The Knight's Prisoner (Medieval Discipline 1)

She nodded silently and set off for the castle wall with grim determination.

Ferrum had his shirt off, his huge muscles rippling as he moved the big rocks. She knew he felt her approach, but he ignored her.

“Ferrum.”

He did not stop or acknowledge her in any way.

“Ferrum!” she shouted.

He continued moving the rocks.

“Will you stop? Look at me! I haven't even done it, yet,” she pleaded. “You can't be angry with me for talking about doing something.”

“Talking with Phillip. Not me,” he gritted, still working.

The knot in her belly tightened with guilt. He was right—it was a betrayal in itself. “I'm sorry for that.”

“You wanted to do it—behind my back.”

“Aye, because I knew you wouldn't hear of it.”

He stopped his work and whirled on her. “And you wonder why I'm angry?” he snarled.

She pushed on, despite his fury. “But it must be done, Ferrum,” she said. “And I will do it—with or without your permission.”

“You will not!” he thundered.

Her body went weak with instinctive submission, and she stumbled back from him, blinking back the tears springing into her eyes. “Ferrum, I did not give my heart to you—nay, my life to you—just to watch you die.” Her voice cracked on the last words as she stood there, begging with her eyes that he understand, that he allow her to do what must be done.

He must have seen her desperation, because his face softened, slowly. He sat down on a large stone and considered her. She took a step forward, then stopped, unsure, until he lifted his head and opened his arms to her. She ran into them with a sob in her throat, burying her fingers in his hair, clutching his huge head to her chest.

“You love me,” he said, as if reassuring himself.

“Aye, Ferrum. You are everything to me.” The scarred side of his face was angled out, and she rubbed her palm up and down it. He pulled away abruptly, but she followed, aggressively maintaining her hand on it.

“Mine.”

He looked up at her, startled, and she saw an intense neediness in his eyes. She pulled his face against her breasts, blinking tears. He squeezed her tightly for a long time, saying nothing more.

After a while she asked, “Will you let me go, Ferrum?”

He was quiet for so long she thought he wasn't going to answer, but at last, he spoke. “Aye,” he said heavily. “I must.”

She pulled away to look at him with relief. “Truly? You will allow it?”

He looked sad. “If you were shown it, it must be the answer. I trust in your gift, Dani.”

“Though not in me,” she said sadly. “Are you still angry?”

He nodded slowly. “A bit. I'm going to punish you, little flower.”

Her insides dropped at the same time her sex contracted.

“Do you want it now or after supper?”

Fear was already starting to course through her—she remembered the harshness of the punishment he'd given her for running away, and she had a feeling this one might be as severe. She chewed her lip. “Now,” she managed to say.

* * *

He felt Dani's hand trembling in his as they walked back to the castle. He gave it a squeeze. When he'd said he was going to punish her, he'd expected her to protest, or to appeal to him sexually, but she was completely submissive. Like the pages, who knew when a 'no' had wiggle-room and when it was firm, she seemed to have a perfect sense for when he really meant a punishment and when he was just putting her in her place. Her submission helped him to feel stronger about letting her go to Camelot.

But he hated it. Her life would be in horrible danger, for one thing. For another—ugh—the idea of her giving herself to another man made him want to tear a tree out by its roots. But Phillip believed in her ability as a Seer, and she had never failed them with her Sight. So he must believe that if she was given this vision, it was for the good of Briton.

In their chamber he took off his sword belt and dropped the scabbards from it before he sat upon the bed. “Come here.”

She came and stood between his legs. He looked up at her seriously. “You promised me you wouldn't let another man touch you.”

“I know but—”

He held up his hand. “You don't make decisions without me, Dani.”

“Yes, sir,” she answered remorsefully.

“And don't ever try to go around me like that again.”

“I'm sorry, Ferrum.”

He tugged on her skirt. “Take this off.”

Again, she obeyed without any resistance, removing her outer dress and the shift as well. His breath caught in his throat with a painful sort of squeezing. She was so exquisitely beautiful. And he did not want King Benton to see what he was admiring. He swallowed.

When she returned to stand before him once more, her eyes did not quite meet his, hovering somewhere on his chin before flicking to the belt he'd laid beside him on the bed. He did not prolong her discomfort, pulling her down across his lap with her torso resting on the bed. Her body felt chilled to him, but he imagined she'd be sweating soon, so he didn't offer her a cover. He began spanking with his hand—he wanted to be sure there was no anger left in him before he picked up the belt. Already most of his ire had drained away just watching her humility as she'd undressed and submitted for her spanking.