Page 31 of Aurelia

“Yes, discipline,” he said, somehow managing to keep a straight face. “Scolds, harpies, those women who don’t obey their lord and master. A few hours on the ducking stool usually sets them to rights.”

She sputtered. “But—that can’t…. You are jesting.”

“No, I am not. It is an excellent way to ensure one’s woman remains obedient.”

“But…”

“But?” he prodded, enchanted by the emotions flickering across her face.

“Surely that cannot be legal?”

“We are a law unto ourselves here on the island. The Lords of Crewe have special authority similar to a palatinate. King David I granted the first Crewe—then spelled Cruwys—dominion over the island in exchange for his assistance subduing the unruly Scots. My ancestor was essentially a king of his domain, his power unchallenged so long as he remained feal to David. Much later, our special status was again upheld when we helped suppress the Jacobite Rebellion. While others lost control over their fiefdoms—not to mention their lives—we expanded our reach thanks to a special land grant from a very grateful monarch.”

She was still staring at the old stool, her mouth open. Roland doubted she had heard a word he just said.

“So you permit men to—to strap their wives into that contraption and—and—”

“The tide comes in and the scold is then submerged. It usually does not take too long—perhaps five or six good duckings—before she learns the error of her ways and becomes a more submissive wife.”

“But—I don’t—”

“You seem outraged by the notion, Miss Burton.” And it was extremely entertaining. Not to mention bloody attractive. Gone was the cool ice queen and in her place was a fiery flesh-and-blood woman.

“Of course I’m outraged!” she all but shouted, her nostrils flaring.

“How else is a man to ensure his wife’s obedience?” he asked, giving her a puzzled look.

“How else?” she repeated. “How else?” And then her face hardened, putting Roland in mind of a fierce warrior queen preparing to engage in battle. She looked bloody glorious! “I cannot believe—” She stopped, her eyes narrowing as they flickered over his face, lingering on his jaw which was painfully tight to keep his laughter contained. “You are teasing me.”

Roland threw his head back and laughed—and then laughed even harder at the scowl she gave him.

“I cannot believe I swallowed that.”

“Like a hungry fish swallowing a hook,” he agreed once he’d regained control of himself. “I know I should apologize,” Roland said, “but I find that I cannot. You are so serious for such a young woman and—”

“I am five-and-twenty. That is hardly a child!” she snapped, yet again taking his bait.

“No, of course not,” he soothed.

“How old are you, my lord?” she retorted. But her anger all too quickly gave way to chagrin. “I’m sorry. That was—”

“Never apologize for giving as good as you get, Miss Burton,” he said, smiling. “I am almost one-and-forty.”

When she merely nodded, Roland laughed. “You have just delivered a killing blow to my fragile amour propre, Miss Burton. You were supposed to say, one and forty! Why, you do not look a day over thirty, my lord.”

“I suspect your self-esteem is healthy enough to survive it.”

He laughed again, beyond delighted.

They rode in silence, Miss Burton studiously looking anywhere but at Roland, giving him an opportunity to admire her lovely profile. And it was lovely. And young. Somewhere along the way Miss Burton had convinced herself she was a matron—or perhaps someone else had convinced her—and her self-possession and stern mien was that of a much older woman. It was also obvious that she was not accustomed to being teased.

Roland was a bastard for how much he enjoyed disconcerting her and bringing out that adorable blush and chiding tone.

And he had no intention of mending his teasing ways any time soon, either.

***

Aurelia was furious at herself for snapping at the earl’s lure and tugging so hard, over and over and over again. The wretched man had reeled her in with the skill of a seasoned angler.