He’d done all he could to hide her thievery and deceit from them, and he’d certainly not told all and sundry she’d lain with others, yet word of her desertion had spread in spite of him. Hesighed, knowing their priest thought him a weak man, unable to guide his spouse on the path of righteousness.
“Now that she’s here, he’ll make sure she’s repentant,” Aunt Royse said. “Perchance he’ll wish to parade her in church for her penance, as a lesson to all other wives.”
Arthen winced in sheer distaste. He resented Rowena for what she’d done, but he would not see her humbled in order for others to find their cruel enjoyment. It was enough he’d had to punish her in view of all and sundry at the inn.
“Just tell him her chastisement is my business. And mine alone.”
“You tell him,” Aunt Royse countered with a sigh. “He is a cruel, stubborn sort, like all priests.”
Arthen supposed they’d have to work something out which would reassure Father Alcuin that his wife truly repented her deeds. In what he was concerned, Arthen was not quite certain Rowena truly repented anything she’d done. Yet she seemed changed, and strangely caring of their son. Could he hope she’d changed indeed? He did not know.
He pondered upon this all day, striving hard to focus on his tasks. But his thoughts drifted upon the wife he'd brought back home, who seemed so changed after her return. She hadn't run away again, although he'd well expected her to desert him and Robin anew. Yet she'd stayed.
As evening fell he regained his home and he saw to chores left unattended during the day, but well aware of Rowena's presence in the house. He sought to busy himself about the house rather than inside it, but darkness soon fell and he had to step into the warmly lit kitchen. He'd already hauled water for bathing, and Rowena had seen to its heating and to cleaning the child. Arthen had waited for her to be done with her own bath so he could have his, but it seemed Rowena had been tarrying. He found her still bathing, and his eyes unwittingly fell upon her beautiful form.
Her body was half hidden by the tub, yet her bare, wet breasts were there for him to feast his eyes upon, with round pink nipples that looked like rosebuds. It seemed to him now her breasts were somewhat fuller than he remembered them, but he assumed it was only his fevered imagination that was making them so. He pictured himself lathering them, and then taking delight in the way her pink nipples stirred under his fingers.
She held her eyes downcast, blushing fiercely to have his gaze upon her, though the Rowena he remembered had always been bold and unconcerned about her nakedness. They’d lain together well before they’d wed and she’d not come to his bed a maiden. At the time he had liked what he’d thought was Rowena’s warm, passionate nature. Yet soon after they’d wed he’d come to understand Rowena was not truly warm. And what he’d admired about her unrestrained nature had turned out to be only dangerous recklessness.
“Robin is well. He is asleep. But I will look upon him later,” he heard her mutter, as she was trying to shield her breasts from his gaze.
He nodded, still somewhat amazed by Rowena’s newfound concern for their child and thinking he should be wary of this new behaviour.
“I looked upon him closely when I came. His forehead is cool. Perchance he will rest peacefully tonight,” he said stiltedly.
And then he found he did not know what more to say. It seemed to him he and Rowena had become strangers to one another, as if she was altogether a different woman he’d just met. But perchance it was precisely what Rowena wanted him to think. Her clever mind was one of the things which had prompted him to want to make her his wife. But after they’d wed he’d come to see hers was a sly, conniving cleverness. He now understood he’d been a fool in ways more than one. There must be many things Rowena had hidden from him during theirmarriage and, just as his aunt had told him, he’d been far too blind. In truth, he’d made himself blind because he had not wanted to own up to how utterly mistaken he’d been about her character.
Although he now attempted to look away, his eyes kept darting upon his wife’s alluring nakedness. He found he desired her now far more fiercely than he’d wanted her ever before. And he found himself loving this air of innocence she now professed to have. A wicked, clever act for certain.
“Is this your new game? One of modesty?” he found himself tossing at her in a savage voice. “Or is it that old, mad game still of turning yourself into a dainty lady? Suddenly afeared by my crude commoner ways?”
He thought upon rough, punishing lovemaking, knowing his woman would revel in it just as much as he would, and he laughed bitterly, with a shake of his head. Rowena did not answer, just looked upon him with wide eyes and parted lips. Arthen stared back at her, like a man possessed. She’d always stirred his lust, but now it seemed to him she looked more beautiful than ever. His wife… In spite of everything, his wife still.
He stood gazing at her, and saw her cheeks flaming, but he resolved she'd forsaken her rights to modesty when she'd broken faith with him. So he did not leave the chamber and did not avert his eyes from her. The water was already getting cold and Rowena was forced to rise out of the tub, naked as she was with water dripping off that alluring body he'd never stopped desiring. After she stepped out of the water, she draped a linen towel over herself, and Arthen bit back a sigh of sheer regret that she'd covered herself.
She stood in front of him, with lowered eyes, and he supposed it would be right and wise to leave her be, just as he had last night, but he found he couldn't. So he also stood in frontof her, watching her with avid eyes which were filled with both lust and anger.
“Do you wish to chastise me tonight?” she asked softly, still staring away from him.
He said nothing. Instead, he pictured other men touching her, and a dark, searing jealousy he’d not felt before clouded his mind. Before, right after Rowena had run away, he had not cared. He had been almost glad when she'd seemed lost to him, thinking he would not get to set eyes upon her ever again. Then he’d regretted his thoughts, and had striven to keep the promise he’d made her mother. But now it seemed things were different. Maybe he had deceived himself he did not feel true pain upon what she'd done.
He stared at her as she stood there, pretending to be modest and shy of him, but at the same not attempting to flee him. Last night she had meekly accepted her chastisement. Chastisement! He smiled mirthlessly. For him, certainly, and not for her. It was plain she wished for him to spank her. She must have already learnt this wicked game from one of the men she'd lain with and now she thought to snare her husband with it before she deserted him again.
He found he hated her fiercely at this time, and, although she'd been a wretched wife to him, he didn't recall ever having hated Rowena before. Who did he hate in truth now? Perchance not her, but himself.
"Aye, I crave to chastise you," he uttered harshly, hating himself.
Emma reasonedshe was indeed a wicked woman for acting as she did. Why could she not refrain from wanting to play twistedgames with a man who was not even her husband? It was true she had resolved to stay in this household and be a mother to Robin. She supposed she had become not only wicked, but also deceitful because she had already decided to pretend she was this man's wife, just because she wished to be with the child. Yet the maddening heat which lay between her and this man, who was not her husband, had nothing to do with the child. It was an utterly wicked thing. And the trouble was she just could not refrain from wanting this wickedness.
She glanced upon Arthen Archer, telling herself she was willing to take Rowena's place and be his wife. Arthen Archer was enraged with Rowena. And Emma reasoned he was entitled to chastise Rowena for what she'd done to him. Would it be so wrong and wicked of her if she let herself be chastised instead of Rowena? She had after all taken Rowena's place. Wasn't this chastisement now her due?
Trying hard to still her laboured breath, she strode to where he was, loving the heated hardness of his body as she placed herself across his lap. It was utterly sinful. But she found she could not do otherwise. Why did something that was wrong and wicked feel so right to her?
She was already naked while he was fully dressed, and this disparity in their situations made her feel utterly at this man's mercy as she lay across his lap. She reasoned she was deserving of his chastisement. Didn't she now seek to deceive him by pretending to be other than she was?
She gasped as the first spank landed upon her upturned behind which was still wet, and she soon came to perceive he was spanking her harder and faster than he had the night before, searing each bottom cheek with his calloused hand and bringing scalding tears to her eyes. However, the spanking ended abruptly and the punishing hand soon became caressing instead of harsh. His fingers didn't take long to find the shameless placethey'd been seeking, and Emma found herself crying in sheer mortification, "Wait! Not there. Do not touch me there..."
But his clever fingers had already found their way inside her gushing wet sex, and Emma sobbed in earnest, understanding Master Archer could now perceive she was in his thrall. No man had ever placed his fingers there, and Emma's utter shame was soon replaced by growing pleasure. Never in her life had she experienced such delight as the teasing, skilful fingers were kindling as they were going in and out of her heated quim.