princess and the argument with her sister the previous evening. Instead of continuing on to his seat, he remained standing behind her chair until the king entered and signaled the room to silence. “First I’d like to welcome all guests here tonight. I rejoice that so many of you have gathered to take part in my daughter, Princess Merry’s, coming nuptials. A toast to all of you.” He raised his cup and took a sip of wine. The gathered crowd raised cups also and returned the greeting. After a moment, the king held up a hand to request silence again. “Before we begin the meal, my daughter, Princess Fanny, has asked if she might say a few words to you concerning what happened here last night.” The announcement set off a buzz of conversation that died down just as quickly when Fanny rose to her feet. “I behaved in an unforgivably rude and uncivilized manner yesterday evening,” she said, her voice shaking slightly on the words. “I want to tender an apology to everyone in the room and especially to my father and my sister. I deeply regret having embarrassed them with my words and behavior. I have been punished for it, and I hope you will all forgive me.” The last few words were spit out in a rush and he heard her struggling with tears again. She sat down abruptly and winced, underscoring the truth of her words in a way everyone could see. Baxter spoke up once she was in her seat. “A moment, if you please, ladies and gentlemen.” He put a hand on Fanny’s shoulder and felt how tense she was. “I want to tell you how much I admire Princess Fanny for her actions just now. She was not solely responsible for what happened here last night, but she has taken responsibility for her part of it. For that she deserves congratulation and recognition of how much courage and nobility it took for her to stand up here and make that speech. Many of us also had some part in the contretemps that occurred, and for my part, I, too, apologize. I hope others will also recognize their guilt in the matter as well.” He carefully looked out over the crowd, at no individual in particular. He nodded to the people gathered there, hanging quietly on his words, and went around the end of the table to take his seat. Conversation erupted in loud spurts all over the room. Fanny gave him a wide-eyed, rather teary smile. Once dinner began, though, she became caught up in conversation with her neighbors at the head table. He glanced over at her several times as they ate, but she seemed at peace, talking with her neighbors at the table, even smiling a few times. Music and dancing followed the meal. Unlike previous evenings, the men did not flock to Fanny’s side to claim dances. A few of the more daring did approach her, but even a couple of those retreated under the glare of disapproving mothers or sisters. Unfortunately her first dance was claimed by Sir James. Baxter made sure he was in the same set with them. He had to force himself to stay calm and banter with his partner when he saw the way the man touched the princess and devoured her with his eyes.

He sizzled inside when Sir James swirled her harder than necessary and caught her with an arm around her shoulders and a hand that ventured closer to her breast than was seemly. Baxter had to remind himself repeatedly that the man’s actions were not out of line. And as her tutor, he himself had no particular claim to her and no right to bar any other man from paying court to her, no matter how much he might dislike Sir James personally. He didn’t react quite so violently when others danced with her, but he still found himself resenting each one who touched her, received her smiles, and shared her witty remarks. The one time that evening he danced with her himself, he felt as though something that had been binding him was released, allowing him to breathe freely in a way he never had before. It was at once exhilarating and frightening. She’d be marrying someone else shortly, and he would have to pursue his own plans. For some reason, his schemes didn’t seem so compelling as they once had. Something important would be missing from his life once she was no longer a part of it. The warmth, the sunshine, the radiance of the day, all would be lacking if she weren’t there to share them.

Chapter 14 The wedding party accompanying Crown Prince Rodo of Malandria made its processional entrance early the next day. Baxter stood on the wall with many of the other residents of the castle to watch the parade approach. Outriders bearing colorful banners led the way, followed by a set of trumpeters blaring gustily, a few coaches, and a company of knights. Behind the knights came several more coaches, including the grand one decorated with bands of gold and silver and bannered with silk that must contain his highness himself. Behind that strode a small army of servants afoot with a line of wagons loaded with baggage bringing up the rear. Fanny sat on the dais set up in front of the castle’s main entrance, along with her father and sister, waiting to greet the party. As the initial company of outriders and knights on horses drew up, they spread out to make a fan in front of the dais, leaving an aisle for the carriages. The first couple of coaches also drew to the side, but the very grandest of them proceeded directly ahead, stopping only when it was directly in front of the dais. Four footmen scurried toward the door, set a stool in place, and opened the compartment. The first person to alight was an elderly man, followed by a woman not much younger. Both wore coronets and grand garments. The groom’s parents, the king and queen of Malandria, he presumed. A tall, dark-haired man emerged behind them. He had a long, hooked nose, narrowed eyes, and an expression that suggested something nearby smelled bad. The twisted frown relaxed only when his gaze fell on Princess Merry. The trumpeters blew a resounding fanfare as the trio approached the dais. The king and the two princesses stood and descended to greet the newcomers. Between the distance and the continual blaring of the trumpeters, Baxter couldn’t hear the words spoken between hosts and guests. He did see the way the newly arrived prince fawned over Princess Merry, kissing her hand and smiling at her with all the charm he could muster. Baxter also saw, quite clearly, the smug, superior smile Merry threw at her sister as they turned to escort the newcomers into the main part of the castle. The rest of the day and evening comprised one long, sometimes loud and boisterous party,

with gifts exchanged between families, betrotheds, and small benefits granted to the castle staff and the newcomer’s servants in celebration of the nuptials. Prince Rodo presented Princess Merry with a beautiful set of jeweled adornments, including a ruby-studded tiara, necklace, bracelet, and ring. She donned them immediately and took considerable joy in turning and posing in ways that ensured the gems caught the light and sparkled becomingly. More than once, Princess Merry turned the nasty, smug look on her sister. She held up her wrist with the ruby bracelet, turning it to send a reflected ray of sunlight from the depths of the gems toward her sister’s face. Fanny grimaced and reached for her own wrist, tracing a finger along the gold chain of the bracelet he’d given her. Baxter danced with Fanny a few times, and several of the more adventurous men did as well, though he could tell that she favored none of them. Sir James claimed more of her time than made either of them comfortable. The real blow, however, came early the next day, when the king summoned both himself and Fanny to a private audience chamber.

Chapter 15 Baxter had no idea what to expect as he escorted Fanny to the king’s small audience chamber in response to the royal summons. The king waited in the room, with Princess Merry and her new betrothed, Prince Rodo, seated on his left side, and Sir James at his right. Baxter and Fanny bowed to the king and waited while he stood. He came to Fanny and led her to the foot of the dais. “My dear,” he said, “I have wonderful news for you.” He beamed at her in a way that made Baxter think better of his care and concern for his younger daughter. “As you know,” he continued, “I’ve made it known that I would be seeking candidates for your hand at the time of Princess Merry’s wedding festivities. A number of young men of good family and fortune indicated their interest in you, but then, after that unfortunate incident a few days past, most withdrew their feelers or failed to pursue the effort.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. “However, I do have an offer for your hand from a man well worthy of you.” The king turned to look at Sir James. Baxter’s heart began to slam against his chest, and his breathing quickened. Sir James stood up and approached Princess Fanny. “My dear,” he said. “I know you have had some difficulties in the past, but I remain confident you can learn to control your baser impulses. I also feel certain that with the right incentives and guidance, you will be an exemplary wife to someone in my position.” Baxter had to restrain a strong urge to plant his fist in the man’s face. The tone was smarmy, confident, and destined to provoke the worst sort of response from the princess. He’d underestimated how much she’d learned from him, however. Fanny didn’t say anything, though her right hand closed hard over the bracelet. For a moment Sir James appeared disconcerted by her lack of enthusiastic response. Then he said, “But of course, you’re overwhelmed by the offer. It’s not every day that a young lady, even if she is a princess, meets a man as her future husband.” Fanny continued to stare at him for several long moments. “It is very good of you, Sir James,”

she said, with a meekness that astonished Baxter. “I’m quite overcome. I never anticipated…Never guessed…” She glanced wildly around the room, like a trapped animal searching for a way out of its cage. Briefly she met Baxter’s eyes. She looked panic-stricken. A deep breath seemed to steady her enough to say, “I’m very grateful to you, Sir James, and to you, papa, for arranging this. But at the moment, I’m overcome and undone. I know not what to say. Please allow me to withdraw and consider my good fortune in private for a time.” “Of course, my dear,” her father said. Princess Merry added, to her future husband, “It’s no surprise she’s so overwhelmed. Had you seen her just a few weeks ago, you’d not have recognized her, she was such a wild creature. She’s just barely tamed, and can certainly have had no expectation of making a decent marriage at all, much less to one of such excellent virtues as Sir James.” It was a measure of Fanny’s consternation that she either didn’t hear or didn’t react to her sister’s jabs. She was already making her way out of the room, trying to do it in as rapid a way as gentility permitted. Baxter glanced at the king. “Perhaps I should have a talk with her,” he suggested. “She does seem somewhat befuddled.” The king nodded and dismissed him. Baxter caught up with Fanny in the hall, just outside her quarters. For a moment, she just stopped and stared at him, then her expression collapsed into despair. “I can’t,” she yelled at him. “I won’t. I can’t marry that man. They can’t make me.” He pushed open the door to her quarters and led her inside. “Quiet. You don’t want everyone in the castle to hear you. Please! Calm down.” She quieted, but only because the tears ran down her face and the words choked in her throat. “I can’t wed him. He’s…I can’t.” “He’s of noble family, decently rich, and generally considered well-favored. Many women would kill to be in your position, to have such an offer from him.” She sobbed. “I don’t want him. He has a shady reputation, and he makes me shiver with dread just to be close to him. I like not the way he looks at me and touches me.” She stared at him. “Please, My Lord Baxter, surely there is a way to prevent this.” Baxter drew a deep breath. “I don’t know that I can,” he admitted. “But I’ll discuss it with your father.” “If naught else avails, I’ll go back to being the wild, uncivilized shrew I was before you came. Even he will not want me then.” Baxter watched her. “I doubt such a tactic would gain you anything save, perhaps, an even less palatable husband.” “I fear you may have the right of it,” she admitted. Her eyes widened a moment later. “And you would have no claim on the reward my father had promised.” “No,” he said. “The reward is important to me, but not so important as your future comfort and security. I could not accept any reward in good conscience, knowing it had been earned at the cost of your happiness.” “Yet I will have to marry,” she mused. “One man or another of my father’s choosing. Perhaps Sir James is not so bad a choice at that.”

Chapter 16 The next morning, Baxter requested a private audience with the king. Fanny needed time to herself, so he sent her off to work in the garden while he bearded the royal lion in his den. He found the king alone, sipping tea from a cup and reading dispatches with the aid of a pair of magnifying lenses. “My Lord Baxter,” the king greeted him. “Come in and be seated.” Baxter followed orders while thanking the king for seeing him. Though politeness demanded the courtesy, it also gave him time to gauge the king’s mood and decide how to frame his request. “Your Majesty—” Before he could say more, though, the king added, “I have to tell you that I’m quite pleased with your efforts with Princess Fanny. Despite that incident a few days ago, you’ve made quite a difference with her. Before your arrival, she certainly would not have made that pretty apology afterward. I must say, I’d despaired of her ever behaving well enough to attract any offers of marriage at all, despite my position and her dower.” “Your Majesty—” “No, you need not be so modest about your achievement,” the king said. “You’ve done very well with Fanny. I would not expect her to be completely reformed in so short a time, but she is well on the way, and quite acceptable.” “Really, Your—” “Sir James is a good match for her. Though he isn’t royalty, as is Princess Merry’s betrothed, yet he is of a noble family. He has lands and wealth enough to support her comfortably, and perhaps one day, she’ll bear a son who’ll be my heir. I shall not live forever, you know, and I will feel more comfortable in my mind if both my daughters are well settled.” The king nodded again. “I have not forgotten the question of your reward. I presume that is what you came to discuss with me? I understand there is a business venture you have in mind, and you need gold to fund its inception. How much do you feel you need?” Baxter drew a deep breath. “Your Majesty, I did come to discuss my reward, but I had something a bit different in mind.” The king’s bushy eyebrows rose. “What might that be, my lord?” “Your daughter. I would like to tender an offer for her myself. I, too, am of a noble family. Though I am not the lord to extensive lands and do not stand to inherit any, I believe I can still begin the operation of a business that will eventually support us quite comfortably, though not, perhaps, in the sort of state that Sir James could provide. It will be slower without the reward I’d hoped for from you, but I’m confident I can manage. I’m in love with her, and she loves me.” He half expected the king to erupt in wrath, thundering at him for his presumption, or having him removed to a dungeon. Neither occurred. The king remained silent for a moment, studying him with shrewd, narrowed eyes. “You are sure of my daughter’s feelings for you?” the king asked. “Yes, Your Majesty.” “But of course she would,” the king said. “With your fine figure and your concern and support for her. How could she not fancy herself in love with you? And you must have strong feelings for her to forego the purpose that brought you here in the first place.” He sighed, looked down at the pile of papers in front of him, then looked back up at Baxter. “I’ll need some time to think on this. Tomorrow, after the nuptials, I’ll make my decision.” “Thank you, Your Majesty, for even considering my suit,” he said.

The king nodded and looked down at the papers again, dismissing him. He didn’t see Fanny again until much later in the afternoon. When he sought her after the noon meal, he learned the king had summoned her and she was closeted with her father. They met in the hall as she returned to her quarters to change for dinner. She stopped when she saw him and stared at him. “My father said you made an offer for me.” Her face was taut and tightly controlled. “He said you asked for my hand as your reward rather than the gold you needed for your business.” She drew in an unsteady breath. “I…I don’t know what to say.” “Say you love me,” he suggested. “I do. You know I do.” “Then why this frown?” he asked, tipping her face up with a finger under her chin. “Does your father intend to accept Sir James’s suit rather than mine?” “He didn’t say which suit he favored. He asked my feelings on the matter.” “And you told him you preferred to be wed to me. Belike he wasn’t too pleased about it.” “I know not. He said nothing in favor of either, even when I told him my preference would be to wed you, but I was not certain it was the best answer.” “How is that? You’ve admitted you love me. You loathe Sir James. What other answer can there be?” “I accept Sir James’s offer, so that you may receive the reward my father promised you—the gold you need for yourself and your family.” He pulled her into his arms and pressed her against his body. “You would do that for me? I knew you were a lady worth loving—worth two of your sister—but I had no idea you could rise to such levels of generosity.” She sighed and leaned into him. “I did not say I told my father I would accept Sir James’s offer. In truth, he asked only which one I favored, not which I would choose to accept. He simply told me he had an offer from you in addition to the one from Sir James. He’ll make a decision tomorrow.” Her fingers dug into his waist as she held onto him. “I’m torn. A part of me—the better part, perhaps—knows I should want to be given to Sir James. But all my heart and soul and being clamor to be with you.” “And mine yearn for you,” he said. “But what will I do if he chooses Sir James for me?” “We’ll worry about that if it happens,” he assured her.

***** The wedding celebration engulfed them the next day, leaving neither of them time to worry about their own situation. Baxter found himself occupied helping the men move tables outside onto the green for the feast, setting up torches, and preparing a dais for the musicians, and another one for the members of the royal families. He met Fanny once or twice as each of them raced off in one direction or another to fetch something needed. On the second occasion, she was muttering to herself as she carried a length of wispy fabric and a few roses just cut from the garden. They were alone in the corridor at that point, so he stopped her long enough for a kiss. “How are you, my love?” he asked when he could finally force himself to pull away. “Surviving this

day?” She sighed heavily. “I’d do better if Merry would ever decide what she wants to do with her headdress. She’s changed her mind at least six times now. Heaven preserve me. I’m on the edge of exploding at her again.” He put a hand on the bracelet he’d given her, which she seemed to wear all the time. “Be calm. It will soon be over. In a few days she’ll depart to her new home and will be around to torment you no more.” “Oh.” She sounded startled. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. It makes me a bit sad. Though she hasn’t been very nice to me, still she’s my sister.” She smiled up at him, a smile tinged with both sadness and wry humor. “Perhaps I’ll find it easier to cope with her for today. Thank you, my lord.” Though all in the castle were busy, there were no insurmountable crises until after the ceremony had concluded and the festivities were well underway. The ceremony itself went off smoothly. The bride was lovely and poised; the groom looked proud, haughty and pleased with the prize he’d won. Each spoke the words of their vows firmly and clearly. Afterward the crowds of guests feasted on mountains of food piled on groaning tables. Wine and ale flowed freely from a long line of kegs. For the first hour or so the musicians could barely be heard over the murmur of conversations. The quartet paused periodically to allow toasts to the bride and groom and their families. Though the crowd comprised folks from every level of society, even those from the lower classes wore their finest clothes, and it appeared that new garments might well have been supplied to them for the occasion. Members of the nobility, attired in brilliant, gaudy garments, glittering with gold, silver and gems, thronged in sufficient numbers to make it a grand spectacle. Princess Fanny stood near the dais where her father and the groom’s parents still sat. She sipped slowly from a cup of wine and talked with a pair of young men in elaborate finery. Princess Merry and her new husband were nearby, greeting a continuing stream of well-wishers. Baxter made his way to Fanny’s side, stopping once or twice to exchange pleasantries or respond to inquiries, but he sped up when he saw Sir James edging in the same direction. They arrived almost simultaneously. Fanny appeared disconcerted and momentarily unsure who to greet first. The gaze she turned on him was a bit desperate and begged understanding when she twisted toward Sir James, greeted him, and gave him a smile that showed the strain involved in summoning it. He didn’t blame her. She might have to live with the man for the rest of her life. The other man gave him a haughty look. “Lord Baxter, you’re still around? I would have thought you’d have claimed your reward and been off to your commerce project by now.” The way he said “commerce” made it sound as though he might have substituted “murder” or “massacre”. “Ah, but since I’ve been hired to be Princess Fanny’s guide, I wouldn’t think of leaving her until her future was securely settled.” “Did the king not tell you?” Sir James asked. “Perhaps he didn’t feel it necessary to keep someone in your position informed, but I’ve done the princess the honor of requesting her hand in marriage. Her future is quite secure. I guard carefully what is mine, so you may rest assured it is settled.” “Oh? That’s odd. When I spoke with the king yesterday, he gave no such indication. He mentioned you had made an offer, but at that time he hadn’t decided whether he would accept it. I believe there were other offers available.” Sir James tossed an off-hand shrug. “None so acceptable as mine, I’m sure. It’s all just a

formality. He’ll accept it.” But Baxter had stopped paying attention to the man’s words. Everything else went hazy around him. For a moment, he couldn’t say anything, do anything, or see anything. He could think of nothing other than the startling thing he’d just seen. Buttons. A set of gold buttons on Sir James’s overtunic. The buttons were of exactly the same design as the one he’d pried from his dead father’s fingers.

Chapter 17 Baxter’s heart hammered against his chest as the implications sunk in and his brain struggled to decide what to do about it. “You doubt me?” Sir James said, the aggressive tone dragging his attention off the man’s clothes and back to his face. “I’m quite sure the king is too sagacious to reject out of hand an offer of such quality as yours,” Baxter replied. It took the other man a moment to parse that answer. While he did Baxter thought furiously. He didn’t want to create a stir here at the wedding celebration. He’d embarrass Fanny’s family and ruin a joyful occasion. It was probably best to say nothing and wait for a better time to accuse the man. “Of course,” Sir James said, finally deciding to find a compliment in Baxter’s response. “The king wants the best possible match for his daughter.” “I’m quite sure he does.” Later Baxter wouldn’t remember much about the rest of the day, the conversations he had, what was discussed, or who he talked to. He did recall that at one point Fanny looked at him and asked, “Are you quite well, Lord Baxter? You look pale.” Whatever he answered must have satisfied her. Somehow he made it through the rest of the afternoon and evening’s festivities. There was more feasting, singing and dancing the next day, but Baxter couldn’t bring himself to join in wholeheartedly. In the morning the king notified him that he would announce his decision concerning Princess Fanny that afternoon. He requested that Baxter present himself at the time of the mid-afternoon bell. Baxter had ascertained that Sir James had been summoned for the same time. The accusation would have to be lodged then, before the king announced his decision, to avoid embarrassing him. Baxter spent most of the morning chewing over the best way to declare his knowledge and the likely reaction it would provoke from Sir James. The man would probably challenge him. Sir James was larger and older, but he was soft in the belly. Baxter could defeat him in fair battle, but the man had used treachery before and surely wouldn’t stop at it now. Fanny noticed his preoccupied air and inquired about it. He admitted he had matters on his mind but declined to say more. He promised she’d learn of his concerns soon enough. After the noon bell, he returned to his quarters to consider carefully what armaments to wear. His dagger, most certainly. He decided against the sword. Though it wouldn’t be completely unacceptable, few men wore them during the celebration. Sir James had not been wearing his and likely wouldn’t. A second dagger in a sheath that strapped to his forearm lent added security. It

wouldn’t show under his long-sleeved shirt, but could be drawn in seconds. He dropped the gold button into a pocket. Sir James was already with the king when he arrived, as was Princess Fanny. Baxter looked over the knight, checking for visible weapons. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw no sword. The man no doubt wore a concealed dagger just as he did, but he could handle that. “I have made a decision,” the king said, when both men were nearby. “Your Majesty, forgive my unpardonable rudeness,” Baxter said, “But I must beg your indulgence for a moment before you continue. I have something of critical importance to relate.” A frown flickered across the king’s face and his bushy eyebrows arched. He stared at Baxter for a moment with thunder in his expression, but then it relented. “Yes, My Lord Baxter. You may continue.” “Thank you, Your Majesty. You once told me if I ever discovered the identity of the man who murdered my father, I should tell you. I now know who is that treacherous snake.” “Do you indeed?” the king asked. “Who is it?” Sir James stood behind the king. At Baxter’s words, his eyes widened and his stance shifted warily. “The murderer is here with us this very moment, Sir James.” Sir James’s face turned ashen for a moment, then went very red. “How dare you…you miserable crumb…make such an accusation about me?” He dove toward Baxter, drawing a dagger from under his cloak. At a signal from the king, several of the guards who’d been lurking nearby rushed into the fray and separated the men. Three guards held a straining Sir James. “This is an outrage,” the man yelled. “Your Majesty, surely you cannot countenance this! I know the man wishes Princess Fanny for himself, but to try to discredit me in such an underhanded way is the outside of beyond.” The king looked from one man to the other thoughtfully. “Lord Baxter, I presume you would not dare make such an accusation without some basis for your belief.” Baxter let out the breath he’d been holding. “Yes, Your Majesty. I can prove his guilt.” “Then do not delay,” the king advised. Baxter nodded and drew the button from his pocket. “This was clutched in my dead father’s fingers. Since he still held it as he died, I conclude it must have been ripped from the garment of the man who attacked him from behind. My father must have turned and attempted to fight his attacker, but he succeeded only in ripping a button from his garment. If you’ll take a closer look at it, Your Majesty, you’ll note that it’s quite a unique button. Until yesterday, I hadn’t seen its like. But there were several like it on the tunic Sir James wore.” “He lies,” Sir James roared. “He pulled that button off my tunic yesterday so he could concoct this web of lies for you.” “That is easily proved.” The king looked toward a guard. “Go and search Sir James’s quarters while we wait here. Find the tunic that has buttons such as these and bring it here.” The guard bowed and left the room. Sir James fumed and thundered, but narrowed eyes and an expression focused toward the distance indicated the noise covered scheming and planning. Baxter kept close watch on him, particularly on his hands. The guard returned before long, carrying a deep blue, velvet tunic. Gold buttons marched

down the front of the garment. The king cleared the table and the guard spread the tunic on its surface. Because he’d been trying to decide what he’d do in Sir James’ place, Baxter was prepared for him to use the distraction their study of the garment provided to slip out. Baxter moved to block the man’s way. Sir James’s expression turned livid. With a flash of his hand, the man drew his dagger and charged toward Baxter. Baxter saw it and ducked just far enough to the side to get out of his way, while drawing his own weapon. Seeing a clearer path to the door, Sir James attempted to push past him. Baxter reached for him, grabbed his arm and yanked. The man shook off the hold, but lost his balance in the process. He took a few rushing, off-balance steps, toppled forward and let out a sharp yell. Baxter steadied himself and approached the prone man, dagger to the ready. Sir James moved feebly. He made an effort to push himself up but settled for rolling onto his side. A gush of blood poured down his clothes and puddled on the floor. Baxter moved closer. Sir James’s own dagger protruded from his chest, at an angle that suggested it had likely struck to the heart. A small runnel of blood dripped from his mouth. He looked up at them. His lips moved. Baxter leaned forward to hear his words. “A priest,” the man whispered. Baxter relayed the request and attempted to staunch the bleeding with a shirt someone handed to him. He dared not remove the dagger. Sir James said nothing else and he died before the priest arrived. The king had guards remove the body and clean up the blood. Baxter held onto Fanny, who was obviously shaken by what had passed. While order was restored, a much more solemn king had wine brought for all of them. When the room was set to rights and they’d drunk enough wine to settle them somewhat, the king looked up and said, “Lord Baxter, I hope you’re satisfied with the revenge you’ve had here. He may not have died at your hand, but it was by your actions he was brought to it.” “I am satisfied, Your Majesty.” “Good. Then there’s one more bit of business to be settled. Or rather two.” “Two?” He and Fanny asked the question at the same time, sounding like a chorus. “Yes. Come here, Lord Baxter.” The king sounded so harsh, Baxter wondered if perhaps he were angry over the bloodshed in his council room. Nonetheless Baxter did as ordered and approached. The king watched him steadily, no expression to be read on his face. “Lord Baxter, in gratitude for your service in avenging the death of my dear friend, Marko, and in consideration of your future estate, I hereby grant you lordship of the land of Exalin, which comprises much of the northeastern part of my kingdom, and I name you Duke of Exalin.” “Your M-m-m-majesty,” Baxter stammered. “I had no…I didn’t expect.” He stopped and drew a breath, trying to steady himself. “You leave me speechless, Sire.” The king smiled then. “From what I know of you, Your Grace, that condition is quite rare. I’m delighted to be the cause of it in this instance. My reasons for granting you the honor are quite selfish, however, I assure you. My grandson must have a title, you see.” The king’s smile grew broader. “I also am grateful that you spared me what might have been a highly uncomfortable scene when Sir James heard my decision. I’ve never felt quite happy with the man, though I never guessed the depths of his treacherous nature. Nonetheless, I’d heard enough rumors and felt uncomfortable enough with him personally that even before the revelation, I was disinclined to trust him with my daughter’s happiness.” Fanny rushed to his side and put her arms around him. “Father, do you mean to say—?”

“A moment, if you please, my dear,” the king chided. He looked at Baxter again. “You, Your Grace, I have no doubts about. All you said and did convinced me you were a strong, honorable man, and one, moreover, who came to love my daughter quite deeply. I give her into your keeping, Your Grace, and ask that you honor and treasure her as your wife and lady.” “Father!” Fanny shouted and threw herself onto the king, nearly smothering him in the process. “Thank you! Thank you!” When she’d finally released him enough to allow him to breathe again, the king said, “I’m pleased to see that this decision makes you so happy, my love. One final thing, and then I’ll allow you to withdraw and begin making your plans. I understand that you’ll want to view your new estate as soon as possible. I believe Exalin Castle is quite a lovely place and was kept in fine repair until the old Duke died without issue when I was a young man. But I hope you’ll spend a great deal of time here at court. Moreover, I must insist your eldest son spend as much time as can be arranged with me.” He paused for a moment. “Merry is now settled with the Crown Prince, who is heir to a kingdom of his own, and secure in her position. That is an excellent alliance for us as well.” He sighed lightly before he continued. “I have no sons. Therefore I am constituting you, Your Grace, and Fanny joint regents to this kingdom, with your eldest son to be my direct heir.” Baxter was stunned into speechlessness again. The king spared him the necessity of trying to find words at that moment. “Your Grace,” he said, “I understand that you had plans involving a business venture, and I fear my actions here must cause some disturbance to those. I regret that, but only a little. I hope you’ll find compensations. And in truth, I believe you’ll find in your new position you’ll have the resources to hire a partner who can do whatever work you wished, while you provide funds and direction.” Baxter sucked in a breath. “I believe I’ll learn to live with it, Your Majesty. In truth, I was prepared to live with Fanny in a much more modest way if that were the only way to have her. With her I have all the riches I could want.” Fanny and the king both smiled broadly at him. “I’m relieved to find your speechless state at an end,” the king said. “Go then and make your plans. I’m sure you have much to say to each other. I now have a great deal of paperwork to do. We’ll announce your instatement and betrothal tonight, as your sister is scheduled to leave in the morning.” He and Fanny restated their thanks and gratitude, then left. They all but raced back up to her quarters, laughing like children. The people they met on the way stared at them but none stopped them to comment. Baxter figured if they wasted no time, they had just enough time before the warning bell rang for dinner. When they were in Fanny’s room, with her door shut and barred, they made their way to her bed, leaving a trail of dropped clothing behind. But as they lay in each other’s arms, stroking faces and breasts and thighs, Fanny’s expression grew serious and her hand stilled. “It’s strange,” she said. “I’m thrilled and happy and can think of little else, yet I also feel some guilt about it. A man died in our presence just an hour ago. There should be some regret. Some mourning.” Baxter stroked her hair and kissed her cheek. “He was an evil man, who died by his own hand while trying to escape the long-delayed consequences of his villainy. His end was fitting, and even in its way, merciful. There’s nothing to mourn for there.” She nodded and smiled at him. He bent down to lick across her breast and kiss a nipple. When he sucked it into his mouth and scraped his teeth across it, she bucked and squealed, all other thoughts forgotten.

He kissed all along her body, moving from breasts down across her belly, and abdomen, skirting her groin, but moving down one thigh, all the way to her toes. He drew each individual toe into his mouth and kissed, sucking gently, while she moaned in ecstasy. He worked his way back up the other leg, to the other breast, where he worked that nipple to a sharp peak. He bit down on it, hard enough to mix a bit of pain in with the pleasure. She gasped and her breathing grew quicker. He did the same for the other tip, nibbling on it until it was just a bit sore. He felt down along her abdomen and quim, found her nether folds moist and panting for him. When he moved between her legs, she opened for him. He plunged into her and all but drowned in the hot, moist tightness of her. She was warmth and light and all that was sweet and good in the world to him. She made him crazy. Nothing could ever be this good. It would never be this special with any other woman. There wouldn’t be any other women. This was it. He’d found his home, his center. Her panting and moaning inflamed him. He pumped harder and harder into her, trying to prolong it for her, but eventually he could hold on no longer and exploded. She moved along with him, spasming as he did. When the shocks wore off, he dropped his head onto her breast. She cradled him tenderly and kissed his hair. He stuck out his tongue and ran it over the nipple nearest his mouth. The warning bell for dinner sounded. He looked up and smiled at her. “We have excellent timing, my dear.” “Like a pair of dancers long partnered,” she answered. “Not so much long for us,” he corrected, “as well partnered.” “Well partnered indeed. But now we must needs dress and groom ourselves lest all guess what we’ve been doing.” “Some will anyway. You have the look of a well-pleasured woman.” “And you look like the cat that fell in the cream jug,” she responded, pushing herself up from the bed. He grabbed his shoes but couldn’t find his breeches for a moment. “It was your jug,” he said. “And your cream. Very tasty.” “You lapped it up.” “True.” He stopped to kiss her again, then gave her a nudge to get them both moving. They just barely made it to the great hall in time for dinner. Befitting his new status, Baxter was seated beside Fanny at the head table. Before the meal the king stood and made his announcements concerning the instatement of Baxter as Duke of Exalin and his betrothal to the princess. The crowd gasped, then cheered and clapped for them. Several men nearby came over to slap him on the shoulder and offer congratulations. Unfortunately the king had to add that he had sadder news as well and announced the death of Sir James. The king referred to it as an unfortunate accident. Cries of dismay and much whispered speculation broke out among those gathered. Though the news shocked many, it appeared few actually mourned the demise of Sir James. Within minutes of the food being served, nearly everyone had returned to merrier conversation. Loud exclamations, cheers, and laughter sounded from all quarters of the hall. As they moved around the room for various purposes, nearly everyone present stopped to congratulate them. Fanny radiated confidence and happiness. Lady Syndal strolled by and stopped to congratulate them. “I knew the two of you would be perfect together,” she said to Fanny. “From the first moment I saw him, as he arrived at court, I knew he would be the right man to tame and claim you.”

Princess Merry, eating in near silence with her quiet, rather dour husband, looked less happy, though she was newly married. Had the wedding night not gone as well as it might have? He could give the man some advice…nay, better not. When dinner ended, Merry invited her sister and a number of other high-ranking ladies to some kind of private social gathering. Baxter let Fanny go reluctantly. Not that she couldn’t take care of herself, now, but because he missed her company. He passed the time agreeably enough, talking with some of the other men and a few others he’d known from childhood. He even made an effort to talk with Crown Prince Rodo, his soon-tobe brother-in-law. He was startled, though, to be interrupted in the midst of a conversation with two old friends of his mother. “Excuse me, my lord…er, pardon, Your Grace,” the servant said after bowing to him, “but the Princess Fanny requests that you join her immediately. She said she had a problem and needed your help.” Baxter nodded. “Where is she?” “In the green parlor,” the man answered. “I’ll go.” He excused himself to his companions and went in search of the princess. He found her in the salon with a knot of other young women, including Princess Merry. Fanny smiled broadly at him as he entered. “My Lord Baxter, thank you for coming so quickly.” She took his hand, then stood up to kiss him. “The messenger said you had a problem?” “I did,” she answered. “But you’ve solved it now.” “How so?” “Merry and I had a wager over which of us had the more devoted husband. “ She grinned and cocked her head at a flirty angle. “Or future husband. She also sent a message to her husband requesting his presence. He has not yet appeared.” They both looked toward the older princess, who gave them a sour frown. “Merry maintained that since you had trained me in proper behavior, you would expect me to come at your call, but you would not do likewise for me. I insisted she was mistaken, that your devotion to me was as great as mine for you, and it would be bring you to my side when I sent for you. Thank you, my lord, for not making a liar of me.” Baxter smiled and kissed her on the cheek. He drew her to a corner of the room and whispered in her ear. “You know, you may be my future wife now rather than my student, but I reserve the right to spank you when needed. If you will play games with me, I may find it necessary.” Fanny’s cheeks flushed bright pink. “My lord, I certainly hope you will.” Later that evening, he did.