The Princess Brat

The Princess Brat

Katherine Kingston

Princess Fanny was a disgrace to the royal family, an untamed hoyden who refused

to be gracious or cooperative. Fanny’s father needed someone to train the young

woman and make her presentable, but her temper and sharp tongue have driven away

countless tutors. The king will pay generously the person who can tame her.

Handsome, urbane Baxter was a lord’s penniless younger son. Training the princess

should be the perfect job for him. But when two strong wills collide, they strike sparks

off each other, igniting a fire that threatens their hearts and souls as well as their plans

for the future.

Publisher’s Note: Originally appeared in the Crown Jewels anthology.

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

The Princess Brat

ISBN 9781419925757
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
The Princess Brat Copyright 2004 Katherine Kingston

Cover art by Syneca

Electronic book publication 2004

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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales
is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

The Princess Brat

Prologue

The tavern was crowded and noisy, but the two men in the corner paid no attention

to the chaos. They’d discussed the usual mundane things over an excellent dinner of

stew and fresh bread: women, the stingy pay from the lords who hired them, which

champions would participate in the tournament next week, women, which tavern had

the best ale, women, and what their next jobs would be.

Both were young, single, attractive, and scions of noble families. Baxter had the

greater looks, but little money. Ryal had sufficient money for his needs, and looks

usually adequate for drawing female attention. Both had dreams, ideas, and schemes,

though Baxter’s always seemed more practical than Ryal’s. He was at an impasse at the

time, however.

Once they’d finished dinner and were deep into their mugs of ale, Ryal got down to

his purpose in asking his friend to meet him. “I heard the king is looking for a tutor for

his younger daughter. It’s the opportunity you’ve been seeking.” Ryal looked up and

signaled the tavern wench to bring another round of ale. “It’s a way to get into the

Grimmerson Court.”

“It’s an invitation to hell.” Baxter smacked his tankard down on the table. “I’ve

heard the stories about Princess Fanny. Spoiled brat was the kindest description

anyone’s given her.”

“All the better an opportunity. You get her sorted out, and the king will grant you

anything you want.” Ryal looked at Baxter. “He might even make you a knight.”

“I don’t want to be a knight. You have to practice with swords and lances. I’ve done

all of that I ever want to do in this lifetime. And armor…armor’s hot and heavy and it

clanks when you move. I don’t want to clank. I want gold. I’ve an idea for a business to

bring merchandise to the country.”

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“I know. And you want to find the scurvy bastard who killed your papa,” Ryal

pointed out.

“And kill him,” Baxter added.

“And kill him. How will you do that if you don’t want to practice with a sword or

lance?”

“My dagger.” Baxter pulled out the weapon in question and laid it on the table. The

tavern wench delivering the ale saw it and pulled back for a moment. Baxter smiled at

her. She blushed and put Ryal’s fresh tankard in front of Baxter instead.

“Dagger’s no match for a sword.” Ryal grabbed the ale and frowned at the girl.

“From behind. Same way the bastard killed Papa. I’m not stupid.”

“Not very honorable, though.”

“Honor’s worth naught to you if you’re dead,” Baxter answered. “I prefer to stay

alive.”

“That’s a lower-class attitude for a baron’s son,” Ryal commented.

“A baron’s sixth son. Papa was a randy old rooster, but he didn’t deserve to die

with a knife in his back. And he raised hearty sons. Many of them. With five living

older brothers, I’m looking to secure my own future. I need gold to invest in my

merchant plan.”

“But being a baron’s son, even if it is a sixth son, you have a nobleman’s education.

You would qualify for the job of making the princess presentable to the suitors the

king’s rounded up for her.”

“I can’t produce miracles, so I am not qualified,” Baxter insisted. “And I’ve no wish

to do other than tup the bratty princess, perhaps after I’ve thoroughly tanned her

bottom. This is not the job for me. I’ll find another way to get into the court and the

king’s good graces.”

Ryal studied his old friend with a thoughtfulness born partly of copious quantities

of ale and partly of a natural cunning. “I do believe this is exactly the job for you. The

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king wants a strong man to take her in hand as she’s apparently run off every female

and elder he’s had work with her. You’re strong enough for it, and that ridiculously

pretty face of yours seems to have every woman you come across swooning to do

whatever you will. Why should she be any different? At least go and speak with the

king about it. Perhaps you’ll see another way while you’re doing so.”

“Perhaps.” Baxter drained another tankard of ale. “It might serve, at least to get me

into the court. I’ll talk to him.”

Baxter would later conclude he must truly have been in his cups to agree to do even

that much. He would certainly have time and occasion to rue his concession.

Katherine Kingston

Chapter One

He really never had a chance.

The gatekeeper at the main entrance and the guard at the door of the keep asked

only for his name and place of origin. They admitted him with no hesitation when he

provided the information.

The doorkeeper to the main chamber asked the same thing. Baxter identified

himself by name, and as the son of the late Lord Marko of Denzwig and brother to the

current lord. The man followed up with, “Your business with the king?”

“I understand the king seeks someone to assist him in certain personal matters.”

“Ah.” A huge grin spread across the doorkeeper’s face. “You’ve come to take

charge of the princess. Do you think you’ll have more success than the others?”

“I didn’t necessarily come…”

The doorkeeper ignored him and called to a woman he spied down the hall. “Lady

Syndal, come anon. This lord’s son has come to take Princess Fanny in hand.”

“But I didn’t—”

“I believe he might be more effective than some of the others,” the man continued.

Lady Syndal laughed heartily and bustled up. “Aye.” She studied him, running her

eyes up and down his form in a way that made him blush. “Lord…Baxter,” she added

when the doorkeeper repeated his name. “You’ve a rare face and form. Perhaps that

will find favor with the princess. She’s had enough sour-faced harridans, old and

young, and a few fierce gentlemen. None so winsome as you, though,” she said.

“Mayhap it will be just the combination to win her cooperation. But can you be strong

enough and stern enough to take her in hand? It’s a powerful will she has, and it has

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defeated all who’ve tried to tame her thus far. A pity she’s not more like her sister, as

sweet and pretty and biddable a girl as anyone could want to see.”

“My will is equal to any woman’s,” Baxter said. “But that is not really—”

“Ah well, I hope it is so,” Lady Syndal said. “Come, let’s go to the king.”

She took his arm as the doorkeeper opened the portal to allow them entrance to the

main hall. He had no choice but to proceed down the aisle to the dais at the far end in

her company. Most of the gathered throng took no notice of them, continuing their

conversations in small groups scattered around the huge hall.

The king sat on an enormous throne on the dais, consulting with a group of three

men who stood around him. Nearby another group huddled around a very pretty

young woman who wore rich robes and a silver coronet on her smooth, dark, glossy

hair. She laughed with her admirers, encouraging their flirtations, showing charming

dimples in her cheeks and sparkling lights in her blue eyes.

Baxter couldn’t help but stare at her for a few minutes. The glowing vision was no

doubt the elder princess.

“Your Majesty,” Lady Syndal said to draw the king’s attention, at once curtseying

and elbowing Baxter in the side to remind him to bow. “I have here the Lord Baxter, son

of the late Lord Marko, who has come to take charge of Princess Fanny. He believes he

can take her in hand.”

Baxter coughed and said, “Well, in truth, I’m merely—”

“My Lord Baxter! Son of my old friend, Marko!” The king stood up, stepped down

from the dais, and came forward to envelop Baxter in a huge bear hug. The fur on the

royal robe tickled his nose, and he feared the king would smother him in his

enthusiasm. Breathing was touch and go for a few minutes until the king finally

released him and stepped back. Baxter sucked in a good lungful of air, trying not to be

too obvious about it.

“You’ve heard of my difficulties with my younger daughter?”

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“Aye, Your Majesty, but I know not—”

“She’s a wild one is Fanny.” The king bore on, ignoring his incipient protest. “Try

as we might, everyone has failed to make her behave as suits a princess. If you can

manage the task, I’ll be in your debt. The rewards will be considerable.”

“But Your Majesty, I’m not sure if—”

“You may have a free hand in her training. Use whatever methods you deem

necessary. Short of taking her life, I give you free rein to do as you will with her.” The

king sighed and turned away for a moment to stare at the lovely young woman Baxter

had noticed earlier.

“My elder daughter, Merry.” The king nodded toward the girl. The princess turned

and inclined her head in his direction, giving him a brilliant smile.

The king beamed on her. “She’s to be married next month. It would suit my

purposes well should Fanny be tamed and trained to suitable behavior by then. There

will be a number of nobles there that might be candidates for her hand, and I’d be

pleased if she were to show well.”

“Your Majesty, I’m—”

“I am truly glad you’ve come,” the king added. “I do believe you’re just the man to

take Fanny in hand.”

While Baxter was trying to frame a suitable reply, the vision of loveliness that was

Princess Merry drifted over to join them.

“Did I hear correctly?” she asked in a soft, almost childish voice, addressing the

question to Baxter. “You’ve come to take my sister in hand and train her?”

Baxter found himself near speechless in the presence of such perfection. “Aye, Your

Highness.” He almost tripped over the words.

“You have my most absolute admiration,” the princess said. “Fanny has been such

a trial to all of us. Mucking around in the dirt all the time, screaming at people, driving

away all who would help her and teach her more civilized ways. She insists on reading

The Princess Brat

books and conversing with her plants rather than coming to state dinners and fulfilling

her duty to assist our father in matters of state and entertain his guests.”

“I believe I can succeed where others have failed.” He turned back toward the king.

“I must have your complete support, however, if I’m to have a chance. Some of the

things I do may seem a bit…outrageous to you. I must have your assurance that if

Princess Fanny complains to you about them, you’ll lend me your support. And I must

be able to call on some of the resources of your household.”

“Whatever you need,” the king assured him. “You have but to ask. I’ll give you a

token to present to anyone in the castle to get whatever you need. As I said before, short

of taking her life, you may do as you wish with her. She’ll get no support from me or

my household in any battle with you.”

Baxter had a momentary twinge of sympathy for Princess Fanny, who apparently

had no loyalty from her family. It didn’t last long. She’d had numerous opportunities to

win their sympathy and had instead alienated all. In any case, he needed a completely

free hand to put in place the plan beginning to take shape in his mind.

“My thanks, Your Majesty,” he said.

They dismissed him. Lady Syndal showed him to a suite of rooms that adjoined

Princess Fanny’s quarters and gave him a key to the princess’s own apartments, then

left him to get settled. After putting away the few belongings he’d brought with him,

Baxter went in search of the things he would need. It took him most of the rest of the

afternoon to acquire the equipment, but by the time the bell rang for dinner, he was

satisfied with what he’d accumulated.

Instead of joining the household for dinner, he let himself into Princess Fanny’s

bedchamber and settled into the only comfortable chair in the room. While he waited,

he surveyed the room, trying to get a feel for the young woman who was soon to be his

unwilling pupil and charge.

The trappings were pretty much what he would have expected of a princess’s

chambers. An enormous bed was hung with yards and yards of velvet from the canopy,

Katherine Kingston

while the windows, too, were draped with the rich blue fabric. A plush, woven carpet

covered most of the floor. The dressing table bore various pots and trays, but most all

were pushed to one side and appeared not to have been used..

What struck him most forcefully about the room, however, were the drawings.

Charcoal sketches of plants and flowers covered nearly every surface. Twenty or more

of them were tacked to the wall, while others were stood against the mirror on the

dressing table and the back of the writing desk. The drawings were skillfully executed

and showed considerable detail. He recognized a few of the more obvious ones, though

he knew next to nothing of gardening or horticulture.

He had a good bit of time to study them and was beginning to doze off when the

rattle of the door latch roused him. He was sitting upright and staring alertly when the

door opened and the princess walked in.

Though he’d been warned, he still could barely contain his astonishment when he

saw her.

He couldn’t imagine a young woman who looked any less like a princess. Her

clothes were old, threadbare, and filthy. Mud caked her worn boots and splattered her

clothes and face. He sniffed as something unpleasant assailed his nose. Was that dung

he smelled clinging to her?

She pushed strands of reddish-brown hair out of her eyes. It had been hastily

twisted and pinned to her head, but small streams fell loose around her ears, dripping

down onto her shoulders, showing streaks of mud there as well. Her hands were filthy.

He winced at the sight of dirt caked under her short, ragged fingernails. There was a

great deal of work to be done here. He’d seen scullery maids with better grooming.

Still, without the mud and the windburn that roughened her cheeks, she might be

passably pretty. Her features were well-shaped and the sparkle in her eyes could be

appealing.

Fanny started to pull off her cloak, but stopped, frozen in the motion of removing it

when she spotted him.

Katherine Kingston

Chapter Two

Fanny struggled to get her breath under control. She’d come back to her chamber,

wanting only a bath and a bit of food. Finding a man waiting there startled her so that

for a moment she hadn’t been able to say or do anything more than stare at him.

When he’d announced he was her new tutor, she was even more stunned, but anger

followed right behind the astonishment. She sighed, but tried to keep him from seeing

or hearing it. Would her father ever leave her alone and stop trying to turn her into

what he thought a princess should be? And what was this new tactic? Did he think

she’d be more susceptible to a handsome young man than to the others?

She repeated her order to get out, and he ignored it, just as he’d ignored her the first

time. Instead he sat and watched her with that wicked grin curving his beautiful mouth

and lighting his gorgeous, brilliant blue eyes.

“I am your new tutor,” he repeated, “and I don’t plan to leave until we’ve settled a

few things.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “You smell bad. I hope you’re going to

take a bath.”

She wouldn’t tell him that was precisely what she’d planned to do when she came

in. “And why, exactly, should I be interested in doing anything that would please you?”

“Because it will make life easier for both of us if you will cooperate. Fighting is so

exhausting, and is mostly a futile waste of energy.”

“I’m nineteen years old,” she informed him. “For approximately seventeen of those

years I’ve been fighting to be what I want to be and to do what I want to do. Mostly I’ve

succeeded. I would not say it was a waste of energy.”

“Even when a bit of compromise would save you a deal of arguing?”

“You do not know my family. There is no compromise, only winning or losing.”

The Princess Brat

“If we have to argue, I’m going to win.”

His confidence infuriated her. “Who are you and what makes you think you can

succeed where so many others have given it up?”

“I’m Baxter of Denzwig, son of Lord Marko of Denzwig and brother of the current

Lord.”

She waited for the rest of the answer, but he seemed to think that was adequate.

“If you think a handsome face and too much charm will move me, you must needs

think again,” she suggested.

“I’ve thought about it a great deal, in truth. I have a plan, but looks and charm have

no place in it.”

“And what does?” she asked.

“Until I’m ready to put it in practice, I see no point in giving you the advantage of

knowing.” He stood up with a slow, graceful ease. He was several inches taller than her

and nicely built. His tunic fell from broad shoulders to a narrower waist, and the legs

outlined by his leggings were muscular and well shaped. “However,” he said, lazily,

“I’m hoping it will not be necessary to use it all. You will not defeat me,” he warned.

“But I’m willing to discuss a compromise.”

“I see no need to discuss a compromise. I want only to discuss your leaving my

chamber. Immediately.”

“But it doesn’t suit me to leave at the moment.”

“Then I’ll do so.” She turned and went to the door.

“If that’s what you wish,” he said. “But I’ll be here when you return. No matter

how long it takes. I’m a very patient man.”

“A very stupid one,” she said. “You’ll get hungry.”

“I’ve already arranged for food to be sent should I ring.” He nodded toward the

bell.

“You’ll get sleepy.”

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“The chair is quite comfortable. Or perhaps I’ll move to your bed. In any case, I’m a

light sleeper.”

“You’ll be bored,” she predicted.

“Nay, Your Highness. I have all your lovely sketches to study.”

She felt the heat rise in her face, and her anger began to expand past her control.

“Get out of my quarters!”

He gave her a slow, lazy look. “If you’ll agree to work with me, I’ll consider leaving

you in peace for a time.”

She was in a corner. He no doubt had her father’s backing, so if she went for guards

to remove him, they’d likely refuse. She suspected he meant what he said and would

remain in her quarters for longer than she’d want to stay out of them. “If you’ll get out

and leave me alone now, I’ll meet you in the morning.”

She hadn’t fooled him, but he was considering settling for it anyway.

“I won’t be unreasonable,” he said. “If you’ll spend some time with me in lessons,

I’ll allow you some time to work in the garden. That is what you prefer to do, no?”

Fanny sighed. The pretty face hid a clever mind. He could be a problem. “I’ll meet

you tomorrow morning,” she said. “Now please leave.”

He stood up and strolled past her. His face wrinkled in a frown as he went by.

“Take a bath,” he suggested. “You smell like you’ve been mucking out the barn. The

room next door, an hour past morning bells.”

She watched him go. She didn’t let anything show on her face, but mentally she

cursed him for being too good-looking, too charming, and too clever. He was far too

much of a danger to her peace.

As was her norm, she rose with first light the next morning, grabbed some bread

and cheese in the scullery, and went out to work in the garden. The weeds were

beginning to multiply, and she preferred to do the heavier work early before the

temperature grew uncomfortably hot. There were seedlings that needed to be moved as

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well. She nearly lost track of the time as she sank into the joy of working with the dirt

and the plants. The sun moving high in the sky reminded her that she had a promise to

keep.

She’d told Baxter she would come to him in the morning and so she would. He’d

specified the time, but she’d not specifically agreed to it. If she were fortunate, he’d

have given up waiting for her and would have gone seeking entertainment and

company. In case he hadn’t, she didn’t bother to clean up, but went straight to the room

between their quarters, in her filthy clothes and dirty face.

He wasn’t there. Fanny breathed a sigh of relief. She could say she’d come to him.

She’d tried to keep their bargain.

She went through to her own quarters, intent on washing up and changing clothes.

She’d gotten a new book on annual plants from a traveling tinker who came through

periodically and knew her interests. There was a lovely, cool, quiet corner of the garden

near the stream with a comfortable wood bench where she could settle down for a

relaxing read. Perhaps she could talk Cook into saving her some meat from the roast

they’d be serving at the noon meal. Rolled up with a slice of bread, it would be a fine

treat.

She wasn’t paying much attention, but she likely wouldn’t have seen the danger

even if she had. Before she could react—other than to shriek in surprise—someone

who’d been lurking behind the door took hold of her arms, dragged them around

behind her back and fastened her wrists together with what felt like a leather strap. She

tried to struggle, but without her hands, she could do little. Moments later he wrapped

a piece of something cool and firm around her throat and fastened it in the back.

“Since you chose not to honor our bargain,” Baxter said, speaking from behind her,

“I see no point in arguing or trying to bargain with you further.”

Katherine Kingston

Chapter Three

“What are you doing?” she yelled at him. “How dare you? You cannot do this! It is

an outrage.”

“A necessary outrage.” Baxter turned her around to face him and winced at her

filthy state. “Made so by yourself. You refused my offers of a compromise and reneged

on our bargain. I see no other choice than to force you.”

“My father will have your head for this.”

“On the contrary, Princess Fanny, I expect eventually to have a reward from him. I

have your father’s permission to do whatever is necessary to tame you, short only of

taking your life.”

“You have no right.”

“Perhaps not, but all who know you would disagree. Have you the right to disrupt

the lives of your family and the entire court with your behavior, to fail in your duty to

your father, and give him no end of trouble?” he asked.

She struggled to get away from him, but he had only to hold tight to the length of

leather he’d attached to the collar. He’d made sure the leather circling her neck was well

padded, so it wouldn’t chafe, and only tight enough to keep her from sliding it off, not

so tight as to be uncomfortable or choke her.

The princess yelled, wriggled, stamped a foot, and shouted in a most undignified

way, but she couldn’t escape his hold. Finally she calmed enough to ask, “What are you

going to do to me?”

She sounded resigned, but he thought he knew better than to believe it. “First,

we’re going to get you a bath, then dress you in some decent clothes. I’m interested to

see what you look like without layers of mud and dirt all over.”

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“And after that?” she asked.

“We’ll discuss it when you smell better.” He rang the bell and told the woman who

answered what he wanted. A few minutes later the servants began to arrive with the

tub and buckets of water. While they waited for the bath to be readied, Fanny sat in the

seat he’d persuaded her to take, glaring at him. All her fuming would serve for naught,

however. He had no intention of allowing her any freedom until they’d come to an

accord. He suspected it would be a while.

When it was ready, he pulled the princess to her feet. “Time to get in,” he told her.

He reached for the fastenings of her gown and she yelped.

“You can’t,” she said. “You’re a man.”

“So I am,” he answered. “And beneath all the grime, I believe you’re a woman.

Now that we’ve established that, what of it?”

“You must leave and give me privacy to bathe. I promise, I’ll not try to escape.”

He stared at her. Her eyes were a nice, warm brown with flecks of green and

copper. Her genuine distress moved him, but not enough.

“I regret it, Princess, but you’ve already shown I cannot rely on you to keep your

promises. However… If you’ll allow two of the female servants to bathe you at my

direction and make no complaints whatsoever, I’ll turn my back and promise not to

turn back around until you’re bathed and clothed again.” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“What of it?”

Her eyes and lips narrowed. It galled her to concede anything to him. The struggle

lasted only a few moments before she gave in and nodded.

Maintaining his hold on the strap connected to the leather collar around her neck,

he whispered a few directions to the two servants he’d asked to remain. He also warned

them that she would no doubt try to get them to remove the collar, but that they were

not to do so under any circumstances. Both agreed.

Katherine Kingston

Baxter turned away, facing toward the windows, though he kept the end of the

strap firmly in his fist. Behind him he heard the sounds of the servants helping Princess

Fanny to undress and then get into the tub. For several minutes, he heard only the

sound of water splashing and the murmur of voices. He wondered how long she’d

cooperate, especially when it became obvious the servants were thoroughly enjoying

being able to give orders to the princess, knowing she would have to obey.

It took longer than he anticipated before he heard her give a small shriek and

protest: “No, no, not there. You may not touch me there.”

“My Lord Baxter said we were to wash every inch of you,” the servant said.

“But not there,” the princess returned. “Not there. It is not decent.”

Baxter turned around. “Enough,” he said. “I agreed not to turn around so long as

you cooperated. Now, you choose not to.” He looked at the two female servants. “You

may go,” he told them.

“Nay, you cannot do that,” she protested. “Stay here,” she said to the servants.

They stopped and looked at each other.

“I can,” he said to the princess. To the servants, he said, “You may go now. I’ll ring

if I need you.” The two women vacillated a moment longer, then left the room. He

turned to the princess again. “You made the bargain and agreed to the terms. You chose

not to honor the bargain, and now you pay the price. I’ll have to wash you myself.”

He fastened the lead that was attached to the collar to a bedpost, so that she

wouldn’t be able to go far should she slip out of his grasp, then he took up a washcloth

and began to bathe her. He washed her arms first, moving over to her chest. When he

attempted to move the cloth along to her breasts, she wiggled and shrieked at him to

halt.

She began writhing so violently, he could barely keep a grip on her. Water flew all

over the place and his clothes grew soaked. “Be still,” he warned her, but she chose to

ignore it.

The Princess Brat

She deliberately splashed water in his face and tried to kick him in the groin. He

caught and lifted her leg before the effort connected with a vulnerable portion of his

anatomy. He couldn’t help but admire the shape and length of her leg, the graceful

slenderness and smooth skin. She jerked it back out of his grasp and tried for a punch

instead. It came close to hitting him.

Exasperated, he put a hand on the top of her head and pushed down until her face

was briefly submerged. She grabbed at his wrist and tried to claw him. Her fingernails

were too short to do any damage, and he was able to ignore the attempt. He let up the

pressure after just a few seconds. She raised her head, sputtered, and yelled at him.

“You’re trying to kill me. I’ll scream and let the king know how you’re mistreating

me. He said you couldn’t kill me.”

“Scream away,” he invited. “Would you have all in the castle come and see you as

you are now?”

She drew a sharp breath.

“Aye,” he said. “Now, be quiet so we can finish this.” He went back to work with

the washcloth.

She was quiet and mulishly still until he began to run the cloth up her legs. As he

approached her upper thighs, she began to wriggle and squeal protests.

“Be still,” he warned again.

Instead she squirmed even more and splashed water on him. He was soaked

already and getting tired of leaning over, trying to wrestle her down. Baxter kicked off

his shoes, shrugged out of his vest and shirt, then climbed into the tub with her. It

wasn’t a huge tub, so once in, he found himself straddling her. To forestall the kick he

saw coming, he squatted down to drop the weight of his body on her legs.

She yelled in mixed shock and surprise. “How dare you?”

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“You’ll have to learn, Princess Fanny. I dare much in pursuit of my goals. At this

moment, my goal is to have you clean and sweet-smelling.” He reached over, picked up

the cloth, and began to wash her again.

She squirmed and protested, but soon realized the futility and instead tried to

remain completely still. It worked for a while, but he noted that when the cloth ran over

her breasts, she sucked in a sharp breath and grew tense. He worked there for a while,

watching her face soften. Then he raised the cloth. Very gently, he washed the

remaining dirt from her face, dabbing here and there. She’d been watching his hands,

but now looked up and met his gaze. Her eyes were large, soft, and brown. Her skin

was clear and smooth, the lines of her face graceful and elegant. She might not be the

beauty her sister was, but he suspected she would be quite attractive in pretty clothes,

with her hair arranged nicely.

He finished with her face and slid the cloth down the side of her neck, along her

throat and chest, and lowered it to her abdomen. She sucked in a harsh breath but

didn’t protest. He moved back as far as he could, parted her legs the few inches possible

in the confines of the tub, and began to scrub carefully along the insides of her thighs.

She let out a small, mewling cry that was nearly a sob.

“What are you doing?” she whispered. “It’s not decent.”

“But it feels good, does it not?” he asked.

She didn’t answer but he didn’t need it. The way her breath hitched in her throat

told him enough. He wiped the cloth across the slit between her legs. She jerked and

groaned and her face tightened with the pleasurable strain. When he lifted the cloth

away, she sighed lightly.

Baxter could hardly remain unaffected himself. The heat and pressure gathered in

his groin. He wanted desperately to free his cock and bury it in the soft folds he’d just

washed. It took all the willpower he could summon to resist the temptation.

He took her arms and turned her around, fitting her back against his chest. She

struggled for a moment, but he wrapped his arms around her and rested his palms on

The Princess Brat

her breasts. The mounds were pleasantly soft and warm in his hands, the size a perfect

fit. A sharp breath squeaked from her as he rubbed gently.

When she squirmed, though, his hard, full cock poked into her bottom. She shifted

uneasily.

“Tip your head back,” he told her. “I’ll wash your hair, but I don’t want to get soap

in your eyes.” To encourage cooperation, he leaned over and put his lips to her neck,

nibbling and licking at the tender skin there. Her resistance softened. His cock did just

the opposite.

He soaped her hair and massaged the lather into the long strands. They slid like

silken ropes through his fingers as he worked them clean, and the fragrant aroma of the

soap finally drove away the smell of the dung. She sighed as his fingers rubbed her

scalp. The sensation was surprisingly pleasant for him as well. After a while he scooped

up water and began to rinse the soap away.

Once her hair was clean, he pulled her back against him and wrapped his arms

around her again. She rested her head on his chest as his hands covered her breasts.

There was something oddly endearing—childlike and trusting—in the way she leaned

against him. His palms rubbed in ever-tightening circles around the mounds, circling in

toward the tips. When his fingers closed in on her nipples and each traced a quick dash

across the sensitive tips, she jumped and squealed. He gave her a few more flicks and

taps, until she moaned deep in her throat.

Then he moved her forward and stood up. He stepped out of the tub and leaned

over to draw her to her feet. Her eyes were still wide and dazed, but she tried to cover

her breasts and groin with her hands. The effort was in vain, and he could barely take

his eyes from the loveliness she displayed. She was slender but well-shaped, with

breasts a perfect size to fit in a man’s hands, and gently rounded hips. Baxter reached

for a cloth and wound it around her. It just barely covered her breasts and quim.

He sighed as he struggled for control. Her eyes widened as they ran down his body,

settling on the bulge of his cock, clearly visible beneath his soaked leggings.

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Her expression changed as the shock of pleasure wore off and transmuted into

frustration.

“My lord, you dare much,” she accused him, her eyes full of sparkling anger. “Too

much.”

“I dare what I must,” he said.

“You’ll have cause to regret it.”

“Perhaps so,” he admitted, “But if I do, you’ll regret it even more.”

The Princess Brat

Chapter Four

Fanny suspected he might be correct, but she dared not give him the satisfaction of

letting him know. She’d fought too long and too hard for the independence to do what

she wished.

She had to get away from him. She needed time to think about what had happened

and decide how to proceed. His presence was overwhelming her. She’d nearly given

into him entirely in the tub. When he touched her so intimately, she couldn’t find the

outrage she knew she should feel. It just felt so incredible, so wonderful. Even now,

watching him, seeing the strong muscle of his chest, the bulge of his cock, made

something tighten inside. He was too good-looking, too much for her senses to handle.

But he was clever, too, so she’d have to be even smarter.

His arms came around her waist and lifted her out of the tub. It set off the fluttering

in her stomach again. He was stronger than she’d guessed, and his body was warm and

hard against her. She kicked at him, but he wrapped an arm around her legs after the

first blow.

“Stop that,” he said. When she ignored him and continued to struggle, he slapped

her sharply on the rear, just below the edge of the towel, so it landed on bare skin at the

spot where her bottom met her thighs.

She squealed. It stung, but it also sent a thrill flashing into her loins that was as

much pleasure as pain. A very dangerous thrill. She subsided rather than risk another

smack.

He set her on her feet. The towel slipped down off her breasts, and she grabbed at

it. His hands covered hers before she could pull it up.

“Don’t,” he said. “Your breasts are beautiful. Let me look at them for a moment.”

His hands slid upward, lifting and cupping her breasts.

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“Nay,” she whispered to him, barely able to get the words out past the constriction

in her throat. She hated that he would know it affected her, but he could see it anyway.

Still, if it would help put him off guard…

“No one has ever touched you before,” he said.

“Not like this. And you have no right.”

“Your father granted me the right.”

“It wasn’t his to grant.”

“He’s your father,” Baxter reminded her. “He has the authority.”

“He’s never chosen to act like a father. He cares only for my sister. She’s charming

and beautiful. He never needed me. My mother died in bringing me into the world.

He’d rather have her back.”

“He cares for you. He wants what’s best for you.”

“He wants only what’s most convenient for him,” she corrected. “It appears you’re

his current instrument in the attempt to get me out of his life.”

“I regret you believe that. Yet it matters not. It suits me to be used that way.”

“What will it gain you? What did he promise you for taming me? Do you get my

hand in marriage?”

Something she said affected him. His hands stilled on her breasts and his blue eyes

narrowed. “That is no concern of yours,” he answered.

“You think I’ll not care what the theft of my freedom is worth?”

He drew a deep breath but didn’t answer.

“It is not my hand,” she continued. “That would be worth naught to you. Position?

Land? Gold? What is my price?”

“What do you think you should be worth?” he asked.

That stopped her for a moment, yet when the answer occurred to her, it popped out

of her mouth before she could censor it. “A good man’s devotion.”

The Princess Brat

She regretted the words when she saw the pity in his eyes. “Since that’s not likely to

happen,” she added hastily, “I’ll hold fast to my freedom.”

He released his hold on her breasts, took a step backward, went to the door, and

called for the two women to return to the room. They came so promptly, she knew

they’d been waiting nearby, probably listening at the door.

“She needs to be dressed,” he said. “Choose an appropriate afternoon gown.”

He had to release the long leather strap from the collar so they could drop the shift

over her head. Fanny watched him move across the room, and when he was as far from

her as he was likely to get, she broke away from the women as they prepared to put the

gown on. She ran for the door and down the hall. She reached the bottom of the

staircase before he caught up with her and grabbed hold of her wet hair. Unfortunately,

he held on, even when she shook her head. It served only to bring tears to her eyes from

the sting. He pulled her by it, back up the stairs, along the hall, and into her room.

“Leave us,” he ordered the two women who waited for them. “And close the door

behind you.” The hard, cold tone made her shiver.

“I do not intend to chase you all over the castle every time I have to release you for

a moment,” he said as he pulled her toward the bed. She landed face down, her upper

body on the bed, her legs hanging off. When she tried to roll over, his hand pressed into

the small of her back to stop her.

Her shift was flipped up onto her back, and then a hard palm smacked down on her

bottom. Pain flashed through her, making her yell. She tried to wriggle out from under

his hold.

“Be still,” he ordered. “You may yell as much as you like, but you’ll be still and take

your punishment or I’ll call the servants back in to hold you.”

It was humiliating enough to be in that position. She couldn’t bear the thought of

servants witnessing it. “No, please, I’ll be still,” she promised.

“We’ll see.” He smacked down again, hard, on her bare bottom.

Katherine Kingston

Fanny couldn’t hold in a squeal, but she dug her fingers into the bedclothes and

held tight to keep herself as still as possible. It stung almost unbearably.

He spanked again and again, hard. She tried not to cry out, but after a while she

couldn’t hold in a squeal with each swat. It burned so much, she felt each smack down

to her fingertips and toes. But it also worked its way into her loins and set something

else burning inside her. Need, a pressure of desire for something, began to gather and

make the flesh of her cleft swell. She managed to remain still for a while, but as spank

followed spank with no break, the fire in her bottom had her wiggling and kicking

uncontrollably. She didn’t release her hold on the bed, and she managed to stay in

place, however.

It went on and on, until her bottom felt like it was on fire. Her moans grew into

sobs and groans. Though it humiliated her even more, she was finally reduced to

pleading with him to stop.

“No more, please. I won’t run away from you again. I promise,” she begged.

“Please no more. No more! I can’t bear it. Stop!”

“It will stop when I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson,” he said and delivered a

resounding blow that landed right at the junction of bottom and thighs.

Overwhelmed by the fire, she screamed. “I’ve learned the lesson. I promise. I’ve

learned.” The final word turned into another yell as a hard spank crashed into her

tender derriere. Tears ran down her face and soaked into the bedclothes. “Oh, please,”

she sobbed, softer now. “Please stop.”

A series of spanks followed, not as hard, but stinging continuously. She sniffed and

moaned with each one. There was a pause and she hoped it was over. But then he

smacked down again, delivering the hardest blow so far. She shrieked and her body

arched up off the bed. But she kept her fingers buried in the bedcover, even as she

collapsed again, sobbing and rocking back and forth. Her whole body was aflame,

burning up with the agony in her backside. It felt so sore and swollen, she thought it

The Princess Brat

must be twice its normal size. But even within the anguish, she was aware of the

sensation creeping into her loins and causing a different kind of heat.

After a while she calmed enough to brace herself for the next swat. It didn’t come. A

gentle hand smoothed her hair back from her face, then moved to her bottom and

rubbed the sore, stinging flesh. It helped soothe the ache. The gently kneading fingers

massaged away the worst of the hurt, but at the same time they fed that other fire, deep

inside the core of her.

She knew she should protest when his fingers roamed down her derriere to her

thighs. It was improper and dangerous. And when he nudged her legs apart, she

should have resisted. She didn’t. He stroked up and down the insides of her thighs,

going higher and higher each time. It sent tingling ripples of pleasure roaring through

her. He touched the sensitive flesh of her quim, and the shock made her jump and

moan. She could hardly breathe for the tightness of all her muscles. He kissed each

globe of her bottom, his tongue swiping across the punished flesh. More fire ripped

along her nerves.

But then his fingers and tongue withdrew. He moved back with a last pat on her

bottom, and drew her to her feet. She stumbled a bit as he turned her to face him and

ended up leaning against his bare chest. The feel of his warm, hard body was

dangerously tempting. Fortunately or not, he didn’t let her linger there, but

straightened her up.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, “but I’ll do what I have to. That includes

punishing you when you defy or disobey me.” He reached out and pushed back a lock

of her long hair that clung to her damp cheek. “Now, listen to me. I don’t want to break

you or damage you. I don’t want to deny you the only thing you appear to be interested

in. But it’s time for you to grow up and face reality. You cannot simply ignore the rest of

the world and what it wants from you. Your father provides you with food and shelter

and clothing. All he asks in return is that you do your minimal duty as a princess. Yet

you refuse to do anything at all. For too long you’ve been allowed to run wild, insult

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your father and his position, do whatever you wish, refuse to act like a princess, but

generally behave like a selfish, spoiled, childish brat. That ends now. I’ll not tolerate it.

Therefore, for the next few days you’ll spend the entire day with me and in lessons with

others I bring in. Should you cooperate and make progress, I’ll allow you time for your

gardening. But it will be on my schedule, not yours. You will learn your duty and begin

to perform it. Do you understand me?”

Her heart felt as though it twisted up inside her. He didn’t understand or realize

how horribly inept and clumsy she was with other people. “But I don’t want to,” she

protested. “I have no talent or inclination for the games of politics and the court.”

“It matters not whether you want to do it. You were born a princess, and it’s your

duty to do as your father wishes until you’re married and transferred to your husband’s

authority. You needn’t get involved deeply in politics, but you must learn to be polite

and gracious to guests.”

“I have no wish to marry or to be under any man’s authority. I would be my own

person.” No man would want her, anyway. The few times she’d tried to flirt or even

talk to an attractive man, her sister had fluttered by and drawn off all the attention.

“And continue to live off others’ charity for the rest of your life? It doesn’t happen

that way, Princess,” he said. “We must all work for our keep. Even spoiled princesses

have duties to perform in exchange for the food they eat and the roof that shelters them.

You’ll learn to do that duty.”

Fanny shivered as she looked into his deep blue eyes. She feared him. He didn’t

react to her words or her actions, and he seemed to have all the advantages in any battle

between them. Worst of all, she feared that he told her a truth she couldn’t deny, much

as she might want to. She couldn’t give him any answer, but he didn’t seem to expect it.

She needed some time and space to consider what he’d said. Somehow she would have

to manage to escape for a while so she could think about it.

“Now,” he continued. “I’m going to call the servants back in. You’ll get dressed and

groomed as a princess, and we’ll begin to talk about what it means.”

The Princess Brat

Chapter Five

Baxter was fighting his own battle while he lectured her. The spanking and

soothing her afterward had aroused him to the point where his cock strained against his

clothes and threatened to explode at any moment. How he managed any coherent

argument mystified him. Her reaction suggested something he’d said might actually

have reached her, and that was nothing short of a miracle. Once the servants had

returned and were working on the princess, he turned away to put on his own shirt,

now mostly dried, vest, and boots.

Even as she meekly submitted to being dressed and primped by the servants, he

knew better than to believe the war had ended. He’d won the first skirmish. No more.

He actually looked forward to future battles, especially if they ended the way this one

had. He couldn’t help but relish the memory of her gorgeous backside turning rosy

under the attentions of his hand. He’d thought his cock would explode all over her

more than once. And she’d been moved by it as well. Though it had hurt her, and she’d

yelled and screamed, had even begged him to stop, her quim had been swollen and wet

to his touch afterward.

His cock throbbed again, and he turned his attention back toward the servants now

working on Princess Fanny’s hair. She grimaced occasionally when one of them pulled

as they combed out the long strands, but she didn’t complain or protest. Her face

looked surprisingly pretty with the faint pink flush still staining her cheeks. She’d

cleaned up even better than he’d anticipated. She might never be the raving beauty her

sister was, but absent that comparison, she was attractive enough to charm most men

did she make the effort. The servants wound her hair into an elaborate, upswept knot

that they secured with pins and covered with a veil, then they brought a deep blue

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overgown that buttoned down the front. The color of the gown flattered her

complexion.

When they were done, he walked up in front of her and studied her critically.

“You are lovelier than I would have guessed,” he said. “You have naught to be

ashamed of in any comparison to your sister.”

“I have not her gift for charming others and bending them to my will,” Fanny

answered.

“Have you ever tried?”

“When I was younger. Much younger. I was not indulged in the same way she was.

I soon gave up the attempt.”

“She sets a difficult comparison for you. Yet you are yourself, different from her,

with different attractions and different strengths. Some things I can teach you about

dealing with others. First, though, I would learn what you know of table manners. I’ve

had the servants set up a mock dinner table in the next room. Come with me and we’ll

see.”

He offered an elbow to her, and she put her hand on it, very prettily.

“Excellent,” he said. “Hold your head up high now and step with me.”

Fortunately she’d somewhere along the line learned excellent table manners.

However, she hadn’t learned to keep a meek demeanor. She walked boldly rather than

carefully and spoke far too directly. Her only conversation, he discovered, centered

around plants and gardening, and she talked about that to the point of boring any

listener to death.

After a while of letting her rattle on, he stopped her. “Enough about plants. You’ll

have everyone in the room asleep within moments if you talk of nothing else.”

“It’s all I know,” she said.

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“Not so. You know much more. You just don’t know it. And it’s not necessary for

you to do all the talking in any case. Learn to draw others out to talk about themselves.

It is considered much more polite.”

“How does one do that?”

“Shall we try it? You ask me something about myself. Pretend we are strangers. See

if you can start a conversation with me.”

“We are strangers,” she pointed out. “I knew you not yesterday.”

“Quite,” he said. “Draw me out. Learn about me.”

She stared at him for a moment, at a loss. “What is your favorite flower?” she asked.

Baxter let his head sink down to the table for a moment. “No. No, no, no. Forget

plants. I don’t care about plants. Ask me about where I come from. Who my family is.

What my business is here.”

“But I know those things,” she protested.

“You know my name and place of origin. But you do not know about my

childhood, my relationship with my family, what does interest me.”

“So tell me,” she said.

“No. You must ask me questions and find out.”

Again she had to think about it for a minute. “Have you any brothers and sisters?”

“Ah, much better. Yes, I do. Twelve of them, in fact.”

“Twelve! Your poor mother! How did she handle it?”

“Quite well, in truth.”

“But…”

He could almost see her struggling to find the next question. “Are they older than

you or younger?”

“Seven of them are older. Five younger.” He wanted to tell her a great deal more

about them, but restrained it. She needed to learn how to continue a conversation.

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The silence stretched into an uncomfortable length. Finally she shook her head and

said, “I know not what more to ask.”

“You might ask about my parents—what they are doing now.”

“But your papa is dead, is he not? I remember he was killed…right here. ‘Twas a

terrible scandal. There was a fight, no?”

“Not a fight. He was murdered. Knifed in the back in a most cowardly way.”

“Was his killer punished? I do not remember that.”

“No. We know not who it was. I’ve made it my mission to learn who did it and

have my revenge.”

“How do you think to discover who it was?”

“I have a way to identify the finery of he who did the deed. A gold button that we

found clutched in my father’s fingers after his death. It surely came from the robe of his

attacker. I believe he who did it will not know we would recognize the buttons, and

they’re too fine not to wear again. It’s my hope his killer will wear them to the wedding

celebrations.”

“Is that the true reason you’re here? Am I just an excuse to get to those

celebrations?”

The play of emotion across her face fascinated him. She had little ability to hide her

feelings. He was surprised that she should be hurt to think she might not be the sole

reason for his presence.

“Nay, ‘tis only a part of the reason for my presence.”

“Ah, I forgot. Papa promised you a reward for teaching me my duty.”

“Aye, he did. And I plan to collect it. I need it very badly.” He picked up Princess

Fanny’s hand. “Princess, I realize you do not like me being here. But this you may rely

on. I will try hard to be as fair to you as I may be. When I make a promise, I’ll keep it.

When I tell you something, it will be the truth. I truly believe you need to learn the

things I would teach you to ensure your future happiness.”

The Princess Brat

“Why do you need the reward so badly?” she asked.

“That is another good question,” he said. “My oldest brother is now the lord of our

lands. My second brother is a knight, a warrior. My third brother is the steward of the

household. The land is prosperous, but it cannot support so many lords. I have had a

notion that there is a place for someone to bring goods from the east to this land, and it

could prove a prosperous enterprise. But I need gold to begin, gold I hope to get from

your father.”

At that moment, the bell sounded, warning that dinner would be served shortly.

“We have just a few more minutes,” he said to her. “At dinner, I’ll see you have a

chance to practice on one of the guests.”

“Now?” Panic shot across her face. “I’m not ready for it. Surely it can wait until

tomorrow.”

“Nay. We’ll begin tonight. Here are some other things you might ask a stranger to

open a conversation. Ask about his lands, what the country is like, what crops grow,

what livestock they keep. Ask about his family, his children, his serfs. Learn if he likes

music or games or riding. Ask about the hunting on his land.”

“I’ll never remember all those things.”

“You have only to remember a few of them.” He stood, slicked his hair,

straightened his vest, and offered her an elbow. She took it reluctantly and walked with

him down to the great hall.

Katherine Kingston

Chapter Six

Conversation buzzed from various groups of people gathered in the great hall as

they approached. But when they entered the room, it gradually died away. A few

exclamations of surprise broke the growing silence. Fanny’s hand tightened on his arm.

She slowed, trying to pull him to a halt. He tugged her forward, refusing to give her a

chance to stop or retreat.

He covered her hand on his arm with his own to keep her from shaking herself

loose and led her across the room to where a servant distributed cups of ale. Mercifully,

the second bell sounded, calling everyone to take their places for dinner. Baxter

escorted her to the head table. The king took his seat in the center and Princess Merry

positioned herself on his left. He led Fanny to the seat on the king’s right. He had no

right to sit at the head table himself, but he secured a seat at the table nearest to her

position. He was close enough to see the panic in her eyes and could only hope she

wouldn’t turn and run from the room. Her terror mounted when an elderly lord, one

Baxter didn’t recognize, took the seat to her right, with the younger Lord Foxworth

beside him at the end of the head table.

An attractive young woman sat down on his right side and did her best to engage

his attention. Baxter struggled to keep up a pleasant, lightly flirtatious conversation

with his neighbor, while keeping an eye and ear on Fanny at the same time.

The Princess’s conversation seemed to remain on general introductions while the

servants brought in the food and began to pass it out. Fanny spoke a few quiet words

with her father, then the two men on the other side of her each greeted her. Baxter held

his breath for a moment when the older of the two asked her why he hadn’t seen her

before.

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“Has your father been hiding you from us? He’s soon to lose one of his treasures.”

The man glanced toward Princess Merry. “Does he fear losing both?”

Fanny hesitated for a moment. “It is no fault of my father’s,” she said. “I have not

been ready for this heretofore. I’ve been involved in my studies.”

“Ah, an educated young lady,” the older man said. “I’ve always said it would

benefit us all to have ladies better educated. They must run a household and keep the

accounts.”

“It has always seemed dangerous to me,” Foxworth said. “The man is the lord of

the household. Ladies should not believe they’re the equal of their lords.”

It took an effort for Baxter to restrain himself from saying something.

“But surely,” Fanny said, “the more a lady knows, the more she’ll realize the

natural superiority of her lord.”

Baxter caught her eye, smiled and raised his glass in salute. Her words made the

older lord smile and quieted the other one.

“So, what do you study, Princess?” the older man asked.

Baxter drew in a sharp breath, but he had to respond to a question from the woman

next to him lest he seem unbearably rude. “Aye, my father was Lord Marko,” he told

her. “My older brother is the present lord of the land.”

He turned again in time to hear Fanny saying, “…numbers are quite fascinating,

but I prefer to read about and study plants. There are so many things to learn from

plants.” She looked up and saw him watching her. She turned back to the older man.

“And yourself, my lord? What is your favorite area of study?”

Baxter silently applauded her. He had to respond to the woman beside him again

and for a time he let his attention center on her since Princess Fanny appeared to be

handling herself well enough. The young lady on his right was sweetly engaging and

not hard on the eyes, though not so attractive as the princess. He relaxed and began to

enjoy the wine, which was potent, the food, which was delicious, and the company,

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which was pleasant. It was all too pleasant, and he should have known better than to

relax quite so much as he did.

But most of the meal went quite smoothly. Each time he glanced toward Fanny and

the two men beside her, all seemed to be well. They talked, laughed, and seemed to be

getting along well enough. When the disaster happened, there wasn’t much he could

have done to prevent it in any case.

In fact, he didn’t even hear it happen. He just heard the appalled gasps of the king,

Merry, and Lord Foxworth. He turned from something the young woman beside him

was saying to turn toward the head table. The older lord closed his eyes and looked

horribly pained. Fanny looked puzzled, Foxworth angry, and the king and Merry

astonished and disbelieving.

Silence spread around the room as people began to realize something interesting

had happened at the head table. After a moment, Princess Merry sighed dramatically

and leaned across her father to face the old lord.

“Please forgive my sister, Lord Drake,” she said. “We fear she spends too much

time with her head in the clouds or wherever it is. She means no harm, but she has

much to learn yet about thinking before she speaks.”

Fanny looked more puzzled yet, and completely shattered. “I do not need you to

make apologies for me, sister,” she said. “I can do so myself should it be called for.” She

turned a pleading glance on Baxter for a moment. Her father grabbed her arm, pulled

her toward him, and whispered something in her ear. Her expression changed into a

horrified frown, then she turned to the older man. “Lord Drake, I apologize for saying

anything that would cause you pain. Please attribute it to ignorance rather than to ill

will and forgive my stupidity.” Her voice wobbled on the last few words. She turned

toward her family. “Since I cannot be trusted to guard my words, I beg you’ll excuse me

before I do more harm.”

She turned and all but ran out of the room.

The Princess Brat

Baxter leaned toward the young woman next to him and excused himself hastily,

while rising to his feet. When he reached the corridor outside the great hall, he saw no

sign of Princess Fanny. Torches lit the hallway, although a window at the far end

showed twilight hadn’t yet faded into darkness.

He headed toward the stairs up to the princess’s quarters, but hesitated on the first

step. Instinct told him she wouldn’t have gone there. She would seek solace in the place

she felt most comfortable.

The layout of the castle still confused him, so he had to find a servant to direct him

toward the gardens. He lit a candle-lantern and brought it with him. The day had been

warm but was now cooling down to a pleasant temperature as the daylight faded.

He picked his way through a kitchen herb garden, a formal hedge planting, and an

extensive series of flowerbeds before he found her. She sat on a large, flat stone, staring

out over a narrow creek that threaded through the grounds.

“I suppose you’ve come to drag me back in and make me apologize to everyone,”

she said, without turning to look at him.

“Nay.” He walked over to the rock. “You made the only apology you needed to

make.”

“And to the only person I didn’t intentionally offend,” she said, on a soft sigh.

“He was the only one to whom you owed an apology. I’m proud of you for

realizing that.”

“Are you going to take me in and spank me again for making a scene?”

“Do you think you deserve it?”

“Nay, I do not.”

He was pleased to hear a spark of spirit reasserting itself on the words.

“I had no intent to offend Lord Drake,” she continued. “How should I have known

that his lady wife was a madwoman who’d killed his only child and then herself? No

one saw fit to warn me.” Anger gradually replaced the dismay in her tone as she

Katherine Kingston

continued. “My father made no effort to smooth it all over, but assumed, as always, that

I was deliberately offensive. And my sister…”

“Did all she could to make you look even worse, and herself better by comparison,”

he finished for her. “I suspect that is an old pattern between the two of you. Her ‘help’

is carefully calculated to make you look the worse for it.”

For the first time she turned to look at him. Twilight had by now deepened into

near-full darkness. The lantern he still held provided the only light, so he doubted she

could see more of him than he could see of her. He could just barely discern the

expression on her shadowed face.

“You see now why it is hopeless,” she said. “I regret you’ll not get the reward you

sought, but it will not be possible.”

“Because your family, knowing or unknowingly conspire to keep you as an

embarrassment?” He laughed lightly and set the lantern down on the ground near the

rock. “May I join you?” he asked, nodding toward the empty space beside her.

“If you will.”

He hoisted himself up on the rock. “It is not at all so hopeless as you suppose.”

She shook her head. “Do you think you can change my family that much?”

“Nay. But I can teach you how to cope with it. Perhaps even to turn their words and

actions back upon themselves to show them for what they truly are.”

“I do not understand.” She had picked up a fallen branch and was systematically

stripping, rolling, and folding the leaves she pulled off and then shredding them into

small pieces.

“In there, earlier, your sister asked Drake for pardon, saying something like, ‘My

sister is not noted for taking care with her words, my lord. It is a limitation that seems

born in her, so I hope you’ll forgive her for it.’ And you immediately got angry and

said, ‘I do not need you to make excuses for me. I can make my own apologies.’ Truth,

but not well put. Consider what it might have been like had you remained calm and

The Princess Brat

said to her, ‘Not so, sister. I care much for my words and regret it deeply when

anything I say hurts or insults others.’ Say that very sweetly to her. You may rely on it.

She and many others will understand both your meanings.”

She paused in the act of pulling another leaf off the branch. “That is clever.” She

sighed. “But I haven’t the wit to come up with such answers.”

“Most certainly you do.”

“Nay. I cannot think so clearly at those times.”

“You can learn to do so,” he said. “With practice. Consider this: your father

introduces you to some minor lord and comments, ‘Fanny is my younger daughter. She

has not the polish of Merry, but she is learning.’ What say you?”

She considered it for a moment. “Now that Master Baxter is here to provide a

sterling example of good behavior, I am indeed learning.”

He broke into laughter. “Perfect. Oh, excellent indeed. Never say you haven’t the

wit for it.”

“But it is one thing to think of such words here with you in the garden, and another

to do so when the words are needed.”

“Aye,” he admitted. “But with practice, you can learn.”

He stood up and turned to her. “Now, let’s go back inside. Tomorrow we’ll begin

your lessons in earnest, and they’ll include learning to control your temper, so you can

better defend yourself when others are belittling you.”

“I would rather not go in just yet,” she said.

“But you will. I say it is time to go in.”

“I need time to think.”

“You may do so in your own quarters. Now come.”

She looked stubborn and didn’t move.

“If you wish me to carry you in and up to your quarters, I’ll do so,” he said. “Is that

your wish?”

Katherine Kingston

Her breath caught. “Nay.”

“Then come now.”

She sighed again and stood beside him. The scent from her hair mingled with the

fragrance of some flower from the garden in an enticing mix. He fought the urge to pull

her into his arms and kiss her. Instead he took her arm again to lead her back into the

castle.

“You did not answer my question,” she said to him. “Will you punish me for

leaving dinner tonight?”

“Nay, not this time. But from this moment on, you’re not permitted to leave the

castle for any reason, save with my permission. Tomorrow we begin the lessons in

coping with your family and your position. If you cooperate and make progress, I’ll

allow you some time to work in the garden. If you disobey or do not cooperate, you will

be punished.”

“I still do not think it’s right,” she said.

“It doesn’t matter.”

The Princess Brat

Chapter Seven

The next day was a trial to both of them. He started the day by bringing Lady

Syndal in to work with Fanny on deportment and also to fill her in on the guests

currently in the castle as well as those due to arrive soon. Afterward, he and Lady

Syndal played out various scenarios with her, where she needed to converse with a

guest, while either her sister or father made cutting comments. Unfortunately the

princess had little success in dealing with the verbal barbs. She was easily angered, and

when her temper roused, she would say only what came first to her mind. It was rarely

helpful.

After the fourth or fifth time, she stamped her foot and yelled. “I cannot do this. I

can’t. It’s pointless to try. Leave me be.” She tried to run from the room.

Baxter caught and held her. “Lady Syndal, I believe we’re all in need of some

refreshment. Would you see about having something brought up to us?”

The lady understood what he asked and left the room.

He went to Fanny and caught her arm. “You are not trying,” he said. “I expect more

cooperation.”

“I am!” she protested. “I’m trying. I just cannot do this.”

“You can do it. If you want to spend some time in your garden, you will have to do

better. Try harder. You must learn to control your temper. You’ll do better if you don’t

get so angry. “

“You expect too much. I cannot do it. I cannot stop my anger.”

“You can. Just stop and think before you say anything. Take a deep breath and

count to ten.”

“‘It will not work.”

Katherine Kingston

“It will if you’ll try.”

A knock on the door preceded Lady Syndal’s return. Two servants followed her,

carrying trays laden with bread, slices of meat, fruit, and tankards of ale. They spent

some time eating, then resumed the lessons.

Despite his urging, the afternoon’s lessons went little better than the morning’s had.

Fanny tried once or twice to hang onto her temper, but for the most part she didn’t

seem to make any effort at it.

In one scenario, Lady Syndal pretended to be Sir James Devenish, a famously

lecherous old knight. In the role, the lady, put her hand on Fanny’s thigh, as Sir James

had been known to do on many an occasion when seated next to an attractive young

lady. The first time, Fanny just nudged it off. The second time, she turned and said, very

loudly, “Take your hand off my leg. It is unseemly.”

In the role of her father, Baxter said, “Fanny, behave. It is even less seemly that you

should make a scene. Behave as suits a lady.”

“Is it right for a lady to make no protest when a man touches her in an unseemly

fashion?”

“A lady knows how to handle such situations without making a scene about it.”

She drew a deep breath and glared at him. “Then it is clear I am no true lady.” She

turned away and tried to leave the room.

“Stay,” Baxter ordered. “You will not leave.” He abandoned the voice he’d used to

mimic her father. “Come and sit down. Lady Syndal—had you been in this situation,

what would you have done?”

“I’d have quietly moved his hand off my thigh the first time,” she said. “When he

did it again, I’d have nudged or kicked him under the table. Did that not work, I would

whisper in his ear that did he not remove his hand, I would be forced to do something

that might embarrass him. If he still attempted to feel me, I should look under the table,

and let everyone know something brushed my leg. I’d say I feared a mouse or rat. In

truth, all would know what had happened. He would not do it again at that meal.”

The Princess Brat

Fanny sighed. “I cannot think of doing these things at the time.”

“You can if you will just remain calm and think, instead of immediately getting

angry or trying to do something.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” she protested.

“Next time, when something happens that upsets you, I want you to sit still and say

nothing for an entire minute,” he said. “Count out the sixty seconds under your

breath.”

She said nothing but frowned and shrugged.

The next time they played out a scene of a young man harassing her, Baxter waited

for her to hesitate and think. It didn’t happen. She immediately grew angry and told

him to “take yourself away and leave me in peace.”

“No,” Baxter reminded her. “Calmly, Princess. Think what you can say to him.

Comment on his sterling wit being so overwhelming you can scarce bear its brilliance.

Ask him why he believes such words should impress you. Tell him your poor mind is

simply not equal to the depth of his understanding. Anything of that sort will tell him

what you truly think of his foolishness.”

“I cannot think of those things,” she insisted.

They made little real progress that afternoon. Though they continued to replay

various scenarios that upset her, she could not seem to remember to stay calm and

count instead of shouting or saying something she should not.

By dinnertime, they’d achieved almost nothing. All three of them were annoyed

and frustrated by the lack of progress. Baxter did not want to risk taking her to dinner

in public, so he had a dinner for the two of them brought up, while Lady Syndal went

down to the state meal. Their private dinner was a quiet, tense time with neither of

them eating more than necessary to keep them going. Baxter spent the time considering

how to get through to her.

Katherine Kingston

When they finished he escorted her to her own quarters and set a guard at the

locked door to prevent her from leaving without his permission.

As he laid in bed that evening, he had an idea. It seemed rather drastic to him,

perhaps even somewhat cruel, yet it might have an effect where his words did not. It

came to him as he considered that Princess Fanny had grown up with no guidance or

discipline, so it was much harder for her as she tried to learn it now. He remembered

how his father had enforced discipline on his headstrong brood when he’d been a

youngster. The strap had been painful and effective, though it had only been applied a

few times. It took only a few spankings. After those, the mere threat of another

produced the desired results.

The Princess Brat

Chapter Eight

The next morning, he dug out his heaviest leather belt, brought it with him to the

room where he would work with Fanny, and warned Lady Syndal of what he planned.

The lady was initially shocked and dismayed. As he explained his reasoning to her, she

came to accept it. “Aye, perhaps ‘twill work,” she agreed. “I hope you’ll not need to be

unduly harsh with her.”

“I would prefer not to be.”

Princess Fanny was definitely not in favor of the idea. “You will spank me each

time I fail to control myself?” she said, sounding disbelieving and outraged. “Surely

even you cannot be that cruel.”

“It is not cruel,” he said. “We need to try a different way to teach you to control

your temper. Words and encouragement and practice did not help yesterday. I’ll not be

overly harsh. The first time, you’ll get only one swat, the second time two, with another

stroke added to the total each time you fail to control yourself. Should you not only

control yourself, but answer a jibe in a reasonable or effective way, I’ll take a stroke off

the total for next time. It’s not my wish to hurt you, but you haven’t learned any self-

discipline heretofore, so now we must use drastic measures to teach you quickly.”

“It is harsh and cruel,” she protested. “Lady Syndal, surely you cannot condone

this!”

“My dear, I’m fond of you, you know,” the lady answered. “But Lord Baxter has a

point, and I think it is worth trying. I’ll not let him hurt you badly, but you do need to

learn this lesson.”

Because she started out angry, the first few tries did not go well. Stubbornness

disinclined her even to try to control herself.

Katherine Kingston

Their first playacting scenario was a simple one where Lady Syndal pretended to be

the acid-tongued daughter of the Earl of Scottsleigh. That young woman would find

something to criticize about anyone. When Lady Syndal, in character, made a comment

about Fanny’s heathenish manners, the Princess exploded in a tirade.

Baxter took her arm, bent her over the back of a chair, and snapped the heavy belt

down on her backside. The clothing no doubt absorbed most of the force of the blow,

but she shrieked a protest anyway.

“This is not fair,” she said. “It’s cruel and brutish.”

Baxter and Lady Syndal ignored her protests. “Sit down,” Baxter told the Princess.

The next few scenarios went just as badly. By the time of the noon bell, Fanny was up to

receiving six strokes. She yelled protests each time, screaming, calling him names,

describing him as a brute, an animal, and using language he would not have guessed

she knew. She refused to stay in place, and tried to kick and punch him, until Lady

Syndal had to hold her down. After the six-stroke penalty was delivered, they broke for

a quick repast, then resumed the lessons.

By the time they got up to eight strokes, in mid-afternoon, Baxter wondered if he

were indeed being too harsh and cruel. Though all the punishments had been over

clothes, by that time, she had to be getting quite sore. As usual, Lady Syndal had to

hold her over the chair and it was clearly a struggle for her. The Princess screamed with

each stroke of the belt, though he did not strike very hard, until the sixth swat.

Following a loud, prolonged yell on that hit, she broke into tears and began to plead,

“No more. Stop. Please, no more. I cannot bear it. Truly, I cannot bear it.” She sobbed in

a way that made his stomach clench in sympathy.

The last two strokes were no more than light touches of the belt to her derriere. Yet

even when it was over, instead of jumping up and abusing him loudly, as had been her

wont, she remained bent over the chair, sobbing relentlessly. Lady Syndal patted her

hair and tried to calm her.

The Princess Brat

Baxter lifted her from the chair and turned her toward him. She didn’t resist or

protest when he pulled her into his arms and wrapped her up, pressing her face against

his chest. Above her head, Lady Syndal caught his eye and nodded toward the door. He

nodded back and the woman left the room.

For a while, he let Fanny cry and wail. Her tears soaked his shirt, but she said

nothing.

He ran his hands through her hair to soothe her and held her close. When she began

to calm, he put a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face. Her eyes were red and

swollen. Tears dampened her cheeks. She looked soft, sad, and vulnerable. He couldn’t

help himself. He leaned down and kissed her.

Her lips quivered and parted slightly in surprise at the contact. She tasted as sweet

as the jam in his favorite pastries.

It shocked him. He’d meant the kiss to be a brief, comforting salute, a sign of

affection. Nothing more. But when his lips were on hers, everything seemed to change.

He couldn’t bring himself to break the contact. He wanted to know more of her. His

tongue couldn’t bear not knowing the taste of her lips, so he swiped it across them, back

and forth. She shivered against him but didn’t pull away.

She opened her mouth a little more. His tongue needed no more invitation to move

in, brush across her teeth, and taste the rich, warm depths of her. She moaned deep in

her throat. Heat and pressure gathered in his groin as his cock rose in salute to her.

Strange. He rarely lost control of a situation so thoroughly, but she was tying him in

knots.

He’d had a few women before, but not a one of them had gotten under his skin to

the extent she did. Some of them had been prettier or more attractive than Princess

Fanny. All of them had been better-natured, sweeter, more accommodating. It had

never occurred to him that sweet and good-natured might prove boring, but at the

moment, he couldn’t imagine being excited by a gentle, biddable woman.

Katherine Kingston

Baxter ran his fingers across her cheeks into her hair. It felt like silk against his

hands. Her breasts pressed into his chest. His hands slid down along her shoulders, and

around under her arms, fingers spreading so that his thumbs were against the

undersides of her breasts. When he nibbled at her lips, she sobbed lightly and wrapped

her arms around his waist, drawing him even closer against her.

Lack of breath finally forced him to draw back, but he didn’t let go of her. He half

expected her to try to slap or kick him, or at the least call him several names he would

certainly deserve. She didn’t.

Fanny looked up at him, her eyes wide, soft, pleading.

“Why?” she asked him.

“Why? Why what?”

“Why do you kiss me? You don’t care for me. I’m a way to get what you want. Or is

that what the kiss is about? Another form of cajolement to induce me to do as you

wish?”

“Why do you assume I don’t care for you?”

“Why should I assume anything else?”

Baxter sighed. “In truth, no reason at all. Yet, you should have more belief in

yourself. You’re a lovely, attractive woman.”

“And still you see me only as a way to get what you want.”

“Not so,” he said, but honesty forced him to add, “Or not only so. Though I might

prefer it, and it would certainly make my life and task easier if I did not, in truth, I’ve

found I do care for you.”

“You show it rather oddly then, insulting me and spanking me past bearing.”

“Not so. Parents discipline their children because they want them to learn proper

behavior. They care for their children and want to train them to be ready to deal with

the world when they are grown. It’s a pity you did not learn those lessons as a child. It’s

that much more difficult now.”

The Princess Brat

“You tell yourself it’s so, yet in truth, I believe you only do this to earn the reward

my father offers.”

Baxter drew a deep breath. There was truth in what she said, but yet… “When I

first met you that was the case,” he admitted. “Yet over the past couple of days, as I’ve

come to know you, I’ve also come to admire many things about you. If your father were

to change his mind now and say there would be no reward, I would yet continue to try

to teach you.”

She stared at him, studying his expression, possibly trying to gauge the truth of his

words. After a minute, she sighed deeply. “I wish I could believe you.”

He shook his head. “What are we to do with you, Princess Fanny?” he asked.

“I wish you wouldn’t spank me anymore. I’m sore enough, in truth.”

He made a quick decision. “There will be no more today. For the rest of the day,

we’ll study other things. How well do you dance?” he asked.

She shook her head and raised a shoulder. “Not at all well, I fear. I’ve watched

others dance, and once or twice attempted to imitate the steps, but it’s another thing for

which I seem to have no talent.”

“Talent has little part to play in dancing of this sort. You simply have to do it often

enough to learn the steps. We’ll start with the simplest steps and work from there.”

The remainder of the afternoon passed more pleasantly than the first part of the day

had. Lady Syndal found a lute player to come in and pick various tunes for them, while

she called the moves. Baxter partnered Fanny.

She moved with a natural grace that made watching her a delight, and her innate

sense of rhythm meant she learned the moves fairly quickly. They began with the most

simple turns and dips, and she mastered those rapidly. It took a bit longer when they

moved on to more complicated maneuvers.

They had their share of missteps and falters, but they didn’t seem to anger and

depress her the way their verbal teasing of earlier had.

Katherine Kingston

Once she’d grasped the various steps, he showed her how to put them together into

a simple round dance. Normally it would involve another couple with the four of them

in a circle, but failing the presence of others, they imagined a second couple and

proceeded with the steps as though they were there.

She liked dancing. After just the first few rounds, the frown she’d worn most of the

day softened and lightened. Her face flushed lightly with the exertion and enjoyment of

it.

“You step lightly, princess,” Baxter said to her as they briefly came shoulder to

shoulder on a diamond pattern.

Her eyes lit with pleasure as she turned to look at him. “Years of working in the

garden have made me limber.”

“It has clearly planted a natural grace in you.”

A becoming flush rose in her cheeks. “I’ve grown into it,” she admitted.

“Does it stem from all the work you do for the plants?”

“I believe it is cultivated along with them.”

“You thrive as do they. And dancing appears to make you bloom.”

Her eyes shone with delight as she stepped toward him again “I feel a kinship with

the flower opening to the sun.”

“And where does the light come from in this case?” he asked. “What shines so

brightly that your petals unfold to it?”

Several beats went by before she answered. “Possibly it’s the music that invades my

soul. Or perhaps it’s the glitter of your words, my lord, showing me possibilities

undreamt before.”

That stopped him for a moment, as he considered what she implied. “Perhaps

there’s light all around you, waiting to nourish you, would you just remove yourself

from the shadows,” he answered.

The Princess Brat

“Perhaps I’ve never been able to see anything but the shadow until now and knew

not that such sunlight even existed.”

“Perhaps you didn’t wish to know. Your shady place was so comfortable. You felt

no need to emerge and see if there was anything else.”

She stumbled a bit and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her. Aware of Lady

Syndal watching them, he dared do no more than rub her arms and smile into her

shining eyes.

“I beg pardon, my lord,” she said. “My roots are inclined to tangle themselves.”

“It’s common for all of us to trip occasionally,” he said as they resumed going

through the steps. When she joined hands with him for a twirl, he asked, “But what

would you say if your sister were behind you in the line and said to me, ‘Forgive Fanny,

my lord, she has no grace’?”

She stepped back curtseyed and moved forward again. “I’d say, ‘Please forgive

Merry, my lord, she is lacking in kindness.’”

“Perfect,” he said, grinning at her. “And if your father were to say, ‘Fanny, can you

not learn to do anything without making a gubble of yourself?’”

“I’d say, ‘Your pardon, father. Of course I can learn, if someone were so inclined to

teach me.’”

“And he’d say, ‘But you’ve allowed no one to teach you until now. You’ve fought

and screamed and driven away all those who would have taught you.’”

Fanny gave him a wry smile as she curtseyed and twirled. “Is it my fault you’ve

found no one who was able to teach me? Until now, that is? I believe the fact that

Master Baxter has done so argues that the fault was in the other teachers rather than in

myself.”

He tilted his head toward her as they did a hop and skip step. “Well done!” He

threw other insults and derogatory comments at her, but she fielded most of them with

equal wit.

Katherine Kingston

The warning bell sounding the alert that dinner would soon be served interrupted

their revels. Baxter dismissed the musician to prepare for the evening.

“I must needs sort myself out as well before I go down to dinner,” Lady Syndal

said. “Will you be coming?”

“Not this evening,” Baxter decided. “Tomorrow perhaps. Will you have something

sent up for us?”

“Of course,” the lady agreed. “You know the guests are beginning to arrive for the

coming nuptials. Will you be continuing your lessons tomorrow?”

“Aye, but in a somewhat different vein. Lady Syndal, have you a guest list for the

celebrations?”

“I can obtain one.”

“Excellent. Would you do so tonight? Then come on the morrow and go over it

with Fanny. I’d like you to tell her about each person coming. Everything you know of

their background, their family, their special interests, and most particularly any gossip

concerning them. Can you do this?”

The lady smiled at him. “Most assuredly. It will be a pleasure in truth. The king

frowns on the transmission of gossip. Or so he says in public. Privately, he dotes on it

and is much discomforted if he be not the first to know of any good story.”

“Then I’ll give the morning over to you for a lesson with Fanny. Please have a

seamstress here in the afternoon.”

The lady nodded and departed, giving the pair of them an arch smile as she went.

“Do enjoy the rest of the dancing lessons,” she said, in a most suggestive manner.

“Let’s step through the Black Pattern again,” he suggested.

Fanny didn’t hesitate. Her eyes were alight and her cheeks flushed with pleasure. If

she were at all tired, it didn’t show. He was beginning to feel his breath come hard, but

not so uncomfortably that he needed to call a halt.

The Princess Brat

A knock at the door preceding the arrival of their dinner spared him the necessity

of admitting his lack of stamina. The lamplighters placed fresh torches in the brackets

and set them alight while a pair of maids set out platters of bread, meat and vegetables

and poured wine into cups for them.

He held out an arm for the princess when the servants had departed. “Will you join

me for dinner this evening, your highness?” he asked with studied formality.

“My gratitude, my lord, and I will.”

He helped her to sit before he took a seat opposite, facing her across the small table.

“No pretending this evening. Just talk so we can relax and be comfortable.” And so

it was. He told her about his family, drawing out every funny story he could recall to

amuse and entertain her. With so many brothers and sisters, he had a wealth of material

to draw upon. Nor did he spare himself. He even recounted the embarrassing time

when they all went down to the river for a swim one warm summer’s day. He and his

brothers played a game where they chased each other around. He ended up tangled in a

thorn bush in his bare skin. It took all of his brothers almost an hour to get him free and

left him covered in scratches from head to foot.

Fanny laughed so hard he feared she would split her clothes.

After the meal they practiced dancing again, without music or anyone calling the

steps. They went through the moves for a couple of line dances, doing the hays and

caprioles with imaginary fellow dancers. One that they repeated time and again was

called “Toss the Duchess.” Their favorite part was the section that gave it the name: the

lady would hop toward her partner, who would catch her in the air and toss her to the

side.

Fanny began doing variations, kicking out to one side or the other or raising her

arms and clapping while she floated to the side. When she attempted a pirouette in

mid-air, however, she stumbled on the landing and would have fallen had he not

caught her.

Katherine Kingston

He should have let her go right away, but instead he pulled her against him. With

her soft breasts pressed against his chest, her silky hair alongside his face, and her

hands on his arms, he couldn’t bear to release her.

When she looked up at him, her lips parted slightly, he couldn’t help himself. Her

expression begged him to continue, to teach her what a woman could feel. He had to

dip his head and taste the sweetness. Her lips were warm and firm. She shivered

delicately against him as he nibbled at them. Heat poured through him, gathered in his

groin, and pushed his cock to rigid attention. When he probed with his tongue, she

opened for him. The inside of her mouth was warm and slick, just as her quim would

no doubt be hot and tight and sleek around his cock. His hands stroked down her back

and along her sides. She was so warm, so soft, so delightfully alive and full of spirit.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said to her. “Clearly the dancing agrees with you. Your eyes

are sparkling and the color is high in your cheeks.” He stroked his palms up and down

her arms under the loose sleeves of her overgown. “But aren’t you warm? Perhaps if

you were to shed this, you would feel cooler dancing.”

Her large brown eyes went wide for a moment, then a small smile crooked her

mouth again. “Perhaps you’re right, my lord,” she said. “Would you do me the honor of

assisting me in removing it?”

“With pleasure.” He loosened the laces that held the overgown in place and helped

her slide it off. She looked lovely in just the thin, sleeveless shift covering her tall,

slender body.

“Now let’s do the Surrey Bransle again,” he suggested, holding his hand out for her

to partner him in the dance. They did a highly energetic run-through of the dance,

ducking around imaginary fellow dancers, adding in extra capers and twirls, touching

each other quite a bit more than the dance itself called for. The feel of her hand against

his chest was a sweet torture.

At the end of the dance, she shocked him by saying, “You appear rather flushed

and overheated, Lord Baxter. I believe you’d best remove your tunic so you may cool

The Princess Brat

off.” Her tone was serious but a mischievous devil of amusement glittered in her eyes,

though she tried to keep her expression otherwise serious.

“Perhaps you’re right.” He wiped away a quite genuine bead of sweat that rolled

down his temple. “Would you assist me?”

Her breath caught and she hesitated for just a second before she nodded and

reached for the lacings at the side. Once she’d released them, he pulled the tunic over

his head and laid it aside. Fortunately his shirt was long enough and loose enough to

effectively cover the bulge of his engorged cock, which strained at the tight fabric of his

breeches.

They did a Sir Andrew McKinley, another line dance that involved imaginary

fellow dancers. They ducked under the arms of invisible partners and whirled around

empty air. When they came together, they fitted their bodies much closer than would be

considered proper. Throughout the dance, her gaze rarely moved from his, save to

roam down his body and up again. In fact, she all but devoured him with her eyes.

As they finished the last twirl and flourish, she leaned against him, her hand

pressed to his chest. “My lord,” she said, “I do believe you are still quite warm. Perhaps

you should remove this as well.” She fingered his shirt.

He stopped her hand, by pressing his own over it. “Princess Fanny, we venture into

dangerous territory here. Perhaps you don’t understand the peril, but I am a man, and I

have only so much control. It’s stretched already quite thin.”

She drew a deep breath. “Nay, my lord, I understand the danger, though I have not

the depth of knowledge I would wish. But consider: I’m to be married before long, yet I

have no mother to teach me about the ways of men and women. My sister will not do

so. You’re my tutor, hired to school me in the ways of a lady. Is this not one of the

duties of a lady? To know how to please her lord?”

He had no immediate answer for her. His instincts said this course was fraught

with danger, though the main peril might be to his own heart, which was becoming far

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too wrapped around the princess. But she was right in having no one else to school her

in those things, things a husband might expect her to know.

He sighed. “You’re sure of this?”

“I think so,” she answered.

He gathered the bottom of the shirt and pulled it over his head. She stared in

fascination at his chest, then looked down and let her gaze rest on the bulge his cock

made. She drew a sharp breath but didn’t say anything.

He led her into the steps of a Clevian Gavotte, a dance that brought partners

together more often and more closely. Each time she stepped forward and they were

face to face, he drew her against his body, letting her breasts crush into his chest, while

the bulge of his cock pressed against her abdomen.

Whenever she could, she put a hand on his chest, feeling the muscles there, or

stroking the skin. A couple of times he had to grit his teeth when her touches aroused

him so fiercely he feared he’d explode. He wanted more of her. Much more.

Without breaking stride, in the midst of the dance, he said, “My love, I fear you are

much too warm as well. Remove your shift.”

A look of panic flashed across her face and she stumbled. He caught and righted

her.

“You needn’t do this, if you don’t wish it,” he said.

“Nay, my lord, I wish. I’m just somewhat…nervous.” She backed up a step and

drew the shift up and over her head. While she took a moment to remove her slippers

and stockings, he kicked off his boots.

When he looked back at her, his knees went wobbly and he could barely stand. She

was even more beautiful than he could have imagined. It wasn’t the round, full-figured

beauty much in favor at that time, but a graceful, slender loveliness. Her breasts weren’t

large, but just plump enough to make a nice handful. His palms itched for the feel of

them. Her hips had a nice, gentle curve and topped long, slender legs.

The Princess Brat

He extended a hand. “Shall we dance some more?” he asked. She nodded and put

her palm on his. He couldn’t take his eyes from her. Her legs moved in lovely lines and

her breasts bobbed lightly as they hopped and swirled. The pressure in his groin made

movement almost painful.

Each time the dance brought her close to him, he pulled her against his chest and

kissed her deeply. She moaned and ran her fingers into his hair, holding his mouth to

her own. He slid his hands down along her back and hips to cup her buttocks and press

them against his groin.

“You’re killing me,” he murmured against her mouth. “I want you so badly it

hurts.”

“Teach me,” she answered. Her fingers hooked in the top of his breeches, the only

piece of clothing remaining on him. She tugged the fabric down, letting his cock spring

free.

Her eyes widened as she stared at it. “It’s so big! Surely not all men are of such a

size. How do you conceal this beneath your breeches?”

“It grows bigger when a man is in the presence of a woman who attracts him.” He

stepped out of the breeches.

Once they were off, he led her through the door into her quarters. He was grateful

for the private, connecting door. He didn’t favor traipsing through the halls naked.

He lifted Fanny onto her bed and leaned down to kiss her. He let his lips rove from

her face down to her breasts. He licked and sucked, relishing the soft firmness of the

flesh, pulling the tips into his mouth, caressing her until she was moaning and growing

tense. She tasted as sweet as anything he’d ever had on his tongue. He nudged her

thighs apart and ran his hands up and down the tender skin of the insides, working

upward.

When he slid a finger along her slit, she jumped and squealed. She was already

damp and slick there. He parted the petals of her quim and stroked the folds within.

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Fanny moaned and began to pant as she grew stiffer. “My lord,” she groaned. “What

are you doing to me?”

“Preparing you,” he said. “Do you not like it?”

“Yes, but—oh,” she said, on a long moaning sigh.

“Relax into it.” He found the pearl, the center of her woman’s pleasure, and began

to stroke it. Her face screwed up into a tense frown of unbearable pleasure, while her

entire body grew stiff and tenser as he continued. With his other hand, he inserted a

finger into the opening to her womb and felt around until he encountered the barrier of

her virginity. He probed no farther, but stroked the inside of her womb, while with his

other hand, he petted her quim harder. She squealed and squirmed until finally she

shrieked and her body convulsed around the finger he had inside her in the spasms of

release.

He gentled his stroking while the waves of release continued to roll over her.

When she’d finally calmed, she looked at him and said, “You have a most amazing

way of preparing a lady.” She reached for his face and pulled her to him for a kiss. He

stretched out alongside her on the bed and cuddled her in his arms.

“Not all men know this secret to readying a lady for his entry, but if your future

husband does not, you must tell him about it.”

He didn’t want to think about her with another man. He tightened his hold on her

as though he could keep her in his arms forever. But that wasn’t to be. Rather than

dwell on uncomfortable thoughts, he moved to kneel between her legs. “I believe it is

generally uncomfortable for a lady her first time. I’ll be as gentle as I can, but you must

tell me if you can’t bear it.”

“I trust to your gentleness, my lord,” she said. Her brown eyes were soft, her

expression quietly tender as she watched him.

He pressed his cock into the folds of her cleft, seeking for the entrance. Finding it,

he began to slide into her, watching her face. The barrier of her maidenhead stopped

him. So far she seemed to be tolerating his bulk, but there was no easy, gentle way to do

The Princess Brat

this. He withdrew, then plunged hard into her, pushing through the barrier. She cried

out, and he stilled, waiting for her to adjust to the intrusion. It was agony to control

himself and be quiet within her when his cock screamed for action. Nonetheless, he

owed it to her and made the effort.

He brushed a hand through her hair. “The worst of it is over now,” he promised.

After a minute or two, she began to relax. Keeping his motions gentle, he started to slide

in and out, carefully, watching to be sure he didn’t cause her unbearable discomfort. He

couldn’t control himself much longer.

She picked up his rhythm and began to move with him. Gentleness gave way to a

harder, fiercer pounding. She didn’t seem to mind and tried to keep pace with him. It

quickly drove him over the edge and he spilled his seed into her.

Afterward they lay together quietly for a while. She pressed against him and he

held her to him. Another wave of possessiveness rolled over him. The thought of

another man doing this to her roused a violent revulsion. He wanted to keep her with

him always.

When a soft snore indicated she’d fallen asleep, he got out of the bed and went to

collect the clothes they’d left scattered. Realizing he wasn’t ready to sleep as yet, he

returned to his quarters, found his sword, and took it back to the large room where he’d

have space enough to practice a few moves. He had no idea how long he feinted,

parried, ducked and whirled, but at last his body grew tired enough to overrule his

restless mind. When he lay down, he fell asleep quickly.

Katherine Kingston

Chapter Nine

The next day, as he’d requested, Lady Syndal did a quite thorough job of filling

Princess Fanny in on all the gossip she knew about everyone currently in residence,

visiting at the castle, or expected to arrive for the wedding. Fanny listened avidly,

questioned in some cases, and even once had the Lady draw a diagram illustrating the

complex tangle of family relationships snarling one group.

In the afternoon, a seamstress and her young assistant came in to work on Fanny’s

wardrobe. He wanted her to shine more brightly than the torches in the company of the

court. She wasn’t as obviously beautiful as her sister, but her fiery spirit and innate

grace could make her more attractive.

She wasn’t thrilled about standing and posing for the seamstress, but she submitted

to it with resigned exasperation.

When he told her he wanted her to go down to dinner with her family that evening,

a look of utter panic flashed across her face. “I don’t know how I can do it,” she said.

“After the last time… I’ll be too embarrassed.”

“What is anyone likely to say?” he asked.

“Merry will be sure to comment on my past failures.”

“What do you think she’ll say?”

“I suppose she’ll say something like, ‘You’re back again! I hope you won’t

embarrass us so this time.’”

“And how will you respond to that?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, plaintively.

“Of course you do. Think about it in a different way. What would I say to her, did

she say that to me?”

The Princess Brat

“Oh. You’d probably say something like, ‘I don’t think so. I’ve been studying to

learn courtesy in all things. I’ve even learned that it’s not courteous to remind others of

past mistakes.’”

“Very good! And why could you not say that to her?”

Her frown softened. “I suppose I could, did I think of it in time.”

He nodded. “You will. What other things might she say?”

“I suppose she might say, ‘You won’t ask any improper questions this time, will

you?’”

“And I would answer—?”

“None more improper than the question you just asked,” she answered.

“Excellent. I knew you could do it.”

“But how will I think of them at the time?”

“How do you think of them now?”

“I know not. As you suggested, I think of what I would expect you to say were you

in my place, and the answer seems to come to me.”

“Then that is what you will do at dinner tonight. When anyone makes a hurtful

remark to you, you will stop and think what I would say, and you’ll know how to

answer. And… I have something for you to help you remember to think of what I

would say.”

She smiled with the eagerness of a small child promised a sweet. “What is it?”

“A moment and you’ll see, but I must go retrieve it. Wait here.”

He left and returned shortly with the pouch. It looked as though Princess Fanny

hadn’t moved a muscle in his absence.

When he handed it to her, she held it for a moment, stroking the soft fabric bag as

though savoring the possibilities. She loosened the string and upended the pouch,

allowing the gold chain bracelet to slide into her palm.

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Her eyes and mouth widened with surprise, then a slow, delighted smile replaced

the shock. “It’s beautiful.” She lifted it and let the gold catch the light.

He shrugged. “I doubt it can match the glory of the jewels your father has provided

to you. It’s not so very elaborate or heavy.”

“It’s the loveliest thing I’ve seen. I may have jewels that shine brighter, but none

that mean so much. How long may I keep it?”

“It’s yours,” he said.

He wondered if anyone had ever given her a gift with no lecture accompanying it, a

gift given in pure love. She seemed both shocked and overwhelmed by it. Tears started

in her eyes and one slipped down her cheek. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.” Her hand

shook as she tried to fasten the catch to hold it on her left wrist.

He reached out and fastened the clasp for her. “I noticed you look down at your

hands when you’re disturbed or trying to think. Whenever you see this, it will remind

you to consider what I’d say in the circumstances.”

She sucked in a couple of hard breaths, trying to control the impulse to sob, then

she flung herself against him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Thank goodness,

Lady Syndal had declared after the noon meal that she had matters to attend to and

excused herself for the rest of the day.

Baxter held Fanny close, kissing and fondling her. The tapes of her gown came free

easily when he pulled. He reached down under her shift, found a ripe nipple, and

began to caress it. She groaned and reached beneath his tunic and shirt for his breeches.

His cock swelled and pressed against the fabric, begging to be freed.

Fanny’s breath came in hard gulps. “Please,” she begged, “Quickly.”

He pushed the fabric of her shift downward until one breast popped into view. He

leaned down and tongued it, drew the nipple into his mouth, sucked on it, and closed

his teeth around it, nipping gently. She squealed and clutched at his shoulders.

The Princess Brat

He put his hands around her waist and lifted her, sitting her on a table nearby. He

pushed her shift and gown up so they bunched around her waist, leaving her slit open

to him. While he slid his fingers over her quim and nibbled at her breast, she worked

her hands under his clothes again and pushed down his breeches, freeing his straining

cock.

“Lord, my lord, please! Now!”

He slid her forward as he pushed into her, impaling her on his shaft. She moaned as

he entered and filled her. A momentary frown showed she still had some soreness, but

the expression soon gave way to intense pleasure. Her breath panted as he pumped into

her.

He felt her getting tighter and tighter. He reached around her thighs and caressed

her pearl, above where his cock was joined to her. He tipped her back a little and

probed at the nether hole. As his finger entered there, she screamed and climaxed in a

huge, shuddering jolt. It pressed his cock so sweetly hard, his seed exploded from him

in a rush that left him shaking as well.

They collapsed against each other as the aftershocks rolled through them. He

stroked her hair while they struggled to get their breath back.

The warning bell for dinner sounded.

Baxter lifted her down and helped her straighten her clothes and put her hair back

up. “We’d best be on our way down to dinner.”

Sudden panic showed on her face, driving away the flushed and sated look she’d

worn moments before. “I’m not ready,” she whispered. “My sister will say something

and I’ll be at a loss.”

“Nay. You won’t,” he assured her. “Keep in mind that by commenting she seeks to

make herself look sophisticated and clever, at your expense. She believes she can goad

you into acting badly. If you’ll remain calm and poised, you’ll look more graceful and

wiser than she. It truly is that simple. And if you make it impossible for her to succeed

in inducing you to poor behavior, she’ll have to either give it up or try harder, thus

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making herself look worse. So, if you cannot think of a good response, even by

imagining what I might say, then simply keep silent and offer the calmest, most

superior smile you can manage.”

She nodded and drew a deep breath. He offered an arm and together they went

down to the great hall for dinner. “Head up,” he whispered to her as they approached.

“You’re lovely and you’re ready. Look at the bracelet, then look at everyone else in the

room.”

She glanced down at her wrist, then back up at him. Her smile hit him hard, right in

the middle of his stomach. He realized with some dismay that this woman had gotten

into his heart, and it was going to hurt like hell when he had to turn her over to the man

her father would arrange for her to marry.

The Princess Brat

Chapter Ten

Baxter escorted Princess Fanny to her seat at the head table, helping her into the

chair on her father’s right. A very young man already occupied the seat to her right,

with a stout older matron on the other side of him. Fanny’s arrival brought the older

woman’s ongoing exposition to a momentary halt. The look on the young man’s face

suggested any interruption was welcome, but the smile and blush that covered his face

when Fanny turned to greet him indicated he found her more than just a diversion.

Lady Syndal passed by him as they made their way to their own seats. “I contrived

to have her seated with two who will not challenge her unduly,” the lady told him in a

low voice that only he could hear amidst the hum of conversation around them.

“Master Thomas is so painfully shy, he’ll hang on every word she says and object to

nary a one. But the princess won’t have a chance to speak much in any case, as Lady

Garlind rarely stops talking long enough to allow anyone else to put in an ‘if’ or a

‘but.’”

He nodded. “Very good. And thank you.”

The dinner went just as the lady had predicted. Baxter was astonished that Lady

Garlind consumed as much food as apparently she did, as every time he looked that

way, she was expounding on one subject another to a bemused audience of Princess

Fanny and Master Thomas. Nonetheless, he several times saw food deposited upon her

plate, and when next he looked it was gone, so barring an invisible dog beneath the

table, it made its way into her by some extraordinary means.

Only one incident occurred during the dinner to arouse his tension. After the soup

had been served, Fanny’s father turned to her and said, “We’re pleased that you grace

us with your presence tonight, my dear.” Princess Merry added, “And very surprised.

Your last time with us ended so poorly.”

Katherine Kingston

Baxter said a silent prayer and willed Fanny to look down at her hands. Amazingly,

she did so before she lifted her head, turned toward her sister and smiled serenely.

“But at that time I lacked the necessary example for proper behavior,” she said as

sweetly as possible. “Master Baxter has since shown me how such incidents should be

approached.”

Merry looked stunned but almost immediately responded. “It’s a pity you couldn’t

benefit from the examples you already had.”

Fanny glanced down at the bracelet before she answered. “Perhaps it’s a mercy I

had examples I could not learn from.”

Merry looked puzzled by that, but before she could work it out, the gentleman on

her right made a comment that distracted her attention from the interplay with her

sister.

Fanny looked back at him to see if he approved of her handling of the situation.

Baxter raised his wine cup in salute of her cleverness. Happiness spread in a warming

glow across her face.

The rest of the dinner proceeded quietly. With so many visitors beginning to gather,

the king had arranged for a group of musicians to entertain and provide

accompaniment for dancing.

Baxter partnered the princess for the first couple of dances, but the number of

gentlemen eager to have a turn with her forced him to relinquish his position to others

after that. He watched her carefully, though, even when she danced with others, and he

made sure he was always in the same group, so the steps brought her near him often.

In company her dancing was far more restrained and dignified than it had been the

previous evening, for which he was grateful, but still her grace and charm worked on

her partners. By the end of the evening, she had a line of suitors clamoring for a dance

or just a chance to speak with her.

The Princess Brat

He didn’t have a chance to speak with her until the festivities wound down and she

left the room. He’d watched and waited for the opportunity, and ran to catch up with

her as she headed toward her quarters.

“You did very well this evening,” he told her. “Every man in the room had his eyes

on you, and the unmarried ones all clamored for your attention.”

“It was gratifying,” she said. “I admit to taking more pleasure in seeing my sister’s

reaction to my words than was quite seemly.”

“You’ve been too long on the wrong end of her sharp tongue. Now you have a way

to defend yourself.” He turned toward her. “I’m very proud of you. You’ve done so

well, if you like, tomorrow, you may spend the morning working with your plants. I

ask only that you bathe and then come to me in the afternoon.”

“Oh, I will,” she said, doing a hop and a skip in the corridor. Then she paused and

turned toward him again. “Will you come out with me tomorrow? I’d like to show you

some of my plants.”

“Aye, I will. I’ll not be out as early as you, no doubt, will be. There are people I

need to talk with. But I promise I will come. In the meantime, get your rest tonight.”

She looked up and down the corridor to be sure they were alone before she said,

“But won’t you be with me tonight?”

“Not tonight. You’ll be sore enough as it is. It’s better we don’t couple again just

yet.”

She nodded, accepting it reluctantly.

In the morning, he requested an audience with the king, which was immediately

granted.

“My Lord Baxter,” the king said to him. “We’re delighted with your efforts with

Princess Fanny. She was a great credit to us last night.”

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“I believe she is a jewel, Your Majesty,” he answered. “But the jewel has been

obscured and difficult to see, especially in the presence of one who shines more

brightly.”

“You have polished the jewel quite effectively, my lord. She glitters now. Already

I’ve had some inquiries from prospective suitors. When she is betrothed, I’ll grant the

reward you request.”

“My thanks, Your Majesty, but please do take a care as to whose suit you accept.

She has a strong spirit, but it’s brittle and easily bruised. Grant her to one who will

understand and nurture her many virtues.”

The king nodded. “Thank you for your concern for her. I will consider carefully

before I approve a mate for her.”

Baxter recognized the dismissal and retreated. After words with a few other

persons in the castle, he went out to the garden to find the princess. A disheveled Fanny

knelt on a pad while she pulled weeds from a bed of red and yellow flowers.

“My lord.” She looked up and gave him a smile that rivaled the sun for brightness.

“Welcome to my garden. Look at how the primroses and hollyhocks are thriving.” She

pointed to a corner where some tall, leggy flower stalks leaned against a rough wood

fence. She took him on a tour of the beds and paths, identifying a wide variety of herbs

and blooms.

He was impressed by how much she knew about the plants. Using weeds she’d

pulled, she showed him the root systems, how they grew and spread into the ground to

collect water and whatever they needed from the dirt. With a pointed metal tool, she

explained how she turned over and chopped up the dirt to prepare it for seeds.

Taking him up onto a part of the battlement nearby, she pointed out how the

garden was laid out, how she arranged for plants that needed some shade to be in

places where they’d be sheltered by walls or trees, while those that thrived in full sun

were situated where nothing would obstruct the light.

The Princess Brat

Her explanations and demonstrations intrigued him so much, he ended up

spending the rest of the morning outside with her. At the midday bell, though, they

both went inside and bathed before eating.

In the afternoon, they practiced more responses to snide comments, and also

discussed the various duties of a lady in charge of a household. Some facets she already

knew well enough: she could run a kitchen smoothly enough and knew how to keep

accounts. But the niceties of entertaining guests, organizing the household servants, and

dealing with the demands of rank among friends and visitors escaped her.

Dinner that evening went smoothly again, with no incidents to mar it. Princess

Merry made only one nasty comment, but Fanny brought out one of the ripostes they’d

practiced and the older girl backed off.

The next day, he actually spent some time helping her in the garden in the morning,

then they continued their lessons in the afternoon.

The crowd at dinner had swelled with the arrival of more guests for the wedding

ceremony now under a sennight hence. The meal itself proceeded peacefully enough.

He no longer felt constrained to keep such close watch over her.

He had no chance to partner her for even a single dance that evening, she was in

such demand. Each time she retreated to a corner for a rest or a table for refreshment,

the men swarmed around her. At least once he looked over to Princess Merry and

caught her frowning at her sister and the group of swains surrounding her. It worried

him a little. The older princess was used to being the center of attention. Her soon-to-be

husband hadn’t yet arrived, but she still had her own group of admirers. Clearly

though, her sister’s popularity detracted somewhat from her own.

But the trouble that evening came from a different direction entirely.

Among the swains swarming the princess, Baxter noticed one figure that looked

vaguely familiar—and made him distinctly uneasy, though he could remember no

reason for his reaction. He was a dark-haired older man, getting heavy around the

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middle, but still handsome in a fleshy way. Baxter finally had to ask Lady Syndal to

identify the man for him.

“That’s Sir James Cannedy,” she said, then lowered her voice. “He has a dreadful

reputation. He shouldn’t be anywhere near our princess.”

Baxter remembered the man then, though not the reasons for his poor reputation.

“He was a friend of my father’s.”

“Your father thought he was a friend, and it pleased Sir James that Lord Marko

should believe it so.”

“Was he not a true friend, then?”

“I thought not, but I never had any proof to lend to your father.”

“On what is his ‘dreadful reputation’ based?”

“Things I’ve heard,” she answered. “His first wife died of a convenient illnesses

after he’d run through her fortune. His second wife wore always a few bruises

somewhere on her person. Many have doubted that she truly died in a fall as he

claimed.”

“Bad,” he admitted, “But no more than rumors and gossip.”

“True. But I’ve always felt there was something not quite truthful and honorable

about Sir James. And I’m uneasy at the idea of him paying court to Fanny, though I

doubt her father would grant any petition of his. The king looks to a better match for

her.”

Baxter finally remembered that when he’d been about eight years old, Sir James had

visited their household. Evidently it had been on some matter of business, of which he

had no notion at the time, but he remembered taking a dislike to his father’s guest. The

man had made at least one serving maid break down in tears and had caused one of the

stableboys to get a whipping for not caring for his tack to his exacting standards.

The Princess Brat

Baxter kept watch on Fanny through the evening. Sir James partnered her in one

dance set. Fanny’s expression gave no clue to what she thought of the man, but she

certainly didn’t seem overwhelmed by him in any way.

Toward the end of the evening, Baxter was waylaid by an older woman who’d

known his father and mother well in her youth, and naturally wanted to learn all she

could of what had befallen them since. As a result, he was unable to leave the hall when

most of the guests and household retired.

He didn’t see Fanny leave, but the next time he allowed his attention to wander

discreetly from his companion to scan the room, he couldn’t find her. Most likely she’d

been tired and made her way to her chambers for the night.

He could barely hold his own eyes open longer when he finally found an opening

to bid the woman good even and retire to his own quarters. He met no one else in the

hall or on the stairs.

Until he got to the next floor, he heard only the scuffing of his boots on the stones

and an occasional door opening or closing. As he started down the hall, though, he

heard a strange squeal come from a dark corner and turned that way.

Sir James had Princess Fanny backed into a niche, and he was attempting to kiss

her. The squeals and grunts she made, together with the way she tried to push him off,

showed clearly that she didn’t favor the attempt.

Katherine Kingston

Chapter Eleven

Baxter went over and tapped Sir James on the shoulder. “I don’t believe the lady is

enjoying this,” he suggested. “Perhaps you should leave her in peace and retire.”

The older man turned, and glared at him with eyes narrowed and mouth pressed

into a thin line. “This is no business of yours. Go your way and pay no mind.” He

leaned forward in a way meant to intimidate. He partly succeeded. Sir James was a

couple of inches taller and probably fifty pounds heavier than Baxter. Had he not

known Fanny well enough to be sure she did not want his kisses, Baxter might have

gone off and let him be.

“But it is my business,” he answered instead. “Perhaps you’re not aware that I’m

the lady’s tutor. It’s clear to me that she does not choose to be here with you, so I believe

I must ask you to let the lady go.”

Sir James’s frown deepened. His dark eyes glittered with anger and irritation, but

after a few tense moments, he evidently decided against a fight and dropped his hold

on the princess’s wrists.

“Go to your quarters,” Baxter told Fanny.

She hesitated for a moment, and he read concern for him in her expression.

“No one wants to make a great deal of noise and commotion at this time of night,”

he reassured her. “I just want to have a word with Sir James.”

She nodded and hurried down the hall. Both men watched until she disappeared

around a corner.

The older man leaned toward him again. “I do not know who you are,” he growled,

“but I do not allow anyone to interfere in my business. Especially not servants, even

when they call themselves tutors.”

The Princess Brat

“I’m no servant,” he said, struggling for calm in the face of the man’s insult. “But

what concerns the princess is my business. You’ll not harass her or take liberties.”

“I intend to offer for her hand, and I believe the king will consider my suit,” Sir

James said. “Therefore she is my business.”

“That will be determined when you’ve presented your offer and been accepted. In

the meantime, leave her alone.” Baxter turned to go, but stopped and whirled toward

him again. “Oh, and I am not a servant. I’m Baxter of Denzwig, son of Lord Marko.”

He turned again and walked away, leaving a glowering Sir James staring after him.

He went into his room, through the connecting door to the room where they’d had their

lessons. At the far door, he stopped and knocked briefly before opening it and peering

in.

A servant had helped the princess out of her gown and was now brushing out her

hair. Baxter asked her to leave them for a few minutes.

“Are you all right?” he asked her.

Fanny stood up and ran to him, threw her arms around him, and rested her head on

his shoulder. “I’m fine. He took me by surprise or I’d have run away from him. But I

worried for you.”

“You needn’t.” He debated whether to tell her Sir James’s plan, but decided not to.

In all likelihood, the suit would be quickly quashed and she need never worry about it.

Her fingers were pressing into his bottom and her hips grinding against his. His

cock sprang to immediate attention, but he pushed her back. “Your maid is waiting. Let

her put you to bed, and I’ll come to you in a little while.”

For the next few days, Baxter arranged for a maid to accompany Fanny at any time

when he couldn’t stay at her side, even when she worked in the garden. Though it kept

her from being cornered or surprised, Sir James still managed to have himself seated

next to her at dinner one evening and claimed her for a couple of dances.

Katherine Kingston

They had several peaceful days where Fanny gained confidence and ease in

attending family functions. Merry had learned not to goad her sister, and the king

seemed thrilled with her blossoming.

Baxter kept watch and realized he wanted her more and more with each passing

day. The thought of turning her over to another man was a burning poker in his gut,

but he knew he’d have to accept it.

Meanwhile, Merry had learned not to challenge her sister in verbal battle, but began

to work a different sort of competition. She put herself to even more effort to attract the

attention of every available man, though she herself was bespoken. Until her future

husband arrived, she apparently felt free to flirt and entangle as many others as she

could.

It didn’t bother Fanny, since she found most of the men occasionally interesting and

moderately appealing but no more. He knew part of the reason for that lay in her

feelings for him, and recognized the danger in her attachment. He could only hope that

she’d be able to adjust to belonging to another man when the time came.

He didn’t recognize that it represented a danger of a different sort until too late.

As usual dancing followed dinner, with pitchers of ale, wine, and water set out on

the tables pushed back against the wall. With the wedding so close now, the crowd in

the room had swelled. Baxter joined various groups for conversation and met several

people who knew various members of his family or other acquaintances.

When Princess Merry approached him, he assumed she was performing the duties

of a polite hostess. He enjoyed partnering her in a country dance. Though Merry’s

conversation consisted mostly of gossip about various guests and comments on their

clothing and other personal features, he still found her intriguing. She wasn’t as

intelligent or sharp-witted as Fanny, but she was quite lovely and extraordinarily

charming when she chose to be. Though he realized Merry was exerting a particular

effort to be ingratiating and command his attention, he still found it hard not to be

charmed by her and caught up in her enchantment.

The Princess Brat

He lost track of time as he partnered the princess in several more dances and

listened to her chatter. Only when Fanny joined them and said, “I hope you’ve had a

pleasant evening,” did he realize that the crowd had thinned and more guests were

departing to their rest.

Merry gave her sister a grin whose surface charm didn’t entirely disguise the malice

beneath it. “We’ve had an entirely pleasant evening. Lord Baxter can be a most

stimulating partner when he chooses.”

“I’m well aware of that, sister,” Fanny responded.

“Then it’s a pity you cannot always meet his needs for companionship.”

Fanny drew a hard breath. Baxter wanted to reach out, grab her wrist, and press the

bracelet to remind her to think. Unfortunately, he stood too far away.

“If that’s so, why does he then spend so much of his time with me?” Fanny asked,

the effort to keep control clear in tone.

“Because he has a task to complete, of course,” Merry responded. “Papa has

promised him a reward for taming you.”

“I wouldn’t describe it as taming,” Baxter said. “More like guiding. Or teaching.”

Neither woman paid any attention to him. All their focus was on each other.

“But he has spent time with me in the garden, purely for companionship. Not all

our time together is lessons.”

“Are you sure?” Merry asked. “There may be lessons of another sort going on even

there. But look, tonight, when he no longer believes he must keep watch over you every

minute, he gladly spent time with me.”

“Well, no, it wasn’t exactly like that,” Baxter tried to put in.

Fanny overrode his words. “Rather, you forced him to spend the time with you or

risk being rude,” she said.

Katherine Kingston

Fanny’s voice was rising, and other people in the room were beginning to turn

toward them to watch the quarrel. She was too deeply into the emotional reaction to

notice.

“Hardly forced,” Merry said, with a low, cruel laugh. “He could have walked away

at any time or found some other to engage in conversation. He chose not to.”

“I lost track of the time we spent together,” he said, realizing as he did so that it

wouldn’t help the cause. It didn’t matter, however, since they were still paying him no

mind.

“Because you exercised your witchery over him and ensnared him.”

“Witchery, is it?” Merry’s voice rose now as well. “You call me a witch, sister?”

Fanny’s temper was up now. Baxter tried to reach for her wrist, but she moved

away. “Do you deny it? You attempt to put every man you meet under your spell.”

“And do you think I conspire with the devil? And make cattle sick? Oh, you’re a

wicked girl even to suggest such a thing.”

“You’re putting words in my mouth. I did not say you were evil, only self-centered

and vain.”

“And that’s better, I’m sure!”

Beyond that he lost track of the words, only that the two young women were

screaming at each other. Merry finally broke down in tears and ran from the room,

yelling, “She said I was a witch! My sister said I was a witch!”

The king, who’d come over to intervene, followed the older princess out of the

room. Baxter saw his hope of reward going up in smoke.

The Princess Brat

Chapter Twelve

Fanny drew a deep breath and looked around the room. When she saw everyone

staring at her, she turned toward Baxter. Her eyes held a mix of fading anger and

dawning chagrin. She sighed deeply. “I’ve failed again,” she said sadly. “I suppose I

must make my apologies.”

“Not yet,” Baxter said. He took her arm and pulled her out of the room. In silence

he marched her up to her quarters. Her maid waited in her room, and Baxter asked the

girl to leave, saying he’d ring when and if she were needed.

When the girl was gone, Fanny closed her eyes for a moment, opened them, and

said, “I…I’m sorry. But I don’t suppose that’s adequate. Are you going to punish me?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, forcing himself to calm. “I’m not sure it’s worth the

effort.”

She drew in a sharp breath, bent over a bit, and wrapped her arms around her

middle. She looked like he’d stabbed her with a knife to the gut. After a moment, she

sighed and straightened up.

“If I…if I promised it will never happen again, would it make any difference?” she

asked.

“Why should I believe you?”

“I don’t know. But I will keep my promise…for your sake. I know you have no

reason to believe that, but it’s true.” She looked at him. “You said, before, that even if

there were no reward, you would still work with me. Because…” Her voice broke and it

took a moment before she regained sufficient control to continue. “Because you cared

for me. Is that no longer so?” It was more question than challenge, a small, sad,

despairing question.

His anger faded some. “It’s still true.”

Katherine Kingston

“Then what will happen now? What can I do?”

He considered if there was any way to rescue the situation. Perhaps not, but they

could try. “Tomorrow, you’ll go to dinner, but before it starts, you’ll apologize to all

present, including your sister, and tell them that you regret your words and actions and

have been punished for them.”

“Must I truly say that?” Panic flashed across her face.

“You must. And I’ll stand beside you and say a few words of apology myself.”

“You will?”

“I have some responsibility for what happened,” he said. He drew a deep breath.

“Wait here,” he said. “I’ll be right back. Undress yourself while I’m gone.”

She nodded.

Baxter went and got the switches he’d collected days ago. When he returned to the

room, she’d removed her head veil, shoes, stockings, and overgown, and was shrugging

out of her shift.

She pulled it over her head and stared at him. Her gaze went to the switches and

her eyes widened, but she said nothing.

He pulled the chair he’d occupied on the day he’d met her into the center of the

room. He led her to the back of it and bent her over it. “Hold onto the edge of the seat,”

he ordered, “And don’t let go.”

His cock grew hot and heavy, full and aching at the sight of her lovely, slender, bare

body bent over and ready to submit to his punishment. Her round bottom made a full,

inviting target with the folds of her quim just peeking out at the junction of her legs.

Baxter selected three of the switches and put the others aside. He’d cut them all to

the same three-foot length and stripped them of leaves and loose bark. She shivered

delicately when he measured them against her derriere and tensed when he tapped a

light, experimental swish.

The Princess Brat

Then he drew back his arm and snapped the switches forward, right across the

fullest part of her bottom. She jumped and squealed as they bit into her flesh, swinging

her bottom from side to side. Three pink lines, spanning both rounded cheeks, showed

where each branch had landed.

The next cut fell lower and bit harder. Fanny gasped and moaned. Her bottom

clenched and unclenched spasmodically while three more long, narrow welts swelled

out from the flesh.

He laid the next three strokes on smartly, at the same rhythm, concentrating on the

lower part of her buttocks, just above the crease where they joined her legs. She yelped

and squealed after each blow, and on the third, the squeal swelled almost to a scream.

Most of her derriere glowed in shades of pink and rose, with a network of welts rising

from it. She straightened suddenly and reached back to rub her sore flesh.

He gave her a moment, then ordered her to get back in position. The next four cuts

went across the backs of her thighs, painting them with the same rosy glow and lacing

of weals. Fanny sobbed and moaned and yelped. The fourth stroke came down hard

enough to break off two of the switches. The princess screamed shrilly and bounced up

again.

Since he had to replace the broken branches, he gave her a few minutes to calm

down. She sobbed as she rubbed at her bottom and danced from one foot to the other.

When he was ready, he told her to get back down.

She obeyed, but she also moaned. “Stop, please, my lord. It hurts! I can bear no

more.”

“Punishment is supposed to hurt,” he answered. “How else will it deter you from

repeating your errors?”

“I’ve learned my lesson,” she promised. “I won’t do it again. I swear.”

He brought the fresh switches down sharply on her derriere, slanting them so that

the marks rode upward from left to right, crossing some of the earlier welts. She

Katherine Kingston

shrieked again and kicked out one foot and then the other, without rising from her bent

position.

“Please. Oh, please,” she sobbed.

Baxter put the switches aside for a moment and rubbed a hand across her bottom.

The flesh was hot and rough beneath his fingers. She moaned again, but he didn’t think

distress had drawn that particular sound from her.

He probed into the crack dividing the globes of her bottom and ran his fingers

down along it, over the nether opening to her quim. Her legs parted enough to give

access to his caressing fingers. She was soft and moist down there and quivering a bit.

He stroked along the folds of flesh and sought within for the pearl that centered her

pleasure. Her body relaxed under the sensual assault.

He removed his hand and picked up the set of switches again.

“No more,” she begged. “Please, no more.”

He tapped the switches against her thigh. “Five more.”

Her soft sob changed into a shriek when he cracked the switch on her bottom again,

slanting it downward from left to right. He waited for her gyrations to calm somewhat,

delivered the next stroke lower down, and again paused while she bounced up and

down and wailed noisily.

The third stroke buried itself right in the crease between buttocks and thighs and

drew a scream from her, a yell that swelled when he laid the next one across the same

target.

“God help me,” she prayed on a series of noisy sobs. “God, please! I can’t bear it.”

He laid the last stroke across the fleshiest part of her bottom again, bringing the

switches down with force enough to crack loudly. All three branches broke off. The

princess’s body curved into a taut arc while a low moan swelled into a howl that went

on and on. He tossed aside the stubs of the switches and put his arms around her,

drawing her to her feet and turning her to face him.

The Princess Brat

A finger under her chin tipped her face up. He leaned forward and kissed her,

taking into himself the last of her sobbing moans. She wrapped her arms around his

waist and squeezed, pressing her shuddering body against him. He held her until most

of the shaking and sobs had ceased then he led her over to the bed and helped her

stretch out, face down, on it.

He wasn’t sure what to do next, until she looked at him, her brown eyes wide and

sparkling with the remains of her tears. “Please,” she whispered. “Do you still care for

me?”

“Of course, I do,” he answered.

“Then show me.” She shifted onto her side, making room for him beside her on the

bed and parting her legs.

He reached out a hand to touch her bottom but stopped. “Make love to you? Can

you bear it?”

“Yes. Oh, yes.”

“If you’re sure,” he said, quickly stripping off his clothes.

He lay beside her and fingered her breasts until her breath came quickly and her

body shivered in tension. He rolled her onto her back and then his mouth followed

where his fingers led, licking her nipples into sharp peaks, sucking them till she

squirmed, nipping at them to bring a deep, prolonged moan from her throat.

His hands sought the treasures between her legs. She was moist and open for him.

“Please,” she groaned. “Take me. Please, take me now!”

He moved toward her, then realized he’d be pushing her sore bottom into the

bedclothes. “Roll over,” he said, “and get up on your hands and knees.”

She followed his orders. He knelt behind her with his cock aimed at the slit

beckoning to him. He ran his hands over her bottom, feeling the network of weals with

his fingers. She moaned and shuddered.

Katherine Kingston

He positioned himself and thrust forward into her. She stiffened for a moment, then

softened. He stroked her pendulous breasts while he pumped in and out of her. His

balls slapped against her quim, drawing a moan from her each time he buried himself

all the way. She tightened around him spasmodically and he yelled with the pleasure of

it. Her cunt was so hot, so slick, so deep and warm. He filled her so completely, and she

squeezed him in a way that made bright sparks of light flood through his system.

He pumped harder, the fullness and pressure mounting until he could hardly bear

it. Their panting moans and harsh breaths combined in a chorus of need. Her nipples

bounced against his hand and her bottom pushed toward him. Faster and faster they

rocked, until she suddenly yelped and bucked, with spasms of release washing over

her. It tipped him over the edge. His cock spurted into her like a dam bursting, letting

the fierce pleasure wash back through and into him.

He half-collapsed on top of her, keeping a hand down to support his weight,

struggling to get his breath back under control. Waves of pleasure, one after another,

washed over her, making her shudder against him. He treasured the feel of her body

rocking in the aftermath of pleasure he’d brought her. He relished the power he had

over her, and the hold she had on him.

Eventually he withdrew from her and drew her down with him onto the bed so

they lay side by side her back to him, his arms wound around her.

She didn’t relax completely, though, even as he began to doze. “Will this cost you

your reward from the king?” she asked him.

“I know not. Perhaps.”

“Then I must make my first apology to you. I know how important it is to you. Is

there aught else I can do to set things right again? I’ll do whatever you wish.”

Baxter thought for a moment. “We’ll try the effects of an apology to all tomorrow.

Beyond that, we cannot plan.”

The Princess Brat

Chapter Thirteen

As the time approached for dinner the next day, Baxter’s nerves became stretched

almost as badly as Fanny’s. For most of the afternoon, they’d worked on creating her

speech—reworking it word by word more times than he could count. Once they had a

version they could both accept, she practiced delivering it. It took her several tries

before she could get through it without breaking down and crying.

“I can’t do this,” she wailed after the second attempt ended in tears.

“You can,” he insisted. “Hold the bracelet while you run through it this time.”

She wound the fingers of her right hand around her left wrist, over the bracelet. Her

next recitation was perfect.

Nonetheless, they both had rubbery knees as they approached the dining hall that

evening. Fanny seemed so shaky, he feared she would fall down if he didn’t hold onto

her.

The room grew quiet for a minute as she entered, then a buzz of conversation

erupted. He didn’t have to hear it to know most of the talk centered around the princess

and the argument with her sister the previous evening.

Instead of continuing on to his seat, he remained standing behind her chair until the

king entered and signaled the room to silence.

“First I’d like to welcome all guests here tonight. I rejoice that so many of you have

gathered to take part in my daughter, Princess Merry’s, coming nuptials. A toast to all

of you.” He raised his cup and took a sip of wine.

The gathered crowd raised cups also and returned the greeting. After a moment,

the king held up a hand to request silence again.

Katherine Kingston

“Before we begin the meal, my daughter, Princess Fanny, has asked if she might say

a few words to you concerning what happened here last night.” The announcement set

off a buzz of conversation that died down just as quickly when Fanny rose to her feet.

“I behaved in an unforgivably rude and uncivilized manner yesterday evening,”

she said, her voice shaking slightly on the words. “I want to tender an apology to

everyone in the room and especially to my father and my sister. I deeply regret having

embarrassed them with my words and behavior. I have been punished for it, and I hope

you will all forgive me.”

The last few words were spit out in a rush and he heard her struggling with tears

again. She sat down abruptly and winced, underscoring the truth of her words in a way

everyone could see.

Baxter spoke up once she was in her seat. “A moment, if you please, ladies and

gentlemen.” He put a hand on Fanny’s shoulder and felt how tense she was. “I want to

tell you how much I admire Princess Fanny for her actions just now. She was not solely

responsible for what happened here last night, but she has taken responsibility for her

part of it. For that she deserves congratulation and recognition of how much courage

and nobility it took for her to stand up here and make that speech. Many of us also had

some part in the contretemps that occurred, and for my part, I, too, apologize. I hope

others will also recognize their guilt in the matter as well.” He carefully looked out over

the crowd, at no individual in particular.

He nodded to the people gathered there, hanging quietly on his words, and went

around the end of the table to take his seat. Conversation erupted in loud spurts all over

the room.

Fanny gave him a wide-eyed, rather teary smile. Once dinner began, though, she

became caught up in conversation with her neighbors at the head table. He glanced

over at her several times as they ate, but she seemed at peace, talking with her

neighbors at the table, even smiling a few times.

Music and dancing followed the meal.

The Princess Brat

Unlike previous evenings, the men did not flock to Fanny’s side to claim dances. A

few of the more daring did approach her, but even a couple of those retreated under the

glare of disapproving mothers or sisters. Unfortunately her first dance was claimed by

Sir James. Baxter made sure he was in the same set with them. He had to force himself

to stay calm and banter with his partner when he saw the way the man touched the

princess and devoured her with his eyes. He sizzled inside when Sir James swirled her

harder than necessary and caught her with an arm around her shoulders and a hand

that ventured closer to her breast than was seemly. Baxter had to remind himself

repeatedly that the man’s actions were not out of line. And as her tutor, he himself had

no particular claim to her and no right to bar any other man from paying court to her,

no matter how much he might dislike Sir James personally.

He didn’t react quite so violently when others danced with her, but he still found

himself resenting each one who touched her, received her smiles, and shared her witty

remarks.

The one time that evening he danced with her himself, he felt as though something

that had been binding him was released, allowing him to breathe freely in a way he

never had before. It was at once exhilarating and frightening. She’d be marrying

someone else shortly, and he would have to pursue his own plans. For some reason, his

schemes didn’t seem so compelling as they once had. Something important would be

missing from his life once she was no longer a part of it. The warmth, the sunshine, the

radiance of the day, all would be lacking if she weren’t there to share them.

Katherine Kingston

Chapter Fourteen

The wedding party accompanying Crown Prince Rodo of Malandria made its

processional entrance early the next day. Baxter stood on the wall with many of the

other residents of the castle to watch the parade approach.

Outriders bearing colorful banners led the way, followed by a set of trumpeters

blaring gustily, a few coaches, and a company of knights. Behind the knights came

several more coaches, including the grand one decorated with bands of gold and silver

and bannered with silk that must contain his highness himself. Behind that strode a

small army of servants afoot with a line of wagons loaded with baggage bringing up the

rear.

Fanny sat on the dais set up in front of the castle’s main entrance, along with her

father and sister, waiting to greet the party. As the initial company of outriders and

knights on horses drew up, they spread out to make a fan in front of the dais, leaving an

aisle for the carriages. The first couple of coaches also drew to the side, but the very

grandest of them proceeded directly ahead, stopping only when it was directly in front

of the dais.

Four footmen scurried toward the door, set a stool in place, and opened the

compartment. The first person to alight was an elderly man, followed by a woman not

much younger. Both wore coronets and grand garments. The groom’s parents, the king

and queen of Malandria, he presumed.

A tall, dark-haired man emerged behind them. He had a long, hooked nose,

narrowed eyes, and an expression that suggested something nearby smelled bad. The

twisted frown relaxed only when his gaze fell on Princess Merry.

The trumpeters blew a resounding fanfare as the trio approached the dais.

The Princess Brat

The king and the two princesses stood and descended to greet the newcomers.

Between the distance and the continual blaring of the trumpeters, Baxter couldn’t hear

the words spoken between hosts and guests. He did see the way the newly arrived

prince fawned over Princess Merry, kissing her hand and smiling at her with all the

charm he could muster.

Baxter also saw, quite clearly, the smug, superior smile Merry threw at her sister as

they turned to escort the newcomers into the main part of the castle.

The rest of the day and evening comprised one long, sometimes loud and

boisterous party, with gifts exchanged between families, betrotheds, and small benefits

granted to the castle staff and the newcomer’s servants in celebration of the nuptials.

Prince Rodo presented Princess Merry with a beautiful set of jeweled adornments,

including a ruby-studded tiara, necklace, bracelet, and ring. She donned them

immediately and took considerable joy in turning and posing in ways that ensured the

gems caught the light and sparkled becomingly.

More than once, Princess Merry turned the nasty, smug look on her sister. She held

up her wrist with the ruby bracelet, turning it to send a reflected ray of sunlight from

the depths of the gems toward her sister’s face. Fanny grimaced and reached for her

own wrist, tracing a finger along the gold chain of the bracelet he’d given her.

Baxter danced with Fanny a few times, and several of the more adventurous men

did as well, though he could tell that she favored none of them. Sir James claimed more

of her time than made either of them comfortable.

The real blow, however, came early the next day, when the king summoned both

himself and Fanny to a private audience chamber.

Katherine Kingston

Chapter Fifteen

Baxter had no idea what to expect as he escorted Fanny to the king’s small audience

chamber in response to the royal summons.

The king waited in the room, with Princess Merry and her new betrothed, Prince

Rodo, seated on his left side, and Sir James at his right. Baxter and Fanny bowed to the

king and waited while he stood.

He came to Fanny and led her to the foot of the dais. “My dear,” he said, “I have

wonderful news for you.” He beamed at her in a way that made Baxter think better of

his care and concern for his younger daughter.

“As you know,” he continued, “I’ve made it known that I would be seeking

candidates for your hand at the time of Princess Merry’s wedding festivities. A number

of young men of good family and fortune indicated their interest in you, but then, after

that unfortunate incident a few days past, most withdrew their feelers or failed to

pursue the effort.”

He drew in a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. “However, I do have an offer for

your hand from a man well worthy of you.” The king turned to look at Sir James.

Baxter’s heart began to slam against his chest, and his breathing quickened.

Sir James stood up and approached Princess Fanny. “My dear,” he said. “I know

you have had some difficulties in the past, but I remain confident you can learn to

control your baser impulses. I also feel certain that with the right incentives and

guidance, you will be an exemplary wife to someone in my position.”

Baxter had to restrain a strong urge to plant his fist in the man’s face. The tone was

smarmy, confident, and destined to provoke the worst sort of response from the

princess. He’d underestimated how much she’d learned from him, however. Fanny

didn’t say anything, though her right hand closed hard over the bracelet.

The Princess Brat

For a moment Sir James appeared disconcerted by her lack of enthusiastic response.

Then he said, “But of course, you’re overwhelmed by the offer. It’s not every day that a

young lady, even if she is a princess, meets a man as her future husband.”

Fanny continued to stare at him for several long moments. “It is very good of you,

Sir James,” she said, with a meekness that astonished Baxter. “I’m quite overcome. I

never anticipated…Never guessed…”

She glanced wildly around the room, like a trapped animal searching for a way out

of its cage. Briefly she met Baxter’s eyes. She looked panic-stricken. A deep breath

seemed to steady her enough to say, “I’m very grateful to you, Sir James, and to you,

papa, for arranging this. But at the moment, I’m overcome and undone. I know not

what to say. Please allow me to withdraw and consider my good fortune in private for a

time.”

“Of course, my dear,” her father said.

Princess Merry added, to her future husband, “It’s no surprise she’s so

overwhelmed. Had you seen her just a few weeks ago, you’d not have recognized her,

she was such a wild creature. She’s just barely tamed, and can certainly have had no

expectation of making a decent marriage at all, much less to one of such excellent

virtues as Sir James.”

It was a measure of Fanny’s consternation that she either didn’t hear or didn’t react

to her sister’s jabs. She was already making her way out of the room, trying to do it in as

rapid a way as gentility permitted.

Baxter glanced at the king. “Perhaps I should have a talk with her,” he suggested.

“She does seem somewhat befuddled.”

The king nodded and dismissed him.

Baxter caught up with Fanny in the hall, just outside her quarters.

For a moment, she just stopped and stared at him, then her expression collapsed

into despair. “I can’t,” she yelled at him. “I won’t. I can’t marry that man. They can’t

make me.”

Katherine Kingston

He pushed open the door to her quarters and led her inside. “Quiet. You don’t want

everyone in the castle to hear you. Please! Calm down.”

She quieted, but only because the tears ran down her face and the words choked in

her throat. “I can’t wed him. He’s…I can’t.”

“He’s of noble family, decently rich, and generally considered well-favored. Many

women would kill to be in your position, to have such an offer from him.”

She sobbed. “I don’t want him. He has a shady reputation, and he makes me shiver

with dread just to be close to him. I like not the way he looks at me and touches me.”

She stared at him. “Please, My Lord Baxter, surely there is a way to prevent this.”

Baxter drew a deep breath. “I don’t know that I can,” he admitted. “But I’ll discuss

it with your father.”

“If naught else avails, I’ll go back to being the wild, uncivilized shrew I was before

you came. Even he will not want me then.”

Baxter watched her. “I doubt such a tactic would gain you anything save, perhaps,

an even less palatable husband.”

“I fear you may have the right of it,” she admitted. Her eyes widened a moment

later. “And you would have no claim on the reward my father had promised.”

“No,” he said. “The reward is important to me, but not so important as your future

comfort and security. I could not accept any reward in good conscience, knowing it had

been earned at the cost of your happiness.”

“Yet I will have to marry,” she mused. “One man or another of my father’s

choosing. Perhaps Sir James is not so bad a choice at that.”

The Princess Brat

Chapter Sixteen

The next morning, Baxter requested a private audience with the king. Fanny needed

time to herself, so he sent her off to work in the garden while he bearded the royal lion

in his den. He found the king alone, sipping tea from a cup and reading dispatches with

the aid of a pair of magnifying lenses.

“My Lord Baxter,” the king greeted him. “Come in and be seated.”

Baxter followed orders while thanking the king for seeing him. Though politeness

demanded the courtesy, it also gave him time to gauge the king’s mood and decide how

to frame his request.

“Your Majesty—”

Before he could say more, though, the king added, “I have to tell you that I’m quite

pleased with your efforts with Princess Fanny. Despite that incident a few days ago,

you’ve made quite a difference with her. Before your arrival, she certainly would not

have made that pretty apology afterward. I must say, I’d despaired of her ever

behaving well enough to attract any offers of marriage at all, despite my position and

her dower.”

“Your Majesty—”

“No, you need not be so modest about your achievement,” the king said. “You’ve

done very well with Fanny. I would not expect her to be completely reformed in so

short a time, but she is well on the way, and quite acceptable.”

“Really, Your—”

“Sir James is a good match for her. Though he isn’t royalty, as is Princess Merry’s

betrothed, yet he is of a noble family. He has lands and wealth enough to support her

comfortably, and perhaps one day, she’ll bear a son who’ll be my heir. I shall not live

Katherine Kingston

forever, you know, and I will feel more comfortable in my mind if both my daughters

are well settled.”

The king nodded again. “I have not forgotten the question of your reward. I

presume that is what you came to discuss with me? I understand there is a business

venture you have in mind, and you need gold to fund its inception. How much do you

feel you need?”

Baxter drew a deep breath. “Your Majesty, I did come to discuss my reward, but I

had something a bit different in mind.”

The king’s bushy eyebrows rose. “What might that be, my lord?”

“Your daughter. I would like to tender an offer for her myself. I, too, am of a noble

family. Though I am not the lord to extensive lands and do not stand to inherit any, I

believe I can still begin the operation of a business that will eventually support us quite

comfortably, though not, perhaps, in the sort of state that Sir James could provide. It

will be slower without the reward I’d hoped for from you, but I’m confident I can

manage. I’m in love with her, and she loves me.”

He half expected the king to erupt in wrath, thundering at him for his presumption,

or having him removed to a dungeon. Neither occurred. The king remained silent for a

moment, studying him with shrewd, narrowed eyes.

“You are sure of my daughter’s feelings for you?” the king asked.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“But of course she would,” the king said. “With your fine figure and your concern

and support for her. How could she not fancy herself in love with you? And you must

have strong feelings for her to forego the purpose that brought you here in the first

place.” He sighed, looked down at the pile of papers in front of him, then looked back

up at Baxter. “I’ll need some time to think on this. Tomorrow, after the nuptials, I’ll

make my decision.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, for even considering my suit,” he said.

The Princess Brat

The king nodded and looked down at the papers again, dismissing him.

He didn’t see Fanny again until much later in the afternoon. When he sought her

after the noon meal, he learned the king had summoned her and she was closeted with

her father.

They met in the hall as she returned to her quarters to change for dinner. She

stopped when she saw him and stared at him.

“My father said you made an offer for me.” Her face was taut and tightly

controlled. “He said you asked for my hand as your reward rather than the gold you

needed for your business.” She drew in an unsteady breath. “I…I don’t know what to

say.”

“Say you love me,” he suggested.

“I do. You know I do.”

“Then why this frown?” he asked, tipping her face up with a finger under her chin.

“Does your father intend to accept Sir James’s suit rather than mine?”

“He didn’t say which suit he favored. He asked my feelings on the matter.”

“And you told him you preferred to be wed to me. Belike he wasn’t too pleased

about it.”

“I know not. He said nothing in favor of either, even when I told him my preference

would be to wed you, but I was not certain it was the best answer.”

“How is that? You’ve admitted you love me. You loathe Sir James. What other

answer can there be?”

“I accept Sir James’s offer, so that you may receive the reward my father promised

you—the gold you need for yourself and your family.”

He pulled her into his arms and pressed her against his body. “You would do that

for me? I knew you were a lady worth loving—worth two of your sister—but I had no

idea you could rise to such levels of generosity.”

Katherine Kingston

She sighed and leaned into him. “I did not say I told my father I would accept Sir

James’s offer. In truth, he asked only which one I favored, not which I would choose to

accept. He simply told me he had an offer from you in addition to the one from Sir

James. He’ll make a decision tomorrow.” Her fingers dug into his waist as she held onto

him. “I’m torn. A part of me—the better part, perhaps—knows I should want to be

given to Sir James. But all my heart and soul and being clamor to be with you.”

“And mine yearn for you,” he said.

“But what will I do if he chooses Sir James for me?”

“We’ll worry about that if it happens,” he assured her.

* * * * *

The wedding celebration engulfed them the next day, leaving neither of them time

to worry about their own situation. Baxter found himself occupied helping the men

move tables outside onto the green for the feast, setting up torches, and preparing a dais

for the musicians, and another one for the members of the royal families.

He met Fanny once or twice as each of them raced off in one direction or another to

fetch something needed. On the second occasion, she was muttering to herself as she

carried a length of wispy fabric and a few roses just cut from the garden.

They were alone in the corridor at that point, so he stopped her long enough for a

kiss. “How are you, my love?” he asked when he could finally force himself to pull

away. “Surviving this day?”

She sighed heavily. “I’d do better if Merry would ever decide what she wants to do

with her headdress. She’s changed her mind at least six times now. Heaven preserve

me. I’m on the edge of exploding at her again.”

He put a hand on the bracelet he’d given her, which she seemed to wear all the

time. “Be calm. It will soon be over. In a few days she’ll depart to her new home and

will be around to torment you no more.”

The Princess Brat

“Oh.” She sounded startled. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. It makes me a bit sad.

Though she hasn’t been very nice to me, still she’s my sister.” She smiled up at him, a

smile tinged with both sadness and wry humor. “Perhaps I’ll find it easier to cope with

her for today. Thank you, my lord.”

Though all in the castle were busy, there were no insurmountable crises until after

the ceremony had concluded and the festivities were well underway. The ceremony

itself went off smoothly. The bride was lovely and poised; the groom looked proud,

haughty and pleased with the prize he’d won. Each spoke the words of their vows

firmly and clearly.

Afterward the crowds of guests feasted on mountains of food piled on groaning

tables. Wine and ale flowed freely from a long line of kegs. For the first hour or so the

musicians could barely be heard over the murmur of conversations. The quartet paused

periodically to allow toasts to the bride and groom and their families.

Though the crowd comprised folks from every level of society, even those from the

lower classes wore their finest clothes, and it appeared that new garments might well

have been supplied to them for the occasion. Members of the nobility, attired in

brilliant, gaudy garments, glittering with gold, silver and gems, thronged in sufficient

numbers to make it a grand spectacle.

Princess Fanny stood near the dais where her father and the groom’s parents still

sat. She sipped slowly from a cup of wine and talked with a pair of young men in

elaborate finery. Princess Merry and her new husband were nearby, greeting a

continuing stream of well-wishers.

Baxter made his way to Fanny’s side, stopping once or twice to exchange

pleasantries or respond to inquiries, but he sped up when he saw Sir James edging in

the same direction.

They arrived almost simultaneously.

Fanny appeared disconcerted and momentarily unsure who to greet first. The gaze

she turned on him was a bit desperate and begged understanding when she twisted

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toward Sir James, greeted him, and gave him a smile that showed the strain involved in

summoning it.

He didn’t blame her. She might have to live with the man for the rest of her life.

The other man gave him a haughty look. “Lord Baxter, you’re still around? I would

have thought you’d have claimed your reward and been off to your commerce project

by now.” The way he said “commerce” made it sound as though he might have

substituted “murder” or “massacre”.

“Ah, but since I’ve been hired to be Princess Fanny’s guide, I wouldn’t think of

leaving her until her future was securely settled.”

“Did the king not tell you?” Sir James asked. “Perhaps he didn’t feel it necessary to

keep someone in your position informed, but I’ve done the princess the honor of

requesting her hand in marriage. Her future is quite secure. I guard carefully what is

mine, so you may rest assured it is settled.”

“Oh? That’s odd. When I spoke with the king yesterday, he gave no such indication.

He mentioned you had made an offer, but at that time he hadn’t decided whether he

would accept it. I believe there were other offers available.”

Sir James tossed an off-hand shrug. “None so acceptable as mine, I’m sure. It’s all

just a formality. He’ll accept it.”

But Baxter had stopped paying attention to the man’s words. Everything else went

hazy around him. For a moment, he couldn’t say anything, do anything, or see

anything. He could think of nothing other than the startling thing he’d just seen.

Buttons.

A set of gold buttons on Sir James’s overtunic. The buttons were of exactly the same

design as the one he’d pried from his dead father’s fingers.

The Princess Brat

Chapter Seventeen

Baxter’s heart hammered against his chest as the implications sunk in and his brain

struggled to decide what to do about it.

“You doubt me?” Sir James said, the aggressive tone dragging his attention off the

man’s clothes and back to his face.

“I’m quite sure the king is too sagacious to reject out of hand an offer of such

quality as yours,” Baxter replied.

It took the other man a moment to parse that answer. While he did Baxter thought

furiously. He didn’t want to create a stir here at the wedding celebration. He’d

embarrass Fanny’s family and ruin a joyful occasion. It was probably best to say

nothing and wait for a better time to accuse the man.

“Of course,” Sir James said, finally deciding to find a compliment in Baxter’s

response. “The king wants the best possible match for his daughter.”

“I’m quite sure he does.”

Later Baxter wouldn’t remember much about the rest of the day, the conversations

he had, what was discussed, or who he talked to. He did recall that at one point Fanny

looked at him and asked, “Are you quite well, Lord Baxter? You look pale.”

Whatever he answered must have satisfied her. Somehow he made it through the

rest of the afternoon and evening’s festivities.

There was more feasting, singing and dancing the next day, but Baxter couldn’t

bring himself to join in wholeheartedly. In the morning the king notified him that he

would announce his decision concerning Princess Fanny that afternoon. He requested

that Baxter present himself at the time of the mid-afternoon bell. Baxter had ascertained

that Sir James had been summoned for the same time. The accusation would have to be

lodged then, before the king announced his decision, to avoid embarrassing him.

Katherine Kingston

Baxter spent most of the morning chewing over the best way to declare his

knowledge and the likely reaction it would provoke from Sir James. The man would

probably challenge him. Sir James was larger and older, but he was soft in the belly.

Baxter could defeat him in fair battle, but the man had used treachery before and surely

wouldn’t stop at it now.

Fanny noticed his preoccupied air and inquired about it. He admitted he had

matters on his mind but declined to say more. He promised she’d learn of his concerns

soon enough.

After the noon bell, he returned to his quarters to consider carefully what

armaments to wear. His dagger, most certainly. He decided against the sword. Though

it wouldn’t be completely unacceptable, few men wore them during the celebration. Sir

James had not been wearing his and likely wouldn’t. A second dagger in a sheath that

strapped to his forearm lent added security. It wouldn’t show under his long-sleeved

shirt, but could be drawn in seconds. He dropped the gold button into a pocket.

Sir James was already with the king when he arrived, as was Princess Fanny.

Baxter looked over the knight, checking for visible weapons. He breathed a sigh of

relief when he saw no sword. The man no doubt wore a concealed dagger just as he did,

but he could handle that.

“I have made a decision,” the king said, when both men were nearby.

“Your Majesty, forgive my unpardonable rudeness,” Baxter said, “But I must beg

your indulgence for a moment before you continue. I have something of critical

importance to relate.”

A frown flickered across the king’s face and his bushy eyebrows arched. He stared

at Baxter for a moment with thunder in his expression, but then it relented. “Yes, My

Lord Baxter. You may continue.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. You once told me if I ever discovered the identity of the

man who murdered my father, I should tell you. I now know who is that treacherous

snake.”

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“Do you indeed?” the king asked. “Who is it?”

Sir James stood behind the king. At Baxter’s words, his eyes widened and his stance

shifted warily.

“The murderer is here with us this very moment, Sir James.”

Sir James’s face turned ashen for a moment, then went very red. “How dare

you…you miserable crumb…make such an accusation about me?” He dove toward

Baxter, drawing a dagger from under his cloak.

At a signal from the king, several of the guards who’d been lurking nearby rushed

into the fray and separated the men. Three guards held a straining Sir James.

“This is an outrage,” the man yelled. “Your Majesty, surely you cannot countenance

this! I know the man wishes Princess Fanny for himself, but to try to discredit me in

such an underhanded way is the outside of beyond.”

The king looked from one man to the other thoughtfully.

“Lord Baxter, I presume you would not dare make such an accusation without

some basis for your belief.”

Baxter let out the breath he’d been holding. “Yes, Your Majesty. I can prove his

guilt.”

“Then do not delay,” the king advised.

Baxter nodded and drew the button from his pocket. “This was clutched in my

dead father’s fingers. Since he still held it as he died, I conclude it must have been

ripped from the garment of the man who attacked him from behind. My father must

have turned and attempted to fight his attacker, but he succeeded only in ripping a

button from his garment. If you’ll take a closer look at it, Your Majesty, you’ll note that

it’s quite a unique button. Until yesterday, I hadn’t seen its like. But there were several

like it on the tunic Sir James wore.”

“He lies,” Sir James roared. “He pulled that button off my tunic yesterday so he

could concoct this web of lies for you.”

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“That is easily proved.” The king looked toward a guard. “Go and search Sir

James’s quarters while we wait here. Find the tunic that has buttons such as these and

bring it here.”

The guard bowed and left the room.

Sir James fumed and thundered, but narrowed eyes and an expression focused

toward the distance indicated the noise covered scheming and planning. Baxter kept

close watch on him, particularly on his hands.

The guard returned before long, carrying a deep blue, velvet tunic. Gold buttons

marched down the front of the garment. The king cleared the table and the guard

spread the tunic on its surface.

Because he’d been trying to decide what he’d do in Sir James’ place, Baxter was

prepared for him to use the distraction their study of the garment provided to slip out.

Baxter moved to block the man’s way.

Sir James’s expression turned livid. With a flash of his hand, the man drew his

dagger and charged toward Baxter. Baxter saw it and ducked just far enough to the side

to get out of his way, while drawing his own weapon.

Seeing a clearer path to the door, Sir James attempted to push past him. Baxter

reached for him, grabbed his arm and yanked. The man shook off the hold, but lost his

balance in the process. He took a few rushing, off-balance steps, toppled forward and

let out a sharp yell. Baxter steadied himself and approached the prone man, dagger to

the ready. Sir James moved feebly. He made an effort to push himself up but settled for

rolling onto his side. A gush of blood poured down his clothes and puddled on the

floor.

Baxter moved closer. Sir James’s own dagger protruded from his chest, at an angle

that suggested it had likely struck to the heart. A small runnel of blood dripped from

his mouth. He looked up at them. His lips moved. Baxter leaned forward to hear his

words.

“A priest,” the man whispered.

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Baxter relayed the request and attempted to staunch the bleeding with a shirt

someone handed to him. He dared not remove the dagger. Sir James said nothing else

and he died before the priest arrived.

The king had guards remove the body and clean up the blood. Baxter held onto

Fanny, who was obviously shaken by what had passed. While order was restored, a

much more solemn king had wine brought for all of them.

When the room was set to rights and they’d drunk enough wine to settle them

somewhat, the king looked up and said, “Lord Baxter, I hope you’re satisfied with the

revenge you’ve had here. He may not have died at your hand, but it was by your

actions he was brought to it.”

“I am satisfied, Your Majesty.”

“Good. Then there’s one more bit of business to be settled. Or rather two.”

“Two?” He and Fanny asked the question at the same time, sounding like a chorus.

“Yes. Come here, Lord Baxter.” The king sounded so harsh, Baxter wondered if

perhaps he were angry over the bloodshed in his council room. Nonetheless Baxter did

as ordered and approached. The king watched him steadily, no expression to be read on

his face.

“Lord Baxter, in gratitude for your service in avenging the death of my dear friend,

Marko, and in consideration of your future estate, I hereby grant you lordship of the

land of Exalin, which comprises much of the northeastern part of my kingdom, and I

name you Duke of Exalin.”

“Your M-m-m-majesty,” Baxter stammered. “I had no…I didn’t expect.” He

stopped and drew a breath, trying to steady himself. “You leave me speechless, Sire.”

The king smiled then. “From what I know of you, Your Grace, that condition is

quite rare. I’m delighted to be the cause of it in this instance. My reasons for granting

you the honor are quite selfish, however, I assure you. My grandson must have a title,

you see.”

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The king’s smile grew broader. “I also am grateful that you spared me what might

have been a highly uncomfortable scene when Sir James heard my decision. I’ve never

felt quite happy with the man, though I never guessed the depths of his treacherous

nature. Nonetheless, I’d heard enough rumors and felt uncomfortable enough with him

personally that even before the revelation, I was disinclined to trust him with my

daughter’s happiness.”

Fanny rushed to his side and put her arms around him. “Father, do you mean to

say—?”

“A moment, if you please, my dear,” the king chided. He looked at Baxter again.

“You, Your Grace, I have no doubts about. All you said and did convinced me you were

a strong, honorable man, and one, moreover, who came to love my daughter quite

deeply. I give her into your keeping, Your Grace, and ask that you honor and treasure

her as your wife and lady.”

“Father!” Fanny shouted and threw herself onto the king, nearly smothering him in

the process. “Thank you! Thank you!”

When she’d finally released him enough to allow him to breathe again, the king

said, “I’m pleased to see that this decision makes you so happy, my love. One final

thing, and then I’ll allow you to withdraw and begin making your plans. I understand

that you’ll want to view your new estate as soon as possible. I believe Exalin Castle is

quite a lovely place and was kept in fine repair until the old Duke died without issue

when I was a young man. But I hope you’ll spend a great deal of time here at court.

Moreover, I must insist your eldest son spend as much time as can be arranged with

me.”

He paused for a moment. “Merry is now settled with the Crown Prince, who is heir

to a kingdom of his own, and secure in her position. That is an excellent alliance for us

as well.” He sighed lightly before he continued. “I have no sons. Therefore I am

constituting you, Your Grace, and Fanny joint regents to this kingdom, with your eldest

son to be my direct heir.”

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Baxter was stunned into speechlessness again.

The king spared him the necessity of trying to find words at that moment.

“Your Grace,” he said, “I understand that you had plans involving a business

venture, and I fear my actions here must cause some disturbance to those. I regret that,

but only a little. I hope you’ll find compensations. And in truth, I believe you’ll find in

your new position you’ll have the resources to hire a partner who can do whatever

work you wished, while you provide funds and direction.”

Baxter sucked in a breath. “I believe I’ll learn to live with it, Your Majesty. In truth, I

was prepared to live with Fanny in a much more modest way if that were the only way

to have her. With her I have all the riches I could want.”

Fanny and the king both smiled broadly at him. “I’m relieved to find your

speechless state at an end,” the king said. “Go then and make your plans. I’m sure you

have much to say to each other. I now have a great deal of paperwork to do. We’ll

announce your instatement and betrothal tonight, as your sister is scheduled to leave in

the morning.”

He and Fanny restated their thanks and gratitude, then left. They all but raced back

up to her quarters, laughing like children. The people they met on the way stared at

them but none stopped them to comment.

Baxter figured if they wasted no time, they had just enough time before the warning

bell rang for dinner.

When they were in Fanny’s room, with her door shut and barred, they made their

way to her bed, leaving a trail of dropped clothing behind. But as they lay in each

other’s arms, stroking faces and breasts and thighs, Fanny’s expression grew serious

and her hand stilled.

“It’s strange,” she said. “I’m thrilled and happy and can think of little else, yet I also

feel some guilt about it. A man died in our presence just an hour ago. There should be

some regret. Some mourning.”

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Baxter stroked her hair and kissed her cheek. “He was an evil man, who died by his

own hand while trying to escape the long-delayed consequences of his villainy. His end

was fitting, and even in its way, merciful. There’s nothing to mourn for there.”

She nodded and smiled at him. He bent down to lick across her breast and kiss a

nipple. When he sucked it into his mouth and scraped his teeth across it, she bucked

and squealed, all other thoughts forgotten.

He kissed all along her body, moving from breasts down across her belly, and

abdomen, skirting her groin, but moving down one thigh, all the way to her toes. He

drew each individual toe into his mouth and kissed, sucking gently, while she moaned

in ecstasy. He worked his way back up the other leg, to the other breast, where he

worked that nipple to a sharp peak. He bit down on it, hard enough to mix a bit of pain

in with the pleasure. She gasped and her breathing grew quicker. He did the same for

the other tip, nibbling on it until it was just a bit sore.

He felt down along her abdomen and quim, found her nether folds moist and

panting for him.

When he moved between her legs, she opened for him. He plunged into her and all

but drowned in the hot, moist tightness of her. She was warmth and light and all that

was sweet and good in the world to him. She made him crazy.

Nothing could ever be this good. It would never be this special with any other

woman. There wouldn’t be any other women. This was it. He’d found his home, his

center.

Her panting and moaning inflamed him. He pumped harder and harder into her,

trying to prolong it for her, but eventually he could hold on no longer and exploded.

She moved along with him, spasming as he did.

When the shocks wore off, he dropped his head onto her breast. She cradled him

tenderly and kissed his hair. He stuck out his tongue and ran it over the nipple nearest

his mouth.

The warning bell for dinner sounded.

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He looked up and smiled at her. “We have excellent timing, my dear.”

“Like a pair of dancers long partnered,” she answered.

“Not so much long for us,” he corrected, “as well partnered.”

“Well partnered indeed. But now we must needs dress and groom ourselves lest all

guess what we’ve been doing.”

“Some will anyway. You have the look of a well-pleasured woman.”

“And you look like the cat that fell in the cream jug,” she responded, pushing

herself up from the bed.

He grabbed his shoes but couldn’t find his breeches for a moment. “It was your

jug,” he said. “And your cream. Very tasty.”

“You lapped it up.”

“True.” He stopped to kiss her again, then gave her a nudge to get them both

moving.

They just barely made it to the great hall in time for dinner. Befitting his new status,

Baxter was seated beside Fanny at the head table. Before the meal the king stood and

made his announcements concerning the instatement of Baxter as Duke of Exalin and

his betrothal to the princess. The crowd gasped, then cheered and clapped for them.

Several men nearby came over to slap him on the shoulder and offer congratulations.

Unfortunately the king had to add that he had sadder news as well and announced

the death of Sir James. The king referred to it as an unfortunate accident. Cries of

dismay and much whispered speculation broke out among those gathered.

Though the news shocked many, it appeared few actually mourned the demise of

Sir James. Within minutes of the food being served, nearly everyone had returned to

merrier conversation. Loud exclamations, cheers, and laughter sounded from all

quarters of the hall. As they moved around the room for various purposes, nearly

everyone present stopped to congratulate them. Fanny radiated confidence and

happiness.

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Lady Syndal strolled by and stopped to congratulate them. “I knew the two of you

would be perfect together,” she said to Fanny. “From the first moment I saw him, as he

arrived at court, I knew he would be the right man to tame and claim you.”

Princess Merry, eating in near silence with her quiet, rather dour husband, looked

less happy, though she was newly married. Had the wedding night not gone as well as

it might have? He could give the man some advice…nay, better not.

When dinner ended, Merry invited her sister and a number of other high-ranking

ladies to some kind of private social gathering. Baxter let Fanny go reluctantly. Not that

she couldn’t take care of herself, now, but because he missed her company.

He passed the time agreeably enough, talking with some of the other men and a

few others he’d known from childhood. He even made an effort to talk with Crown

Prince Rodo, his soon-to-be brother-in-law.

He was startled, though, to be interrupted in the midst of a conversation with two

old friends of his mother.

“Excuse me, my lord…er, pardon, Your Grace,” the servant said after bowing to

him, “but the Princess Fanny requests that you join her immediately. She said she had a

problem and needed your help.”

Baxter nodded. “Where is she?”

“In the green parlor,” the man answered.

“I’ll go.”

He excused himself to his companions and went in search of the princess. He found

her in the salon with a knot of other young women, including Princess Merry. Fanny

smiled broadly at him as he entered.

“My Lord Baxter, thank you for coming so quickly.” She took his hand, then stood

up to kiss him.

“The messenger said you had a problem?”

“I did,” she answered. “But you’ve solved it now.”

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“How so?”

“Merry and I had a wager over which of us had the more devoted husband. “ She

grinned and cocked her head at a flirty angle. “Or future husband. She also sent a

message to her husband requesting his presence. He has not yet appeared.”

They both looked toward the older princess, who gave them a sour frown.

“Merry maintained that since you had trained me in proper behavior, you would

expect me to come at your call, but you would not do likewise for me. I insisted she was

mistaken, that your devotion to me was as great as mine for you, and it would be bring

you to my side when I sent for you. Thank you, my lord, for not making a liar of me.”

Baxter smiled and kissed her on the cheek. He drew her to a corner of the room and

whispered in her ear.

“You know, you may be my future wife now rather than my student, but I reserve

the right to spank you when needed. If you will play games with me, I may find it

necessary.”

Fanny’s cheeks flushed bright pink. “My lord, I certainly hope you will.”

Later that evening, he did.

About the Author

Katherine Kingston welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website

and email address on her

author bio page

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