Master Archer was still seated at the table, and he was still glancing at her with an unfathomable expression on his face. Emma supposed he was quite hungry, and cross with her for his ruined meal, but she refused to make herself feel guilty. She had tried her best and she would spend the next days trying her best. And she felt tired of paying for Rowena’s mistakes.
She busied herself cleaning the table and clearing the dishes, but Arthen lingered there. The bowl of food was still in front of him, barely touched.
“Do you mind?” Emma called to him stiffly, attempting to take the bowl away to empty and clean.
He caught her wrist lightning fast and she nearly gasped.
“What new game is this?” he asked in a sharp voice.
Emma snatched her hand from his, straightening her spine.
“What do you mean?”
“You know only too well what I mean. The meal. You ruined it on purpose.”
“Nay.”
“Aye. You may be many things, Rowena, but you’re a good cook whenever you bother to see to our meals. So this is certainly part of your mad game. It's all too plain you still want to taunt me, in spite of all my warnings.”
Emma closed her eyes tiredly, then shrugged as she opened them. Well, that was that. She was not Rowena, but he didn’t know that, did he? And he thought she had ruined the meal in order to spite him.
“Oh, fine, spank me for it then, if this is what you want,” she tossed out with a wave of her hand, knowing she was now indeed entering the dangerous game he'd already warned her about.
“You seem quite unconcerned with the spanking. Cheerful even. It’s plain so far I did not spank you hard enough,” Arthen said in a soft, silky voice.
He hadn’t, and they both knew it. Unfortunately, Emma already knew what a hard spanking was. Lady Edith hadn’t spared the rod. In truth, Emma thought it fairer to call the punishments she’d received from Lady Edith whippings rather than spankings. And, apart from the punishment at the inn, the spankings she’d received from Arthen had been quite mild. Meant to tease, taunt and pleasure rather than to punish. Emma took a deep breath, beginning to think within herself she could bear it even if he were to spank her harder, with his belt, just as he'd promised he would if she taunted him again. In truth, her heart started thumping as she wondered just how hard he would spank her if she kept taunting him.
“Will you spank me now?” she asked, striving to look flippant and unconcerned.
He said nothing, and his brown eyes just perused her. Emma searched inside their depths for the feral heat she’d become accustomed to, but his gaze betrayed nothing of the kind. She bit back a sigh.
“Shall I come to you?” she asked, making her voice brazen.
Then she decided to be even more brazen about it. She strode to the chair where he sat, by the table, and simply draped herself across his lap hoisting her skirts and presenting him with her bare behind. She was playing with fire. Would he hold true to his vow and spank her hard for the way she was behaving?
He did nothing. As long moments went by, Arthen did nothing, and Emma nearly cursed under her breath, knowing that never in her life had she felt more humiliated, not even when he’d made her behind sizzle in front of all those people gathered at the inn.
“Will you not do it already?” she muttered, unable to stop herself from feeling a maddening tingle in her quim.
At last, Arthen's rough, long-fingered hand slid over her buttocks, but the touch was quite gentle and teasing, and not punishing at all. Emma felt her quim gush and held her breath under the teasing touch. Soon he would replace gentleness with harshness. Because it seemed Arthen Archer knew just how harsh and how gentle he should be in order to make her blood heated. She pictured the spanking in her head, both fearing he was now far too angered with her and waiting with anticipation for what he would do next. Would he kiss away her tears when he was done spanking her? And would he love her gently after the harsh punishment?
But Emma's heated thoughts soon came to an end, because Master Archer's fingers cruelly drew away from her, and she was deprived of his gentle touch. Biting into her lip, she waited for his hand to become harsh and merciless as it fell upon her bottom. But his hand stood still. And Emma waited for the punishment to begin. And she waited.
"Will you not do it?" she asked, knowing she was repeating her earlier urge and hating herself for the abject, beseeching tone.
“Nay, I will not do it,” he answered at last, and his voice was a taunting whisper. “Because you wish to be spanked. And this time you're not getting what you crave.”
Her face flaming, Emma wriggled her way out of his lap. He didn’t stop her, and she had trouble containing her anger as she righted her skirts.
He grinned in full malice, and Emma felt like slapping his face. What would he do if she slapped him? Would he at last spank her? The way he was glancing at her now was daring and it seemed he was only too aware of what she craved to do. Emma's hand itched to do just as she wished, but she took a deepbreath and strived to let go of her anger. Emma had always been restrained, so she got a grip on herself.
She straightened her spine, staring away from him and striding to the table to clear the rest of it. As she was busying herself with the task, she could feel his gaze upon her. Closing her eyes to herself, she pictured the look in his eyes, thinking that, perchance, his gaze was feral and heated just as it had been on the last night he’d punished her.
“You are changed,” she heard him say after what seemed to her like a long while.
“Oh, how so?” she countered, as she finished her task.
“You know only too well.”