Robbie’s voice, crisp, matter-of-fact. Who would imagine he’s just thrashed me almost senseless?
I offer no protest as I’m hauled bodily onto his lap, and swathed in the rough warmth of that thick plaid he promised me. Even my toes are tucked up, cosy in the woollen cocoon. His arms are around me, and I’m pressed close against his hard, powerful chest. I should be fighting, turning away. I should hate this man, this vile, sadistic bully who has manhandled me, tied me up, forced me to strip, then beaten me. But I don’t. Far from it. Instead I allow him to lift me, still cuddled up against his chest, and carry me to the low shelter beneath the oak. Will is already inside, kneeling beside a small pile of twigs, which he is attacking with a flint.
Robbie squats inside the hut and I turn toward his warmth, his solid, comforting safe presence. I curl my fingers in his sheepskin tunic, gripping him as though he was my anchor in a churning sea of confusion and hurt. The crackle of fire igniting the twigs, followed by the welcome wash of heat against my back, tells me that Will has succeeded in producing flames. I’ll be warm soon, and I’m at ease with my lot right at this moment. Or I will be.
“How did you know? That I’m not a boy?”
Robbie chuckles. I can feel the rumble, deep in his chest. “Sweetheart, you’re a bonny girl, but a damned peculiar boy if I’m honest. There was something off about you, right from the start. The way you walk, the way you wouldn’t take your hood off. You were hiding something. At first we just assumed it was because you were a thief, not wanting to be recognised.”
“I see.” Not true. I don’t see at all. “But I told you I wasn’t a thief.”
Will chips in from his position on the other side of the hut, his hands stretched out toward his fire. “You did, but we didn’t have any cause to believe you. Not at first. When I came over to bring you food last night, and got a good look at you at last, your face seemed more delicate than I might have expected. There was something about the set of your jaw, your eyes perhaps. Something feminine.”
Robbie shifts a little and dips his head to nuzzle my hair. "I knew for certain when I hit you. You remember, when you stabbed Will in the chest, and I thought you’d injured him? I landed you one and sent you flying. You curled up in a ball, cowering away from me. A woman would do that—never a man, nor a lad. I should tell you, wee Charlie, I sincerely regret doing that. I would never have lifted my hand to you if I'd realised you were a wench."
I snort; his contrition rings somewhat hollow given my recent experience over the tree branch. Inarticulate it may be, but he takes my meaning.
“That’s different. No man should hit a woman in anger, and never with his fist. I could have really hurt you.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I’m glad. But I do sincerely apologise to you, and you have my word nothing like that will happen again.”
“You say you won’t hit me, but you’d spank me? Or, or use a stick, like just now?”
“Aye, if need be. Discipline is another matter altogether. You have to obey us, and we’ll have no lies between us either. So yes. If the occasion calls for it you will feel the lick of a switch against your arse again. Or a belt. Or maybe just a hand against your bare bottom. Now that’s an appealing notion.”
Will leans over to toss a couple more sticks onto the fire, his smile as warm as the merry little blaze. “We talked, last night, Robbie and I. We were both of a mind that there was something amiss, and I became certain when I slept alongside you. I’ve never yet slept with a woman in my arms and not known it. Even under those peculiar garments of yours, your womanly curves were there, plain under my hands.”
“You were feeling me up? While I was asleep?”
“Not exactly. I prefer a woman to be warm and willing. But I couldn’t help but notice…”
Robbie takes up the
I offer no protest as I’m hauled bodily onto his lap, and swathed in the rough warmth of that thick plaid he promised me. Even my toes are tucked up, cosy in the woollen cocoon. His arms are around me, and I’m pressed close against his hard, powerful chest. I should be fighting, turning away. I should hate this man, this vile, sadistic bully who has manhandled me, tied me up, forced me to strip, then beaten me. But I don’t. Far from it. Instead I allow him to lift me, still cuddled up against his chest, and carry me to the low shelter beneath the oak. Will is already inside, kneeling beside a small pile of twigs, which he is attacking with a flint.
Robbie squats inside the hut and I turn toward his warmth, his solid, comforting safe presence. I curl my fingers in his sheepskin tunic, gripping him as though he was my anchor in a churning sea of confusion and hurt. The crackle of fire igniting the twigs, followed by the welcome wash of heat against my back, tells me that Will has succeeded in producing flames. I’ll be warm soon, and I’m at ease with my lot right at this moment. Or I will be.
“How did you know? That I’m not a boy?”
Robbie chuckles. I can feel the rumble, deep in his chest. “Sweetheart, you’re a bonny girl, but a damned peculiar boy if I’m honest. There was something off about you, right from the start. The way you walk, the way you wouldn’t take your hood off. You were hiding something. At first we just assumed it was because you were a thief, not wanting to be recognised.”
“I see.” Not true. I don’t see at all. “But I told you I wasn’t a thief.”
Will chips in from his position on the other side of the hut, his hands stretched out toward his fire. “You did, but we didn’t have any cause to believe you. Not at first. When I came over to bring you food last night, and got a good look at you at last, your face seemed more delicate than I might have expected. There was something about the set of your jaw, your eyes perhaps. Something feminine.”
Robbie shifts a little and dips his head to nuzzle my hair. "I knew for certain when I hit you. You remember, when you stabbed Will in the chest, and I thought you’d injured him? I landed you one and sent you flying. You curled up in a ball, cowering away from me. A woman would do that—never a man, nor a lad. I should tell you, wee Charlie, I sincerely regret doing that. I would never have lifted my hand to you if I'd realised you were a wench."
I snort; his contrition rings somewhat hollow given my recent experience over the tree branch. Inarticulate it may be, but he takes my meaning.
“That’s different. No man should hit a woman in anger, and never with his fist. I could have really hurt you.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I’m glad. But I do sincerely apologise to you, and you have my word nothing like that will happen again.”
“You say you won’t hit me, but you’d spank me? Or, or use a stick, like just now?”
“Aye, if need be. Discipline is another matter altogether. You have to obey us, and we’ll have no lies between us either. So yes. If the occasion calls for it you will feel the lick of a switch against your arse again. Or a belt. Or maybe just a hand against your bare bottom. Now that’s an appealing notion.”
Will leans over to toss a couple more sticks onto the fire, his smile as warm as the merry little blaze. “We talked, last night, Robbie and I. We were both of a mind that there was something amiss, and I became certain when I slept alongside you. I’ve never yet slept with a woman in my arms and not known it. Even under those peculiar garments of yours, your womanly curves were there, plain under my hands.”
“You were feeling me up? While I was asleep?”
“Not exactly. I prefer a woman to be warm and willing. But I couldn’t help but notice…”
Robbie takes up the
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