The Warrior and the Petulant Princess (2 page)

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she blustered.

“Ladies do not have their legs over a horse in such a manner, they possess far more modesty. I can see almost to your knee, and the gossip I’ve heard about the way you’ve treated the young men who call on you! Really, Lizbett, shame on you.”

He spoke with a quiet confidence that was unnerving, and at a complete loss she tossed her head in her usual manner and summoned her spirit.

“You’re not my keeper, Larian, and you vanished without a word so you have no say about me, or about my life, or anything! It is I who has the right to ask the questions. You are, uh, you were just a stable boy. How have you risen so high in your life?”

“No, I am not your keeper,” he frowned ignoring her inquiry, “but if I were responsible for you, you’d have far more in the way of manners; I have yet to hear you say thank you. I stopped you from a dangerous run across the bridge, then backed up my horse so you could move over it first.”

“Thank you? You want me to thank you?” she exclaimed. “Not that I owe you an explanation, but the shock upon seeing you made me almost fall off. Should I thank you for that as well? Could you not have sent word?”

“My wish was to surprise you at the castle. I had no expectation of running into you on my ride there. I was just as surprised as you.”

During the entire exchange Scarlet had been moving about, pawing at the ground and circling with agitation, while the big black horse had stood calmly still, content and happy.

“Hmmm,” Larian mumbled eyeing her fidgety mare, “it appears you’re not the only who could benefit from some training.”

“You are insufferable!” she spat wishing she could bring herself to leave. “You weren’t like this when I knew you before. You were kind, and sweet, and-”

“Where are you headed?” he interrupted.

“What business is it of yours?” she snapped.

“Lizbett, you must not be so quick to anger,” he said softly. “Perhaps we should start over. Wherever you’re headed I can accompany you. We can catch up. We should not begin our reunion this way.”

She paused, staring at the boy who had become a man. He had once made her skin tingle and her stomach do a strange flippity flip, and she had adored him with her whole heart; suddenly it felt like only yesterday, and in that moment she knew it could happen again, the tingling, the happiness, the thrill; she knew it in the deepest part of her, and she wanted it.

“You’re right, Larian,” she purred, smiling so sweetly it would make the bees hum with joy, “I do thank you for allowing me to cross, and of course I would be so happy for you to join me. Please don’t be angry with me.”

Much to her astonishment he threw back his head and laughed out loud.

“What’s so funny?” she asked trying to control her annoyance.

Rather than answer he continued to laugh, finally managing to compose himself.

“Lizbett, my dearest, Lizbett. Do not worry yourself, I’m not angry with you at all.”

“Oh, good,” she muttered a little unsure of herself.

“You are not to blame.”

“Blame for what?” she asked her irritation unexpectedly returning. “What are you talking about?”

“Where are you headed?” he repeated ignoring her question.

“To the waterfall.”
Do you remember, Larian, taking me there and laying next to me in the nearby meadow?

“Ah, the waterfall, yes,” he nodded.

“That’s where I’m headed, and if you want you can come,” she said impudently, though she hadn’t meant to. She had wanted to welcome him to join her, but the way he had laughed…

CHAPTER TWO

I
t wasn’t a long ride to the waterfall, and feeling somewhat unnerved she remained quiet, hoping Larian would carry the conversation and talk about where he’d been and what he’d been doing during his long absence, but all he did was make the occasional comment on the lush beauty the new season had brought forth.

Scarlet couldn’t stop prancing while Larian’s mount walked or trotted, moving easily from one gait to the next, and she couldn’t help but be jealous of his horse’s good behavior.

As they crested a small hill the meadow and waterfall came into view; the water was abundant and brilliant as it flowed down the mountainside, and the meadow was dense and rich. Dismounting and allowing their horses to graze they began to walk towards some weeping willows, a place they had often frequented.

“It is dazzling,” she sighed relieved to have reached their destination. “I think this is my favorite place in the whole kingdom.”

“Yes, it is truly lovely here,” Larian said softly.

She looked up at his face and saw the memory of their youth, their days spent laying in the thick carpet of grass, his lips on hers, making her feel things, wish for things.

“You’re remembering the days we spent here,” she said wistfully.

“How could I not?” he admitted. “I have heard you have turned down many proposals. Are your memories of us the reason why? Have you been waiting for me as I asked you to?”

It was such an unexpected and direct question it caught her off guard. She wanted to say, yes; she wanted to admit her adoration of him had not waned, not one bit; she wanted to tell him that none of the men had made her stomach do that flippity flip thing, but her pride refused the confession.

“I’ve turned them down because men are such bores and I’m smarter than all of you,” she replied, an evasive answer to his solemn and sincere questions.

“Perhaps,” he said slowly, “that is not the whole truth.”

“It is the truth,” she flashed at him.

“There’s that quick, nasty tongue,” he remarked raising one scolding eyebrow. “Whether it be me or another, you need a man who will help you control that naughty temper and keep you happy and fulfilled, but in a manner that constantly reminds you of your place.”

“My place? Larian, you forget I’m a Princess who will one day be Queen. I don’t have a place, and even if I did no such man exists,” she answered testily. “Take you, for instance,” she said looking up at him, challenge her in violet eyes. “You took advantage of an innocent girl, then left her, promising to return, but you didn’t, you didn’t even write.”

“But I have returned,” he smiled. “Am I not here?”

“A bit late if you ask me,” she muttered.

“I thought we were going to start over, no more angry words.”

“I’m given to mood swings,” she declared, “and when a mood takes me I go with it, and that, Larian, is just the way I am.”

“Is that so? I disagree. You simply refuse to control yourself and that is not acceptable, especially not for one who will rule a kingdom, and I must say again, the manner in which you ride your horse; it’s not right. You lay claim to being a Princess, yet you set such a dreadful example. How is it you’re able to get away with such brazen behavior? Surely your father must object.”

“My father has nothing to say about it, and as I said earlier, I shall ride as I like,” she snapped, then added, “This conversation is irritating to me. We shall speak of something else.”

“Shall we indeed?” he said moving towards her. “You’ve decreed it have you?”

Something in the way he was approaching her, his raised eyebrow, the look in his clear aqua eyes, made her stomach do the strange flippity flip; the flippity flip she had missed so much; the flippity flip she would feel when he once languished his lips upon her neck, or hold her hand, or trace her lips with his fingertips before kissing her. Feigning a confidence she did not feel, she replied,

“I am a Princess, and will one day be a Queen, and as such I can dictate the conversation, and you, Larian, you will bow to my wishes.”

“Lizbett, you may call yourself a Princess, and you may have been born a Princess, but you behave like a spoiled, recalcitrant, child. To own the title, Princess, you must behave like a Princess, have grace and charm, manners and-”

“I have all those things,” she interrupted, angrily staring at him.

“And as a spoiled, recalcitrant child,” he continued, ignoring her remark, “I feel bound to treat you as such. I cannot allow you to continue to behave in such an outrageous manner, it would be irresponsible. What I am about to do I must; I must for the Kingdom, but more than that I must for you.”

“What are you babbling about now?” she demanded, and though she was feigning a brave front the flippity flip thing in her stomach was telling her something dramatic, and possibly unpleasant was about to happen.

“I promised you that I would return when I was practiced and worthy. That time has come, Lizbett, and though you deny it I see in your eyes the true reason you have rejected all those who came calling for your hand. You have been waiting for me; in your heart you knew I would return to you.”

His voice was soft, but confident and firm, and with a swift move he grabbed her hand, yanking her towards him.

“No, you’re wrong,” she quivered, her heart beating against her chest as the threat of prideful tears stung her eyes. “Let me GO! How dare you, you’ve become a brute!”

“Stop it, Lizbett, we both know I speak the truth.”

He began walking, pulling her with him, and though she twisted and turned her wrist she was no match for his tight grip.

“Where do you think you’re taking me?” she shrilled.

“To that fallen tree trunk, and I told you to be quiet!”

The will behind his command overwhelmed her, and she felt a vague, unfamiliar fear that sent her flippity flip tumbling furiously around her stomach.

“Stop, Larian, please, you’re…you’re scaring me.”

“You know I care for you, and any pain you’re about to experience is for your benefit.”

“Pain? What pain? Larian, stop, what are you-?” but he’d reached his destination, and before she was able to finish he sat down and jerked her across his knee.

“AAARGH! LARIAN!”

“Now, Princess, we shall see who dictates the conversation.”

Holding her firmly he began bouncing his hand off her upturned bottom, eliciting loud squeals of shock.

“STOP! STOP!” she wailed. “HOW DARE YOU!”

“You have been needing this for a very long time,” he exclaimed, his hand landing blow after blow. “I will not bare you completely, but I’m going to lift your dress in a minute so you’d better prepare yourself.”

“No! Don’t you dare! I shall have you thrown in a dungeon and-”

“Until I tell you otherwise you will address me as Sir,” he interjected, pausing his hand to issue his decree, “and if you continue to protest I will absolutely expose your flesh, so please, keep up your kicking and screaming, I would love to see the results of my handiwork.”

Though her face was burning with humiliation and anger, it turned an even deeper crimson at the suggestion, and while she was appalled and astonished she wasn’t stupid; in her heart she knew him, and she had no doubt he would do as he threatened.

A moment later she felt it; he was lifting her dress. She wanted to cry out, to protest loudly and kick with all her might, but his threat rang in her ears; she wouldn’t be able to stand it if he exposed her.

Slowly, deliberately, he moved layer after layer of petticoats over her back; he had been taught well and was no stranger to the deed. He was hoping that his agonizing pace would propel her into protestations so he could keep his promise and pull down her drawers, but it seemed she was as smart as she was beautiful and willful. Finally staring at her round contours, hidden only by the thinnest piece of silk, he rested his palm, relishing the sight and feel of her almost naked backside.

“Now, Lizbett, you shall feel the heat of my hand, and you shall take notice.”

She was horrified that he was staring at her underwear, but at the first slap of his stinging hand her modesty fell away.

“OW! That hurt.”

“Yes, Lizbett, it’s supposed to hurt,” he declared landing a second.

“OUCH! Sir, please!”

“Now Lizbett,” he continued as his hand rose and fell, “you will no longer be rude, or ride your horse in that unladylike fashion, and you will listen to your father and do as he says.”

“Yes, Sir, yes, I promise” she cried, wincing and crying out as each slap fell, “now would you, please, STOP!”

“The days that you issue commands are over,” he admonished. “I shall spank you as you deserve, and if you dare to bark at me again I will keep my promise and remove this thin undergarment.”

“NO! Please, Sir, no, I’ll be good, I’m sorry!”

“Obedience! Finally! That’s something new for you, isn’t it Lizbett?”

“Yes, sir,” she whimpered.

“I am going to finish what I’ve started and spank you as I see fit. If you truly don’t want me to bare your bottom, I suggest you take your discipline without further argument. I will not warn you again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir, I understand,” she bleated.

Resuming his work he laid on slow solid swats, allowing the impact of each to register, and when he delivered a final volley dispatched with stinging speed, though she gasped and wriggled she did not protest.

“I’m done for a moment, Lizbett,” he said, his voice suddenly tender as he smoothed his hand over the flimsy fabric. “I’ve made very clear what I expect from you. Is there anything you don’t understand? It’s quite simple, behave as a Princess should.”

“I understand, Sir,” she whimpered.

“Next time I see you riding you’ll be in the proper saddle, correct?”

“Yes, Sir,” she stammered.

“And if someone, anyone, is kind to you, extends a favor, what will you do?”

“Say thank you.”

“Excellent. You see, you know exactly how to behave. Your lack of manners and grace is nothing more than conceit and attitude, isn’t it, Lizbett?”

“Yes, Sir,” she murmured as a fresh streak of humiliation washed through her.

“Good girl,” he crooned as his hand continued to rub away the sting. “The first step in correcting your ways is admitting you know better.”

Lizbett felt a warm, strange, wonderfulness, and she suddenly had a great need to curl herself into his lap.

“You may crawl off now. Lay at my feet and I will hold you as I used to.”

As she slid off him on to the grass, her petticoats and dress falling around her, he dropped on the ground beside her and immediately wrapped her in his arms. The smell of her hair, the fit of her body against his, the press of her breasts against his chest, was familiar and warm and he felt gloriously complete.