The Doctor's Rough Treatment (Historical Medical Smut With A Side Of Story) by Diana Quippley

He wrapped it back up and slipped it inside his leather jerkin.
     
    “Why do you trust me with this, and
with your precious cargo?” He abruptly asked the hooded man.
     
    “You were highly recommended,
Cullen, and your reputation precedes you in such matters.”
     
    “You know my name,” Cullen replied
gruffly, rising to his feet. “And I am yet to see your face. But no matter,
your manner of speech and the signet ring on your finger that you have
forgotten to conceal has already told me who you are.”
     
    “That’s why you are the man for
this job.” The other nodded as the mercenary turned and walked away. “I can
trust none other. And Cullen, be warned, for your patience is to be tested… as
my precious cargo is not accustomed to ways below her exalted station.”
     
     
     
    ***

 
    Cullen stood in the light rain
outside the high walls of the imposing structure. The Dark Keep was all it as
called looked every bit of its foreboding nomenclature. It was well entrenched
within the mountains of the Eastern Kingdom, three days ride away from the
borders of the Western Kingdom. It was the fourth day since his meeting with
the hooded man in the unsavory tavern, whom Cullen knew was the king himself,
and he had ridden his warhorse hard through the vast forested landscape. The
rain refreshed him and the horse. He had it tethered to a pole beside a few
pitched tents outside the walls, of merchants and other men seeking to make
money for their wares inside the walls of the Keep.
     
    He had found their company
welcoming. Being traders and merchants they had travelled the lands and a sight
like him was nothing out of the ordinary for such men. He had to wait until
dark to make his move, a few hours wait also did well to get him some rest and
prepare for his rescue attempt. Mostly as a mercenary, Cullen had been hired to
slay, to fight against others like him, and even assassinate a powerful rival
to some king, noble or chieftain. This was his first attempt at a rescue and
that too of a woman, and a princess no less.
     
    Being part of a race of natural
born warriors, Cullen was well versed in the art of warfare and hardship, owing
to a life in the highlands, where surviving every day was a battle won. He glanced
at the merchants around him, soft and compliant men for whom silver tongues
were of more value than sharp steel. They had their uses too, especially when
it came to a good meal and gambling.
     
    “And what are you here for, my
large friend.” The short squat man standing beside him asked. “You are no
trader or merchant, unless it is slaves you wish to buy or sell.”
     
    “I am here on a diplomatic
mission.” Cullen smiled at the man, though it did not reach his steel blue
eyes. “One that will ensure future trade.”
     
    “And whom do you represent, where
are you from?” The tradesman pressed.
     
    “My people are from the cold
highland hills of the North.” Cullen scanned the walls of the Keep, noting the
guards on patrol.
     
    “The North?” The fat man laughed.
“What do the people of the North have worth trading with the opulent Eastern
Kingdom… animal pelts and dried meat.”
     
    “Our skills with the sword,
Jessop.” Cullen adjusted the leather strap on his helm.
     
    “Why, is there a war brewing?”
Jessop looked suddenly wary.
     
    “There’s always a war going on, my
friend.” Cullen strode off toward the walls as the first few bright stars
became visible in the darkening skies above. “Thanks for the fine lamb stew and
for taking care of my horse. I will be back shortly.”
     
    “Fare you well, my large friend.”
Jessop sighed. “In whatever diplomatic adventure you’re undertaking.”
     
     
     
     
    ***

 
     
    “Halt, who goes there, answer or
die.” The harsh words yelled outside the wooden door to her cell drifted to her
sharp ears as she stretched herself on the wooden cot, the only piece of
furnishing there.
     
    Some fool had caught the