Lords and Ladies: Two Medieval Spanking Novellas Read online

  Lords and Ladies: Two Medieval Spanking Novellas

  By

  Renee Rose and Korey Mae Johnson

  Copyright © 2013 by Stormy Night Publications, Renee Rose, and Korey Mae Johnson

  Copyright © 2013 by Stormy Night Publications, Renee Rose, and Korey Mae Johnson

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

  www.StormyNightPublications.com

  Rose, Renee and Johnson, Korey Mae

  Lords and Ladies: Two Medieval Spanking Novellas

  Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

  Image by The Killion Group

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

  Under Siege

  “Set fire to their climbing structure! All flaming arrows on the climbing structure!” Lady Camilla shouted, lighting the oil-dipped rag on the tip of her own arrow before fitting it to her longbow. She shot off arrow after arrow, shouting directions to her people when they looked stalled. Damn her Stonegate neighbors! This was the third attack in a year. With a cry of triumph, she pumped her longbow in the air as she saw one of the posts on their wheeled climbing structure catch fire.

  Where, in God's name, was Sir Aelbert, the knight she'd contracted for the next year? He should have arrived weeks ago, bringing his troops to defend her castle. By our lady! A rope with an iron hook on the end landed next to her and then slid to the tower wall, where it stuck. She cursed, watching a man start to climb across the rope to the tower. Desperate to unhook the anchor-like device before the invader reached the tower, she tugged at the iron, but with his weight on it, it wouldn't budge. Her dress tangled at her feet and she kicked at it impatiently. If there had been even a moment's notice, she would have found a boy's clothing and armor to wear, but as it was, she was out defending her castle in the cursed gown.

  “A sword! Cut this rope with a sword!” she cried out. She didn't carry a sword herself—archery was the only battle skill she'd put to use in the eight years since her husband Lord William had left her alone here whilst he served the King in his holy war. Sir Thomas rushed over and slashed the rope and the would-be invader fell with a cry. Old Sir Thomas, an aged knight who'd served Falconworth for twenty years, was her sole defender now.

  She'd been managing until her current knight inherited his father's title and left her undefended. She'd sent word to Lord Morholt, the Earl of Hareshire and her overlord, to send men to protect her in the meantime, but had had no reply. Not that she was too anxious to involve him. She'd been hiding the fact that her husband was dead for six months now. If he knew, he'd marry her to his lecherous nephew.

  She cursed again—an unladylike trait, but gratifying in moments like these. The fire on the enemy's scaffolding had been extinguished and more of the anchors were landing all around her. The sound of the gate smashing under their battering ram caused a similar shattering of her hope. They were going to fall. This time, despite their best efforts, the castle would fall. Panic welled up in her as she realized all was lost. She could not save her castle or her vassals. She should have taken Father Bernard's advice and secured a marriage with the neighboring Lord Elwood.

  The sound of bugles brought her head up. Another troop was riding in, and they looked ready for attack. Her heart leaped—could it be Sir Aelbert finally arrived? She couldn't tell, but they certainly were attacking the Stonegate men. She cheered and called a cease-fire to the archers and the wielders of hot oil, lest they injure the wrong party. She, however, fit another arrow in the bowstring. Her aim was better than any man in the land, and if she saw a good shot, she would take it.

  Sir Aelbert led his men well—she could detect an order and method to their attack, and the Stonegate men were soon retreating at a run. Sir Aelbert did not follow them, but sat upon his horse and watched them depart, then turned his head and looked straight up at her, as if he'd known she was there watching the entire time. Though she could see nothing of the man—he was in full armor, peering through the slit of a helmet—a shiver of attraction ran through her. His presence was larger than any other man on the field—sending signals of power, leadership, and male virility. Male virility? She shook her head to clear it. She should not be thinking of her new hired knight in such a manner. She broke gazes with her rescuer and turned to hurry down the stairs and give him a proper welcome and thanks.

  “We're saved, Tola!” she called to her younger sister as she traversed the corridor through the upper chambers. “Sir Aelbert has finally arrived and Stonegate tucked his tail and ran!”

  Tola burst out of their chamber where Camilla had instructed her to stay and threw her arms around Camilla's neck.

  “Thank God!”

  “Aye. Come, let's thank Aelbert!”

  The outer gate had been completely destroyed and Sir Aelbert and his men were clearing a space in the ruins of it to allow their horses passage. She waited at the doors to the castle, flanked by Sir Thomas and a large group of servants. Sir Aelbert took his time dismounting and allowed her manservants to lead the horses to the stable, giving them instructions she could not hear.

  “Sir Aelbert!” she cried when the large man approached.

  He removed his helmet and shook his head, revealing a clean-shaven square jaw and aquiline nose that matched his demeanor—bold, confident, and devastatingly handsome. She heard some of the serving girls sigh.

  “Nay, lady, you have mistaken me. I am Sir Balen.”

  She froze in dismay. “Sir Balen, the Savage Sword?”

  His lips curled into a tight smile. “You've heard of me.”

  Who hadn't?

  “What business do you have here?”

  His face darkened slightly and the smile grew tighter. “Is that the manner you welcome the party that just saved your keep?”

  “Forgive me, sir, I am grateful for your help,” she said carefully, “but not if you have the same intentions the Stonegate men did.”

  His brows snapped together. “Is that what you've heard of me? That I ransack English castles?”

  “Nay, sir, I admit I have not heard such a thing,” she conceded.

  “Yet you dare accuse me of it?”

  She eyed him warily, still not convinced. “I have heard you are ruthless and that you'll fight for any side, so long as they pay well enough. You're a mercenary. How do I know you have not come to claim Falconworth?”

  Sir Balen made a sudden gesture of impatience, which caused her to start, though she stood nowhere near him.

  “I have not come to claim Falconworth. I will, however, be offended if you will not offer your hospitality to me and my men after what we have done to assist you today.”

  She flushed, satisfied at last with his answer and consequently ashamed at her lack of graciousness. “Please come in, sir. My servants will bring refreshments immediately.” She gave orders to the servants and ushered the troop of men into the great hall, where they removed their armor and sat at the large wooden tables that had been so little occupied of late.

  The kitchen was unprepared to serve anything other than the fat and boiling water they'd been heating all morning for the defense of the castle. She went to offer direction, instructing a quick stew be made from salt meat and vegetables. There would be no bread, but they did have fresh berries which would
make a fine treat. She sent the serving wenches with jugs of ale for the men and took one herself to serve Sir Balen, as a show of gratitude.

  She stopped short when she saw him. He was sitting at the head of the table, as if this were his castle and he was the master. Worse still, Tola—her innocent sister—was sitting to his left, smiling up at him as if he were the King of England. Irritation burned through her veins like fire. Rather than serve him, she handed the pitcher to a serving wench and plopped down on the bench to his right.

  * * *

  “You are sitting in my husband's place,” Lady Falconworth said through clenched teeth. She was absolutely stunning. Her hair fell in dark ringlets down her back and she had high cheek bones and lush, full lips. Her eyes were cornflower blue, rimmed with a blue so dark it looked black. As beautiful as her face was, the embroidered neckline of her green wool gown plunged to a point between her breasts, making it difficult for him to keep his eyes from wandering there.

  “Am I?” he asked innocently, knowing perfectly well he was goading her. Her mistrust grated on him more than it ought to. She was right to be cautious, yet it rankled him not to have her esteem. “Where is your lord, anyway?”

  “Fighting in the holy war,” she said, her eyes darting to the priest at the end of the table. He followed her look, wondering what it meant. The man was old—surely not a lover. He turned back to the lady.

  “And who is Sir Aelbert?”

  “The knight I have retained to my service for the next year.”

  Sir Balen looked casually around, though he had already assessed every man in the keep. Other than the elderly knight, it appeared she had only a handful of men at arms and serfs to manage the place. She was sorely unprotected. The sight of her atop the tower during the battle, without a single piece of armor or chain mail for protection, had disturbed him. That sight alone had given him reason to enter the battle instead of riding on. Though taken by her courage and the striking figure she cut as she issued orders and aimed her arrows, she'd brought out a desire to protect that he'd never felt before. He wanted to meet such a woman in person, but moreover, he had to be certain nothing happened to her.

  “Where is your retainer knight?”

  She ground her teeth. “He left,” she said shortly.

  Sir Balen lifted his eyebrows. “I see,” he said, openly studying her.

  “Lady Falconworth—”

  “Lady Camilla,” she corrected him, then flushed.

  He smiled faintly. “Lady Camilla, do you think your husband would approve of his wife shooting arrows from the top of the tower during a battle?”

  She stiffened. “I think my husband would be grateful that I've managed to keep Falconworth defended all these years without him,” she said tightly.

  “How long have you been alone here?” he asked, even more intrigued by her now.

  “Eight years. Four since my father-in-law died and I've run things on my own.”

  “And Lord Falconworth has been gone the entire time?” he asked. His eyes swept over her body, looking for signs that she'd had children.

  Her eyes narrowed, noticing. “Why do you ask, sir?” she snapped.

  He shrugged. “I am interested, that is all. I will tell you this, Lady Camilla. I doubt any husband would like his wife to be in the midst of a battle, particularly without armor or mail to protect her. I admire your courage, but if you were my woman, I'd take you over my knee and spank you soundly for putting yourself at such risk.”

  Some of his men chuckled. A flush spread across her alluring chest and then up her neck to her cheeks. She stood up abruptly. “It's a good thing you're not my husband, then. Enjoy your meal, Sir Balen,” she said curtly and marched away.

  He smiled slowly, watching the sway of ample hips below a narrow waist as she departed. If she were his woman, spanking wouldn't be the only thing he'd be doing with her…

  “If you'll excuse me.” The sweet voice of Lady Camilla's young sister cut into his thoughts and made him start with guilt.

  “Of course,” he said, standing as she stood to get up from the table. She was pretty—not as beautiful as her sister, but mayhap that would come with time. But he found no attraction to the sweet, demure type. Nay, it was Lady Camilla who'd piqued his interest. A woman who shot arrows from a longbow in the midst of a battle—a woman who managed her own demesne alone—God's teeth, she fascinated him.

  After the meal, for which Lady Camilla did not join them, he ordered his men back outside to look into fortifying the castle for the night. The main gate had been smashed to pieces and was still smoldering in places. Lady Camilla's servants joined them, and he sent them to fetch as much large timber as they could find. He set his men to clear the debris, salvaging any larger pieces and chopping the smaller pieces into firewood. On two occasions he glanced toward the castle and saw Lady Camilla standing in the doorway, watching. The second time, he raised his hand to her and smiled when she curtsied in response.

  Despite all the wood the men brought, it seemed Falconworth didn't have enough large timber on hand to fashion a new gate by nightfall. He surveyed the large opening with a sigh. Iron might have served them better, but that couldn't be fashioned quickly either. He took a few men and walked back up to the castle doors, sizing them up. Aye, they would do for the night, anyway. He gave the orders to take them off their hinges and carry them down to use for the front gate. Lady Camilla appeared at the noise.

  “What on earth do you think you're doing?” she demanded.

  “Moving the doors to use for a front gate for the night,” he answered without looking at her. “Your men can't find enough large timber to fashion a new one and I'd rather we all slept cold in the great hall tonight than leave the gate open and unprotected.”

  “Agreed,” Lady Camilla said, nodding decisively, though he had not been asking her permission.

  He liked her authoritative manner, nonetheless.

  “Thank you, Sir Balen. For everything,” she said, looking uncomfortable.

  He gave a curt nod and turned back to his work.

  “Sir Balen?”

  He turned inquiringly.

  “I had not thought you would sleep in the Great Hall. I've had a room prepared for you upstairs.” She flushed again. “That is… unless you'd prefer to sleep with your men. I-I had a bath readied for you as well.”

  His eyebrows shot up at this. After the suspicious manner he'd been greeted and the way he'd offended her by saying she deserved to be spanked, he had not expected much from her hospitality. She dropped a tiny curtsy and looked at him, half warily, half expectantly.

  “Thank you, Lady Camilla. I should enjoy my own chamber and a bath, though it may not be until quite late in the night that we have the keep secured.”

  She flushed even deeper. “I- I am truly grateful to you for this,” she said, her voice much smaller now. “I will see that you are attended to, no matter how late.”

  Her eyes met his and, for a moment, his breath stilled in his chest. As he stared into their vivid depths he felt subtly pulled toward her, unable to look away. They were the most spectacular shade of blue. Her lashes were long and dark and she wore the look of an animal caught in a trap. Did she feel it, too? Nay, that wasn't it—this lady was probably never afraid, it was more a look of surprise. Aye—she must have felt it.

  He took a breath. “Thank you, Lady,” he said softly, still locked into her gaze. His mind blank, he could think of nothing else to stay, to keep her there, looking up at him with her dazzling face.

  She broke it, though he'd swear it was reluctantly, and gave him a quick curtsy before turning away. He felt curiously alone without her presence. God's bones, why did he have to become entranced with a married woman? Why not her sweet little sister, or one of the countless maids who had thrown themselves at him over the years? Nay, they had never interested him beyond a tumble now and again. Never in his life had he wanted to wed a woman, but now he realized it was because he hadn't known women like Lady
Camilla existed. He heard one of his men chuckle and realized he was staring after her again. He shook his head and brought his focus back to the doors.

  They were able to remove the doors from their hinges without damaging either the doors or the hinges, which was no small feat, considering the enormous weight of the doors. They carried them down to the gap in the curtain wall and stood them up. They were not large enough, but if they fastened one to each side, and then used planks to truss up the center gap, it should be secure for the night.

  It was an enormous job and as he'd suspected, took half the night. By the time he sent his men up to the castle for the night, they were half starved and dead tired. Instead of the customary light supper fare, Lady Camilla had ordered a second dinner be prepared for them, with roast goose and root vegetables. The men brightened considerably and ate heartily. For him, it was the sight of the lady, herself, striding purposefully toward him, that cheered his mood.

  * * *

  “Is it too late for a bath, Sir Balen?” she asked the knight after he'd consumed the meal she'd sent out for him and his men.

  For a brief moment, she saw something lewd about the way he looked at her, but then it vanished and she decided she'd imagined it.

  He nodded his head. “I should like a bath, Lady Camilla,” he said, unfolding his long legs from the bench and coming to stand. He gave orders to his men to take shifts guarding the castle gate and then he and his two squires followed her up the staircase to his chamber. She felt self-conscious walking before him. He disconcerted her—she found herself blushing and feeling wrong-footed in his presence when she wasn't furious with him. Part of her still mistrusted him, while the other part felt ashamed for the lack of graciousness she'd shown him, considering how much goodwill he had already offered to Falconworth.

  But that spanking comment! And the way he'd sat at the head of the table! His arrogance was too much. Apparently he'd missed the lessons in chivalry, essential for becoming a knight. But she had to admit he was extremely capable. He had summarily saved Falconworth from capture and his diligent work in securing them for the night went beyond what she'd expect from even a knight in her employ. Then there was the fact that he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen—good-looking enough that nearly every female in the castle had commented upon it and the serving wenches were nearly tripping over themselves to serve him.