The Princess and the Rogue (12 page)

She suddenly felt ashamed. This man had risked his life to reach her before she foolishly walked into a trap. On top of that, she felt drawn to him in a way she hadn’t experienced before. Here was a man, living as an outlaw, but responsible for the lives of the people he sheltered. During the days she’d stayed in the hidden camp, others had told stories of how he had rescued them from bad situations and had given them shelter.

Perhaps, she thought, he was less an outlaw than a huntsman who provided for his people. She learned that Rand LaFlors maintained his privacy, sharing little of his history. But it was rumored he was a nobleman, displaced from his lands by treachery at a young age and forced to flee to the forest, to live as best he could. What outlawry he actually did seemed directed at those who traded with the red countess.

Still, it was more than simple infatuation with a mysterious stranger living on the edge of the law. She realized, as they ate in silence, that she was drawn to Rand LaFlors as a man. She wondered how his arms would feel embracing her, how his lips would feel kissing hers. The way he’d taken command of her back in the old woman’s hut took on a new meaning. Even the faintly remembered sting of that spanking conjured up different feelings now; little tingles half of pleasure, half trepidation.

What would he do to her for breaking his rules? She had convinced two others to go with her, putting their lives in danger, too. He wasn’t saying anything, but Juliet could sense anger under the calm demeanor. She stood up as he approached.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He looked at her with his eyebrows raised.

“For everything. I just wanted to go home.”

She raised her fingers to his chest, needing that small human contact and she felt the hard muscles underneath his shirt.

He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned toward her. “I know who you are,” he said quietly. “I will help you. But you must obey my rules. You must never strike out on your own. Your actions put everyone’s lives at risk. Had you been taken, they would have delivered you to the red countess, Morgaine, and she would have made you all tell everything you knew about the camp.”

“I… I see that now. I’m sorry.” She buried her face in his chest, partly in shame, partly because she wanted to feel him pressed against her. When she glanced up, his face was inches from hers. It was a face that bespoke of empathy and compassion. He drew closer. Their lips touched, fleetingly at first. But then he gripped her shoulders and pulled her closer. This time, when their lips met, it ignited a flame in her core and she wrapped her arms around him.

He kissed her hard and it thrilled her, sending both chills up her spine and flashes of heat to parts of her she had never been aware of before. When she opened her mouth, his tongue sought hers. For a long moment, the world stopped as they kissed. She molded her body to his and thrilled to the feel of his hands moving up and down her back, caressing her everywhere. It made her knees buckle. He caught her and pulled back.

“Why did you stop?” she said.

“Because we must eat and go. We cannot assume they have given up the chase.”

“But I want you now,” said Juliet, clutching at Rand. Desire had taken over, obliterating all else.

“And I too, princess, but we must be away. We will have time together after we are both safely back in the Darkwood.” Then he added, enigmatically, “After that, whether you wish to see me again will be up to you.”

“Why?” she said.

With a wry expression Rand said, “Because there must be a reckoning. For Edith, for Lylie, and for you. You broke our most important rule.”

“But what you said… you know now I’m really Princess Juliet Greystone.”

Rand shook his head slowly back and forth. “King or commoner, princess, it does not matter. I can’t treat you any differently. The men and women of my band expect nothing less. Titles mean nothing here.”

Juliet chewed on her lower lip. She had to accept that she had brought it upon herself. She took a deep breath, and humbly asked a favor. “When you must do what you must, just promise me it will be by your hand.” She had a vague idea of the nature of camp discipline. She had heard admonishments from Ota from time to time as she scolded the younger girls and threatened that if they did not behave they would get the switch.

Rand nodded. “It will be as you wish, princess.”

Chapter Thirteen

The mood in camp was both somber and joyous. Rand’s family of outcasts and refugees were joyous because everyone had returned safely. The mood was tempered by the realization that tragedy had been narrowly avoided. Only Rand’s quick thinking and the brave acts of his men had saved the three girls before Morgaine’s men had seized them.

Rand called for a general meeting at the camp’s center where a council firepit had been constructed. It was surrounded by makeshift stools made from tree stumps. Rand told someone to drag a sturdy one to the front of the firepit.

Juliet, following Rand’s instructions, stood nervously on the edge of the crowd, next to John and Bran, each of whom had a firm grip on Edith and Lylie. She remembered what he had told her just before summoning the rest of the camp:

“The next hour will not be pleasant for you, princess, but discipline must be maintained. I have to do this so that everyone understands I will not countenance disobedience, even from you. My followers expect that foolish and dangerous behavior will be punished, and I can do no less and still maintain their respect and loyalty.”

Juliet didn’t say anything as Rand escorted her to the council fire. Her knees were shaking. Lylie and Edith looked remorseful and worried.

Rand addressed the gathering. “We are grateful that Edith and Lylie and Juliet are returned to us safely. This could have been disastrous for all of us. They were minutes away from capture when we found them. I must repeat this for you young women among us—no one leaves the Darkwood without a purpose and an escort and a plan.” He looked pointedly at the three girls.

“Our survival here depends upon it.”

“We have a tradition in matters like this and I choose to invoke it now. These three deserve punishment,” he said, gesturing toward the girls. “And it will be up to their rescuers to correct them.” At a signal, John and Bran handed each of the sisters a small knife. “Go now and cut switches, both of you. We will wait for you to return. You will present the switches to your rescuer and ask for his forgiveness. Then you will accept whatever punishment he deems proper. It is only fitting, since he risked his life to save yours. Go, now.”

The two girls took the knives and scurried off to obey. All eyes turned to Rand as he handed Juliet a knife. By now the rumors had spread. The entire camp had heard that Juliet was indeed a princess of Westvale and the daughter of the king.

“You too, princess. It should be a green shoot about this long,” he said, spreading his hands, “and about this thick on the gripping end.” He indicated his little finger.

Heads nodded approvingly. Their leader was not according her any special treatment. It was as it should be.

Nervously, Juliet followed Edith and Lylie down a path into the woods. The girls had found a bush with long springy shoots and were busily cutting and trimming switches.

“What should I do?” asked Juliet. She didn’t quite know how to go about it.

“You mean you’ve never been switched?” said Lylie.

“No. Never,” said Juliet. She had felt her mother’s hand but that had been long ago, and of course, more recently, the outlaw’s. Never had she been subjected to a whipping of any kind. The idea seemed terrifying. Her limbs were almost shaking.

“It hurts like the very devil,” said Edith, carefully peeling buds off a limber withe. “I fear none of us will sit comfortably for a time. Here,” she said, “I will show you how to do it.”

Juliet and the two girls returned to the circle clutching switches. Each of them carried three rods. Lylie had said it would be worse for them if a switch were not sturdy enough and it broke, so they had each prepared three. The switches were an arm’s length long, carefully peeled and very limber. Juliet tried to imagine what it would feel like.

Juliet followed the lead of Edith and Lylie. She stood in front of Rand and presented him with the switches she had cut. Along with the others, she made her apology, but while Edith and Lylie asked for forgiveness, she merely said with downcast eyes, “I’m sorry.”

Someone had placed another stump near the fire ring. Edith and Lylie were ordered to face each other across the stump, bend over, and place their hands on its surface, fingers touching. They obeyed, their posture thrusting their buttocks out in readiness for the switching. Juliet watched breathlessly as two of the older women raised the girls’ dresses and tied them above their waists with twine. Edith was completely bare underneath; Lylie wore linen drawers, which were dragged down, baring her bottom.

While they were being prepared, John and Bran tested the switches, swishing them through the air. The sound was chilling to Juliet. It was a shrill whine. The men made the switches quiver with a wrist motion and Juliet realized that even a light flick of the wrist would result in a painful stroke on bare flesh.

When all was in readiness, Rand told them to begin. The men took up positions on opposite sides of the stump and tapped the switches against the bare bottoms of the girls. Edith and Lylie flinched at the contact and shuffled their feet.

“No moving, girl,” said Bran.

John said, “Look in your sister’s eyes and remember what foolishness this was.” Then the men drew back their arms.

The
whoosh-swick
of a switch impacted Edith’s flesh and she gasped. A split second later, John’s switch struck Lylie’s bottom. Juliet saw her eyes open wide, surprised by the intensity of the sting. The men delivered the punishment at an even pace, the strokes alternating between the two girls. Edith and Lylie reacted by yelping and shuffling their feet each time a lick was applied to the bare flesh of their resilient bottoms, but the men kept it up, laying on lash after lash with the limber switches. Juliet observed that each girl clenched her bottom cheeks in reaction to a stroke, then relaxed them before the next one struck. It was a lurid dance, the shifting from foot to foot, the bare bottoms of the girls quivering and flexing in reaction to the rapid-fire strikes from the switches. Red lines appeared on bare white skin. The girls began to react vocally now, a chorus of pleas and promises.

“Ow! Ow! I’m sorry. Please!” they said, begging for mercy. Juliet couldn’t tell who was crying what. As if it mattered. Soon that would be her.

The switching went on for several minutes. By the end of it, the girls were sobbing and pleading for mercy and forgiveness. Whether it was the state of their bare bottoms or the tone of their apologies, Juliet didn’t know, but as if by some unspoken understanding, both men halted. The girls were allowed to rise and readjust their clothing. Both dropped to one knee and kissed the hand of her rescuer and punisher. Then they were led away, presumably to seek relief for their burning bottoms.

Juliet had watched in fearful anticipation. Her mouth was dry, her knees were shaking, and her heart thumped wildly. It was her turn. She looked to Rand. At least it would be he and not some strange man who would deliver her punishment.

Rand grasped her by the wrist. She looked at him quizzically. “I’m not sure you can stand there and take your punishment like the others, princess. So we’ll do this another way.” She watched as he snapped off half of the switch’s length, then stumbled as he pulled her along toward the stump. He sat down, and before she could register what was happening, he pulled her face down across his knees.

“Ooof,” she gasped as she toppled across his lap, her nose inches from the dirt. It was a humiliating posture to be in. In front of Rand’s followers, she was going to be spanked like some common tavern wench who had insulted a customer. She turned red in the face as Rand hoisted her skirts. Her feet fluttered helplessly behind her. Underneath she had on drawers and she gasped in shame and embarrassment as Rand yanked them down. Her bare bottom now was totally exposed with nothing but a gentle breeze between her skin and that switch. Then Rand shifted his body. Craning her neck, Juliet saw him reaching for the switch. He grasped it in his right hand and tightened his left arm, which encircled her waist. He tapped her bottom with the switch, testing its resilience.

“Now, princess, in the future you’ll obey the rules I set. I mean to make this memorable.”

Swick! The switch struck and Juliet felt an instant line of fire across her buttocks.

Swick! Again the switch impacted her bare flesh.

Swick! Huick! Swish! Three searing licks fell in rapid succession, causing her to wail and throw her feet up behind her.

Rand whipped the switch down with deft flicks of his wrist, placing red hot stripes across the squirming bottom cheeks of the unhappy princess.

Juliet had never felt anything sting so badly. Each strike was a blazing line of pure agony. He plied the switch from the top of her buttocks down to the soft fold where her bottom joined the tops of her thighs.

Juliet writhed and bucked over Rand’s lap, but he held her securely. She wriggled and fluttered her feet, trying everything to shake off the awful sting. Nothing worked. The switch sang through the still air of the camp, delivering its fiery message of pain, and she could not escape, no matter what she did.

Soon, she began to bleat her abject apologies.

“Ow… yow! Please… ahhh!”

Rand ignored her. He continued to apply the switch to her quickly reddening bottom at a steady tempo, undeterred by her wails and pleas for mercy.

“You (
swick
) need to learn (
swick
) this lesson (
swick
) well, princess. In this camp, my word is law (
swick
).”

Juliet howled with each red hot stripe of the switch.

Finally the princess broke into tears, sobbing uncontrollably. She slumped across Rand’s lap, emotionally exhausted, broken, unable even to squirm. It was the signal he’d been waiting for, her surrender. He stopped.