Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Rafe
“… a
nd then her royal high-handedness came out and demanded to ride Raven.”
I raise a brow at the young stablehand who is clearly traumatized by this experience and share a look with my fellow Queen’s Guard, Lark. He shrugs and rubs his chin, clearly as confused as I am.
We had just returned from a patrol and had barely dismounted when Colin came rushing out of the stable, telling us we needed to Git back on our horses an’ go.
“I’ve heard the Queen is an excellent horsewoman,” I say smoothly.
She is also a tyrant who ordered a guardsman flogged last week for whistling when he crossed the courtyard.
Whistling! Apparently, her bitchiness did not like the ‘common tune’…
or any tune. We have all been cautioned not to speak, whistle, or show any signs of joy when she is in the vicinity.
“Too much to hope she will fall off and break her neck.”
“Not that one,” Colin says, wringing his cap in his hands. “The other one.”
“Other one? You mean her sister, the maiden princess?” I don’t think I have even seen the other one…
No, I did catch a glimpse of her once. A little mousy thing with wire-framed spectacles and a scarf completely covering her hair.
I thought she was an ancient dowager until someone mentioned it was a maiden princess. “What the fuck? Can she even ride?”
Lark chuckles. I cut him a glare. He’s fifteen years my junior and has that annoying-as-fuck energy of youth.
Every time I’m paired with him for a patrol, I lurch somewhere between wanting to thump him and chuckling at the wild tales of his sexual prowess that he’s bent on oversharing.
Rutting lasses is pretty much the only thing he thinks about beyond his training.
Still, he’s an excellent swordsman and more than competent in a sticky spot.
For that, I can put up with his rambling tales.
“Saw her without her scarf on once,” Lark says. “She was bending over to pick up a book she had dropped.” He makes a cupping motion with his hands. “Fine ass, round and plump. The kind with dimples and soft skin that your fingers sink into when you—uff!”
I thump him on the shoulder to shut him the fuck up.
He has the decency to look abashed and adjusts his collar. “Sorry, got a bit carried away.”
My head swings back to Colin. “Where the fuck did she go?”
We take off at a gallop, following the directions of villagers and farmers, who wave us on, clearly aware of our target.
I curse the whole time, wishing something had delayed our return and some other fucker had been lumbered with the fallout of this.
She is going to break her damn neck, or a leg, or an arm at the very best. Then we will be the ones taking her home, and her bitch sister will tear us a new one, probably have us flogged like this is our fucking fault.
“There!” Lark calls, peeling his horse to the right.
I follow his lead, spotting her almost immediately.
Raven is trotting along the treeline of a wheat field that is little more than green shoots at this time of year.
She is still in the saddle, so that is something, but I can see her arms and legs flapping in a most peculiar way.
I do a double take at the golden hair that cascades all the way down her back in wild corkscrew curls.
She throws a look over her shoulder as she hears us bearing down.
Damn, she is pretty without those spectacles.
That is the last consideration I have as to her looks, for we startle her—or Raven—and she is nearly pitched out of the saddle as the horse takes off.
“Fuck!” Lark cries. “We need to cut them off before they get to the gate. Bastard horse is going to jump!”
Raven has the energy to go at this pace all fucking day. Our geldings, after a patrol, not so much.
We cut the corner, urging our geldings into a full-tilt charge.
But we’re not going to fucking make it!
Raven flies over the gate. She holds on—just. We drop down behind her, finally getting to either side of Raven. She’s lurching to one side of the saddle, her boot caught in the stirrup, clinging to the pommel for dear life.
Lark catches hold of the reins. I snag her around the waist, and we hem Raven in, bringing the heaving stallion and our mounts to a collective stop.
I glare down at the tiny slip of a woman sprawled facedown over my saddle. My hand is on her ass, pinning her in place lest she fall off.
She peers up at me, her rosy cheeks covered in freckles and her eyes wide. “T-thank you, sir.”
Thank you? Thank you!
“Woman, your ass is going to be cherry red before I am done with you. What the fuck were you thinking, taking Raven out, and alone?”
Violet
He is furious. I can’t quite process the shaking rage that consumes him, only that it radiates off him in waves.
We are down from the saddle, and the relief of stable ground beneath me is short-lived before I am upturned over his strong thigh, and his palm is applied to my bottom in vigorous spanks.
I squeal and thrash, righteous anger replacing my earlier fear and relief in being saved. “Unhand me, brute! I am a princess!”
“And I couldn’t give a fuck, my lady. If I catch you out here on Raven again, I will take the crop to your behind!”
“Ah, Rafe…” the other guard says, like he might be trying to instill caution in the beast thrashing my bottom with his big hand.
“Shut the fuck up, Lark. The princess is clearly in need of a firm hand to be this damn reckless. In fact, pass me the crop now. If the lass has the energy for back talk, I’m clearly not making a strong enough impression with my hand.”
Lark mutters a curse. Thankfully, he does not pass Rafe a crop.
Not satisfied with the spanking over my riding pants, which are barely any protection as is, Rafe snaps the button at my waist and yanks them down—along with my panties—before applying his palm to my naked ass.
Spank, spank, spank!
Gods, my bottom is on fire. It doesn’t matter how I twist this way or that; he just holds me and continues his discipline.
“You have been a very bad girl.”
My body pitches into a state of confusion. His musky male scent fills my nose. My pussy clenches with every clap of his hand. To my mortification, I am growing wet.
“Rafe!” Lark barks.
The spanking stops abruptly, and I tumble onto the ground as Rafe suddenly surges to his feet and commences pacing.
My face is as hot as my bottom. I fight to yank up my pants.
The other soldier helps me to my feet. I don’t know where to look, and then I’m looking at him, Lark, with his pretty blue eyes and chestnut hair that curls into his collar.
He smiles, transforming his face to a rakish level of handsome. “Ah, sorry about Rafe, my lady. He only has your well-being at heart.” He grimaces. “If you could find it in you not to mention this to your Queen sister, that would be much appreciated.”
I swallow and reach to rub my stinging bottom. As if I would tell my sister any of this? She would have Rafe flogged and ridicule me forever and a day about it.
I glance over at Rafe. He is tall and commanding, wider in the shoulders than Lark, and more mature. He bears a rugged masculinity, his sandy blond hair cropped close to his skull. My gaze drops to his hands, now clenched into fists as he continues to pace and mutter.
Goddess, he has big hands. Little wonder my bottom is so sore.
I take in the moment. The two men who saved me. My horse and their horses, cropping weeds absently nearby. An idea comes to mind.
I need help learning to ride. I need companions for my upcoming adventure.
He just spanked me.
Me, a lady and a princess.
He is going to be in a lot of trouble should I tell anyone about it. They both would.
I swallow, then straighten my shoulders.
“Perhaps we could come to an arrangement,” I say, lifting my chin and trying to channel my inner princess and future adventurer.
Rafe brings his pacing to a stop and narrows his eyes on me. “An arrangement?”
“I need some help improving my riding skills… and in preparation for a journey I intend to make.”
Lark chuckles. “I like her. Mayhap we should humor her request.”
Rafe glares at the younger man before pinning me with a dark look. “You are not riding that fucking stallion again.”
The man is blunt and coarse. But we are negotiating, it would seem.
“Ah, no. Raven was a little too spirited for me, with hindsight.”
“You’re keeping secrets,” Rafe says, folding his arms and nodding at me. “What exactly are you asking us for, princess? What are we about to get into?”
“My sister might laugh if I tell her that you put your hands on me,” I say. “She might also have you hanged.”
His lips curl up on one side in a humorless smile, and he steps right up to me. I step back, coming to an abrupt stop when I find Lark at my back.
“The lass is definitely growing on me,” Lark says behind me. “Got a bit of fire.”
I don’t look at him, already sensing Rafe is the leader of the two, the one I need to convince.
Heat and clean masculine scent come off them and tickle my nose. I’m a little scared and a lot aroused. The spanking incident has knocked something loose for sure.
Rafe curls his fingers under my chin. “I could snap your pretty neck and say I found you like that. Flung from the horse you so foolishly chose.”
“You won’t.”
He shakes his head and snags one of my wayward curls, giving it a little tug. “You’re right, I won’t.” He steps back. “Go ahead, my lady. Lay out your plans.”
So I do. Convincing them is easier than expected.
Only I haven’t told them my biggest secret yet.
One day I will.
When this home and all it represents are far behind us.
When and only if my heats finally come and I have no other choice.