18
Willow
Icould smell the delicious scent of roasting meat as I entered. Keeper was doing an excellent job, as usual. I walked to the kitchen, pausing at the door as I drank in the sight of Ghost sitting bare-chested at the island, his long, well-muscled legs bare, only the counter overhang and a small scrap of cloth offering him any notion of modesty.
“Something smells good,” I said, letting my eyes roam over his body to let him know he looked pretty tasty as well.
“Lord Willow!” Keeper squeaked, turning away from the cake she was frosting and bowing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“No matter,” I replied. “How was our boy today? Did he behave himself?”
Ghost visibly bristled at that.
“He did as he was told. He met Captain Glade and Lieutenant Ash when they came to get lunch.”
Ah, did he now?
“And how did that go?” I asked softly, not taking my eyes off of him.
“Reasonably well. He needed a nudge was all.”
A nudge, huh? Better that than the punishment he could have faced for not showing proper deference. It wouldn’t do for everyone to be so soft on him, though. I made a mental note to only allow Keeper to be gentle with him. She could be his haven. He’d need one, everyone did.
“Good, good. I’d like a bath before dinner. I rode a new horse home from the palace and could use a soak.”
“Dinner’ll keep,” she said, scurrying for the bell on the counter. She rang it and our water sprite appeared in the sink. “Lord Willow is ready for a soak,” she told her. The sprite nodded and disappeared down the drain.
“What was that?” Ghost demanded, sounding shocked.
“A water sprite,” I told him. I hadn’t even been home ten minutes, and already he’d earned a correction. He needed to be more polite when addressing those above his station. He had no official position as anything but mine right now, as he hadn’t been given Crown approval of his professional status yet.
“Of course it was,” I heard him mutter. Oh, I was going to enjoy each and every minute, and the more he ran his mouth, the harsher I got to be. A frisson of anticipation ran through me, my cock hardening at the possibilities before me.
“Come,” I told him. “You may undress me.”
“What? No! You hired me as an assassin, not a kitchen boy and valet!”
“Keeper, please have the box moved into my room while I soak,” I told her. “And the cross into the living room. Oh, and call Captain Glade and have him bring some of the men up to witness.”
The sudden silence from my boy told me that he understood something particularly nasty was about to go down and that it probably involved him. I turned and left the room. If he followed me and did as I asked now, the duration of his punishment would be shorter. Not too short, mind. he needed to be taught a damned good lesson.
“Fine,” he said shortly, dogging my heels. “I’ll undress you.”
His tone said it was anything but fine as far as he was concerned. To me, it was perfect. He’d given an inch and I still got to push his limits. I continued to the bedroom, acting as if I hadn’t heard him.
“I’m sorry, okay?” he tried as I stood in the middle of my room. “I’m still getting used to all this.”
I held my arms out. “Are you going to stand there and make excuses, or are you going to undress me?”
He stepped forward and began unbuttoning my shirt.
“Am I going to have to go back into that thing?” he asked, jerking his chin towards the cage.
“At some point,” I replied, being vague on purpose.
“I meant tonight,” he ground out, his jaw working as he tied and failed to keep his tone entirely civil, his gaze fixed on his task.
“And I said, at some point.” His time in the box was getting longer and longer.
