With a chuckle of satisfaction Robert Dudley suddenly withdrew from her. “I have learned to control my body, sweet Skye. I am not quite ready yet to yield to passion. Why-we have scarce begun, my pet! You’re much too delicious an armful to devour so quickly. I am now in the mood to play with you for a while.” He eyed her lasciviously. “What a pretty little girl Papa has. Is she a good little girl?” He looked to her questioningly, and when she looked back at him blankly, he said, “You must play along, my sweet Skye. You must call me Papa. Didn’t you and Southwood ever play such games?”
She shook her head, and he chuckled again. He sat up and pulled her onto his lap. “Such games can be fun, my pet. Come now, and tell Papa if you’re his good little girl.”
“ I… yes.”
“Come, Skye, don’t be shy with me. Are You Papa’s good little girl?”
“Yes-Papa.”
“Ah ha!” He pounced upon her answer, grinning toothily. “Now here’s a small lie, sweetness. No one can ever be good all the time, now can they?”
“No-Papa.”
*Then you have lied to me, my sweet naughtiness.”
“Yes, Papa.” God, but the man was a fool!
“Then I must punish you, my wicked little girl.”
“No! Dudley, this is ridiculous!”
“Ah, wouldn’t be defiant with your papa? I shall definitely have to punish you!” And quickly Lord Dudley turned Skye over his knee and, raising his hand, began to spank her. She shrieked and tried to wriggle free but, laughing delightedly at her reaction, he paddled her harder until her bottom tingled.
She had only been spanked once before in her entire life. It had happened when her father had sent her home to learn how to be a lady instead of a sailor. She had spent the week annoying her older sister Peigi, and Peigi had finally spanked her. Skye had retaliated quickly by filling her sister’s bed full of wriggling, live crabs. No one since had ever spanked her.
“By God! By God!” she heard him pant as she tried to escape him. “That saucy backside of yours begs for spanking. How your little cheeks blush rosy for me, my pet.” Now he was lifting her up and quickly pushing her face down upon the bed. “No! Damn you, Dudley, no!” she sobbed, knowing full well what he intended. But he was already on her, holding her down by the neck while he pushed carefully into her in the Greek fashion. “Bastard! Boy lover!” she snarled at him, but he only laughed. “Your little rose is tightly closed to me now, but in time ‘twill stretch to receive me as eagerly as your sweet cunny does.” For a few moments he used her thusly, and the terrible memories of her first husband and his abuses came racing back to assail her. Then he withdrew from her and, turning her over, thrust into her in proper man-woman fashion.
This time Dudley was ready to allow his own passion full control. After he had satisfied her once, he took his own release. Skye did not think it possible to hate a human being as much as she now hated him. Even once sated, he could not leave her be. Pulling her onto her side and into the curve of his arm, he stroked her perfect, small breasts, the shapely curve of her hip, the soft round of her bottom. “Damme, sweetheart, you were fashioned for loving. That silken skin of yours would rouse a eunuch. Still, I would prefer a bit more fire from you.”
“Oh, no, my lord! You can force me to your bed with threats against me and my children and you can order me to perform whatever perversions please you, but you can never force my emotions. Do you suddenly find the possession of my person not enough for you?” She could not disguise the triumph in her voice, and she hoped it rankled him.
Lord Dudley was far too sophisticated the courtier to be easily angered by her barbs. Her very inaccessibility had intrigued him in the first place, and her distaste still did. He could force her body to yield itself, but he wanted to hear her cry of surrender echoing in his ears. At the moment, however, all he heard was defiance. He pulled her beneath him again, excited by that defiance. “Whoreson!” she hissed.
“Bitch!” His mouth savaged hers as she raked her nails down his back, and bit at his lip. “Owwww!” Dudley pulled away from her but laughed when he saw the look of battle in her eye. “Little Irish barbarian,” he murmured in her ear. “I fully intend taming you, and I will!”
“You’ll grow old trying, my lord!”
“Why sweet Skye, you give me hope,” he shot back, deliberately twisting her words as he jammed his knee between her soft thighs, forcing them open. Now Skye tried to claw at his eyes, and Robert Dudley caught her hands and, pulling them above her head, successfully immobilized her while he once again assaulted her. Then, sated for the moment, he turned on his side and fell asleep, one leg thrown carelessly over her body, imprisoning her. She lay rigid with fury. He was not going to leave her alone. Her coldness intrigued him, yet if she could pretend passion, he would be equally intrigued. Dear God, if only the Queen would answer her letter favorably so she could get out of this! The Earl of Leicester stayed two days and three nights at Lynmouth, and there was only one thing upon which he and his hostess agreed during that time. That agreement centered about little Lord Southwood. “He’s Geoffrey’s son, and no doubt about it!” said Dudley admiringly. “By God, if he were mine I’d burst my buttons. You’ve bred a fine son, madam. Are your Irish sons as fine? I have not yet had the opportunity to greet them.”
“They are in Ireland,” she answered.
“I was given to understand that they were here with you.” “Only part time,” she said sweetly. “Ewan is, after all, the O’Flaherty of Ballyhennessey. It is necessary that he and his younger brother remain on his estates part of the year. They have taken their betrothed wives with them, and are at present in the safe custody of my uncle, the Bishop of Connaught, and my stepmother, Lady Anne O’Malley.”
“Their betrothed wives?”
“Gwyneth and Joan South wood. Geoffrey and I betrothed our children over a year ago. They all adore each other. Is it not fortunate?” Her beautiful face radiated innocence.
“Southwood had another daughter. Where is she?” Robert Dudley’s voice was very carefully controlled.
“Susan? Susan is with Lord and Lady Trevenyan’s household down in Cornwall. She was matched with their heir a long time ago. I do believe Lady Trevenyan and Susan’s mother were cousins.” “So only your daughter and son are here? You’re clever, my sweet Skye. Far cleverer, frankly, than I had anticipated. Still I do hold the trump card with Robin, don’t I?” He smiled. “I must return to Court today lest my dear Bess grow suspicious, but I will return as soon as I can. When I do I will look forward to more pleasant hours in your bed.”
She made a face at him, and he laughed as he raised her hand to his mouth, and kissed her fingertips. Soon Dudley took his leave, slowly kissing her hand again. Smiling for the benefit of her servants, she said in an undertone, “You’re a pig, my lord.” Dudley laughed again, and rode off as he had come. Singing. Free of him at last, Skye fled her castle and walked the cliffs above the sea. The bright day and the brisk clean wind helped to lift some of her melancholy, but she still felt dirtied. She had almost forgotten that men like Dudley existed. Dom O’Flaherty had been like Dudley, though lacking his refinements. But Dom had been dead for many years and in the love and tenderness and warmth of men like Khalid and Geoffrey she had almost forgotten that there were men whose sexual satisfaction was gained only by the pain and shame they inflicted.
The next day, however, Skye had a happy surprise. Robert Small had returned from his long voyage. Stopping at Wren Court only long enough to assure Dame Cecily of his safety, he came directly to Lynmouth. From her favorite retreat high upon the open battlements, she recognized his dearly familiar form upon his little bay gelding. Gathering up her skirts, Skye flew from the top of the castle down the winding flights of stairs out into the courtyard and onto the drawbridge.