the set and let her recover herself again.
“I'm sorry,” she sobbed, although she wasn't sure why she was apologizing to him. It was just that being chastised in this manner was an effective way to make one sorry. She was sorry that he had to do it, and sorry that her actions had forced him to put himself on the line with the king. And she was sorry she'd defied the king. Except that she wasn't— because she would have missed the entire experience of meeting Bronson and traveling as his page. If she hadn't run away, she'd be fretting in her chambers right now, in pure terror of the man she was supposed to marry. Arriving at that conclusion, she felt stronger about completing her punishment.
As the last twenty five strokes fell, she found she'd stopped resisting the pain, stopped jumping each time the leather stung her flesh. She submitted fully to her punishment, her limbs slack, her screams turned into sobs and blessed acceptance.
As soon as Bronson finished, he pulled the blankets out from under her hips and crawled into bed next to her, rolling her to her side and tucking her in against his chest. He held her like that a long time, stroking her hair as she cried, running his fingers lightly up and down her arms until her tears had stopped.
“This is a hell of a way to start a new marriage, isn't it?” he murmured after a long time. She laughed a little.
“Bronson?” she sniffed.
“Yes, my love?”
“Promise me something?”
“What is it?”
“Promise me you will always comfort me this way if you punish me.”
Bronson was silent a moment. Mayhap she shouldn't ask such a promise. Then he said, “I promise. If you promise me you will always accept my comfort.”
Of course she would accept it. Unless...ah. Unless she resented him or the punishment. If so, would she be willing to give up ill-will in favor of harmony? Aye. In his arms, she felt cherished, despite the fact that he had just welted every inch of her backside. She snuggled in closer. “I promise,” she said.
Chapter Five
“Lady Julia! Look, it's Lady Julia!”
Riding up to the gates of what used to be her father's castle, Julia was overwhelmed to see its occupants racing out to greet her. She had been taken abruptly by the king's soldiers those two months before, and no one had known what had become of her. She waved happily and they cheered. Then she burst into tears.
Bronson smiled at her indulgently. He had been kind about waiting several days before they departed so that she could ride comfortably and the journey had been an easy one, as she was already used to the rhythms of traveling with his men. “Happy, love?”
She nodded through her tears. She couldn't wait to greet everyone. As soon as they were through the castle gates, she flung herself off her horse and into the arms of her childhood nursemaid. She continued greeting all her friends and servants until one of the ladies cleared her throat and she realized that Bronson was waiting to speak. She flew to his side and he took her hand with a wink.
“May I present the new lord of the castle and my husband, Lord Bronson, The Duke of Pembridge,” she announced grandly. She actually was not sure whether it was her place to make the introduction or not, but it seemed as though it ought to come from her. She glanced nervously at Bronson and he squeezed her hand.
Her father's knights— those who had remained to guard the castle rather than attack Lord Pembridge, came forward to swear fealty. The steward stepped forward to introduce himself and then the ladies were introduced. The servants could be introduced later. Julia quickly began giving orders to provide hospitality to the Duke and his men— ale was brought out and food preparations began.
After dinner, Bronson and his knights, both old and newly acquired, met with the steward for an overview on the
“I'm sorry,” she sobbed, although she wasn't sure why she was apologizing to him. It was just that being chastised in this manner was an effective way to make one sorry. She was sorry that he had to do it, and sorry that her actions had forced him to put himself on the line with the king. And she was sorry she'd defied the king. Except that she wasn't— because she would have missed the entire experience of meeting Bronson and traveling as his page. If she hadn't run away, she'd be fretting in her chambers right now, in pure terror of the man she was supposed to marry. Arriving at that conclusion, she felt stronger about completing her punishment.
As the last twenty five strokes fell, she found she'd stopped resisting the pain, stopped jumping each time the leather stung her flesh. She submitted fully to her punishment, her limbs slack, her screams turned into sobs and blessed acceptance.
As soon as Bronson finished, he pulled the blankets out from under her hips and crawled into bed next to her, rolling her to her side and tucking her in against his chest. He held her like that a long time, stroking her hair as she cried, running his fingers lightly up and down her arms until her tears had stopped.
“This is a hell of a way to start a new marriage, isn't it?” he murmured after a long time. She laughed a little.
“Bronson?” she sniffed.
“Yes, my love?”
“Promise me something?”
“What is it?”
“Promise me you will always comfort me this way if you punish me.”
Bronson was silent a moment. Mayhap she shouldn't ask such a promise. Then he said, “I promise. If you promise me you will always accept my comfort.”
Of course she would accept it. Unless...ah. Unless she resented him or the punishment. If so, would she be willing to give up ill-will in favor of harmony? Aye. In his arms, she felt cherished, despite the fact that he had just welted every inch of her backside. She snuggled in closer. “I promise,” she said.
Chapter Five
“Lady Julia! Look, it's Lady Julia!”
Riding up to the gates of what used to be her father's castle, Julia was overwhelmed to see its occupants racing out to greet her. She had been taken abruptly by the king's soldiers those two months before, and no one had known what had become of her. She waved happily and they cheered. Then she burst into tears.
Bronson smiled at her indulgently. He had been kind about waiting several days before they departed so that she could ride comfortably and the journey had been an easy one, as she was already used to the rhythms of traveling with his men. “Happy, love?”
She nodded through her tears. She couldn't wait to greet everyone. As soon as they were through the castle gates, she flung herself off her horse and into the arms of her childhood nursemaid. She continued greeting all her friends and servants until one of the ladies cleared her throat and she realized that Bronson was waiting to speak. She flew to his side and he took her hand with a wink.
“May I present the new lord of the castle and my husband, Lord Bronson, The Duke of Pembridge,” she announced grandly. She actually was not sure whether it was her place to make the introduction or not, but it seemed as though it ought to come from her. She glanced nervously at Bronson and he squeezed her hand.
Her father's knights— those who had remained to guard the castle rather than attack Lord Pembridge, came forward to swear fealty. The steward stepped forward to introduce himself and then the ladies were introduced. The servants could be introduced later. Julia quickly began giving orders to provide hospitality to the Duke and his men— ale was brought out and food preparations began.
After dinner, Bronson and his knights, both old and newly acquired, met with the steward for an overview on the
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