Page 13 of Tamed for Her Pleasure

It is insanely hot that the man knows how to handle himself, weapons, and me.

He does a double take as he glances across at me, and his nostrils flare.

I don’t even care that he is likely scenting my arousal—I believe I like that he does.

His eyes narrow. “Don’t give me any trouble, little girl. We shall ride out to meet your father to speak. There is more at stake than your mischief. A lass mated to two of my clansmen has been taken prisoner. She is with child and already bonded. If your father does not yield both the lass and the alpha he holds, make no mistake, there will be war.”

My loyalty should be to my father and whatever he intends, but I’ve already abandoned that cause. Instead of talking to my father, I snuck out of the city and got myself taken prisoner.

“I know,” I admit. “I spoke to Aston in the prison. He impressed upon me the sacred nature of their bond and his love for the omega. I left the city to find his mate, Lor… or you, should Lor have fallen. My father will exchange them for me.”

He blinks a few times before his expression turns thunderous.

“Why the fuck did you not say?!”

I lift my chin. “I was distracted, then vexed, then distracted again.”

“Lass, you are in so much fucking trouble. It has not escaped my notice that you did not get the bare bottom spanking I promised.”

“Sire! We are assembled!” A guard calls from beyond my tent.

“I will be out when I am fucking ready!”

Goodness, he has just ordered an entire army to wait while he… he can’t really intend…

He cracks his knuckles before unhooking his axe and resting it on the nearby map-covered table. “You will be in a better frame of mind to behave afterward, mark my word.”

“You can’t mean to spank me now.” My voice is little more than a squeak. I take a step back. I should reach for a dagger, but we’ve already been there several times, and the foolish male would keep coming at me even should I stab him.

Common sense dictates that we yield to the hail of his warrior and make haste to meet with my father.

Only Alfred is not like anyone I have met. I get a firm impression he does not make idle threats. If he says he will spank my bare bottom, then I believe he will.

“It is for your own good,” he says. “Clearly, you have been spoiled that you thought this matter of such trivial importance.”

“It was not that?—”

“It is a tragedy that no one has cared for you enough to correct you,” he cuts me off.

I frown. I’m a princess, and many covet my enviable life. Everybody cares about me. My father is indulgent and gives me anything I desire. Oh, he sometimes complains bitterly before he yields.

I get the strangest impression that Alfred’s determination to correct me comes from a place of deep caring. This rough barbarian sees me in ways no one else has. Worse, he is right. No one has ever held me accountable for my actions.

I have done wrong. I should have explained myself yesterday. It was no lie when I said I was distracted, but that does not mitigate my actions nor lessen the crushing guilt I feel when I remember Aston’s desolate expression when he spoke of his worry for his mates.

Alfred sits down.

Why does he sit down?

And pats his lap. “Come along, princess. We don’t have all day. I have a king to set straight, possibly a battle later, and the days are short at this time of year.”

Is he joking?

No, he is not joking. He wants me to go over, to accept this punishment, which feels so much harder than when he held me down and spanked me yesterday.

Beyond the tent, I sense that many are waiting.

I swallow.

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