Aftermath (11 page)

“I am not sure what you mean.”

“Open your eyes, Braedon. And more importantly,” she said, laying her hand on his chest, “open your heart.”

She inclined her head toward the far end of the ballroom then walked away.

He looked at Erin and Donny, watching them laughing and enjoying themselves with strangers.

Strangers. Not family, not him, but strangers, dancing with his sister and playing with his little brother.

Several of his guard were talking to Donny. Donny looked up at them with stark admiration in his eyes.

He eyed their battle gear and their swords with great awe. Erin was dancing gaily with a young man from a fine family, the boy’s parents watching closely.

Braedon realized he knew nothing of his brother and sister, had not involved himself in either their upbringing or their lives in any way.

Striding toward them, he stopped first in front of Erin. The young boy she danced with backed away quickly, bowing his head. Erin’s cheeks colored a bright pink and she dropped her chin to her chest.

Did she think he would berate her for something?

He realized he had no idea how to even begin.

“You look…very pretty tonight, Erin.”

Her head shot up and her eyes widened. “I do?”

“Yes. May I have this dance?”

Her smile made her eyes brighten. At that moment she reminded him of their mother. He told her so as he swept her into his arms and moved her into the center of the ballroom. Her cheeks pinkened.

“Thank you, Braedon. People say I look like Mother. It makes me very happy to think so. I wondered if you would be upset to think I looked like her.”

“And why do you think that would upset me?”

“Because if I reminded you of her it would make you sad. I never want to make you sad. You have already had enough sadness in your life.”

His heart tore in two. For years he had ignored her, yet she still cared about him, still loved him. He did not deserve it. He pressed his palm to her cheek. “Sweet Erin. I love you and I beg your forgiveness for not being as attentive as I should have been. You are growing into such a beautiful young lady. So much like our mother I can see I will have to keep a much closer watch on you lest some young man thinks to sweep you away before I am ready to let you go.”

She smiled, her face beaming with light and happiness. He danced her over to the young man and kissed her hand, then bowed before her, turning next to his little brother. “Donny, come here.” Donny scurried over. “I did not do it, Braedon. And if I did, I promise not to do it again.” Braedon tried not to smile. “I see. I understand you have a fascination with swords.” Donny looked at his shoes. “The sword was just lying there. I did not know it belonged to you. I promise not to touch it again.”

Braedon’s lips quirked but he hid it behind his hand. “I see. What do you think we should do about this, Donny?”

Donny kept his gaze down. “I do not know. I am sorry, Braedon. It was a very nice sword and I polished it like your guard told me to. It was very heavy too.”

“I believe I know exactly what we should do. Tomorrow morning you will report to Gerard for military exercises and begin your training.”

Donny’s head shot up and his eyes widened. “Really, Braedon?”

“Aye. You are plenty old enough. But you must take your training seriously and do everything Gerard tells you. Understand?”

“Oh yes. Thank you, Braedon!”

The boy rushed up and threw his arms around Braedon’s middle. Braedon choked back emotion and ruffled Donny’s hair, realizing he should have been this child’s father figure from birth. He had been failing miserably in his duties for years.

That would stop here and now.

“You did well,” Nadine said later after the party began to dissipate.

“I have been a fool,” Braedon said, nursing his cup of ale. “It took an outsider like Trista to point it out to me.”

“Aye. That it did. And you owe her the biggest apology of all.”

“Where is she?” he asked.

“I do not know. She has been avoiding you all night.” And like the coward he was, he did not even look for her, knowing he needed to speak to her but wanting to put it off as long as possible. But now he could no longer avoid saying what needed to be said. “I am not very good at putting emotions into words. Whenever I open my mouth, I seem to insult her.”

“You did a very fine job with Erin and Donny,” Nadine said. “Just speak from your heart with Trista too.”

He nodded and went in search of her, having no idea what it was he would say when he found her.

Once again Trista stood in the cool, calming forest of D’Naath, wondering if this time she shouldn’t just make the long trek back to her castle, despite the fact it would take several days to get there.

Would her father welcome her or would he send her back to Braedon? Somehow she knew going back to her father would only result in him sending her back to Greenbriar.

Back to Braedon.

She sighed and sat on the grass, lifting her skirt to tickle her toes at the water’s edge. She looked up at the moon, wishing it would provide answers. Instead, the silvery orb stared silently back at her.

It seemed no matter what she tried to do, she would never be able to please Braedon. He thought her immature, foolish, a child.

Oh he enjoyed fucking her, of course. Then he thought her a woman. But when it came time to talk with her, to treat her as his queen, he berated or belittled her. No more. She could not live with a man who treated her so. She would not subject herself to his constant insults.

It was time to stop hiding in the forest and live with the way things would be. This was her punishment for her foolishness, for trying to help her sister. Now she had sealed her own fate and had fallen in love with a man who did not love her back. She had done exactly what she swore she would not do. Braedon had no feelings for her other than lust. And lust died, like leaves on a vine when winter breezed in and stole the life from it.

That is what he would do to her. Her love and happiness would wither and die under the hot sun of Greenbriar and she could do nothing about it.

And she could blame no one but herself, her own folly.

Tears slid down her cheeks and she swiped them away, standing up and drying her toes in the soft grass.

‘Twas time to stop feeling sorry for herself and act like a woman grown. She would be queen and she would love her people. If Braedon did not care for and love his brother and sister, then she would be mother to them both. She had plenty to love and to love her back, even if the king did not share his heart with her.

“Trista.”

So lost in thought she had not heard him approach, she jumped when Braedon spoke her name. Her hand flew to her chest to calm her thumping heartbeat. “I did not hear you. You frightened me!” His lips quirked. “You? Magical faerie and you did not hear my approach?”

“I was thinking.”

“I see.” He put his hands behind his back and stepped toward her, so handsome and imposing as he swaggered along the banks of the stream and stopped in front of her. He picked up a curl of her hair that rested on her breast and teased it between his fingers.

“Why are you here, Braedon?”

“I seek my betrothed.”

“I was about to go back to the castle.”

“I wish to speak to you. Here will do.”

She waited to hear what he had to say, certain now that he had her alone he would berate her for the party. Nothing he said could hurt her more than he already had.

“I have been watching you the past week.”

And still she waited, but he said nothing further. “And?”

“You have learned much about your duties.”

“Yes, I have.”

“You have done…an adequate job.”

She snorted. She supposed, for Braedon, that could be considered a compliment. “Thank you.”

“However…”

Ah. Now she knew what was coming.

“You cannot have parties without my permission. ‘Tis not allowed.” Sniffing, she turned her head away and looked into the forest, refusing to let him see the tears pooling in her eyes.

“Therefore, I will have to punish you.”

Jerking her head back to look at him, her eyes widened. “What did you say?”

“I said you will be punished for arranging the celebration without permission.” How dare he?! Punish her? Surely he could not be serious to assume that he would beat her for having a party at the castle? Why he… “Braedon, what are you doing?”

“Undressing.”

She watched in confusion as he removed his clothing, taking his time and making no effort to explain why he had to be naked to punish her. “Did you not just say that you were going to punish me?” He smiled. “Aye.”

“Then I ask again, what are you doing?”

“And I answer again. Undressing.”

Naked, his cock already hard and magnificently showcased in the moonlight, her mouth watered. How could she be so enraged and aroused at the same time? This was ridiculous! She hated him and wanted him with a ferocity that astounded her. The man was making her mad!

“Remove your clothing, Trista,” he commanded.

“No.” She lifted her chin.

“I said, remove your clothing. You are to be punished.”

“I will not do as you say. This is insane.”

“Do it or I will strip you myself.”

Her sex swelled and moistened at the thought, fury and desire mixing together and confusing her. What was happening to her? She stood firm, refusing to budge or do his bidding.

In one swift move he was upon her, jerking the laces of her dress apart. Though she did not fight him, she did not help him either other than to retract her wings to keep them from becoming injured. Instead, she stood rigid while he stripped the dress from her body. Every glide of his hand across her bare flesh was like a flame against her skin.

She both loathed and craved Braedon at this moment. Confusion reigned inside her and she needed the counsel of her sisters, these emotions and sensations too foreign to comprehend. He was furious with her, yet he sprouted an erection. She was angered at him, yet her cunt swelled and heated, spilling cream of arousal down her thighs. How could this be?

Braedon sat on the stump of a fallen tree and pulled Trista over his lap. She fought him mightly, to no avail. He held her firm within his grasp. “For defying me, you will be given the sound spanking I have threatened you with and should have given you long ago.”

“Braedon, you will do no such thing!”

But before she could finish speaking, his hand made contact with the bare skin of her buttocks with a resounding swat. She cried out at the hot sting and jerked against his thighs. He held her in place with his hand against her back, but instead of slapping her bare behind again, he rubbed the spot he had just spanked then caressed her thighs, coming close to touching her heated pussy.

Was he teasing her?

Trista stilled, realizing that after the first uncomfortable swat, the tender ministrations he gave were not at all unpleasant. In fact, they were quite, quite nice, indeed.

But then he spanked her again, only this time she realized something. His swats felt…good. Stimulating, actually, when followed by a tender caress. Her core heated and she licked her lips. She found herself anticipating the next time he would spank her, the next time he would caress her, hoping he would touch her pussy, her clit, massage the ache forming between her legs.

She began to relax against him, move against his thighs. She moaned when he slapped her buttocks, even lifted up into the spanking to generate more of the fiery heat when his hand made contact with her skin.

Stars, these were amazing sensations!

“I think you are enjoying this spanking,” he teased, his voice low and dark.

“Aye,” she whimpered, no longer caring that she begged. “Please, Braedon. More.”

He smoothed his hand over her buttocks then came down hard on one globe before sliding between her legs to cup her wet mound. He swatted her pussy, though not as hard as her buttocks, and she cried out at the delicious sensation. Sparks flew to her core and she nearly had an orgasm.

Then he withdrew his hand, concentrating on hard, punishing swats to her behind again. Oh, it hurt. But it was indescribably erotic too. And as soon as she thought she could take no more, as soon as she felt pain, he would stop spanking her, rubbing the spots he had smacked, circling her tender flesh with gentle caresses.

Her buttocks were on fire, her pussy needy. She spread her legs wider and he swatted her cunt again.

“You are a very bad girl, Trista. Drop to your knees and suck my cock.” He pulled her off his lap and she readily complied, eagerly engulfing his hard shaft between her hungry lips. His own cream spilled onto her tongue as he thrust his cock into her mouth, holding the back of her head as he fed her.

She sucked him hard, licking the juices he gave her, loving the taste and texture of him. But even in this he punished her, because all too soon he pulled his shaft from her lips and drew her onto his lap once again.

“More?” he asked, gently rubbing her buttocks.

Her pussy clenched in spasm. “More,” she begged.

The spanking was welcome. She knew not this pleasure, but oh how she enjoyed it. Spreading her legs again, she whimpered when he swatted her cunt again, feeling the heat and wetness of her juices as they poured from her. Braedon rubbed her there, where she ached the most, taking her closer to the climax she craved, but then pulled his hand away to smack her again, repeating the process over and over again until her rear felt like it was on fire and her pussy throbbed with an incessant, pounding pulse of need.

He finally stopped spanking her and concentrated on her pussy, driving his fingers inside her, stroking her, gathering her juices then withdrawing to coat her clit with her own cream. When she thought she could bear it no more, he slid his hand along her slit again and between the globes of her buttocks to coat her anus.

“Such a beautiful ass you have, Trista,” he murmured, keeping one hand firmly planted on the small of her back.

She wriggled against him, positioning her pussy against his thigh, anything so her clit would make contact with his flesh. His hard cock jutted against her hip, but he ignored her silent pleas, instead circling the tight hole of her backside with her juices. She had never felt such incredible sensation there before. It was like magic! So intense, such a feeling of needing something more. She loved the feeling of his fingers circling the tight passage.