The Princess and the Huntsman by Patricia Green Read Free Book Online Page B

bit me!”
    “Ravening?” He stood. “I see nothing.”
    “Light the lamp, fool! I shall show you.”
    Sighing, Tom lit the oil lamp. “Do you show me.”
    Brandywyn held out her pale arm. On it was a small, red bump. “See?”
    “Tis a mosquito bite, Brandywyn. Nothing more. I assure you that you will not perish for lack of blood.”
    “You mock me! And use my name familiarly! I did not give you permission to do so.” She was furious. “Kill it! Find it and kill it!”
    “‘Twould be impossible, Princess . It is too small.”
    “Knave!”
    “There is no need to call me names. It will not change the matter.” He was frowning.
    She rose from the bed and confronted him with hands on her hips. “You defy me? How dare you defy me, you lowly peasant!”
    He faced her squarely and did not bend to a knee as a supplicant should. Brandywyn bristled. “You go too far,” he warned her. “I have done naught to raise your ire so. Back down or I shall show you the measure of my hand on your bottom.”
    The spanking from Smith gave her pause. Was there no end to the mistreatment she would suffer? “I shall tell my father and he will have you gutted and stuffed with oats, like a holiday piglet.”
    He continued to frown at her, towering over her like a near-to-toppling tree. “Do not push me.”
    In fact, she did push him, with her two hands, though it did not move him even an inch. When that didn’t work, she slapped him full on the face. He turned his cheek slightly, but did not flinch. Brandywyn’s eyes rounded and her breath stilled as she saw the fury on his face. She instantly regretted her temper tantrum, but could not back down.
    Tom grabbed her by the waist and bent her over his hip, hiking the shirt up to the small of her back; her bottom was bare, for she had no underclothes. “I am your guardian for the nonce,” he told her. “You will be polite!” With that, he set a resounding slap on her bottom.
    “Ouch! Unhand me! Do you dare to strike a princess? You shall hang from a gibbet!”
    “Hang me, then, but I shall have my pound of flesh first.” He commenced spanking her in earnest. Each blow jarring her through and through. Her bottom had just been beginning to feel better, too, but now, oh, now it was ailing once again. Tom continued to spank her, despite her protests, despite her squirming.
    “Show some manners, Brandywyn!”
    “Varlet!” Her protests were growing weaker and weaker as tears threatened to fall. And still, he spanked her again and again. “Please,” she finally pleaded. “Please stop. I shall be more kind.”
    “I do not believe you,” he said, laying another half-dozen spanks on her fiery buttocks. The pain had rippled down her thigh to her knees along with his hard hand. “And I shall have my bed back this night!”
    “Very well! I relent. Please stop, please!” She was sobbing, her nose running and her mouth and chin trembling. Misery assailed her as she realized that she was a pawn in the hands of men—men who had no desire to listen to her rightful demands.
    With one more resounding smack at the juncture of her two nether cheeks, Tom pronounced the spanking over. “Mind your manners, Brandywyn. You may stay with me until you remember your true identity, but this princess tale should cease. No doubt, your poor treatment by the kidnappers clouded your mind. I shall help remind you of who and what you really are.”
    Despite her woeful condition, she still bristled at the use of her name and was furious about his disbelief.
    “But I am Princess Brandywyn!”
    “Of course you are,” he said, a pitying light in his gaze.
    “Oh! You are a lout!” Still, this was not the time or place to argue over it. She needed to remember that on the morrow she would be heading back home.
    “Get into the bed,” he told her firmly.
    She sniffled and her breath came in sobs, but she followed his command and crawled into the blankets.
    “Move toward the wall.”
    Brandywyn scooted