She wasn’t hurt. He tightened his grip about her upper arms and shook her. She tried to jerk away from him, but he held her tight. He stuck his face right into hers. “You disobeyed me.”

She tried to pull away again, but it was no use. He was very strong. She said, her voice reasoned and calm, “How could I not? Your order was unfair. With a bit of practice, I could take the course as well as any of the men.”

“When will I ever learn?” he asked no one in particular. “When will you recognize that when I tell you something, I mean it? That when I give you an order, there is a very good reason for it? Even if I do not choose to give you a reason, it matters not. I am your husband. You are to obey me.”

“Aye, you are my husband, I realize this well every night when you force me to feel things that I never wanted to feel. Why are you not proud of me? Why do you not encourage me? Praise my skills? You would have before we married.”

Jerval suddenly felt the utter silence. None of his men had moved. All just stood there, watching. Why? Did they believe he would beat her? “I have no intention of giving the men any more of a show than we already have. If I have changed it is because I’m now your husband and you, you damned girl, are now my responsibility.”

Before he could drag her to Wicket, the men were no longer silent. They surged toward them and gathered about her. Ranulfe thwacked her on the back. “God’s bones, lady, it was not so bad for your first time.”

Malton groaned, rolled his eyes, and looked toward Jerval, who was just standing there, not believing what he was seeing. Jerval had judged wrong.

Ranulfe said, “She sliced off five heads before she tried the center. No, it was not bad at all.”

Chandra grinned. “Thank yo

u. I was a fool to believe it was easy.”

“Aye, if you had realized how hard it is, you would not have a bruised butt,” said Bayon, and he too buffeted her shoulder. Just as though she were one of them.

Jerval saw Malton eyeing him, shook himself, threw back his head and roared, “Back to work, all of you bleating goats, or there will be a lot of sore butts from the flat of my sword.”

When they were finally alone again, Jerval said, “Do not think that all the men’s praise changes a thing. Come with me.”

“They thought I did well. They praised me, encouraged me.”

“Aye, you did well for your first and last time. Now come.” She dug in her heels, but it didn’t matter. He dragged her to Wicket, grabbed her about the waist, and tossed her into the saddle. “You will follow me, Chandra.”

Malton shook his head as he watched Jerval and Chandra ride from the tiltyard and swing to the east toward the lake. “Jerval’s lady is in for it.”

“I told him she wants taming,” Lord Hugh said. “Not an easy task even though he is one of the most strong-willed men I know. He was wrong to believe the men would agree with him and condemn what she did. They were proud of her. It was amazing.”

Lord, but Chandra had made Jerval look the fool today, but perhaps his men did not realize it. Well, Malton did. He hoped Jerval wouldn’t beat her too badly.

Chandra followed Jerval to the small emerald lake. He dismounted and stood waiting, hands on his hips, for her to do likewise.

“The men didn’t seem to think I did badly.”

“I would not care if you had beheaded each and every one of those damned Scots. That is not the point.”

As soon as her feet touched the ground, he grabbed her about the waist, fell to one knee, and upended her over his thigh. He brought his hand down on her buttocks as hard as he could. She already hurt, and his hand was hard, very hard. She yelled curses at him and twisted frantically to free herself.

“You could have killed yourself,” he said, and slammed his hand hard again. He wished her bottom was bare, for the thick woolen chausses protected her.

“Stop it! Damn you, my father would never give me such an order. Stop beating me.”

He did not stop. Every time his palm connected with her bottom, he had something to say. “I am tired of your disobedience. That is what is important here. You must do as I say. I must be able to trust you. Don’t you understand that?”

“You are not responsible for me, damn you. Stop pounding me.”

To her surprise, he did. He rose abruptly and rolled her off his leg onto the slightly grassy incline; she managed to stop herself before she rolled into the water. She rose to her knees. She hurt badly. She felt tears sting her eyes and swallowed.

He stood over her, his hands on his hips. “Listen to me, Chandra, and listen well. Never again will you disobey me. Your behavior is that of a spoiled child. Furthermore, you disregard my mother’s every instruction. It is time for you to grow up. Dammit, woman, do you think any of the pages, squires, or men would ever disobey me? No, keep your mouth shut else I’ll take you over my knee again. From now on, you will meet with my mother every morning and learn those things you are expected to know. If you hold your tongue and become skilled at household tasks, then I will allow you to continue on the practice field in the afternoons. Do you understand me?”

“Make your own beer.”

“Do you understand?”

Tags: Catherine Coulter Medieval Song Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net