He nodded. “Of course.” Returning his attention to her, he lifted the bowl of warm porridge to her lips.
She turned her face away. She would go hungry before she let him feed her again.
“Do you want that spanking here, Daisy?”
Her bottom automatically clenched at the wordspanking,and hot tingles crawled across her cheeks as if he had already delivered a few stinging blows. Maddeningly, a drip of moisture caressed her folds, dampening her skirt below. Dearest virgin, what if it soaked through her skirts and he felt it on his thigh? She tried to shift, but he held her too close to move.
Why did he have this effect on her? She’d become all quivery, her body trembling, her breath short. She would never forgive him if he spanked her in public. His ability to stir such responses angered her further. She pressed her lips together to keep from snapping that she hated him.
He lifted the bowl again.
She had no choice but to drink from it.
“Good girl,” he said.
Her sex pulsed. She watched the bowl approach, as if in slow motion. Her rational self tried to stop the impulse, but it was too late. She shocked them both by sinking her teeth into the meat of his thumb, cutting through skin and tasting blood. She released it as quickly as her jaws had snapped, and looked at him in horror, knowing she’d just gone too far.
He had jerked in surprise, slopping porridge down the front of her dress, but strangely, he made no sound—no roar of surprise, no angry tirade.
She waited, trembling like a leaf, for him to upend her in front of the entire castle and give her the promised public spanking. Had that been her goal? Impossible—it was too horrible to even contemplate. And yet, if not, why had she baited the bear, so to speak? Perhaps she’d lost her mind.
Her stomach twisted in knots and her palms sweated. Her sex seeped moisture, somehow not understanding she was in real trouble now.
“I’m sorry,” she attempted, knowing his punishment would be severe.
Without a word, he lifted her off his lap and stood, propelling her to the stairs and up to his chamber.
She stood, wringing her hands as he shut the door. “Forgive me, Barrett—sir… my lord,” she tried again.
She saw a glimmer of a smile on his lips and her heart picked up speed. He pointed to the bed. “Bend over and lift your skirts.”
She walked, weak-kneed to the bed and folded her torso over the feather mattress. She could not figure out any way to lift her skirts with her wrists tied, but she made a show of attempting it so he would not think her disobedient.
“I’ll get them,” he said behind her.
She twisted to look over her shoulder and saw he carried a riding crop.Leaping back to her feet, she whirled. “Is-is that truly necessary? I mean, could you not bend me over your lap and use your hand as you did before?”
He tapped the crop in his palm. “I would love to, but it takes quite a bit more time to make an impression that way, and my brother needs me outside today.”
She shivered.I would love to.He probably did love spanking her. And yet he was not a cruel man. What could it mean?
He turned her and pushed her upper back down to lay on the bed, throwing her skirts up over her head. “Eight strokes for biting. You will count each one.” Before she had a chance to draw a breath, he delivered the first searing stroke.
She squealed and stood on her tiptoes, squeezing her bottom cheeks together, tucking her tail like a naughty dog.
“I asked you to count them,” he reminded her.
“One,” she gasped.
He landed another one. “One,sir,” he corrected.
“One, sir, two, sir,” she said quickly, hoping he hadn’t meant for her to repeat number one.
He chuckled. “I’ll let you get away with that just this once.” He brought the crop down again.
She gasped. A terrible burn from the first welt had begun to set in, even as the shock of the third ricocheted through her body. “Three, sir,” she managed.
“Good girl,” he murmured, though she did not know what merited the praise.
