Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
F redrick
I head to the library to give Freya a few moments to cool off after her funeral performance, pretending to catch up on an unfinished leather-bound classic. I’m halfway through the third chapter when I realize I’m no more knowledgeable on war or peace than when I started. My only focus is Freya.
When locals heard the owner of Frisky Whisky Empire was seeking to staff a large estate home in Inverness, the list of applicants was as long as the river the castle overlooks. I had to choose quickly and asked Sabrina to help. She’s spent the last few weeks interviewing her favorites. Little did we know I would be the one taking over the castle and that we needed to staff up immediately.
Sabrina sent me her final group via bus last night. MAWR-vein and her small year-round cleaning crew were prepared for all of us; beds were made in staff rooms, a roaring fire was ready, and electrolyte water was waiting in my enormous owner’s suite.
When I first bought Inverness for this plan, I ordered uniforms, hoping to make an excellent first impression on Freya. I was relieved when the Scots Knitwear truck pulled up with the delivery this morning.
MAWR-vein stormed into my office soon after, telling me she would not participate in Inverness’s dress code. “Morven, you’re far too beautiful to wear a stuffy suit jacket.” I pulled out the soft blue apron I ordered for her when I imposed the dress code, a white-stitched emblem of the castle on its pocket.
I could tell by the light in her eyes that she loved the gift in her Morven way; she grumbled as she stomped out of my office, apron already on.
Finally, there’s a knock on the library door. I close the book, holding my place with a finger “Enter.”
A staff member wearing the khaki blazer with the gold seal of the castle stitched on the breast shows himself. Unlike my housekeeper, Enrique wears his uniform proudly. He looks put together, the blazer giving the young man a boost of confidence.
He greets me with a nod. “Sir. Your guest is settled in the receiving room.”
I set the book on the side table while correcting him. “Fiancée.”
“Of course. My apologies. ”
“It’s nothing.” I stand, following him from the library to the receiving room. “You’ve been doing great work here today.”
He releases a sigh of relief. “Thank you, sir. It was my pleasure to be chosen to come to Inverness.”
“Pretty cool living in a castle, no?”
“Yes.” He beams a hundred-watt smile, quickly adding, “Sir.” He reaches out to grasp the large, black iron handle of the tall, arched door of the receiving room for me, but his fingertips only brush against the metal before the door is thrown open.
The goddess of Freya’s namesake, Freyja, is powerful, often depicted as beautiful and alluring, a protector of love, but her role was more complex than that.Having a darker side, she was also the goddess of war. Half of the Norse warriors who died in combat lay in her sacred meadow.
Now, she stands before me in a blaze of her Burnes glory, a bonfire of heat and light, lasers shooting at me from her beautiful green eyes. Her hair has been ripped from her updo and hangs down her back in waves, the lace veil thrown to the floor. Still dressed in her black dress and heels, hands planted on her hips, she stands in the doorway assessing me.
Ready for battle.
I should have gone for the full body armor instead of the swim. “Hello, Freya?—”
“Forget the abduction.” A hiss of words cuts off my greeting. “What in the Green Hills of Scotland do you think you’re playing at, having your driver call me your”—narrowing her eyes, she spits the word out— “wife? ”
“Abduction?” I look her over. “I see no cuffs, no chains, though you would look lovely in those items. You seem to have come willingly. Of your own accord.”
“You’re the one who’s going to be in chains, buddy. Just wait till Callum finds out about your little circus strongman THREATENING me, telling me to get in the car?—"
My time to interrupt her. “Your brother is here.”
“What?” Her shocked gaze does nothing to dull her beauty.
“Your brother. Callum. He’s here. Now.”
“I spoke to him before I answered the door to your henchmen. He’s out with Fio?—”
“Fiona is here as well.”
Grabbing the tiny remote in my pocket, I flick a button. The security monitor over her head comes to life, showing a small gathering of elegantly dressed couples mingling over drinks and hors d’oeuvres in the ballroom.
“What. The. Actual.”
“They’re eating.”
“I can see that they are eating. What I’m wondering is why?”
“Because it’s delicious?” Using the laser at the end of the remote, I wave a red circle around the dishes set along the tabletop. “I’ve ordered all your favorites from your last trip to Paris. Artichoke Helens made by Jaques Pepins himself. Cake d’Alsace—I can see why you love it, that combination of gruyere, bacon, and caramelized onion is delicious—and all flavors of crepes. Wine from my quaint Parisian home. And, of course, sparkling water for me, whisky from our distillery for you and our guests. ”
Her mouth snaps shut. Then opens. Then closes again.
Finally, she demands, “What are they doing here? More importantly, what am I doing here? And why is your driver calling me your wife?”
“Sit down.”
“I’ll stand.”
“Take,” I say, “a seat. You want answers.” I pull a chair out, dragging it over the floor. “And I want to review some rules to ensure your safety.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she stares at me, waiting a beat to see what I’ll do if she doesn’t obey. It’s the perfect opportunity to lay down the law and the rules of this estate.
Her safety comes above all else but is the only thing above her comfort. And I’m about to make her very, very uncomfortable.
We remain standing in a face-off which I will win. “Since you don’t want to sit, I guess you want to lie down.”
“With you?” She gives a haughty laugh as her perfect brow knits. “I don’t think so.”
I take her hand, and as smoothly as I cut through the icy water of the river, I sit, pulling her over my lap in one fluid motion. In her shock, she has no time to fight me. I swiftly kick my leg around hers, pinning them in place, and wrap an arm around her waist.
Now, she’s realizing what’s happening. She enters warrior mode, reigniting my wish for full armor. She’s wriggling and attempting to kick her way out of my arms like a swimmer herself, but she can't break my hold with her hands pressing into the floor to balance her weight.
She’s letting out a long string of unladylike curse words, some of which must be from the island as I’ve never heard of half of them, ending with, “What in the Highlands do you think you’re doing you durty bag o washin’!”
I love the feel of her lithe body laid across my lap, helpless and at my mercy. “Your life is in my hands. I’ll not tolerate your disobedience.”
“You bampot. Scunner. Gleekit—” And on and on.
“Lucky for you, princess, I have no idea what any of those words are, but if you stop your gibberish for a moment, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do to you.”
She rants until she feels my hand smooth up the backs of her legs, pushing her dress up to her waist. Freezing like an elderberry popsicle, her body tautens as she goes silent, then whispers, “What…are you…doing?”
“Right now? I’m enjoying the lovely sight of your body stretched out over my lap.” I smooth my hand over the backs of her bare thighs, sending chill bumps over her skin as I say, “And I’m wondering how I’m going to get these sexy red lace panties down without you kicking me.”
“My panties?” She gives a shrill shriek of displeasure. “Well, that will just NOT be happening, aye? I don’t know what kind of convoluted agreement you and Callum have come to, but when he hears about this?—”
I lean down, asking, “Do you really want to tell your brother that I took you over my lap, pulled down your panties, and spanked you like the naughty girl you are?”
I’ve rendered her momentarily speechless. I take the opportunity to palm the curve of her ass, cupping her soft skin. “And after I get these pretty panties down, I’m going to punish you.” Tucking a finger under the elastic band of her panties where they meet the curve of her hip, I pull them back, letting them go with a snap.
The teasing pop brings her out of her shock.
“Bastard!” Her back arches, and her breath hitches in her throat again.
I cup her ass, pushing my fingers into the soft flesh of her buttocks. “Don’t say that again.” I can feel her heart racing against my thigh. Knowing that I can reduce my fierce warrior to a shivering, defiant captive in my arms is a powerful feeling.
I grab the back of the band around her waist, tugging.
"Fredrick!" She protests, her strong voice unsteady. "You wouldn't dare."
“Wouldn’t I?” I pull down her panties, lining them up under the bottom curve of her ass, taking in another pretty picture of Freya.
Her pale curves are so beautiful, and the ring of red lace that wraps around the tops of her thighs only makes them sexier.
“Do. NOT. Spank me, Fredrick Frisque.”
Her words only fuel my determination. With a firm yet gentle hand, I begin to spank her lightly. The sound of flesh meeting flesh fills the air between us, intensifying with each strike until she's squirming and writhing beneath me in protest and arousal. Her pale skin turns light pink under my careful attention.
I give her right cheek a hard spank. "That's one," I say, my voice low and firm. "For not sitting when I asked."
“You have got to be kidding,” she seethes.
My hand comes down again, same spot, harder this time, causing her to gasp and arch her back in response. "Two," I continue, my voice a sensual melody against her ears. "For trying to escape my grasp."
My red handprint rises on her flesh, making my cock go hard against her squirming belly. Her breath hitches as my hand descends once more, the force of each spank now leaving a warm imprint across her flesh.
The scent of her arousal fills the air, mingling with the rich scents of our surroundings.
"Three. Now, let’s see how wet you are for me.” My fingers fight their way between her ass cheeks, slipping into the slick arousal between her thighs. I begin to tease and torment her most sensitive spots. Her body arches, her protests turning into moans as I push the boundaries between pain and pleasure.
My fingers withdraw as I plant another hard spank on her ass. "Four," I say, “for making me want you so badly, my beautiful, feisty Freya."
"Five," I say, my voice a low growl of need as I take in the sight of her reddening ass. "For being so beautiful and tempting that even the strongest part of me can't resist the siren call of your taste."
"This is SO ridiculous! When will this be over!"
"Six," I say, my voice thick with desire. "For your language.”
"Seven," I say, spanking her again. "For making me want to keep you locked within these walls forever. To never let you leave my sight. "
She moans, twisting in pain, yet the intoxicating scent of her strengthens, filling the room and driving me wild with desire. I want to throw her on the leather sofa and take her now.
But I’m a patient man, and just like whisky aging in an oak barrel, some things are worth waiting for.
“Eight.” I spank her on the right cheek. “Nine.” The left. “And ten.”
I don’t tell her the last three are for making me realize I didn’t just bring her here for her protection. There’s more here between us than me taking her and being satisfied. I’ve started to wonder if, in some act of insanity, I brought her here because I feel more for her than pure carnal desire.
I lean down to kiss her softly before pulling back and whispering in a low voice, "Are you going to behave now, my little wildcat?"
She moans with defiance before she gives in with a defeated sigh. "Yes," she says through gritted teeth.
Satisfied with her answer, I bring her up, sitting her bare, punished ass on my lap, her panties still around the tops of her thighs. The stiff fabric of her dress stays up around her waist, and I get an enticing peek of her smooth, naked pussy.
“I’ve brought you here to marry you. Not only will you be safe here away from Glasgow, but our marriage will prove to everyone that you are a King, through and through.”
“I can’t do that.” She shakes her head.
I brush her hair over her shoulder, exposing her neck. “Take your time. ”
“It would take an eternity—” I cut her off, my lips trailing kisses down her neck, tasting her skin's salty-sweet essence as my hands continue their exploration—until she lets out a low moan.
I pull back slightly, my eyes locking onto her green ones. Her gaze is filled with anger and desire, fury and longing.
I can see the struggle within her, the push-pull of her innate desire to defy me with her overwhelming need for pleasure that only I can provide her.
“Now, I’ll have my kiss.”
Her eyes fill with shock and desire, and she looks at me, her chest heaving. I lean in, my lips teasing her own, a soft caress that tells her there will be more. Her eyes flutter shut, and she lets out a small moan as I explore her mouth with my tongue, savoring her sweetness.
She kisses me back, and I taste the complexity of emotions on her lips—overwhelmed, angry, but also undeniably hungry. She knows she is at my mercy, yet she can't resist the incredible energy ever-present between us.
She moans softly, pressing into me even more as I continue my exploration. Her skin is warm beneath my hands, flushed and alive with passion.
As I kiss her, I smooth my hand over her body. Although unsure of why she had the reaction she did the other night, I’m careful to avoid her breasts. My hand moves lower, cupping her between her legs and finding her already wet and ready for me. With a slow, torturous pace, I tease and stroke until she's panting and begging for release. My arousal is almost unbearable as I continue to pleasure her .
She writhes and moans beneath my hands, her body surrendering to my touch while her mind fights against it. I can feel my control slipping as I watch her respond to me, every part of her trembling with need.
She breaks away from our kiss, gasping a shaky, "Fredrick," as she tries to catch her breath. She grabs my shoulders, fingers digging into me as she rises into that climax.
“Good girl. Look what you get when you stop fighting me and obey.”
Freya breathes out. "I never promised that I would follow your rules."
“You will if you want to come, beautiful girl.”
“Mmm…” She gulps, her hips rocking as she chases down that wave of ecstasy.
I push her hair back from her radiant face to take her in. “I want to flip you over right now, spank your ass, punish you again.”
“Why?” she gasps.
I bring my lips to her ears, nipping her lobe. “For making me want to fuck you until you no longer remember your name."
Shocked and ready to come, she draws in a tight breath, her entire body tensing as she squeezes her eyes shut tight, clenches her jaw, and throws her head back. I love the feel of her hands on my shoulders, clinging to me, begging me to give her what she needs. I love the heat of her body against me, the smell of her, the sound she makes as she comes, the taste of the curve of her neck as I bite her skin lightly just as she orgasms .
I almost come along with her, the biggest turn-on being the fact that I’m the only man on this earth who can touch her like this, smell her, hear her sounds, and make her come.
The power is intoxicating.
I kiss her again to ease her out of the climax.
She stops me, standing quickly, pulling up her panties and tugging down her dress. She smooths her hair, shaking it free over her back. Locking eyes with me, she says, “Are we finished here?”
The abrupt change from kissing her to her staring daggers at me affects me more than it should. I don’t allow it to show; instead, I stand and pull my suit jacket closed over my fading erection.
“Make yourself at home. As long as you stay inside the walls, you are free to explore.”
“Fredrick.”
“Yes.”
“You may make the rules for the estate, but I also make my own rules.”
“Is that so,” I say.
“Yes. And, aye, I may let you make me come occasionally. But you will never, ever fuck me.”
“Madame.”
“Are we clear?” she says. “If so, I’m going to find Callum so I can kill him.” She turns on her heel to walk out the door.
An empty ache fills my chest. A pain that’s not visited me in a very long time. It takes me back home to France, my father’s estate, large, cold, and looming. I’m thrust back into that moment in my mother’s calming gardens. Standing under that tree. I close my eyes and embrace the pain.
A sense of loss comes over me, so great I want to drag her back over to me and kiss her till she softens in my arms. That desire fights an equally strong sentiment to send her on her way. To not go down this dangerous road. Wanting someone is one thing.
Having them is something else entirely.
Still, I take her arm, stopping her and pulling her back to me. “Your revenge can wait,” I say. “Right now, something else takes priority.”
One arched brow shoots sky-high as she cocks a hip, pulling her arm from my grasp. “Which would be…”
“We need to get you into your wedding gown.”