Arthen glanced at her, stunned. This was the last of all the things he had expected Rowena to say. He searched her face, to decide whether she was taunting him, but her face betrayed nothing.
“Come then,” he muttered, trying to make his tone as calm as hers had sounded. “For your spanking.”
Obediently she heeded his command, coming to drape herself over his lap. He was well aware she could feel his arousal already prodding against her body as he lifted the hem of her shift to bare her plump bottom. Her behind and thighs were still faintly striped with the red tell-tale marks the nettle switch had left, and Arthen understood it would not take much to make her bottom sizzle under his hand.
He cursed himself under his breath, knowing he was letting scorching lust get the better of him. In truth, he’d not taunted his wife with a spanking in order to teach her a lesson or make her repent. He’d taunted her with it because he found this differentRowena who had come back to him simply maddening to his senses. Was this a new, deceitful ploy of his treacherous wife? To bewitch him in truth, so that he would forgive her for the cruel way in which she’d deserted their child?
Gritting his teeth hard, he resolved to turn into a harsh lesson this thing which in his mind he viewed as love play. He willed his arousal to subside, as he began to trace his fingers on the reddened skin of his wife’s plump buttocks. She moaned. And that was the undoing of him. He landed a crisp smack upon her upturned bottom, revelling in the way her firm flesh bounced against his hand. The woman moaned again. And it was a wanton, ardent sound, which made him want to make her sit on his lap rather than lie draped across it. He then pictured himself plunging his cock inside her to the hilt. Instead though he began to spank her bottom in earnest, tending to one cheek after the other, and then seeing to the sensitive area where her bottom met her thighs. Soon, the woman’s moans turned into sniffs and then into soft crying. And Arthen pictured himself licking the salty tears now streaking her cheeks and telling her he was not sorry at all for spanking her.
He did not spank long or hard, although a part him hated her for what she’d done. Still, her face was indeed streaked with tears when he was done, and she rubbed her reddened bottom holding her eyes downcast when he let her slide off his lap. When she finally raised her gaze to him, Arthen saw not only pain there, but undisguised lust for him. And it seemed to him Rowena had never looked upon him like this—her large blue eyes were the same shape and colour as always, yet the expression in them was something he’d not glanced upon before.
“So,” he cleared his throat artlessly, not knowing what to say.
Yet he knew very well what he wanted to do at this time. He wanted to thrust inside her from behind, with a vengeance, and he pictured himself doing so while she was leaning against thekitchen table. He conjured up the delicious feeling of ramming inside her wet quim while he felt the warmth of her spanked buttocks against his front, and he nearly spilled himself.
“Just go and stand by the wall,” he found himself growling, utterly stunned he was behaving like a green, untried boy.
His wife did as he bid with no protest, and obediently assumed the position he’d commanded. He bit into his lip, still mightily aroused, as he glanced upon her plump behind. The shift was thin and still somewhat damp upon her body and it did not wholly conceal the redness of her spanked buttocks and thighs, which could be glimpsed through the fabric. To Arthen’s eyes, this was a strangely lovely picture, which could have been made even lovelier if he’d commanded her to hoist her shift and display her chastened behind to him. He nearly opened his mouth to order her to do so, but then clamped it shut, understanding he was truly snared in a wicked game.
“Well,” he found himself muttering. “I suppose we could call this a punishment. Though I doubt you’ve learnt aught from it.”
At last he allowed her to face him, and he sighed upon perceiving her eyes which were still brimming with tears. There was anguish there he could perceive, but also the same hot desire as he’d glanced upon before. And he felt sinfully tempted to meet that desire. She was his wife still, wasn’t she? Although she’d cruelly betrayed him.
He strived to conjure up the anger and disgust he’d felt towards his wife in the past months, and the bitterness with which he’d come to look upon her during their marriage, yet none of it came. He simply wanted this woman.
“Just go to our chamber, wife. I’ll make my bed elsewhere,” he forced himself to say, making his voice unconcerned.
Rowena nodded with a small sniff, and Arthen hated himself for wanting to take her into his arms and comfort her. Later, in his cold, makeshift bed, he started wondering whether shewould still be here in the morning when he roused. And he understood that if she still wanted to run away from him, he would no longer chase after her. He would simply let her have the different life she so much craved.
CHAPTER 6
Emma reasoned that never in her life had she felt more shamed than she was feeling now. And it was not the spanking she'd just received which made her shame burn so bright. It was not the spanking itself, but the way she'd craved the spanking. She'd asked for it, told this stranger she needed it when he had no inkling she was not his wife and in no way deserving of any kind of punishment from him. With a deep sigh, Emma reasoned that what was worse was that she had not perceived what he'd done to her as a punishment. It had not been true chastisement, but only a strange, twisted, wicked thing which lay between her and this man who was not her husband. And she understood he knew just as well as she did that what they'd shared hadn't been genuine chastisement. By the famished look in his eyes when he'd been done spanking her, he'd barely restrained himself from coming upon her and thrusting inside her. Who could have faulted him for doing with her what he willed? She had shamelessly asked for the punishment, shamelessly asked for all of it. And he believed her his wife.
Why had she told him she needed a spanking? Why had she been so willing to submit to what he'd done to her? And why hadshe revelled in the pain he'd bestowed upon her behind and even in the abject way he'd prolonged her punishment afterwards?
Rubbing her smarting bottom. Emma resolved she'd taken leave of her senses, and she strived to blame the strange man who'd come upon her for all of it. Never in her life had a man made her behave thusly. So she must run away from him as soon as could be. Squaring her shoulders, she strode to the bedchamber where she hoped to find a change of dry, clean garments of Rowena's. She would not even wait until dawn to make her escape. No matter the danger and the darkness, she should flee this house at once.
Careful not to wake the child who was sleeping in a cot by the big bed, Emma made a thorough search for garments to wear and breathed in sheer relief when she could find a shift, a gown and stockings. The cloak she'd worn was dirty and full of road dust, but it would have to do and she should be thankful for the clean, dry garments which now lay before her. But Emma's joyful relief was soon replaced by anguish, because she recalled she'd left her slippers and cloak and the rest of her garments in the kitchen, as she'd been too flustered by what had taken place to attend to them. The wealth she had left – her ruby rings – was hidden in her slippers and she could not make her escape without it.
Knowing Master Archer was still in the kitchen, Emma sat down on the bed with a slight wince, thinking upon what she needed to do next. If he was still awake she would have to face him, and facing him at this time seemed simply unbearable. Still, she reasoned she must do so, and then wait for him to fall asleep when she made her escape from this house. A sudden noise from the cot made her startle, and Emma soon perceived the child was tossing and moaning in his sleep. Sighing and knowing she would not ever set eyes upon him again once she left this house, she went to adjust his blanket and to look uponhim. But the child whimpered and started crying softly as soon as she drew near the cot.
"It hurts," he muttered looking at her with teary blue eyes which looked beautiful even in the dim candlelight.
"What hurts?" Emma instantly asked in sheer alarm and reached to feel the child's forehead.
It was burning and upon looking better upon him, Emma saw that his face was flushed.
"Don't go," he whimpered when she rose to fetch his father, knowing Master Archer had to be told at once the child was ill.
The pained voice in which the little boy uttered the words was heart-breaking to Emma. She reasoned she could stay for a few moments to calm down the child before she went to fetch his father. So she did the only thing she could think of doing. She cradled the child in her arms and started crooning softly to him. The child soon quieted, and dozed off as Emma held him. With care not to wake him, Emma attempted to put him back in his cot, resolved to go and tell Master Archer to see to his son. But as soon as she tried to put him back in his cot, the boy roused and started crying softly.
"Don't go," he repeated.
Emma touched his forehead, and it felt somewhat cooler than before.
"I shall not go," she said soothingly. "We'll go together," she added, holding the child tight in her arms as she made her way to the kitchen.
Upon reaching that chamber, she found Master Archer was already asleep on a pallet, no doubt tired from the journey they'd had today. But she didn't have time to look upon him or attempt to rouse him, because the boy clung to her, whimpering softly. Emma resolved that even if she'd roused Master Archer, he would not have been able to do much. The men of her acquaintance had always spurned tending to others, and even ifthe archer was not such a man, he could not do much more than she herself could do to quiet the child and soothe his pain.