Crown Jewels Read online

  “And what does?” she asked.

  “Until I’m ready to put it in practice, I see no point in giving you the advantage of knowing.” He stood up with a slow, graceful ease. He was several inches taller than her and nicely built. His tunic fell from broad shoulders to a narrower waist, and the legs outlined by his leggings were muscular and well shaped. “However,” he said, lazily, “I’m hoping it will not be necessary to use it all. You will not defeat me,” he warned. “But I’m willing to discuss a compromise.”

  “I see no need to discuss a compromise. I want only to discuss your leaving my chamber. Immediately.”

  “But it doesn’t suit me to leave at the moment.”

  “Then I’ll do so.” She turned and went to the door.

  “If that’s what you wish,” he said. “But I’ll be here when you return. No matter how long it takes. I’m a very patient man.”

  “A very stupid one,” she said. “You’ll get hungry.”

  “I’ve already arranged for food to be sent should I ring.” He nodded toward the bell.

  “You’ll get sleepy.”

  “The chair is quite comfortable. Or perhaps I’ll move to your bed. In any case, I’m a light sleeper.”

  “You’ll be bored,” she predicted.

  “Nay, Your Highness. I have all your lovely sketches to study.”

  She felt the heat rise in her face, and her anger began to expand past her control. “Get out of my quarters!”

  He gave her a slow, lazy look. “If you’ll agree to work with me, I’ll consider leaving you in peace for a time.”

  She was in a corner. He no doubt had her father’s backing, so if she went for guards to remove him, they’d likely refuse. She suspected he meant what he said and would remain in her quarters for longer than she’d want to stay out of them. “If you’ll get out and leave me alone now, I’ll meet you in the morning.”

  She hadn’t fooled him, but he was considering settling for it anyway.

  “I won’t be unreasonable,” he said. “If you’ll spend some time with me in lessons, I’ll allow you some time to work in the garden. That is what you prefer to do, no?”

  Fanny sighed. The pretty face hid a clever mind. He could be a problem. “I’ll meet you tomorrow morning,” she said. “Now please leave.”

  He stood up and strolled past her. His face wrinkled in a frown as he went by. “Take a bath,” he suggested. “You smell like you’ve been mucking out the barn. The room next door, an hour past morning bells.”

  She watched him go. She didn’t let anything show on her face, but mentally she cursed him for being too good-looking, too charming, and too clever. He was far too much of a danger to her peace.

  As was her norm, she rose with first light the next morning, grabbed some bread and cheese in the scullery, and went out to work in the garden. The weeds were beginning to multiply, and she preferred to do the heavier work early before the temperature grew uncomfortably hot. There were seedlings that needed to be moved as well. She nearly lost track of the time as she sank into the joy of working with the dirt and the plants. The sun moving high in the sky reminded her that she had a promise to keep.

  She’d told Baxter she would come to him in the morning and so she would. He’d specified the time, but she’d not specifically agreed to it. If she were fortunate, he’d have given up waiting for her and would have gone seeking entertainment and company. In case he hadn’t, she didn’t bother to clean up, but went straight to the room between their quarters, in her filthy clothes and dirty face.

  He wasn’t there. Fanny breathed a sigh of relief. She could say she’d come to him. She’d tried to keep their bargain.

  She went through to her own quarters, intent on washing up and changing clothes. She’d gotten a new book on annual plants from a traveling tinker who came through periodically and knew her interests. There was a lovely, cool, quiet corner of the garden near the stream with a comfortable wood bench where she could settle down for a relaxing read. Perhaps she could talk Cook into saving her some meat from the roast they’d be serving at the noon meal. Rolled up with a slice of bread, it would be a fine treat.

  She wasn’t paying much attention, but she likely wouldn’t have seen the danger even if she had. Before she could react—other than to shriek in surprise—someone who’d been lurking behind the door took hold of her arms, dragged them around behind her back and fastened her wrists together with what felt like a leather strap. She tried to struggle, but without her hands, she could do little. Moments later he wrapped a piece of something cool and firm around her throat and fastened it in the back.

  “Since you chose not to honor our bargain,” Baxter said, speaking from behind her, “I see no point in arguing or trying to bargain with you further.”

  Chapter 3

  “What are you doing?” she yelled at him. “How dare you? You cannot do this! It is an outrage.”

  “A necessary outrage.” Baxter turned her around to face him and winced at her filthy state. “Made so by yourself. You refused my offers of a compromise and reneged on our bargain. I see no other choice than to force you.”

  “My father will have your head for this.”

  “On the contrary, Princess Fanny, I expect eventually to have a reward from him. I have your father’s permission to do whatever is necessary to tame you, short only of taking your life.”

  “You have no right.”

  “Perhaps not, but all who know you would disagree. Have you the right to disrupt the lives of your family and the entire court with your behavior, to fail in your duty to your father, and give him no end of trouble?” he asked.

  She struggled to get away from him, but he had only to hold tight to the length of leather he’d attached to the collar. He’d made sure the leather circling her neck was well padded, so it wouldn’t chafe, and only tight enough to keep her from sliding it off, not so tight as to be uncomfortable or choke her.

  The princess yelled, wriggled, stamped a foot, and shouted in a most undignified way, but she couldn’t escape his hold. Finally she calmed enough to ask, “What are you going to do to me?”

  She sounded resigned, but he thought he knew better than to believe it. “First, we’re going to get you a bath, then dress you in some decent clothes. I’m interested to see what you look like without layers of mud and dirt all over.”

  “And after that?” she asked.

  “We’ll discuss it when you smell better.” He rang the bell and told the woman who answered what he wanted. A few minutes later the servants began to arrive with the tub and buckets of water. While they waited for the bath to be readied, Fanny sat in the seat he’d persuaded her to take, glaring at him. All her fuming would serve for naught, however. He had no intention of allowing her any freedom until they’d come to an accord. He suspected it would be a while.

  When it was ready, he pulled the princess to her feet. “Time to get in,” he told her. He reached for the fastenings of her gown and she yelped.

  “You can’t,” she said. “You’re a man.”

  “So I am,” he answered. “And beneath all the grime, I believe you’re a woman. Now that we’ve established that, what of it?”

  “You must leave and give me privacy to bathe. I promise, I’ll not try to escape.”

  He stared at her. Her eyes were a nice, warm brown with flecks of green and copper. Her genuine distress moved him, but not enough.

  “I regret it, Princess, but you’ve already shown I cannot rely on you to keep your promises. However… If you’ll allow two of the female servants to bathe you at my direction and make no complaints whatsoever, I’ll turn my back and promise not to turn back around until you’re bathed and clothed again.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “What of it?”

  Her eyes and lips narrowed. It galled her to concede anything to him. The struggle lasted only a few moments before she gave in and nodded.

  Maintaining his hold on the strap connected to the leather collar around her neck, he whis
pered a few directions to the two servants he’d asked to remain. He also warned them that she would no doubt try to get them to remove the collar, but that they were not to do so under any circumstances. Both agreed.

  Baxter turned away, facing toward the windows, though he kept the end of the strap firmly in his fist. Behind him he heard the sounds of the servants helping Princess Fanny to undress and then get into the tub. For several minutes, he heard only the sound of water splashing and the murmur of voices. He wondered how long she’d cooperate, especially when it became obvious the servants were thoroughly enjoying being able to give orders to the princess, knowing she would have to obey.

  It took longer than he anticipated before he heard her give a small shriek and protest: “No, no, not there. You may not touch me there.”

  “My Lord Baxter said we were to wash every inch of you,” the servant said.

  “But not there,” the princess returned. “Not there. It is not decent.”

  Baxter turned around. “Enough,” he said. “I agreed not to turn around so long as you cooperated. Now, you choose not to.” He looked at the two female servants. “You may go,” he told them.

  “Nay, you cannot do that,” she protested. “Stay here,” she said to the servants. They stopped and looked at each other.

  “I can,” he said to the princess. To the servants, he said, “You may go now. I’ll ring if I need you.” The two women vacillated a moment longer, then left the room. He turned to the princess again. “You made the bargain and agreed to the terms. You chose not to honor the bargain, and now you pay the price. I’ll have to wash you myself.”

  He fastened the lead that was attached to the collar to a bedpost, so that she wouldn’t be able to go far should she slip out of his grasp, then he took up a washcloth and began to bathe her. He washed her arms first, moving over to her chest. When he attempted to move the cloth along to her breasts, she wiggled and shrieked at him to halt.

  She began writhing so violently, he could barely keep a grip on her. Water flew all over the place and his clothes grew soaked. “Be still,” he warned her, but she chose to ignore it.

  She deliberately splashed water in his face and tried to kick him in the groin. He caught and lifted her leg before the effort connected with a vulnerable portion of his anatomy. He couldn’t help but admire the shape and length of her leg, the graceful slenderness and smooth skin. She jerked it back out of his grasp and tried for a punch instead. It came close to hitting him.

  Exasperated, he put a hand on the top of her head and pushed down until her face was briefly submerged. She grabbed at his wrist and tried to claw him. Her fingernails were too short to do any damage, and he was able to ignore the attempt. He let up the pressure after just a few seconds. She raised her head, sputtered, and yelled at him.

  “You’re trying to kill me. I’ll scream and let the king know how you’re mistreating me. He said you couldn’t kill me.”

  “Scream away,” he invited. “Would you have all in the castle come and see you as you are now?”

  She drew a sharp breath.

  “Aye,” he said. “Now, be quiet so we can finish this.” He went back to work with the washcloth.

  She was quiet and mulishly still until he began to run the cloth up her legs. As he approached her upper thighs, she began to wriggle and squeal protests.

  “Be still,” he warned again.

  Instead she squirmed even more and splashed water on him. He was soaked already and getting tired of leaning over, trying to wrestle her down. Baxter kicked off his shoes, shrugged out of his vest and shirt, then climbed into the tub with her. It wasn’t a huge tub, so once in, he found himself straddling her. To forestall the kick he saw coming, he squatted down to drop the weight of his body on her legs.

  She yelled in mixed shock and surprise. “How dare you?”

  “You’ll have to learn, Princess Fanny. I dare much in pursuit of my goals. At this moment, my goal is to have you clean and sweet-smelling.” He reached over, picked up the cloth, and began to wash her again.

  She squirmed and protested, but soon realized the futility and instead tried to remain completely still. It worked for a while, but he noted that when the cloth ran over her breasts, she sucked in a sharp breath and grew tense. He worked there for a while, watching her face soften. Then he raised the cloth. Very gently, he washed the remaining dirt from her face, dabbing here and there. She’d been watching his hands, but now looked up and met his gaze. Her eyes were large, soft, and brown. Her skin was clear and smooth, the lines of her face graceful and elegant. She might not be the beauty her sister was, but he suspected she would be quite attractive in pretty clothes, with her hair arranged nicely.

  He finished with her face and slid the cloth down the side of her neck, along her throat and chest, and lowered it to her abdomen. She sucked in a harsh breath but didn’t protest. He moved back as far as he could, parted her legs the few inches possible in the confines of the tub, and began to scrub carefully along the insides of her thighs. She let out a small, mewling cry that was nearly a sob.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered. “It’s not decent.”

  “But it feels good, does it not?” he asked.

  She didn’t answer but he didn’t need it. The way her breath hitched in her throat told him enough. He wiped the cloth across the slit between her legs. She jerked and groaned and her face tightened with the pleasurable strain. When he lifted the cloth away, she sighed lightly.

  Baxter could hardly remain unaffected himself. The heat and pressure gathered in his groin. He wanted desperately to free his cock and bury it in the soft folds he’d just washed. It took all the willpower he could summon to resist the temptation.

  He took her arms and turned her around, fitting her back against his chest. She struggled for a moment, but he wrapped his arms around her and rested his palms on her breasts. The mounds were pleasantly soft and warm in his hands, the size a perfect fit. A sharp breath squeaked from her as he rubbed gently.

  When she squirmed, though, his hard, full cock poked into her bottom. She shifted uneasily.

  “Tip your head back,” he told her. “I’ll wash your hair, but I don’t want to get soap in your eyes.” To encourage cooperation, he leaned over and put his lips to her neck, nibbling and licking at the tender skin there. Her resistance softened. His cock did just the opposite.

  He soaped her hair and massaged the lather into the long strands. They slid like silken ropes through his fingers as he worked them clean, and the fragrant aroma of the soap finally drove away the smell of the dung. She sighed as his fingers rubbed her scalp. The sensation was surprisingly pleasant for him as well. After a while he scooped up water and began to rinse the soap away.

  Once her hair was clean, he pulled her back against him and wrapped his arms around her again. She rested her head on his chest as his hands covered her breasts. There was something oddly endearing—childlike and trusting—in the way she leaned against him. His palms rubbed in ever-tightening circles around the mounds, circling in toward the tips. When his fingers closed in on her nipples and each traced a quick dash across the sensitive tips, she jumped and squealed. He gave her a few more flicks and taps, until she moaned deep in her throat.

  Then he moved her forward and stood up. He stepped out of the tub and leaned over to draw her to her feet. Her eyes were still wide and dazed, but she tried to cover her breasts and groin with her hands. The effort was in vain, and he could barely take his eyes from the loveliness she displayed. She was slender but well-shaped, with breasts a perfect size to fit in a man’s hands, and gently rounded hips. Baxter reached for a cloth and wound it around her. It just barely covered her breasts and quim.

  He sighed as he struggled for control. Her eyes widened as they ran down his body, settling on the bulge of his cock, clearly visible beneath his soaked leggings.

  Her expression changed as the shock of pleasure wore off and transmuted into frustration.

  “My lord,
you dare much,” she accused him, her eyes full of sparkling anger. “Too much.”

  “I dare what I must,” he said.

  “You’ll have cause to regret it.”

  “Perhaps so,” he admitted, “But if I do, you’ll regret it even more.”

  Chapter 4

  Fanny suspected he might be correct, but she dared not give him the satisfaction of letting him know. She’d fought too long and too hard for the independence to do what she wished.

  She had to get away from him. She needed time to think about what had happened and decide how to proceed. His presence was overwhelming her. She’d nearly given into him entirely in the tub. When he touched her so intimately, she couldn’t find the outrage she knew she should feel. It just felt so incredible, so wonderful. Even now, watching him, seeing the strong muscle of his chest, the bulge of his cock, made something tighten inside. He was too good-looking, too much for her senses to handle. But he was clever, too, so she’d have to be even smarter.

  His arms came around her waist and lifted her out of the tub. It set off the fluttering in her stomach again. He was stronger than she’d guessed, and his body was warm and hard against her. She kicked at him, but he wrapped an arm around her legs after the first blow.

  “Stop that,” he said. When she ignored him and continued to struggle, he slapped her sharply on the rear, just below the edge of the towel, so it landed on bare skin at the spot where her bottom met her thighs.

  She squealed. It stung, but it also sent a thrill flashing into her loins that was as much pleasure as pain. A very dangerous thrill. She subsided rather than risk another smack.

  He set her on her feet. The towel slipped down off her breasts, and she grabbed at it. His hands covered hers before she could pull it up.

  “Don’t,” he said. “Your breasts are beautiful. Let me look at them for a moment.”

  His hands slid upward, lifting and cupping her breasts.

  “Nay,” she whispered to him, barely able to get the words out past the constriction in her throat. She hated that he would know it affected her, but he could see it anyway. Still, if it would help put him off guard…