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“Ooo, how I hate you!”
“But there is love behind this,” Tristan declared to them both. “Perhaps you should each take to your own side of the castle and repair.”
“She has no side, the castle is mine!” Mountbane blasted.
“I’ll take the woods then,” she stormed out of Tristan’s grasp.
“The woods are mine!” Mountbane roared.
“Then the rocky fields!”
“They too belong to me.”
“Then I’ll quit Ilusia and be perfectly happy to live in the wilds—as long as it is without you!”
“What is the quarrel?” Tristan asked.
Both parties glared, but neither said a word.
“I am gone. I have other things to occupy my time,” Mountbane turned away. “Be sure she’s bound in her quarters for the night. I’ll have other companionship and she can sleep alone and listen to my sounds of lust.”
“I’ll block my ears,” she spat out to the man’s back.
“Come, milady,” Sir Tristan led the woman away as Mountbane returned to his bedchamber alone.
“What say you now, madam, estranged from your marriage bed?” Tristan asked. “It is the first sign of a lingering wound that will not heal.”
“It won’t be the last, I assure you.”
“Shall I reprimand you myself?”
Charlotte snarled at the determined man, and strode off contemptuously by herself. The act only brought Tristan down on her with a suddenness to shock her system into fear.
“You will not defy me, slave,” he roared. “It’s to the tower with you.”
A man of some strength, who never argued with any woman, he picked up the Lady Charlotte and carried her over his shoulders down the castle hall to the tower stairs and mounted them effortlessly while the angry woman spewed her vitriolic epithets.
“Put me down you blackguard moron!” she swore angrily.
He didn’t speak.
“I loathe you most of all!” she tried with no results, and despite the fist that pounded his back as hard as it could. “Leave me be!”
He journeyed on.
“Unhand me, scoundrel!”
He was at the tower door.
“You leave me here, I will find some reproach!” she warned.
“Oh, I will leave you here,” he advised. “But only after…” He didn’t bother to finish his remarks. With the spewing lady/slave still firmly in his charge, he rotated her over his shoulder and on to his lap as he sat down in the one lone chair inside this terrible room.
“You miserable bastard…” she swore on.
Though Lady Charlotte was quite dressed with winter skirts covering her nakedness, that circumstance was quickly corrected with a flick of the man’s wrist, all silently accomplished with the irritable woman scolding him in her unceasing rage. “Repulsive wretch!”
Not another word spoken, Sir Tristan began spanking her behind with a fervor that sent the shrieking woman’s volume higher. Sound seemed to breed inside the tight spaces of the tower room. Overflowing their small alcove, it echoed off the stones and mortar traveling down to hit the ears of anyone with ears to hear—including a husband who sighed with relief as he understood the premise behind these rich sounds. “Thank God!” his spoken response.
