The Princess and the Huntsman (7 page)

“Er… no,” Tom admitted. Being shunned by the villagers would hamper his efforts to provide for himself and Brandywyn.

“I
am
Princess Brandywyn,” the girl insisted. “I demand—”

“Let us move on,” Tom said quickly. He nodded at the village woman. “Good morrow to you, goodwife.”

The woman eyed Brandywyn suspiciously. “Daft,” she pronounced. “Good morrow to you, Tom Huntsman.”

Brandywyn was undaunted. “But—”

Tom took her arm and pulled her along.

Yanking her arm away, Brandywyn said, “Leave me. I shall do’t myself.”

Tom pondered this for a moment. The girl would have to learn on her own. “Very well.” He turned and walked away, watching her stop another passerby on the street and receive the same rejection.

Following along a way behind her where she could not see him, Tom saw her fail miserably at her quest over and over again. Villagers were gathering in small knots, pointing at her as she made her demands, stomping her foot angrily. Finally, turning in the street and seeing that she was not going to be catered to, Brandywyn started back down the street the way she came.

Tom stealthily followed her, but instead of asking for directions back to his cottage or to the palace, she stomped out of the village, head held high, to find her own way through the forest. After half an hour, she was hopelessly lost, of course, but she persisted with dogged determination.

The forest darkened as the trees became more dense, and Brandywyn got further and further afield. Tom thought maybe she could not even make her way back to the village again to get help.

Finally, tired of the game, Tom got ahead of her and leaned up against a tree until she reached him.

“Oh! Tom Huntsman!”

“Aye, Brandywyn, ‘tis I.”

“I am on my way home. Do you leave me alone.”

“Admit it. You are lost.”

“I am not!” Her chin jutted out stubbornly.

“Why did you not ask for directions?”

“I knew I could find my way, of course. A princess is well educated at geography.”

He snorted. “So you could find yourself to… Carlisle, for example, but getting to the royal grounds was a bit too local for you?”

“I would have found my way! Now get out of my way. I want to be off.”

“You are going the wrong way. The cottage is that way.” He pointed eastward.

“I told you, you dunce,” she said, talking slowly as though speaking to a fool. “I am on my way home. To the palace. Where I live.”

Tom took her by the arm, and though she struggled, his grip was firm. He had no need to hurt her to pull her alongside of him as he headed toward the cottage. “You live with me until we can find out who you really are. My home is your home for the time-being.”

“No!”

He paused. “Do not attempt to gainsay me in this, Brandywyn. Be cooperative and you will do well.”

She struggled a bit harder, digging in her heels. “Let me go!”

“You press me. You have endangered yourself enough for one day. Come along.”

She smacked his arm. “You are a knave! Release me or I shall… shall…”

“Have me drawn and quartered? You can only do that once,
Princess.
”

“Oh! I hate you, hate you, hate you!”

He tugged her along. “So you have said.” It pained him that she was so stubborn and determined to make him out the rogue, but that did not prevent him from keeping her safe. It was a thankless job.

They fought each other all the way back to the cottage where she threw herself into the chair, pouting mightily.

“You persist in making things hard on yourself, Brandywyn,” he lectured, pacing in front of the hearth. “And you put yourself in direct danger, this day. What if kidnappers had found you in the forest again? Did you think of that? Did you wish to be raped in the dirt?”

Her pout got a little shaky. “No. I wanted to go home.”

“That was all you thought about, without thinking things through. You are not a princess, sweeting, and I shall not treat you like one. You deserve another spanking.”

Brandywyn stood abruptly. “No! Do not touch me!”

“Stand behind the chair and put your hands on the back. Do it or it will go harder upon you.”

“I shall not! You cannot make me!”

He arched a brow. “Are you certain of that?”

She backed down, though her golden brows still dipped. “Beast!”

“Your name-calling wears thin, Brandywyn. Do as I said.”

Slowly, with exaggerated care and much dragging of feet, she did as bid and put her hands on the back of the chair.

“Bend, woman, and offer your arse.”

Her knuckles went white where they gripped the chair. “You ask too much.”

Tom thought maybe this was true. He moved her into position himself. Her thin skirt went up over her bare bottom and Tom felt himself stir. It was such a beautiful bottom, unblemished—the marks from the kidnappers’ torments had disappeared with the passage of time—round and sweet. He paused to get a wooden hairbrush. Seeing it, Brandywyn gasped and began to plead.

“Please do not beat me, Tom. I promise to think ahead more.”

He stood at her side, gazing into her eyes, trying to determine if she was sincere. Certes, she was sincere about not wanting to be spanked, but thinking ahead… less so. He would have to spank some sense into her. “I shall ensure that you give matters more consideration.” Tom drew back his hand and Brandywyn cringed, her eyes closing tightly as he swung the brush at her bare behind. He did not swing very hard; ‘twas obvious that she was unused to being punished.

The first spank caused her to squeak, but that was all. He watched her reaction to the next three spanks. Each time, she squirmed a little more.

“You will be mindful of your safety in the future, Brandywyn,” he told her. Swatting her three more times. She gasped at each blow and went up on tiptoe. “You will stay near the cottage, where it is safe.” Four more smacks, and her chin was trembling. “You will not insist on being treated like a princess, throwing epithets and insults everywhere you go.”

Brandywyn began to sob and a few tears ran down her face. Tom’s heart went out to her, but he had to make the point. Her bottom was bright red, unbruised, but definitely unhappy. “Do you agree?”

Her sobs grew louder and he spanked her again several times. “I ask you, woman, do you agree to behave?”

She nodded, her face red, her eyes dripping.

“Answer aloud. I wish to hear it from your own lips.” He gave her two more swats, at the place where her bottom met her thighs.

“Aye!” she cried. “Aye!”

“Four more to seal the bargain.”

Boo-hoos and sobs followed, but Tom held to his word and spanked her thighs two times each. He tossed the hairbrush onto the table, put Brandywyn’s skirt down and took her into his arms. “There, there. It is all over. You will be a good girl now.”

She nodded, her face pressed against his chest, her tears wetting his tunic. He patted her back, waiting for her sobs to abate.

“Give yourself leave to cry, sweeting. If anyone has earned her tears, ‘tis you.”

“I am sorry, Tom. You have been nothing but kind to me and I have repaid you poorly.”

He would have agreed aloud, but there was no need to rub salt into her wound. “I forgive you.”

“And I forgive you for not believing me to be who I am.”

“Brandywyn, let us not begin that argument again.”

“But ‘tis true! Please believe me!”

Tom thought ‘twould be bad for her did he do so. She could not behave like a spoiled princess. She needed to embrace her humble situation. Brandywyn especially needed to get control of her temper. Instead of giving in, he took her chin in his hand and tilted her face up. “Mayhap you are not royalty, but to me you are as precious as any princess in the world.” Tom gazed into her green eyes, falling into their leafy depths for a moment, then lowered his head to take her lips—her ruby lips, so soft, so tender.

It was a gentle kiss at first. Tom did not wish to scare her, but as she slowly came to know his tenderness, she also came to find her passion. It showed in the movement of her lips on his. As he pressed her a bit more, holding her tight against him, she opened her mouth and he explored her teeth, her tongue. He tested her experience, and found her untried, hesitant, but with ardor growing.

Brandywyn was breathless as he slowly withdrew from her. Her eyes opened, half-lidded with desire. “Aye, sweeting. That is how it is with us.”

“I have never kissed before,” she admitted with a blush. “Can we do it again?”

Tom chuckled, delighted. His answer was to bend his head and take her lips again, this time with greater force—not enough to scare her, but enough to prove his deep desire. Brandywyn hesitated only a moment before she became more aggressive. Her tongue played with his, her breath became his. He drank her up and she refilled his cup.

Sliding his hands down her back, he cupped her rump gently. He knew she was still sore from her spanking, but he wanted the feel of her full behind in his hands. Rewarding him, she squirmed in his grasp. Tom wanted more. He snaked one hand between them and moved it up her chest, finally cupping her breast. Her nipple was hard, a nubbin against his palm and between his fingers. He worked it free of its confining garment, manipulated that tender nipple and fondled her breast.

“Oh… oh, Tom…” she sighed.

Bending further, he took the tip of her breast into his mouth and wound his tongue around it, coaxing it to greater hardness. He nipped her gently and she gasped, pressing her breast against his mouth to encourage him. If he did not cease, he would have her naked and in the bed soon. ‘Twas not the way to take a maid, all at once, without wooing. She was willing, though, and that was gratifying. Carefully, he withdrew, pulling her chemise and bodice back into place.

“We must cease, love, else we shall do something regrettable.”

Brandywyn touched his face gently, and he heard the rustle of his beard beneath her hand. “I would not regret it.”

He smiled and retreated a bit. “I would. You deserve wooing, sweeting, not some rough tumble after a single kiss.”

She frowned and took a step back. “As you wish. If I do not please you…”

Taking her hand, he pressed a kiss to her palm. “You please me greatly. Too greatly.” Verily, it beset him to think of her leaving him. It was not something he cared to consider, so he pushed it to the back of his mind.

Chapter Five

Parting from him, Brandywyn sat down in the single chair, her bottom aching on the hard wood. She was unsure about what to do. Tom certainly did not believe her, and yet, her story was true. It was very pigheaded of him to insist she was someone who was out of her head and making her identity up. However, she could not find her way back home, and so long as the villagers did not recognize her, she was without help. In time, if she persisted, Tom had to come around to believe her. He
had
to! If she confronted him time and again with her regal bearing and fine manners, she would certainly convince him.

Tom’s kisses had been pleasant, however. She would have liked more of those, but in this case, he had to remain her enemy until he came to see the truth of her words. Unfortunately, it all meant that she was stuck there in the humble cottage with the huntsman for a while.

Brandywyn watched him gather up a few things and put them on the table. Flour, eggs, milk, a chunk of tallow, a bit of leavened dough in a small canister, and a bag of salt. “What are you doing?”

“I am getting out the ingredients for bread making. I thought you could make the bread while I go catch a few fish in the stream.”

“M-m-make bread? You cannot possibly think a princess would make bread. Why, my hands would blister! My arms would harden. I have seen cook at the task, and it is not something I would care to try. In all my ten and nine years, no one has asked me to do such a menial task. No, Tom. You make the bread.”

He scowled at her. “No, Brandywyn. You will do it. If you cannot remember the steps, I shall teach you.”

Tears of frustration gathered in her eyes, but Brandywyn fought them back. “How can I remember what I never knew?”

“It will come to you. Perhaps this task will jog your memory.”

“You are insufferable. I refuse.”

“Then you will go hungry.”

Fury filled her head and added venom to her tongue. “You would starve a princess?!”

Tom sighed and turned to build up the fire in the small brick oven built into the hearth. “I shall not starve a princess, no. I shall
remind
a woman of her place in the world.”

“My father will—”

“You know, Brandywyn, I suspect your father is a simple tradesman, a cobbler, or goodly yeoman who tills his fields. Once you remember, I shall take you to him. But I shall not roam the countryside asking every person I meet if they are missing one spoiled daughter.”

Brandywyn ground her perfect teeth together. “I cannot remember what is not true.”

“You will remember, given time. And I have plenty of time for you, my girl.”

“Of course you do, you peasant.”

He laughed. “I may be a peasant, but here you are with me in my humble home, eating my humble food, and wearing my humble shoes and shirt. At this moment, Brandywyn, you are as much a peasant as I.”

She pounded a fist on the table and the bowl jumped and the eggs rolled close to the edge. Tom caught them, gave them an impressive juggle, and put them in the bowl for safekeeping.

“Enough of your temper tantrums for the nonce, Brandywyn. You need to get this bread in the oven.” He picked up the flour and poured a bit in the big wooden bowl. “Here is how you do it. Stop me when you remember.”

Brandywyn watched him mix ingredients, stirring and adding this and that until a dough had formed. He floured the table some and turned the dough out upon it. “Now we knead it.”

“We do?”

“Aye. Do you not recall kneading dough? Surely it was one of your childhood tasks.”

“Never! Princesses do not cook!”

He gave her a hard stare. “Of course they do not. But since you are not a princess, the question remains.” He pulled her over to the dough and floured her hands. “Here, like this.” Taking her hands in his, together they kneaded the soft, fragrant mass. It was a sensual feeling, the yielding of the dough beneath her fingers, the slightly tacky outer skin with the glutinous texture beneath. It was lot like flesh—soft, pliable flesh. Brandywyn flushed at the thought of kneading Tom’s much harder flesh with her same two hands. At about that time, he withdrew his guidance.