Renee Rose's Blog, page 76

Sue Lyndon on Dark Without You and Alien BDSM Sex

Renee Rose: Do you use a pen name, and if so, how did you come up with it?
Sue Lyndon: Yes. My real name is Susan and I wanted a variation of that name. Lyndon is a variation of my middle name. Not the sneakiest of pen names, I suppose, but most of my friends and family know what I write and know my pen name anyway.


Renee Rose: Tell me about your latest release.
Sue Lyndon : My erotic spanking romance novella, Dark Without You, was released on 8/3 with Etopia Press. Here’s the blurb:

Total Love. Domestic Discipline. He takes her world firmly in hand...

Alice Grove owes her brother a lot. After all, he adopted her after their parents died and worked several jobs just to keep food on the table. When he asks for her help keeping a musician from the band he manages happy until the end of their tour, Alice is more than willing. She'll do just about anything to please the enigmatic drummer she's had a crush on since they were kids.

Andy Steel detests life in the limelight. Touring for weeks on end with no company besides his fellow band members, trashy girls, and an endless supply of booze doesn't suit his old-fashioned ideals. He aches to have a long-lasting relationship with just one woman--but not just any relationship. He expects obedience inside and outside of the bedroom, and he won't hesitate to enforce his rules by giving his woman a good spanking. When he meets up with his childhood friend Alice in Chicago, all grown up and aiming to please, Andy knows the heat they generate is something special. Until he hears about Alice's real reasons for joining the tour, and until she skips town without so much as a good-bye. Andy has no qualms about chasing after her, but he may not like what he discovers along the way.

Dark Without You is available on Amazon US, Amazon UK, Barnes and Noble, and All Romance.

Renee Rose: What is your favorite story/book that you have ever written and why?
Sue Lyndon: My favorite story that I’ve written is called Surrender. It’s not published yet, but it’s under contract with Etopia Press and will be out in a few months. It’s the first book in the Alien Warriors series I’m working on and the genre is science fiction BDSM. It’s my favorite because I love the intense emotional scenes that play out between the hero and heroine, who are from completely different cultures and forced to marry as part of a peace treaty between humans and the Kall aliens. I can’t wait to see this book published!

Renee Rose: How many books have you written? Are they all spanking fiction?
Sue Lyndon: I have six books out – one is a short story and the rest are novella length. Some are spanking fiction and others are BDSM romance.

Renee Rose: How long have you been writing spanking fiction?
Sue Lyndon: I’ve been writing spanking fiction, as well as BDSM romance, for a little over a year now.

Renee Rose: Are you okay in your kink?
Sue Lyndon: Oh, absolutely. I don’t broadcast it from a loudspeaker, but I don’t hide it either.

Renee Rose: Is writing your full time gig?
Sue Lyndon: I have a part-time job in education, but I hope writing will be my full time gig soon!

Renee Rose: What do you like to see in spanking fiction?
Sue Lyndon: Likeable characters, a believable plot, steamy scenes between the hero and heroine, and of course, a loving relationship built on trust.

Renee Rose: What is your writing process?
Sue Lyndon: Once the story is clear in my head, I usually write that dreaded synopsis before I write the first sentence of a story. After the synopsis is finished, I open up the laptop and start writing. I’m a big time pantser, but I have been known to plot on occasion.

Renee Rose: What's your take on consensual vs. non-consensual spankings in fiction?
Sue Lyndon: I’m fine with non-consensual spankings in fiction. I like to read about them and I like to write them sometimes too. I have no problem with it because it’s fiction, not real life.

Renee Rose: Are you working on a new book right now? If so, tell me about it.
Sue Lyndon: I’m working on the second installment of the Alien Warriors series right now. A supporting character from the first book is getting her own story. It’s kinky and involves hot alpha aliens who like their sex rough. Oh, and there’s a plot in there too…somewhere

Pride and Pornography

I blame it on the kindle app on my phone.

I've read the complete works of Jane Austen. More than once. But recently I was stuck at my kids' swim lesson with nothing to do and it turns out Pride and Prejudice is one of the free downloads for my kindle app on the droid.

I didn't mean to read it.

But damn, there's a reason why that woman launched an entire genre of fiction. She pretty much invented Chick Lit. It's because she's that good. I was sucked in by the second paragraph and didn't come up to breathe until I'd read the whole thing through (alas, I wanted to say 'cover to cover' but with technology that is just no longer the case).

So of course, you feed my imagination, it spits out a spanko version. Get ready for it: the regency spanker.

Trouble with regency romances is that there's...

NO. SEX. TILL MARRIAGE! (shouted to the tune of the Beastie Boys' "No Sleep till Brooklyn")

Or at least not that Jane Austen would approve of. So...

That means my story has a lot of spankings and sexual tension until the last chapter when they finally get hitched for their Happily Ever After ending. Not sure if it's hot enough. But maybe for those readers who prefer a chaster couple, this will hit the spot.

I did enjoy the ride, even without the sex.

Author Interview - Cara Bristol

Welcome to my Saturday Author Interview! This week I'm featuring Cara Bristol, a talented spanking fiction writer.



False Pretenses by Cara Bristol
Do you use a pen name, and if so, how did you come up with it?
Cara Bristol is a pen name. I wanted relatively short name that was easy to spell and pronounce. I considered many options, but I was drawn to the name Cara, which means “dear” in Italian. I also wanted a name that was at the beginning of the alphabet, so I picked Bristol, which happens to be a city in England. So I’m very international.

Tell me about your latest release.
False Pretenses is the second novel in the Rod and Cane Society domestic discipline series about men who spank and the women who love them. To further her journalism career, Emma Dupree goes undercover at the Rod and Cane Society to expose it as a kinky group of pervs, not knowing that her new boyfriend is a member. Although it’s part of the series, False Pretenses can be read as a stand alone.


What is your favorite story/book that you have ever written and why?
I think I fall in love with whichever book is the most current because it’s the freshest and the characters are the most real to me. So in this case, False Pretenses.

How many books have you written? Are they all spanking fiction?
Of my six published books, four are spanking fiction: Intimate Submission, Secret Desires, Unexpected Consequences, and False Pretenses. The latter two are part of the Rod and Cane Society series. Reckless in Moonlight is contemporary erotic romance with an older heroine, and A Scent of Longing is an erotic paranormal (vampire). I have a seventh novel under submission. It is also a paranormal.

How long have you been writing spanking fiction?
Three years. Since the first one – Intimate Submission.

Are you okay in your kink?
Yes, but it took at little time to get here. At first I wouldn’t tell anybody what I wrote, afraid of what people would think. Now, perhaps I tell too many people! LOL

Is writing your full time gig?
Yes, and I love it. It’s the best job ever.

What do you like to see in spanking fiction?
Strong, masculine, but caring heroes. I like spanking fiction to be erotic, either the spankings themselves or if the spanking is strictly disciplinary, by the inclusion of spicy sex scenes. In my own books, I have both erotic and disciplinary spankings (and sex). I also want romance. There needs to be a strong, loving relationship between the hero and heroine. Stories of people just being punished aren’t my thing.

What is your writing process (plotter or pantser?)
I’m a hybrid, I plot some, but leave a lot open. I want to know I can finish the story – but I like to be surprised too.


What's your take on consensual vs. non-consensual spankings in fiction?
In real life, consent must be absolute. In fiction, the domination aspect can be very sexy, but deep down the heroine must consent. It can be a no-no-no-(YES!)-no-no, kind of thing. She may not like being spanked, but she must know that she has a choice. I have read some fiction where the kink was truly nonconsensual, and it did not appeal to me.


What traits makes a hero hot to you?
A tough, uber macho man who has a tiny sliver of tenderness, vulnerability. That vulnerability being his feelings for the heroine. She’s the chink in his armor.

What gives your heroines strength?
Their conviction and belief in themselves.

Are you like any of your heroines?
Up until False Pretenses, I’d made a concerted effort to create heroines who were not like me. But Emma Dupree of False Pretenses and I share some traits: we’ve both worked in journalism, in insurance, we look alike, we’re both feminists. However Emma does some sneaky, underhanded things to get her story that I would never do.

Are you working on a new book right now? If so, tell me about it.
It’s still in the very early stages, but I’m working on another Rod and Cane Society novel that will directly address the feminism v. spanking debate. Think of it as hardcore feminist meets hardcore spanko. Watch for fireworks and red bottoms.

Thank you, Cara!
False Pretenses

Six Sentence Sunday

Here's my Sunday six:

Kate was quizzing him about his experience in spanking. “So...is that your pleasure?”
He laughed, “It's not my regular gig, but it's an easy role for me to step into. My name is Dom, after all.”
Kate looked confused for a moment, and then she chuckled a short nervous laugh. “I'd be your sub any day,” she said in an almost-whisper.

--from the vampire spanko work in progress No Return (C) Renee Rose

What is Six Sentence Sunday? Participating is easy. Pick any SIX sentences from your work from any genre, whether WIP or published (you don’t have to be published to participate) and post them on your blog on Sunday before 9 AM EST. To be linked to the Six Sunday blog, visit http://sixsunday.blogspot.com/ from Wednesday to Saturday and fill out the “linky tools list” with your information.

Author Interview - Celeste Jones

Because my blog is about spanking fiction in addition to my own spanko musings, it is my plan to feature interviews and reviews of my favorite topic here on Saturdays. Today I'm featuring fellow blogster and spanking fiction writer Celeste Jones, a sassy and well-dressed lawyer who knows the way she likes it (over the knee!).


Do you use a pen name, and if so, how did you come up with it?


Yes, I do use a pen name. I've always liked names that start with "C" so I chose Celeste. Jones is a common last name that I picked in a rush when I signed up for an email account and there was a blank for the last name. Hardly a glamorous story, and if I were to do it again, I might pick something else, but Celeste and I have had quite a bit of fun together, so I think I'll stick with her.


Tell me about your newest books.

I have two books that should be out soon. The first is Twenty One Days to a Better Attitude. Darcy and her new neighbor Ben get off to a rocky start. When he comes over to make amends, she insults him. After that, he basically challenges her to a spanking and tells her he's going to come back every Saturday to spank her until her attitude improves. As the title suggests, it takes twenty one days.


The other book is tentatively titled Legal Briefs: Over The Knee Justice. It will include a novella (about 15K words) called The Bodyguard which is about a female prosecuting attorney, Kendra, who is forced to have a bodyguard due to threats against her. Because the threats may be coming from within the prosecutor’s office, Zach, the bodyguard, pretends to be Kendra’s brother. When Kendra proves to be less than cooperative, Zach turns her over his knee.


Legal Briefs will also include two short stories about the same couple, Jimmy and Eileen. Eileen is the youngest woman ever to be elected judge in her state. Despite her career success, she is still overly concerned about impressing people. Jimmy is a no nonsense husband who turns his wife over his knee when her desire to impress leads to lying.


What is your favorite story/book that you have written and why?


I love Twenty One Days to a Better Attitude and that’s part of why I’m so excited for it to be published soon. It’s longer than most of my stories and it includes a bit more of the psychological changes that a woman might go through in this situation. It also has some humor, so it’s a bit more like chick lit meet domestic discipline. My other favorite is more of a sentimental favorite. It’s a short story called “Mirror, Mirror” that is in my short story collection, The Long Arm of the Law. The story is available on my blog as “You’re Never Too Old For A Spanking.” I like it because I think it addresses many of the things that women feel as they age. I also think the spanking scene in front of the mirror is hot.


What was your first spanking fiction?


My first story was "The Long Arm of The Law" which is a two chapter story which I sold to Discipline and Desire (www.disciplineanddesire.com) and it appears in my short story collection of the same name.


What do you like to see in spanking fiction?


I like to see good men who are worthy of the trust the women in their lives give them. Laying yourself across a man’s lap with your bare butt exposed is a pretty vulnerable position and one where many men might take advantage, so the hero must be a man of good character. I also like the anticipation---when the woman knows she’s going to get a spanking and then she waits and wonders what will happen.


What's your take on consensual vs. non-consensual spankings in fiction?


In my domestic discipline stories, where the couple has come to some sort of agreement about spanking and discipline, I like for the woman to consent. It’s tricky, I think, to avoid having the man look brutish. I also have some stories, where they are not a married couple, where the spanking is not consensual.


What traits makes a hero hot to you?


I like the strong silent type who watches a woman go on a rant with a little smile on his face before he turns her over his knee. I also think that confidence (as opposed to arrogance) is very sexy. Broad shoulders and a firm ass are nice too.


Do your heroines brat or submit?


Both. There are about fourteen different stories in my short story collection, so plenty of variety. In my new stories, they also do a bit of both.


How much are you like your heroines?


Of course, I’m sexy and well-dressed like most of them. LOL. Many of the issues in my short stories are related to my life, whether it’s pining away for a guy who always treated me like a pal (The Wedding) or aging (Mirror, Mirror). I’m sharp tongued like many of them and I also have trouble submitting, so in
that regard, there’s probably a little bit of me in all of them.



Are you okay in your kink?

Hmm. Good question. Yesterday I was chatting with the bank manager and she asked if I'd read Fifty Shades of Grey and we had a lengthy conversation about submission etc. I have not read 50 Shades, but she had read all three books. She encouraged me to read the books and I wanted to say "I feel like I've got a pretty good idea about these things and if you want to read some well written books on the topic, I can give you some recommendations." But, I didn't. Based on that, I'd say that I'm not ok with being public about my kink. But, I'm ok with my own attitudes toward it and don't feel any guilt or shame over it. Does that answer the question?

Do you consider yourself a feminist, and did you have any trouble reconciling submission with feminism?

Yes! Some people in the rural community where I live would even call me a radical feminist. The feminism/submission issue is an interesting one. I think it is similar to some recent issues about stay at home moms vs. working moms. To me, feminism is about empowering women to make choices that are right for them at any given moment in their life. In my opinion a feminist doesn't have to be some sort of ball busting woman in a suit. And often, that ball busting woman in a suit would really like to go home to a man who knows how to take care of her. The trick is being able to admit it.

Well said, Celeste! You can purchase her books on Amazon (click the links above) and be sure to check out her blog as well.Celeste JonesTwenty One Days to a Better AttitudeLegal Briefs Over The Knee JusticeTwenty One Days to a Better Attitude

Consent/Non-Consent in Spanking Romance

I'm working on a contemporary spanking romance right now. It's a paranormal (sorry, every writer's gotta have their vampire love, right?). It features consensual spanking. In it, the couple starts with erotic play-spanking and progresses to a domestic discipline (DD) relationship. I think it's still pretty hot, but I know there are those readers who really prefer non-consensual spankings.

I think this comes back to my thoughts on DD being about making it real. DD *sort of* takes away that consent piece. It's the consensual non-consent. In other words, it's where the spankee has given blanket consent to be spanked, which means they must submit even when they don't feel like a spanking or don't think they deserve one. And that makes it hotter somehow.

I think for me, personally, I prefer some kind of consent. In a historical setting, the consent is just that physical punishment is the norm. It's to be expected. Sort of a societal consent, if you will. That's why writing historical spanking fiction seems easiest.

In my opinion, contemporary spanking romances are the trickiest. Corporal punishment just isn't the norm anymore, so inventing a situation where it seems plausible is a stretch, unless its within the fetish or DD context.


But the more I think about this, the more I realize that no matter what setting, my heroines pretty much consent. I think I'm really not comfortable with the situation where the hero must chase them around the room and hold them down to spank them (a la Outlander). I don't like them to protest overmuch and insist that they're not a child and shouldn't be treated like one. I'm just uncomfortable with those scenarios. It feels too much like abuse and not enough like submission. I don't like the hero who would do such a thing-- I feel like heros should have a natural authority that the heroine naturally submits to. But I'm totally submissive by nature, so it figures that my heroines would be that way.

But I know that many other spankos really prefer the taming of the shrew approach. They like the feisty brat who must be tamed.

So in a way, I feel like my vampire spanko novel would make a good vanilla intro to the spanking fetish. But for those who don't like it consensual, it could be a disappointment (although I *believe* that it has enough heat for all spankos). I ended up loving the characters.

For my full, unedited and graphic thoughts on all things related to spanking, see my (adult only!) blog at reneeroseclosetgirl.blogspot.com

New Release - Loving Lucia

Check out my latest novella Loving Lucia.

Marco Donarati, the Count of Parma, had no interest in taking a new wife. He got his pleasure from the working ladies, and that suited him just fine.

Marco’s greatest passion is reserved for his fledgling winery, and therefore he cannot bring himself to refuse when Italy's leading wine maker, Don Edoardo Dante, offers him a source of funds with which to improve his vineyards. In return, the Count reluctantly agrees to make Dante’s red-headed daughter Lucia the next Countess. When he makes the deal, Marco never suspects that he might actually grow to care about his lovely young wife.

Passionate and eager to please, Lucia must navigate her new role as Countess to a husband who holds her at arms' length. When the Count becomes guardian to her twin sister as well, things really heat up. Tested by trials, betrayals, and jealousy, Lucia and Marco must find their way together and often the quickest route is with her bent over his knee for a bare bottom spanking. Will her wholehearted submission and love be enough to break down her husband's resistance and win his heart for her?

This story contains graphic sexual scenes, some anal play, and both consensual and non-consensual spankings, including domestic discipline in a historical setting. If such material offends you, please do not buy this book!

Attitudes: A Collection of Real LIfe Spanking Stories

Book Review
It seems only logical if my blog is about spanking fiction that I review some books. The only thing is, as an author myself, I feel like criticizing other's writing just opens me up to have holes poked in my own writing. In The Artist's Way, Julia Cameron talks about "Shadow Artists" who sit around and criticize everyone else's work but never create their own. It's been a long time since I read it, but I think her point was that if you find yourself feeling overly critical of other's work, it could be about your jealousy, and you should look at your own fears of creating work (afraid of finding a critic as harsh as yourself?!)


Anyway, I also find that writing a review for other readers is totally different from giving feedback to an author in a writer's workshop. I would be way more constructive. I would never talk about what I didn't see (what I wanted) and only give feedback about what is actually there. So that said, this is a review for other readers. If I were talking directly to an author I would tell them that I loved it because I believe the act of creation is a sacred act that should always be celebrated. If you happen to be an author, let me know and I will give feedback in a way that hopefully leaves you feeling expanded and not contracted. :) With that big lead-up, you'd think I'm giving a scathing review, but I'm not. It's just that I CAN be kinda snarky and it might come out in the future.

So I bought and read this book this week. I had not purchased it previously because I didn't love the cover (well, books do get judged by covers!) and because I was not at all intrigued by the free chapter Blushing Books posted. It is a an essay in the collection by Bethany Burke, the owner of Blushing Books. It is just a funny story about why she got spanked. Call me crazy, but as a spanko I want to read about the actual spanking. The lead up should be good, and this was an entertaining one, but the spanking happened in a single sentence. Seriously. I have an active imagination, but I can use that for my own fantasies. If I've purchased a story I want the full juicy details of the spanking. You know, for things I might not have imagined myself. Okay, I've beat that dead horse enough. (please, PETA peeps, don't comment about how I need a new metaphor. I don't actually beat horses!).

Anyway, I ended up buying the book because I got curious about some of the other authors, and I wasn't disappointed. On one hand, you can get all this stuff from the DD blogs, but it was nice to have so many full descriptive stories all in one place. Also, the authors picked their most memorable stories-- either their first spanking, their worst spanking, their favorite most fantasy-fulfilling spanking, etc., so it's like a "best of" kind of read.

My favorite essays in the book are by James Johnson (there are two) and one by his wife Kacey Mae Johnson. I like getting both the husband and wife perspective. I also particularly enjoy reading the male perspective, especially from a male spanko. There are a lot of women blogging about spanking but not so many men.

There's also a beautiful essay called ">Unraveling" By Tommy Edwards. It has more of a D/s flavor to it than straight DD. Another great male perspective. I wished for more from it, although on second read it did satisfy. The entire essay is real time of the punishment, so that part is deliciously indulgent, but I actually wanted a little more of the back story-- he drops hints about how hard this is for her as a feminist and how he had first turned her over his knee to end a long string of arguments and they discovered it worked. I was intrigued by that and would've liked to hear more of that in the essay as well. If anyone knows who he is, I'd be curious to be pointed to more of his writing.

I think anthologies can make a tricky read because the flavor and style of each writer is so different. Like any anthology, I liked some better than others. Overall, though, I think this is a collection worth reading. Did it get me off? Yes. Sometimes books get me off but also disturb me (too harsh,or the men are chauvinistic). Some of the spankings were too harsh for my comfort level, but there's also enough love in these stories to carry them through.

Attitudes can be purchased on my favorite spanking fiction site: www.blushingbooks.com.

New List - Best Spanking Books

I set up a new list on Bookreads for Best Spanking Fiction. Please enter and vote for your favorites!!

Prologue and First Chapter of Betrothed

WARNING: ADULT CONTENT

Betrothed
by Renee Rose
© Renee Rose and Blushing Books, 2012


Prologue
“Take off your clothes.”
Julia swallowed. As her trembling fingers undid the laces on her bodice, she stole a peek at her husband's face. As usual, it was inscrutable. But he had been worried about her, and she knew from experience that his worry quickly morphed into anger.
She slowly slid out of her dress and her shift, feeling acutely aware of her nudity as he watched her from where he sat on the edge of the bed.
“Come here.”
Her feet reluctantly carried her to stand before him. But he hadn't asked her to fetch his belt— that was some relief.
She was already over his knee feeling the sting of his strong hand on her bared bottom when he asked, “Why am I spanking you?”
He was spanking her fast and hard and it was difficult to answer him between her gasps. She turned her face to the side, out of the blankets so he could hear her. “For coming back to the castle after dark?” she managed to choke out.
“I was worried about you, Julia!” He did not pause for a moment from his task of chastising every part of her upturned bottom. “Why did you not bring a servant with you when you went to pick blackberries?”
“I just—” His hand continued raining down her punishment. “—wanted— to be alone,” she gasped.
He paused then and rubbed her smarting flesh, a tender act that was sometimes as effective at producing tears as a spanking. Indeed, the tears came freely now.
“I can understand that,” he said. “But falling asleep out there by yourself?” He started spanking again, just as hard, and this time she wept. Then his hand stopped abruptly, mid stroke. She held still, her muscles twitching and flinching in anticipation of the next spank. But it did not come. He lifted her back up slowly and turned her around so she sat straddling him, giving her an idea of the direction this punishment might be taking.
“Julia, why do you think you've been taking so many naps lately?” he asked, studying her face. Still weeping, she wiped at her tears with the back of her hand. Bronson must have realized she wasn't composed enough to talk yet, because he pulled her in to sniffle in his neck. He stroked her back and her heated bottom and thighs and whispered comforting words to her.
“I'm just thinking... the moon is full again and you never had your monthly courses.”
She sat straight up in surprise, her tears evaporating completely. “You're right! Do you think it could be?” She clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes dancing.
Bronson smiled brightly. “It would explain all the napping and forgetfulness.”
They beamed at each other for a moment and then she leaned forward and nipped at his ear with her teeth. “Why couldn't you have thought of that before you spanked me?”
Bronson roared with laughter. “Do you think that would've saved your pretty little bottom?” He fell back onto the bed and pulled her on top of him. “Think again, little flower,” he said, squeezing the part in question affectionately. “Think again.”

Chapter One

“STAND DOWN!” Bronson, Duke of Pembridge and Earl of Montmore bellowed at the two men engaged in what appeared to be mortal combat below him. He kicked his horse and pulled him around to find a safe path down the steep bluff from which he was looking down. God's teeth, the man on top was trying to rape the boy below him. The boy was struggling wildly, kneeing the aggressor between the legs and writhing to get free, but the man on top maintained an upper hand, striking his face and pulling his leggings down... but you can't mount a boy from that angle. A girl, then. Dressed as a boy. It must be.
He kicked his horse even harder, shouting again, “STAND DOWN. Get off NOW!” But the boy— woman— whatever, had her own salvation in the form of a dagger, which she used in one swift thrust up under the ribs of her assailant. The bigger man collapsed on top of her small figure. Closing the distance, he watched as she struggled frantically to get out from under him.
He'd nearly reached them by now. “HOLD!” he called out, but the boy— girl—woman— whatever looked at him with pure terror and took off running into the woods. He cursed and gave chase, his knights and soldiers stopping to see to the stab victim. “Hold!” he demanded again.
It was easy enough to head her off on mount. He simply blocked her path, putting the chest of his huge destrier close enough that she had to back up against a tree to avoid being stepped on. He dismounted. She was breathing in little sobs and her eyes looked wild. He took a good look at her. Her cap had fallen off to reveal hair was cut short like a boy's. She was dressed in the fine clothes of a knight's page, which were now covered in blood.
“Easy now,” he spoke reassuringly. He took her shoulders gently. “I saw what happened.” In a lower voice, “I saw what he was trying to do to you.”
Her eyes snapped up to his, wide with question. Probably wondering if he knew her secret. He was surprised to find he felt a strong urge to protect her.
As he inspected her up close, he was almost certain that she was female. She had fine, delicate features, small ears and slender fingers. Her skin shone with good health and breeding— a peachy cream sprinkled with freckles. Her hair was the most amazing color— neither brown nor blond, nor red, but something in between all three— a burnished copper that literally shone in the filtered summer light. The eyes were a startling shade of pale green with thick, dark lashes. If she wasn't female, then she was the unluckiest boy ever born. It was possible. The dead man might have assumed him to be female and been wrong. And if that were the case, he wasn't about to unman the boy more by saying anything. He'd wait until he was absolutely certain.
“He did not succeed, did he?” he asked her gently.
She shook her head. She'd been hurt in the fight— one cheek was already swelling with what would be a nasty bruise and her lower lip was bleeding and swollen.
“What's your name?”
“Jake. It's Jake.” Her eyes pleaded with him not to contradict her. Definitely a lady.
He allowed his eyebrows to rise just a little. Andrew and John, his two most trusted knights joined them.
“What happened back there, Jake?”
“I had stopped for supper and to make camp there and he—” the girl swallowed. “He came out of the trees and attacked. He robbed me—took the jewels I was carrying.” She didn't go on and he couldn't blame her.
“Who are you and why are you traveling alone?”
“I was a page to... the Duke of Pembridge...”
Andrew snorted. Bronson shot him a warning look and kept his own face perfectly straight. The Duke of Pembridge, indeed. Clearly she had no idea she was standing before said Duke.
“...but he wasn't happy with my services, so I'm returning home.”
Bronson's eyebrows came together. A strange twist to her lie, condemning herself in that way.
“You ran away?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Were the horse and jewels yours to take?”
She hesitated and flushed a little. “The jewels were. The horse I will return as soon as I am able.”
Another snort from Andrew.
She was looking up at him through her lashes in a way only a woman would. She lacked talent at her charade as a boy. Naming him as her former master was an unlucky choice, but the rest he would guess she kept as close to the truth as she could. She had stolen a horse and run away, with her own jewels. She had pluck, he'd give her that. And he was determined to get the rest of the story out of her.
“I am Bronson, Earl of Montmore. These two men are my knights Andrew and John.” He was the Earl of Montmore. In addition to being the Duke of Pembridge. It was his second title and he'd rather not call her out on her lie yet.
“My lord... could you use a page?” She shifted nervously. “Not a permanent one, but for now, while you travel? What I mean is, mayhap I could travel with you and be of some service?”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Tell me, why was the Duke of Pembridge unhappy with your services?” As he spoke his name he gave the slightest lift of his eyebrows, for his knights' benefit. He saw them smirk.
She blinked at him. “Well, to be honest,” she said, “The Duke is a difficult man to please. He has a ghastly temper and he beat me indiscriminately.” She looked at him, wide eyed and serious.
He nearly choked, himself, at that. Andrew's shoulders shook with silent laughter and John rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“Well, how do you know I wouldn't be the same sort of master?”
Her eyes dropped to the ground and she kicked at a stone with the tip of her very feminine looking calf-skin boots. “I can just tell.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirteen, my lord.”
“How could you be of service to me? What talents do you have, Jake?”
“I'm a better archer than most, and I'm great with horses.”
“Not bad with a dagger, either,” Sir John muttered.
At that, she looked stricken. “Is he dead?” she asked in a very quiet voice.
“Aye.”
She paled and then turned a shade green. She turned away from them and vomited. Again that protective urge swept over him and he put a hand on her back, lending his strength through its touch. “Your first kill?” he asked gently.
“Aye.”
* * *
The man who had chased her down had the kindest eyes. Once she'd looked into them, she'd felt all the terror drain out of her. He was young and handsome in a rugged sort of way— curly brown hair, strong jaw, broad chest and shoulders. He couldn't be more than five and twenty years old and had the dress and command of nobility.
He put his hand on her back while she vomited, waiting patiently for her to finish, comforting her in the way a man comforts a boy. But he knew she wasn't a boy, didn't he? He'd seen what that ruffian had been trying to do to her. And although it should have upset her that he knew, for some reason she found it reassuring. As if she wasn't in this alone, anymore. Since she'd run away from the king's castle to avoid her marriage, she'd felt unbelievably alone and lost.
And he hadn't revealed her secret to his men. As soon as the words had come out of her mouth asking to be his page, she knew she wanted desperately for him to take her on. She felt safer near him. She wanted to stay with this man, or at least travel with him until she figured out where to go.
“Let me think about taking you on as a page. In the meantime, though, I'm going to advise you not to tell that story again about you being page to the Duke of Pembridge. It doesn't speak in your favor.”
She thought she heard his knights snickering at that.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Come,” he said, leading her back toward the dead man. “The dead man is your burden now. You must deal him.”
Though her gut clenched at that, Julia followed him as commanded. There were twenty men or so by now— an entire troop of his, gathered around the body. They had rolled the man onto his back and the blood had soaked through his clothes and pooled around him. So much blood. She threw up again to the snickering of his men. Then she panicked.
“Where are my jewels?”
“These jewels?” asked one of the men, holding up the leather pouch that held her valuables. She felt the threads of desperation creeping back into her voice.
“They're mine! I swear it! I can describe every piece to you!”
The hand on her shoulder was the Earl's again. “Relax, young Jake. It is not our habit to steal. If you can, indeed describe the jewels they will be returned to you.” He held out his hands and the pouch was tossed to him. He tucked it under his sword belt and when her eyes followed, he patted it reassuringly.
She caught herself almost curtsying to that and quickly switched it to a bow. “I thank you, my lord.” She hoped he was sincere.
“What shall we do with the body?” he asked her. There was a didactic tone to his voice— as if she truly were his page and this was a teaching opportunity.
“Uh, well, bury it?”
He shook his head. “Nay, lad.”
“Burn it?” she asked doubtfully.
The corners of his mouth started to curl at that, but he smoothed them back out. He shook his head. “No.”
She pleaded with him with her eyes. “Please tell me.”
“Best we bring it to the closest village in case he belongs there. He may be mourned by family.”
Of course. She felt foolish. “Will you help me to get him on my horse, then?”
The Earl grinned at that. She was making a complete arse out of herself.
“I'm thinking we'll put him in a wagon. But not 'til the morrow. We'll stop here for the night.” He raised his voice a little at that last statement and his men all started to move at once, organizing to pitch their camp.
“You go and wash the blood out of your clothing as best you can,” he said, lifting his chin toward the sound of a nearby stream. Then he frowned. “Do you have any other clothes?” He was imagining her problems undressing near his men. She nodded and went to the small pack on her horse where she had a clean linen undershirt and leggings. She didn't have a second tunic— talking the page at the castle into lending her these clothes had been difficult enough. She would just have to do her best to scrub out the blood.
She headed to the stream and walked downstream a while until she felt she had enough privacy. The real difficulty was that the linen she'd used to bind her breasts was also blood-soaked. She took off the tunic, undershirt and leggings, and put on the pair of clean leggings. Then she began to unwind the bloodied wrap. When it was off, she put the clean undershirt on. It was a thin linen, so if anyone saw her like that, they would surely see her breasts through the fabric. She began scrubbing the stained clothing and wrap with sand from the stream bed. The smell of blood nearly made her heave again. In the end, she decided to wrap the wet fabric back around her breasts, and then cover the undershirt with the wet tunic. It was uncomfortable, but at least she was safely covered.
She returned to a neatly pitched camp. Tents were pitched in a ring, with a fire burning in the middle. There was a pot on the fire and seeing it made her belly rumble. She hadn't had a hot meal in the four days since she'd fled from the king's castle.
It was some kind of mutton stew with boiled beets on the side. She ate every last bite and would've licked the bowl if it were considered polite.
“You'll sleep in my tent,” the Earl told her, sauntering over after the meal. She froze. Mayhap he hadn't told anyone her secret because he meant to abuse her himself in the privacy of his own tent.
She met his eyes and he frowned slightly. He had guessed her thoughts. “I intend to keep you safe,” he said in a voice low enough that only she could hear.
Right. Safely tucked into your tent for your exclusive use. But for some reason, she actually believed him. It was the eyes, she thought. Though he seemed to be a strong and decisive leader, his eyes regarded her with kindness. She exhaled and again had to stop herself mid-curtsy. She gave him her deepest bow and after collecting her bedroll from her horse, followed him to his tent. The interior was tall enough that he could stand in it without ducking and he was above-average in height. His bedroll was spread out against one side and there were two wooden stools. A bag of his belongings was next to his bedroll. That was the extent of it.
She looked around, trying to decide where to spread her bedroll out and he pointed to the opposite wall from his. That gave her a small measure of comfort. When she finished spreading it out, he handed her one of his undershirts.
“Here. Take off your wet tunic. That can't be comfortable.”
He was gentleman enough to turn his back and busy himself with his things. She also turned her back before she slipped the tunic off. Her undershirt was wet in the center from the breast binding wrap, but it would dry quickly without the tunic on. She pulled his enormous undershirt over the top of hers and then reached underneath both shirts to unwind the linen wrap. She stretched up to try to tuck both pieces of wet clothing into one of the tent poles to hang dry.
“Allow me.”
She jumped. She hadn't heard him stepping up behind her, but he was quite close now, his voice right at her ear. He took the wet fabric from her hands and reached up where she couldn't. Her heart beat faster. His tunic was off now too, and the thin linen undershirt revealed a hard muscled chest and arms. Her breath caught. She should not be here. With him. Like this. But what other option did she have? All she could do was pray he was the gentleman he appeared to be. He hung the clothing and then turned to face her, still far too close— too virile— for her comfort. Her eyes traveled from his chest up to his face and when she met his eyes, she found he was regarding her with a heavy-lidded stare. She took a step backward and he diffused the tension, offering her one of the stools to sit on. He sat on the other and faced her.
“And now, you will tell me the truth,” he pronounced.
* * *
In the candlelight, in his tent, she was even more lovely than she had been in the daylight. Her copper hair practically glowed and the shadows on her face made her lashes seem even longer. There was not a shadow of a doubt left that she was female— the bound breasts were his final clue. Now without the binding, even through the two undershirts he could see their subtle curves— like small apples waiting to be... He stopped himself from taking that thought any further. God's teeth, she was beautiful enough to make a man groan.
She was also more than a little afraid of him and the situation in which she'd put herself. So he got down to business.
“And now you will tell me the truth.”
She sucked in her breath and looked at him warily. Then she sighed, defeated. She nodded slowly. “I do not wish to marry the man I am betrothed to,” she said slowly.
“So you ran away?”
“Aye.”
“Why do you object to him?”
“It is complicated.”
“You have a lover.”
“Certainly not!” her indignation made him smile. He had guessed by her blushes that she was a maid, but now he was sure.
“You love another man?”
“No. No, nothing like that.”
“What then?”
She sat quietly long enough that he didn't think she was going to answer him. But then she said, “He was the sworn enemy of my father, responsible for the deaths of my father and brothers. And now I've been given to him as a sort of war prize so that he may have rights to the property that belonged to my father.” Bitterness threaded through her voice and her eyes filled with unshed tears. She blinked them back and took a deep breath. “You see, I can't marry him,” she croaked.
He let that hang in the silence for a moment. “So what is your plan? Do you have one?”
She flushed. “I have relatives in Normandy. I am hoping they will provide me with amnesty.”
He considered it. Whether her intended would go looking that far for her depended on how much wealth was tied up in the marriage contract, he supposed. Or how angry he would be at having her disappear before it could be fulfilled. If he were her Normandy relative, he would not harbor her unless he was willing to do battle with her intended. And all that was assuming she made it to Normandy. God's teeth, a lovely maiden traveling alone to Normandy! Even dressed as a page, it was difficult to believe she'd make it at all, but even more-so to believe she'd arrive with her virtue still intact. Especially considering how inept she was at playing a boy. That fierce welling of protectiveness filled him again. He would take her as far as he could. But better yet would be to convince her to return home.
“What is your name?”
She blinked at him and didn't answer. He sighed. “You don't want to tell me?”
She shook her head. “I think it would be best if I did not.”
“Is it Jacquelyn?”
She giggled a little and though it should have irritated him, instead he found the sound was as sweet as music. “No, but you may call me that if you like.”
He rolled his eyes.
“How old are you, really?”
“Eighteen.”
“And you begrudge your intended too much to marry him.”
Her brows furrowed. “Nay, my lord. I do not begrudge him. It is the other way 'round. It was my father who wronged him.” She looked at him as if that explained everything.
“So what is your objection?”
“My objection!” she spluttered indignantly. “The man will make the rest of my life a living hell. That is, if he doesn't simply send me to a nunnery. And I have no desire to put him to the test, either way.”
“I see.”
“Do you?” she asked with a touch of sullenness. “Can you understand the cruelty of requiring a woman to marry the mortal enemy of her family? A lady is helpless in her husband's hands. He can beat her indiscriminately, imprison her, and take any liberty he likes with her. There is nothing at all she can do to escape his rule.”
She held a rather bleak idea of marriage.
“How do you know for certain that your intended holds you responsible for your father's deeds?”
She looked at him warily and picked at her nails. “Well, I don't. I did not wait to meet him. And I'm not saying he holds me responsible. How could I be responsible for what my father has done?”
“How indeed?”
“But that does not mean he would not resent me or wish to punish me for being his daughter.”
“What exactly did your father do?”
She sighed and looked at her hands. “He tried to steal his holdings.”
“I see. Well, there's really nothing personal about that. It happens often enough. I shouldn't think your betrothed would be so insulted. Of course, it depends on the man, I suppose. He is particularly hard-hearted?”
“I-I think so.”
“But you've never met him, so you really do not know, do you?”
“I tell you that I did not care to meet him,” she snapped defensively.
He held up his hand. “All right, all right. Calm yourself. It just seems to me that escaping your fate may be more difficult that you think. Won't your betrothed come looking for you? And if he does, will your family be willing to go to battle with him over you?”
The girl stared at him in shocked silence, the despair in her pale green eyes evident. She had not considered that scenario. She shook her head slowly. “I—I could not ask them to, even if they would. My intended could raise an army big enough to defeat any opponent, I fear.”
“I think you should return, little one. You cannot escape your fate, but you can make the best of it. Be sweet to your husband— and I'm sure he'll be fair with you.”
Her brows lowered into a glower. “You're sure? You don't know this man. He is ruthless on the battlefield and he did not hesitate to crush my father's troops. Why would he show any kindness to me?”
“Well, think it over. The longer you avoid him, the angrier he will be when he finally finds you. Not to mention you'll have trouble from whomever it is who made the marriage contract on your behalf.”
“Aye,” she said heavily.
“Go lie down. Get some rest. You've had a long day,” he said.
“My lord?” she said hesitantly.
He raised his eyebrows.
“What about my jewels?”
He chuckled. He'd been waiting to see how long it took her to ask for them. “Ah, yes.” He picked up the bag. “Describe them to me,” he said peering into it.
“Ruby ring, rectangular cut. A wedding gift to my mother from my father. String of pearls. Belonged to my grandmother. Given to me on my sixteenth birthday. Sapphire pendant on a silver chain— my mother's....”
He chuckled again and tossed the pouch to her. She looked surprised, as if she hadn't really been sure he would return them.
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Good night, little one.”
He laid down on his own bedroll and blew out the candle.
He woke to the sound of sniffling. He'd probably just fallen asleep. He listened silently for a while, but when it didn't let up, he climbed out of his blankets and went to her. Her back was to him, but her stiffness told him that she knew he was there. He sat beside her and put a hand on her back. When she didn't protest, he moved it to her head, smoothing her hair back from her face, tracing her ear with his fingertips. He tried to keep his touch light and undemanding. The last thing he wanted was for her to fear him.
“You can stay here with me for as long as you like,” he heard himself promising, and wondered what had come over him. She had come over him. This delicate, beautiful lady, who had dressed like a page and murdered a thief with her own knife. Too bad he couldn't claim her as his own because something about her made him want to defend her for the rest of his life.
Her tears stopped and she lay there quietly, not acknowledging, but still allowing his touch. Eventually her breath deepened and she fell asleep. He wanted to kiss her forehead, but he didn't risk waking her. Wide awake now, he slipped out of his tent to that of his knights.
“If that's a boy, I'll eat my boots!” Andrew muttered without turning, sensing Bronson's presence behind him. The knights were still awake, playing a game of dice by candlelight. He grinned at them.
“Indeed. Not a boy but a lady, run off to avoid her betrothal,” he smirked.
The men chuckled.
“Not that you mind sharing your tent with her,” John ribbed him.
“Not a bit. Far more interesting than you men, I'll tell you that.”
“What will you do with her?”
He shrugged. “I told her she could travel with us as far as she likes. But in the meantime, I hope to make her see reason. Running away will only make her situation worse.”
“Aye. Especially if she gets herself involved with the horrible Duke of Pembridge!” Andrew's eyebrows waggled for effect.
“Indeed.”Betrothed