Chapter 7




After Sarah had taken away the wretched breakfast he'd
fallen asleep again, huddled against the cold wall, wrapped
in the quilt, but was jarred into wakefulness when the door
creaked open.  Fox squinted in the dimness, but even without
sufficient light he was able to make out Dana's familiar
form.

Silently he awaited her condemnation.  Had she come to gloat
at his position?  To tell him that his incarceration was
permanent?  Or did she intend to describe to him in great
detail everything she had done with Alex Krycek the night
before?  Whatever she did, Fox knew he must control his
reactions very carefully.  If he ever wanted to see the
light of day again, he must win her approval so that she
would release him from this dungeon, and if he ever hoped to
gain her affection, he must prove to her that no man could
serve her needs better than he.

"Well, Fox," she asked in a voice that he was unable to
read.  "Did your night spent below fulfill its purpose?"

Fox wasn't certain what the purpose of sending him to this
prison had been, other than to serve as a release for her
anger, but he knew what he must do.  He moved away from the
wall, into a kneeling position, his head respectfully bowed.

"My lady," he whispered.  "Please allow me to beg your
forgiveness for my actions."

It was the last thing she'd expected to hear from him, and
Dana was momentarily taken aback.  Quickly regaining her
composure, she knelt beside him, stroking her hands through
the dark hair that covered his bowed head.  He chanced a
glance up at her touch, then dropped his eyes again in
contrition.

"It is forgotten, Fox," she told him gently, raising his
chin so he was forced to meet her gaze.

He closed his eyes to escape her look, but opened them again
when she kissed him softly on the lips.  "My lady?" he
questioned, and she gave him a tender smile.

"I do not wish to be forced to punish you this harshly
again.  I would appreciate it if you would strive to
moderate your behavior in the future, as is appropriate for
a man of your position."

He nodded miserably.  "I will not disgrace you again, my
lady, I give my word."

"Sarah says you were sick again before breakfast," she
replied, changing the subject abruptly.

"I am well enough now," he told her eagerly, hoping that her
altered tone meant he was truly forgiven.  "I haven't been
ill in hours."

"Are you certain?" she asked, examining him in the dim light
with a critical eye.  "You are not making light of your
sickness, in order to gain my approval?  I do not enjoy
being lied to, Fox."

"No, my lady, I am much better, I swear it."

"I am glad to hear it," she replied, her voice softening. I
missed you last night, sweeting.  Perhaps in the future, you
will also manage to keep yourself in my bed where you
belong."

He smiled wanly.  She'd missed him, truly?  "Does my lady
intend to release me?" he asked hopefully.

"Indeed I do."  Reaching into her pocket, Dana withdrew a
large key, which she then fitted into the lock of his
collar.  The steel band fell from his neck to the floor with
a clatter, and Fox shuddered at the coldness of the sound.
He never wanted to feel such a thing around his neck again.

"Thank you, Dana," he said quietly, and she smiled again.

Dana helped Fox to his feet and led him carefully up the
stairs, mindful of his balance on the treacherous stone
steps.  They made their way to their chamber, and Fox was
grateful that they completed the journey without meeting up
with any of the servants.  To have them view his release was
almost as bad has having them witness his incarceration. He
simply wished the matter to be forgotten as quickly as
possible.  It was truly the most humiliating punishment he
had ever been forced to endure.

She assisted him in removing the now-filthy nightshirt in
which he'd slept, then settled him in the tub, which was
still filled with comfortably warm water, and rang for a
meal.  Fox cleaned himself in haste, hoping to be fully
dressed by the time their chamber was invaded by the staff,
but he was just rinsing the soap from his hair when the
knock sounded at the door.  He sank shyly into the deep tub,
praying the servants would disperse immediately.

"Alex, why are you bringing the tray?" he heard Lady Dana
ask, and clenched his jaw, suppressing his immediate flash
of anger.  Perfect, he must be a perfect husband, he
reminded himself anxiously.

"Sarah was busy with a crisis in the kitchen, my lady," Alex
replied, setting the tray down on a small table.

"A crisis?"  Fox popped his head over the top of the tub to
ask.  Any kitchen crisis was his domain, one that the
perfect husband would deal with instantly, in order not to
trouble his lady.  "What kind of crisis?"

"Ah..it was nothing, Lord Fox," Alex stammered, surprised at
seeing his attacker naked in the bathing tub.  "I would have
summoned Lord Walter, since you were...unavailable...but it
appeared Lady Maggie had need of him at the time.  It has
been dealt with to the satisfaction of Natalie, the chef.
No doubt she will give you all the details when you come
downstairs."

"Fox will not be coming down today, he must remain in bed to
recover fully from his illness," Dana interceded.

"My lady, I'm fine."

"Do not naysay me, husband."

Fox dropped his eyes in defeat.  He had displeased her
again.  "I am sorry, my lady."

"Perhaps you would like to take this opportunity to
apologize to Alex for your behavior yesterday?" she
continued, and Fox sighed quietly, knowing it wasn't really
a request.

"I am sorry for striking you, Alex," he said, mustering as
much sincerity as his stomach would allow.  "It was quite
ill-bred of me."

"Think nothing of it," Alex told him, giving Lord Scully a
little smile.  "Many times noblemen are bored with their
lives, and highly strung.  I wish only to serve."

Fox bit his tongue at the "bored noblemen" remark, not
wanting to further irritate Dana.  He had no intention of
allowing Alex's brand of "service," but for the sake of his
marriage he must present a pleasant front, so he nodded
politely and waited while the young maid took his leave.
When he thought his wife could not see, he shot a face,
sticking out his tongue at the retreating man's back much as
he had done when still a child.  Dana snickered and he
flushed, wondering miserably if he was about to be punished
yet again.

"I do not believe you are sincere in your apology, but it
was quite nicely done," she told him with wry amusement.
"Now, put on a nightshirt and come to the table.  I wish to
see you eat a decent meal.  Sarah says you have eaten
nothing since yesterday."

"I had some bread last night."

She shook her head quickly.  "Three small bites of bread
does not constitute a meal, Fox.  I realize you are still
feeling ill, but you must take in enough nourishment to
sustain your body."

He picked at the cheese on the tray, managing a few small
bites, but his appetite was gone.  Fox wondered if Dana
would take him to her bed this morning, or if she would
simply leave him to go about his daily duties.  He refused
to admit to himself how much he *wanted* her to make love to
him.  That was simply too embarrassing to acknowledge.

"Tell me, Fox, why did you attack Alex like that?"

The question startled him, and he prayed the look in his
eyes hadn't revealed his feelings before he was able to
guard them.

"I--I am not certain, my lady," he lied.  "It was as you
said.  I was not myself."

"There was nothing more to it than that?" she asked with a
twinkle in her eye.  Reaching out a hand, she stroked his
long, elegant fingers resting on the table. "You were not
jealous at his offer to warm my bed while you are ill?"

Fox put down his slice of bread and cheese, feeling suddenly
desolate.  He thought he'd banished those images, but here
they were again, as large as life.

"I should not like to see you take another to your bed," he
said at last, staring at the fingers which caressed his own.
"It is my place, as your husband, to share that intimacy
with you."

"And is it not my right as a Lady of the Nobility to take a
lover if I choose?"

Fox swallowed the suddenly huge lump in his throat and
blinked back his tears.  "Indeed, it is your right, my
lady," he said formally.  "Perhaps if you choose to do so,
you would be good enough to inform me in advance, so that I
may seek out another chamber on that night?"

"I shall do that which pleases me," she said gruffly.  "And
you, my little Fox, will remain in my chamber and in my bed,
where you belong."

"Did you?"  Fox could have kicked himself for not holding
back the words, but they were out before he was even aware
he was thinking them.

"Did I what?"

His hands clenched tightly in his lap, he waited until his
breathing was under control to ask tightly, "Did you take
him to your bed last night?"

She regarded him coolly for a moment, then rose deliberately
from her chair.

"Your place is not to question my behavior," she told him
arrogantly.

Fox bit back an angry retort as she made for the chamber
door, leaving him sitting with his still uneaten meal before
him. Reminding himself that if he ever hoped to win her
affection he must be perfect, he placed his hands demurely
in his lap and studied the tabletop silently.

Throwing open the door, she turned. "We are having guests
come to stay with us," she informed him casually. "Lady
Suzanne Modeski and her husband John.  They will remain here
for a week."


Fox stared at her for a moment, startled at the abrupt
change in subject, his eyes wide at the implications of her
announcement.  Instantly, out of simple habit, he began
mentally threshing over all the preparations that must be
made.

"When will they arrive?" he asked, his thoughts already busy
with menu plans and sleeping arrangements. "Have you an idea
how many servants they will bring?"

"The will be here in two days time."  She waved her hand
in a carelessly dismissive manner as she exited the room.  
"As to sleeping arrangements, Lady Suzanne prefers the 
Blue Chamber for herself and John.  You will have to arrange 
for the servants once they arrive, as I have no idea as to their 
numbers."

She turned to go, then swung back again.  "Preparing for
their visit should allow you to occupy your time properly,
rather than in concerning yourself with things that are none
of your business."

She was gone before he could protest, and he stared after
her in shock.  Two days?  Only forty-eight hours to prepare
for a week of entertaining?  Hastily he dressed, intending
to make his way down the stairs and begin at once. He was
halfway down the corridor of the East Wing before he
remembered her command to remain abed today.  He sighed
heavily and turned back toward their chamber.  The perfect
husband would obey his wife in all things, he reminded
himself sternly, regardless of how inconvenient her orders
might be.  The perfect husband would also make certain his
lady's home was in excellent condition to receive guests.
Fox pondered the dilemma for a few moments. How was he to
prepare for guests when he was trapped in his bedchamber?

With a silent curse, he turned at last and trudged back to
the chamber.  He was uncertain how the tasks would be
accomplished, but he knew he could not risk bringing her
wrath down upon him again so soon.  He supposed he could go
over the menus with Natalie from his bed, and there was no
reason, he mused, why he couldn't ask Walter to direct the
servants today.  He simply must be well enough tomorrow to
be allowed downstairs, though, he thought mutinously.  Dana
couldn't expect him to do all the preparations from his bed.

Fuming, Fox undressed and slipped back into his nightshirt.
He jerked angrily at the bell cord before climbing
obediently into bed. He had no wish to see the uppity maid
yet again, but he knew there was no choice if he was to
remain in the bed chamber all day.


"Enter," he called, settling himself against the large
headboard with a pillow for padding.

"You rang for me, my lord?" asked Alex a bit sullenly,
poking his head into the room.  He glanced around, as if
searching for Dana, and when he did not see her, entered the
room fully.

Fox swallowed his dislike of the man and reminded himself
that he had a position to maintain.  He must not disgrace
Dana further.

"Send Natalie to me as soon as her luncheon preparations are
under control," he ordered Alex.  "And bring me some writing
paper and a pen."

Alex nodded and disappeared, returning shortly with several
sheets of paper, a pen and a lap-desk.  Fox thanked him
absently, his mind full of possible menus and preparations
that must be made.  He waved an offhanded dismissal to Alex,
already beginning to scribble down notes, but called to the
servant just before he made his escape.

"Alex, tell Lord Walter I would like to see him, if he has a
free moment," Fox instructed, not even looking up from his
papers.

"Just you wait, my fine lord," Alex muttered under his
breath, seething quietly as he left the room.  "Not long now
until I have you firmly beneath my thumb."

By the time Walter arrived, Fox had made a list of tasks
that needed to be accomplished that day, and another list of
things to be done on the morrow, provided he was able to
supervise.  Walter had his own duties on the estate, and
could not put them on hold indefinitely simply because Fox
was unable to fulfill his role.

"Alex said you wished to see me?" Walter asked, after he was
bidden enter the room.

"Yes, Walter, please sit down," Fox said, indicating a
chair, and Walter realized with quiet satisfaction that very
little remained of the beaten man he had seen in the dungeon
the night before.

"My lady has informed me that we are to have guests--a Lady
Modeski and her husband..."  Fox cast desperately about his
memory for the name of Lord Modeski.

"John," Walter supplied helpfully.

"Yes," Fox agreed, relieved.  "Do you know them?"

"I have met them--they visited when Lady Maggie and I were
married.  They are very nice people.  You will like John, I
believe.  He is near your age, with a well-defined sense of
humor.  The relationship between the two of them is...odd."

Fox perked up, his curiosity aroused.  "Odd?" he questioned.
"Odd how?"

Walter sat in silence for a few moments, wondering how best
to explain the unusual camaraderie between John and Lady
Suzanne.

"She...treats him differently," he offered at last.  "Almost
as an equal.  And the servants are never allowed to touch
John, not even in jest."

Fox's jaw dropped and he stared at Walter as if the other
man had gone mad.  "An equal?" he asked skeptically.  "A
husband?  How can that be?"

Walter shrugged.  "I do believe the lady is in love with her
husband," he commented.

Fox felt his heart soar at the words.  A lady could love her
husband, then!  Surely, in that case, it was possible for
Dana to someday come to genuinely care, perhaps even to love
him as well. He would do all in his power to make it so, he
vowed silently, and with renewed determination, turned his
attention to the task at hand.

"Lady Dana insists that I remain in bed this day to recover
from my illness," he told Walter, and Walter nodded,
suddenly understanding.  "They are to arrive in two days'
time."

Walter raised a surprised eyebrow at the shortness of time.
"We haven't a moment to lose in preparation!"

"Exactly," Fox agreed.  "I have written out a list of things
the servants should accomplish today, but I am unable to
assist or supervise.  Do you think perhaps you could..."

"Say no more, Fox," Walter nodded, taking papers the younger
man offered.  "The estate's accounts are in excellent
condition, and now that you are here as Lady Dana's husband,
I have little to do in the way of running the household.  I
can devote my attention to preparations for our guests for
the next two days.  Just keep me informed as to what you
would like me to do."

"Thank you, Walter," Fox said gratefully, clutching at his
friend's hand for a moment.  "And...thank you also for
coming to me last night.  I do hope you didn't get into any
trouble?"

Walter laughed.  "Indeed no.  I requested permission from
both Lady Maggie and Lady Dana before I came to you."

Fox's eyes widened.  "Did she know you brought me bread, and
a quilt?" he questioned.

Walter hesitated, remembering Dana's direction not to tell
Fox she had sent the quilt.  "She knew," he said at last.

The smile on Fox's face could have lit up an entire room,
and Walter wondered once again if there was more to their
relationship than he was seeing.

"In any instance, I thank you.  And now, let us prepare for
our guests."

Walter nodded and left the chamber, pondering the odd
behavior of the younger Lord Scully.  Could it be he had
come to care for his lady already?  It would be unusual for
a man to fall in love with his wife so quickly, but Walter
had learned enough already to know that Fox never did things
by halves.

He smiled as this opinion was reinforced by the sight of
Natalie entering the East Wing, a book of the Scully
family's favorite recipes tucked under her arm. Natalie
nodded pleasantly at him before tapping at the Mistress'
bedchamber door.  Fox might remain abed today, but he would
most certainly not be resting, Walter told himself with a
quiet laugh.

-----

Dana entered the mansion wearily, dropping her riding gloves
and crop to the floor, barely noticing when Ethan, one of
the house boys, scurried to put them away.  It had been a
hellish day, compounded by the inadequacy of the notes she
had written up for her cases on the night Fox had earned his
harsh punishment.  Rubbing her eyes in exhaustion, she swore
never to combine brandy and work again.

Grumpily, Dana decided to blame the entire situation on
Melissa.  She had brought home that barrel of Josephine
brandy from France, after all.  Melissa knew that Dana had
fallen in love with the expensive liquor during her army
days, and she always brought some as a gift for her sister.
For a hateful second, she wondered how long they would be
forced to extend Melissa their hospitality, and was
instantly filled with guilt.  Melissa was a good sister, she
reminded herself.  It was not her fault that she was
attracted to Fox--any woman would be.

Just as she let the thought go, forcing herself to take
deep, calming breaths, the object of her irritation entered
the great hall.

"Dana," Melissa smiled.  "It's good to see you.  Sit down,
you look tired.  I'll ring for refreshment for you."

"No, thank you," Dana replied evenly, training her gaze
firmly on her sister's left shoulder.  "I must take myself
upstairs and see to my husband.  Is he perhaps well enough
to join the family for dinner?"

"I have not seen Fox today."

"Not at all?" Dana asked, attempting to mask her
irritability with teasing.  "No idle strolls in the garden?"
She had seen the tender gallantry with which her sister had
treated Fox, as well as his predictable response to it, and
found it difficult to believe that Melissa had stayed away
from him for an entire day.

"He has remained in his bed throughout the day, as you
ordered, Sister," Melissa answered in a slightly puzzled
voice.  "Indeed, I do not believe he has done anything at
all today that would try your patience in the least."

Dana ignored the twinkling in Melissa's eyes, and with a
curt nod, took her leave.  Fox was willful and spirited--at
least he was most of the time.  It seemed too much to accept
that he had remained abed as she had commanded.  Indeed, she
almost hoped he had not. Although Dana hated to admit it to
herself, she secretly cherished the battle of wills in which
they engaged, and found disciplining her beautiful husband
exciting in the extreme.  She had always been bored with the
perfectly behaved men that mothers paraded before eligible
women.  To find herself married to such a man would have
been unbearable.

She made her way to the East Wing quickly, pushing open the
heavy doors and striding determinedly toward her chamber,
when she was accosted from the salon by the voice of her
newest employee.

"My lady Dana," Alex called to her, and the familiarity with
which he used her name grated on her already frayed nerves.

"Yes, Alex, what is it?" she asked brusquely.

"I understand poor Lord Fox is still ailing," he said with
just the hint of a smile playing about his lovely mouth as
he licked his lips suggestively.  "I wanted to remind you
that I am available for any extra...services you might
require of me."

Two pairs of eyes stared at one another for a long moment,
one green and inviting, one icy blue, until Dana moved to
pull the cord that summoned a servant from downstairs.  Just
for good measure, to demonstrate her displeasure, she gave
it an extra tug, and within seconds several pairs of feet
were heard clattering down the corridor.

"My lady, is something wrong?" Sarah asked anxiously,
peering into the salon, flanked by Roberta and Alice, the
butler's assistant.

"Yes," Dana replied tersely.  "Young Alex has earned himself
a most severe punishment for overstepping his place yet
again.  Take him downstairs to the whipping post and give
him ten lashes with a switch, Sarah.  Then you ladies may
take your will of him for the evening.  Make certain that he
is well used before and behind.  See that he does not have
any further desire to make impertinent suggestions to me."

"What?" gasped Alex, panicking at the eagerness the three
female servants displayed.  They immediately accosted him,
dragging him forcibly from the room.  "You can't do this!"
he cried desperately, jerking away from the hands that
clutched him and falling to his knees.

Dana roughly grasped a fistful of his hair and forced him to
look up at her.

"You signed a lifetime contract with me, Alex," she reminded
him evenly.  "Indeed I can do this, and much worse, should I
so choose.  I advise you not to try my patience further."

She released his hair and her eyes sought out Sarah.

"On your way outside, arrange for bath water to be brought
to me," she ordered casually

Ignoring Alex's further protests as he was hauled toward the
stairs, Dana entered her bed chamber.  Her husband lay
stretched out on the bed, his chest slowly rising and
falling as he slept, his hand still loosely holding a pen,
papers scattered beside him.  She crept closer, and saw that
he had been working on the week's menu plans, no doubt in
anticipation of their guests.  Smiling with affection,
pleased at his devotion to running her household, she
carefully removed the pen from his hand, trying not to
disturb him, but Fox awakened at her touch.

"My lady," he whispered, rubbing sleep from his eyes.  "I
missed you."

She smiled wider, and he blushed, embarrassed at his forward
manner of speech, and yet held her gaze steadily, for his
words had been sincere.

"I missed you as well, my Fox," she said softly, caressing
his smooth cheek.  "My day has been long and tiring."

He placed his hand upon the one stroking his face, relishing
her touch after the many hours apart.

"If my lady will allow me to get out of bed, I will order
you a relaxing bath," he offered, eyes downcast shyly.

"How are you feeling?" she inquired.  "Your color seems to
have returned."

"I do believe I am fully recovered," he told her.  "I have
not sickened again today, and I am dreadfully tired of
looking at the ceiling!"

"But you have been looking at other things as well," she
contradicted, picking up the quill and lightly tickling his
nose with it.

"I--wanted to make certain all was in readiness for Lady and
Lord Modeski," he told her earnestly.  "I followed your
command and remained abed, I swear it, Dana!"

"So I have heard," she smiled.  "And that is why I shall
reward you now.  I should like that bath, and later, after
supper, I will take you for a walk in the gardens."

"Oh yes, my lady, please!" he agreed, sliding to the edge of
the bed in preparation to rise.  As he did so, the hem of
his nightshirt slipped up, revealing a well-defined hip, and
Dana felt her lust stir in spite of her fatigue.

Before Fox could stand, she placed her hands on his
shoulders and claimed him with a deep, thorough kiss that
went on and on.  His fingers, of their own accord, slid up
her arms and caressed her back, and she was dimly aware,
through her passion, that it was the first time Fox had
touched her without asking permission.  She smiled to
herself as she continued to plunder his mouth.  While no
proper noblewoman wanted a husband who took liberties,
somehow she found herself enjoying the warm touch of his
hands on her back.  She decided she would allow it without
reprimand.

Fox had lost himself in her scent and her kiss, but suddenly
remembered the expected behavior from a perfect husband, and
guiltily dropped his hands.

"Why did you stop?" she asked gently.  "I liked what you
were doing.  It was quite pleasing.  You may touch me again,
Fox."

Looking as if she had handed him a great gift, he returned
his hands almost reverently to her back, caressing her neck,
shoulders, and sliding his fingers through her hair while
she nipped playfully at his lips, throat and ears, then
returned to deeply kissing his mouth until they were both
panting with need.

Regretfully, knowing she was in no condition to give him the
attention she wanted to devote to his lovely body, she rose
and backed away, and he groaned in frustration.

"We'll finish this later, sweeting, when I am able to take
you properly," she promised, giving his behind an
affectionate pat.  "For now, I must relax and restore my
good humor."

"My lady seems in good enough spirits," he teased, but she
shook her head slightly.

"It is all because of taking your sweet mouth, I assure you,
husband.  Before I entered the room, I was in a foul temper
indeed."

"Was I responsible for your temper?" he asked anxiously, and
she laughed, moving behind the screen to begin disrobing.

"Not at all, for a change," she called. "It was actually one
of the servants."

Fox straightened, feeling guilty that he had been in his bed
rather than attending to the servants, as his position
dictated.

"Who has displeased you, my lady?" he asked immediately.  "I
will--"

"I have already dealt with the matter, Fox, you needn't
concern yourself," she replied, returning to him dressed in
the midnight blue robe that he found so attractive.

He moistened his lips unconsciously, taking in the sight of
her, looking slightly rumpled and totally delectable, and
was disappointed when the servants knocked at the door.
'Later,' she had said, and he intended to do all in his
power to be certain she kept that promise.

-----

"What is happening?" Maggie demanded, hearing the ruckus as
Alex was dragged downstairs by Sarah, Roberta and Alice,
soon to be joined by several of the other servants.
"Roberta, explain!"

"Lady Dana has given us a treat, my lady," Roberta informed
her, letting go her grip on Alex's arm and finding it
instantly replaced by another eager female.  "The new
servant is to be punished, and then he is ours for the
evening."

Lady Maggie raised an eyebrow, in a remarkable imitation of
her youngest daughter.  "What did he do to earn such a
punishment?"

"My lady, I did nothing wrong!" Alex cried, struggling
against the hands that held him captive.  "Please, make them
release me!"

"He offered himself to Lady Dana again," Sarah replied,
ignoring Alex's struggles and pleas.

Lady Maggie sighed.  "Dana was quite specific in that
regard, Alex," she answered him.  "I'm afraid there is
nothing I can do for you."

Any further protest he made was drowned out by the giggling,
squealing females as they dragged him out the door toward
the rear courtyard.

Alex struggled fruitlessly as the women stripped him naked.

"Bind his hands behind his back," Roberta commanded, and
another maid instantly obeyed.  Alex continued to plead and
fight as her next orders were quickly issued:

"Sarah, go to the stable and ask Miss Phoebe for the salve
she uses on the ponies, and that gaited whip Lady Dana
carries when she rides her saddle horse.  Bessie, go to my
chamber and fetch the black leather case in the trunk at the
foot of my bed.  Amanda, fetch me some of the small clothing
pins we use when hanging up my lady's lingerie."

Alex's heart raced as he remembered some of the stories he'd
already heard about Roberta--the stories of her sexual
antics were legendary on the Scully estate. She was a big
woman, strong and competent, who had already had three
husbands, plus numerous lovers.  He bit his lip in fear,
wondering what was to become of him, and if he would emerge
alive from the ordeal.

"Throw him down on his back over that wide bench," Roberta
ordered the three women holding him, and they hastened to
obey.  Only one of them, the youngest, Mary Ellen,
questioned.

"But Lady Dana said he was to be lashed and punished,
ma'am," she objected respectfully.  Mary Ellen did not want
to disobey Lady Dana, but she certainly did not want to
attain less-than-favored status with Roberta, who informally
commanded all the servants on the estate.

At Mary Ellen's concern, Roberta threw back her head and
laughed heartily. "Oh, he will be, my dear.  He'll never
forget this night.  And he'll think long and hard before he
offends a lady of the Nobility again.  Watch and learn, so
that you may discipline other impertinent men when
necessary."

By this time, Sarah had returned carrying a small jar and a
short carriage whip.  Roberta unscrewed the top and sniffed
the pungent mixture as Bessie emerged from the servant's
quarters.

"Excellent, my dears.  Now mind you, follow my directions
very carefully. Sarah and Nancy, you grab his feet and pull
them back over his shoulders. Spread him out.  I want to see
that fine ass and that arrogant cock for myself."

Alex was pinned helplessly as his legs were pressed up
against his chest and held there by two very determined
women.  His bare bottom was exposed to the butler's lustful
gaze and roaming hands as he begged for sympathy.

"The first thing to do," Roberta instructed those women
gathered around, "is to make sure that his pretty manhood is
up and ready to service us as often as we wish it this
evening.  Mary Ellen, you start sucking on it, and Rachel, I
want that ribbon from your blouse."

Mary Ellen immediately picked up the rather large, although
still limp penis, and began licking and nibbling.  Alex
moaned as he felt his arousal begin.

"Now, you let me know when he's good and hard," Roberta told
her.  "He's not to have his release tonight and spoil our
fun."

Alex bit his lip hard, willing himself to remain silent as
Mary Ellen sucked him deeply into her warm mouth.  As she
nipped at the underside of his penis, he felt the first
trickle of pre-come emerge from the engorged head.

"I believe he's ready, Miss Roberta," Mary Ellen said, a
little in awe at the results of her efforts.  Roberta nodded
in satisfaction.  He was certainly a fine size for a man,
and should bring a great deal of pleasure this evening.

"The next step is to secure his manhood," Roberta continued.
"You tie a ribbon, or a strip of leather, around the base of
this big, fine cock, then slip some extra loops around his
balls.  He'll be staying hard and pleasurable for hours."
If any of the women were surprised by her crude language, it
did not show on their faces.  They gave her their rapt
attention, as if they were listening to an important lecture
at University.

Alex moaned again as he heard her unsnap the leather case.
"Now this, ladies, is one of the finest implements you will
ever find for disciplining a stubborn man."

He heard the giggles as she continued, "Note that it begins
narrow, and is nice and wide in the middle.  Plus, it has
this little hand pull on the end.  He cannot push it out, if
you insert it proper like."

At that, Alex began swearing and struggling against his
captors like a man possessed--he was unable to see what
Roberta held in her hand, but he knew what it had to be.

"You girls hold him down nice and tight, now.  To make it
more effective, I'm going to rub a little of this tail set
ginger on it, and on his tight little hole, as well.  'Tis
that salve we use on those hackney ponies to make them carry
their tails up and step lively when they pull my lady's
carriage.  Little extra things like this make all the
difference when teaching a man to behave."

Her large fingers smeared his rectum with that evil mixture,
and Alex screamed his rage as he felt the huge implement
pressed against his most private area.

"There, now the ginger salve stings enough that he will open
his cute little hole up to rid himself of it.  When he does,
all you do is push the plug in.  Here, Nancy, you try it,"
commanded Roberta, quietly slipping out of her cotton under
drawers.

After a few tentative thrusts, Nancy pushed hard against his
sphincter.  The burning salve made Alex sob as his asshole
dilated to expel it.  He thrust up hard with his pelvis as
the offending implement slid all the way in.  Moments later,
he heard Roberta laugh as she lowered herself onto his
weeping manhood.

"You see, my dears, he will keep bucking like that, and
every time he does, the ginger will sting more, and the plug
will rub his pleasure spot.  Now, lower his legs and let me
ride him."

Her wet womanhood engulfed him, and as he thrust up into her
again and again, Roberta reached back and twisted the plug
in his behind.  He screamed aloud as it raked across the
spot that increased his sensation, and arched until only his
shoulders and heels touched the bench.  Roberta cried out
her woman's pleasure and dismounted with a chuckle.

"Not bad for a first time, my boy," she informed him,
reaching up to pull hard on his nipples.  "Now, you'll
pleasure Sarah while I whip your ass."

Alex began to curse again, but Roberta reached for the small
pins used to hold clothing to a drying-line.  "I think you
need an additional reminder of your place on this estate,"
she snapped, and clasped the little pins to his sensitive
nipples.  "There, now.  Two little extra remembrances of
this night, and what happens when you offend Lady Dana.  And
for every time you swear at me, I'll open them up and snap
them closed again."

Alex shut his mouth in mid-curse at her threat.  Without
further ado, Rachel and Bessie picked him up from the bench,
and Sarah immediately pulled up her skirts and lay down upon
it.  Alex felt the ropes binding his hands together cut into
his flesh as he struggled against them.  The two women lay
him carefully between Sarah's widely spread legs, but he was
determined to remain still in order to deny them any more
pleasure.  That is, he was determined until he felt the
first stroke of the lash bite across his buttocks.

It stung like a hundred angry wasps, and he thrust forward
to escape the pain, only to find himself pushing into
Sarah's eager womanhood.  He heard the women laugh as he
tried to twist away, only to receive a second stroke that
hit the torture device Roberta had inserted into his
bottom.

"Goddess!" he gasped.  "No more, please!" 

His pleading earned him no mercy as Roberta continued her
task.

Lady Dana ordered ten lashes, and ten it shall be," she
replied, striping him yet again with the lash.  "Now you
hush up and keep moving, boy.  You've got four or five more
women to pleasure this evening.  I'm sure Lady Dana won't
mind if we give you a few extra, in order to keep things
lively."

As the butler applied more of the hated salve and twisted
the device in his burning buttocks again, Alex swore to
himself that Fox Mulder Scully would pay for this evening,
in ways he never imagined.


-----

"My lady, what is that ruckus?" Fox asked curiously, hearing
the voices rise and fall from outside the mansion.  He left
Dana in the tub, where he'd been massaging her shoulders
with scented oil, and peered out the window, but their
chamber faced north and the sound seemed to be coming from
slightly to the east, out of sight.  With a start, he
realized it emanated from the copse of trees that surrounded
the rear courtyard.

"Is something happening?" he queried, returning to his task,
and Dana, who had been enjoying her husband's attentiveness,
relaxed against his strong hands as they once again began to
soothe her tired muscles.

"No doubt it is the new servant, receiving his punishment,"
she said carelessly.  The hands on her shoulders stilled for
a moment, and Dana glanced up at him.  "Fox?"

"Alex is being punished?" he asked in a carefully neutral
tone.  "Was it he who offended you?"

"Yes," she said shortly.  "He offered himself to me yet
again.  I find his brashness tiresome."

Fox smirked to himself even as he felt a twinge of pity for
Alex--it was obvious the irritating servant was being whipped.
"What is the nature of his punishment, my lady?" he asked
curiously.

"He has been turned over to Roberta for a sound lashing and 
correction. No doubt she will teach him better manners." She
gave a sly grin.  Dana knew exactly what type of "instruction"
Roberta would give to Alex, and she felt he deserved every
bit of it.  After all, it was partly his fault that Fox had
spent a night in the dungeon, she decided, conveniently 
forgetting that it was largely her own temper that had
deprived her husband of his freedom for the night.

He paused again, feeling his face drain a bit, his delight
in Alex's punishment suddenly tempered by his realization 
that Roberta could be quite strict.  "What will they do
to him, my lady?" he asked with forced lightness.

She studied him, not fooled by his attempt at being casual.  
"Roberta uses very effective methods of Discipline, Fox.  Alex
is stubborn--he would never change his impertinent ways if he
were merely sent to bed without his supper.  Some men simply
require more correction than others."

He dried his hands absently as he pondered her words.  Was he
one of the men she felt required "more correction"?

"Alex will emerge exhausted, but unscathed," she reassured
him, mistaking his silence for concern over the servant.  
"You need not worry on his account."

"It is not Alex for whom I worry," he murmured to himself,
turning away in the hope that she would not read the fear on
his face.

Dana caught his softly-uttered words, and immediately went
to him,  clasping his face between her hands tenderly.

"I will never give *you* to the servants, Fox.  Is that what
you fear?"

He nodded slowly, staring down into her clear blue eyes. "My
lady is sometimes...severe," he whispered, dropping his eyes
to the floor, "and I am often badly behaved.  I am afraid
that I will someday anger you to the point that--"

"No other woman will ever have you," she told him fiercely,
her grip on his face tightening a bit.  "Have I not
demonstrated that to you sufficiently on previous
occasions?"

Remembering her anger at Melissa's touching him, and the
ferocity of her lovemaking that night, he smiled, comforted
somewhat by her obvious possessiveness.

"You have, my lady," he agreed, nodding as much as he was
able with his cheeks still held between her strong hands.

"Good.  I would that you remember that, sweeting."  She reached 
up and kissed him again, then released his face with a tender pat.  
"Now dress yourself.  You shall take supper with the family 
tonight."

Hastily, eager to escape the chamber after such a long
confinement, Fox obeyed, slipping into the despised high boots 
he knew she liked and fastening his breeches snugly about his
hips.  His shirt, which was tucked inside the breeches, was
opened to mid-chest, and Dana released two more of the fasteners 
before nodding her approval.  She rubbed his nipples teasingly, 
and he sucked in a breath of surprised pleasure.  Dana dropped a 
promising kiss right in the center of his chest before stepping 
away.  He had a beautiful stomach, and she enjoyed seeing his 
manly flesh displayed for her pleasure.  It was proper, now that 
he was married, but Fox still blushed modestly at the amount of 
his skin that was revealed.

Following behind her, two respectful steps to the rear, Fox
followed his lady downstairs and into the dining room, teetering
slightly on the heels which he had despaired of ever growing
comfortable with.  Melissa was already there, staring pensively 
out a window at the beautiful gardens below, and she turned to 
them with a smile when they entered.

"Fox, you are looking quite lovely tonight," she told him,
pulling out a chair for the young man to seat himself.
"Sister, you should be proud."

"I am quite proud of my husband, Melissa," Dana replied,
with a slight emphasis.  "Perhaps you should consider finding 
one of your own."

"I have thought about it, you know," Melissa confided.  Dana
seated herself at the head of the table, and Fox took his
place on her right side.  Melissa seated herself on Dana's
left, across from her brother-in-law, and reached for a
goblet of wine.

"Thought about what?" asked Maggie as she entered the dining
room, trailed by Walter.  She sat at the other end of the
table, Walter at her right, next to Melissa.

"Taking a husband," Melissa replied.  "I would like have
Lady Gainsborough add another dashing, handsome husband's
portrait to the family gallery.  If there are any such
men left in the county, now that my mother and sister
have had their pick," she added, winking mischievously
at both Fox and Walter.  Both men dropped their eyes in 
unison, embarrassed at her gallant attentions.

"Come, Mother, Dana," Melissa teased.  "These two pretty
fellows blush entirely too easily when a woman praises
them.  Perhaps you do not tell them often enough that 
they are pleasing to you."

"My lady voices her pleasure with me often," Fox offered 
quickly, and Dana smiled.

"As does Fox," she replied, lifting her goblet in a silent
toast to him, and Fox looked on, bewildered, as the women 
exploded in laughter. He glanced at Walter, who stared at 
his lap, his lips pressed tightly together, and vowed to ask 
him later what had been so funny.  Fox hated being so un-worldly, 
and he knew the laughter was probably at his expense.  
Irritated, he stabbed at a string bean with his fork.

"Do not be upset, sweeting," Dana said, stroking the back of
his hand.  "I find your innocence a total delight."

She raised his hand to her lips and kissed his fingers
tenderly, and Fox could only stare, a slightly glazed look
in his eye.  It was what Melissa had done upon their
meeting, and he had been impressed with her gallantry, but
the touch of Dana's lips on his flesh gave him a tingle that
he felt throughout his body.  He wished she would kiss him
again, indeed, he wished she would invent a reason to hurry
him upstairs this instant and take him to her bed, but
instead, she merely gave a secret smile and lay his hand
gently back on the table.

Fox released his breath at last, modestly swallowing his
desire, and flushed again when he caught amusement in
Melissa's eyes.  Was everyone at this table bound and
determined to laugh at him throughout the meal?  Ignoring
the rest of them, he began to consume his food absently, his
thoughts still occupied with images of Dana's sweet body
beneath his, her whispered endearments in his ear, her legs
wrapped firmly around his body.  Realizing that his manhood
was growing uncomfortably firm, and that his breeches were
rather revealing, Fox took a long drink of water from his
tumbler and forced himself to think of other things.

He hoped they could make their escape as soon as the meal
was completed, but Lady Maggie suggested an evening of cards
in the parlor, and Melissa excused herself, announcing that
she must write some letters.  Smothering a sigh, Fox
followed Dana to the salon and took his place across from
her, forcing himself to concentrate on the cards in his hand
rather than his wife's luscious lips and delectable form.

He thought the evening would never end.

At last, when the clock was near to striking ten, Dana
announced that she was tired.  She stacked the cards neatly
in the center of the table and stood, nodding goodnight to
her mother.

"Fox," she said, holding out her hand to him, "Come.  Let us
take a walk in the gardens before retiring."

"Yes, my lady," he replied, trying not to sound too eager. A
walk in the gardens, and then...bed?  He hoped so. Politely
bidding Lady Maggie and Walter a good night, he followed as
Dana led him from the room.

"Walter, stop stifling those yawns," he heard Maggie say
behind him as she rang for a tea tray.  "Surely you can 
remain awake long enough to allow me to best you at a game 
of chess."

Dana laughed as they let themselves outside.  "Poor Walter,"
she said sympathetically.  "When Mother gets involved in her
games, time has no meaning for her."

She wrapped her cloak around her husband's shoulders, mindful
of his bared chest, and led him toward the path through the 
garden.  Leaning against his broad chest for a moment, she 
happily inhaling his scent.

"I have wanted you all evening," she whispered.

"My lady has delighted in tormenting me," he replied with
shy amusement.

She laughed again.  "Come, let us find a bit of privacy and
I shall torment you all the more," she promised, and Fox
gulped as she led him deeper into the gardens.  Surely she
didn't mean to take him outside again?

Feeling her determined tug on his hand, he was afraid she
intended exactly that, and as they approached a particularly
well-hidden gazebo, he became convinced.

She stopped, before entering the gazebo, and stared up at
the clear night sky.

"The stars are beautiful tonight," she observed.  "This is
my favorite kind of night, when the air is still and only
slightly cool, and one can see beyond the moon in the
darkness."

"I sometimes look up at them and wonder..." he began, and
trailed off, embarrassed at revealing one of his deepest
secrets to his practical wife.

"Wonder?" she prompted, and he glanced down at her,
expecting to see derision but finding only kindness and
curiosity.

"Wonder if there are people out there somewhere, just like
us," he confessed.

She regarded him for a moment, finding no trace of teasing
in his tone or demeanor, and considered.  "I suppose it is
possible," she conceded at last, "however, I find it very
unlikely.  And even if there are other worlds out there with
people inhabiting them, we shall never learn of them.  Our
Goddess planted us on the ground, and on the ground we shall
stay."

"Perhaps, my lady," he said softly, admiring the way the
stars twinkled in her eyes.  "I sometimes dream of flying
through the sky like the most free of birds.  To soar,
unfettered, unobstructed, uncatchable."

"But you are catchable, my Fox," she said in a low, husky
voice.  "Indeed, I have captured you well."

His arousal, which he had managed to suppress during the
long, tedious evening, sprang back to life at her words, and
he touched her arms, grasping them with his hands almost
reverently.

"My lady," he breathed, sliding his fingers up to entwine in
her silky hair.  "Please--allow me--"  He got no further,
simply lowering his head until his mouth met hers.  What
began as a sweet kiss soon became a passionate embrace, as
both of them gave vent to the urges that had been kept
carefully banked for the past few hours.

Fox took liberties he had never before dared, allowing his
mouth to leave her lips and travel down her throat and
shoulders, as she often did with him, stroking his fingers
across her soft breasts and enjoying the sudden gasp of
arousal his actions elicited from her.  She pressed against
him tightly, and his hardness ground into her softness until
he feared he would scream with frustration.

"Inside, now," she growled, shoving him toward the gazebo,
and he obeyed instantly, allowing her to pull him over to a
bench where they sank down, lost in their passion.  She then 
proceeded to drive him absolutely wild with her mouth, kissing, 
licking and nipping at his burning flesh until he could stand 
no more.

"Dana, please," he groaned, feeling as if he would burst out
of his breeches if she did not release him soon.

Instead, she pushed him gently off the bench and to his knees, 
placing her heels upon his shoulders.  She was wearing a long skirt
tonight, rather than the loose trousers that were her usual
attire, and with both hands, she raised the fabric to her
waist, revealing her soft woman's flesh to him in the
moonlight. Her scent was intoxicating, and Fox inhaled
deeply, wanting nothing more than to bury himself in her at
once.

"I will teach you a new way to please me tonight, husband,"
she said hoarsely, and he nodded, grasping at her legs
eagerly.

"Anything, my lady," he begged.  "Just tell me what you wish
of me."

"I should like you to pleasure me with your mouth, as I have
done with you in the past," she told him, and his jaw
dropped in amazement.

"Is that--is that *done?*" he asked incredulously, and she
almost laughed, biting back her mirth at the last moment.
Somehow, Dana sensed Fox had endured enough of being laughed at
for one evening.

"Indeed it is," she told her seriously.  "It will bring me
much pleasure, Fox.  And afterwards, I shall allow you to
come inside me."

Hesitantly, uncertainly, Fox lowered his face to her
inviting warmth, reaching out his tongue and softly touching
the pink flesh that was Dana.  He expected to be repulsed,
but instead, to his surprise, found the entire experience
quite to his liking, and before long he threw himself into
his new task with characteristic enthusiasm.  Dana wriggled
beneath his ministrations, and he drew back, concerned.

"Am I hurting you, my lady?" he asked.

"No," she whispered fiercely.  "Continue!"

He obeyed at once, lowering his tongue to lap at her again,
feeling the contours of her body with his lips, tracing the
folds of her sweetness and occasionally dipping his tongue
inside her.  His hands caressed her hips while he continued 
nuzzling at her until he felt her muscles tighten, then latched 
his mouth onto a particularly sensitive part of her and suckled 
enthusiastically. Moments later she threw back her head and 
screamed her pleasure, her heels digging into his shoulders and 
her fingers clutching at his arms, holding him in place, thrashing 
and moaning and ordering him not to stop, not to stop, not to 
dare stop.

Finally, when Fox feared his very tongue would fall out of
his mouth with fatigue, she relaxed and tugged gently at his
hair.

"Did I please you, my lady?" he asked anxiously, and she
graced him with one of her most dazzling smiles.

"Did I not voice my pleasure with you sufficiently, Fox?" she
asked innocently, and laughed aloud as the full meaning of
the dinnertime laughter dawned on his handsome face. "You did 
indeed, sweeting, and now it is your turn.  Should you like to 
be atop me this time?"

His eyes lit up, for lying over her and sinking his manhood
into her softness was greatly pleasurable to him, but Fox
found his curiosity aroused as well.

"Perhaps," he said carefully, "I could come into you as you
sit here on the bench?"  The words were hesitant, unsure,
but he felt reassured when Dana smiled again.

"An excellent plan," she said enthusiastically.

Fox wasted no time in plunging his rod into her, sinking in
to the hilt at once.  She cried out her pleasure again, and
he whimpered, almost overwhelmed with the sensation of
having her all around him, still tasting her on his lips,
feeling her and smelling her sweet scent and just *having*
her beneath him.

"Take whatever pace suits you, sweeting," she whispered,
and, feeling overwhelmed with gratitude at her generosity,
he set a slow pace that made her moan with pleasure, nearly
driving himself insane in the process.  He was proud of the
fact that he held himself back long enough to drive that
screaming, spasming pleasure from her yet again before he
at last found his own release.  Thrusting into her fiercely 
until his seed was fully spilled, he collapsed to the bench 
beside her, panting for breath.

"You will be the death of me, my lady," he whispered, and
she laughed, a sound he had already come to love.

"You are young, healthy and virile, Fox," she replied, 
teasing his bare chest with her tongue as she snuggled against 
him.  "I expect you to pleasure me often, just as I intend 
to pleasure you."

"Well," he said teasingly, "a husband's work is never done, and
he must do as his lady commands.  Ouch!"

She nipped again at his flesh, suckling the spot at the base
of his neck that she seemed to find so enticing.

"Be still," she commanded.  "Or I'll find something else to
nibble on."

She tormented him with her lips and tongue until he was
almost whimpering, amazed that he wanted her again so
quickly.  She pushed him gently to the floor, then raised 
her skirt again and positioned herself above him, plunging 
his manhood into her and riding him wildly, her fingernails 
digging into the white flesh of his forearms as she took him 
hungrily.  Very soon this time, she cried out her pleasure, 
and he found that he had still more seed to spill within her.  
Fox collapsed against the floor of the gazebo, breathing 
heavily, feeling as if he simply must slip into a faint at any 
moment, so lightheaded was he from her attentions.

"That was delightful, sweeting," she announced, climbing off
his lap and shaking out her skirts.  "You please me very well."
Dana smoothed her hair down with her hands, and straightened 
the bodice of her gown, while Fox sat up and stared in amazement.

"Now I know why ladies sometimes wear skirts," he murmured.
"It must be a great convenience when one intends to make use
of a man repeatedly."

She leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips, stroking some
semblance of order to his own hair with her tender fingers.

"I do hope you felt I was doing more than simply making use
of your body, Fox."

He stared up at her luminescent eyes, her hair that was
golden in the moonlight, and a surge of emotion washed over
him the likes of which he had never known.

"Dana," he said softly, taking her hands in his.  "Do you
think--you could ever--I mean--"

He bit his lip in agitation, dropping his eyes to her shoes,
and she prompted, "Could I what, Fox?"

"Is it possible, my lady, that you could ever come to care
for me?"  He said the words all in a rush, clenching his
eyes tightly against her answer.  He opened them again when
she stroked his face tenderly, and gazed up at her, full of
hope.

"My dear, sweet Fox," she said slowly.  "I do care for you,
a great deal.  I have been quite fond of you ever since we
were children.  I thought you knew that."

"I did, my lady--I do.  But one is fond of candy.  What I 
mean is, could you ever *really* care for me?"

She smiled in amusement.  "Fox, are you asking if I could
fall in love with you?"

"Is it so ridiculous a notion?" he asked, dropping a kiss on
the hands he still held.  "Am I so unlovable?"

"You know that you are not--all who know you find you
attractive and amusing.  Certainly I enjoy your company--in
or out of bed," she added mischievously.  "But Fox, what you
are asking...falling in love--*really* in love--only makes a
lady weak.  I know.  I have friends who have made that
mistake."

"Lady Modeski?"

She nodded.  "Suzanne was a fine officer.  I served under
her command for several years, until she met John.  We were
involved in the most secret of missions, some I am not free
to speak of even to this day.  Once John came into her life,
however, I lost a good commander, and almost lost a good
friend."

"How did you almost lose her friendship?" he inquired
curiously, straightening his own clothing and rising to his
feet.  Dana slipped his arm through hers and began to lead
him back toward the house.

"She was in love with John from the beginning," she mused,
almost as if she were talking to herself.  "We could all see
it, and we teased her about it unmercifully.  That didn't
seem to bother her, but the night John came to our barracks
to visit her and she was not there..."

Her voice trailed off, and Fox swallowed a sudden lump of
fear.  He could guess what had happened, and his thoughts
turned to Alex, at the mercy of the servants at this very
moment.

"We didn't hurt him," she continued after a moment.  "We
teased him a little, groped him a lot, and removed most of
his clothing.  We had all been drinking that night, you see.
Poor John was as frightened as you were on our marriage
night, Fox, and yet, we did not know he was a virgin.  We
thought surely, at his age...and John was not of the
Nobility.  His mother was a chef in a London restaurant."

"My lady, you didn't--"

"Well, the one thing about that night on which I can
remember without feeling shame is that no, *I* did not.  But
they did."

Fox remained silent, horrified at the revelation.

"As I said, John wasn't hurt--not physically anyway.  They
were quite gentle with him, but...when he left our barracks,
he was no longer pure," she said, raising a serious face to
his.  "And Suzanne..."

She shook her head.

"She was angry?"

"Furious.  Livid.  We were given punishment duties of which
I shall not tell your tender ears.  Suffice to say we were
all humiliated and exhausted.  But the worst part...the
worst part was when she had John address us all.  He was
terrified to face us, poor man, but Suzanne stood beside him
while he told us that we had ruined him.  Of course he was
quite proper about it, not ungentlemanly at all, but we knew
what he was really saying.  It was soon after that Suzanne
left the service to marry him."

She kicked absently at a pebble under her foot, still lost
in her memories.

"Suzanne was cold and hostile to all of us after that,
except for myself and two others who had not participated in
the rape.  John told her we had tried to help him, and we
did, but..."

He waited for a moment, then prompted gently, "But what,
Dana?"

"Sometimes I wonder if I tried hard enough to protect John,"
she sighed.  "It is one of the reasons I am so adamant about
your protection, Fox.  I refuse to be responsible for the
rape of an innocent man again."

"But Alex..." he said in a low voice, afraid of angering her.

"Alex earned his punishment, Fox," she reminded him sternly.
"And I assure you, Alex was no virgin before tonight."

"How do you know?" he asked curiously, wondering just exactly
how one ascertained if a man was pure, since there appeared
to be no outward sign.

She gave a snort of derision.  "A lady knows, Fox, believe me."

He mulled over her words for a time. "You were not responsible--" 
he began at last, but Dana cut him off.

"It is the job of a Lady of the Nobility to protect the
weaker gender," she insisted.  "Had I truly made an attempt,
I and the other ladies who held back, perhaps we could have
saved John from his fate.  If he had been a man of the
Nobility, perhaps we would have tried harder..."

"I do not believe that of you, my lady," he defended
staunchly.  "You would not first ascertain a man's station
in life before running to his assistance.  You are a kind
woman."

She gave him a small smile, pulling him again toward the
house.  "Perhaps," she said softly.  "I was much younger
then."

Her mood seemed questionable, and they walked in silence for
a few more minutes before Fox found the courage to voice his
next question.

"My lady, there is one thing I don't understand. Why do you
say that loving him made Lady Modeski weak?  I find it an
admirable quality that she would stand beside the poor,
dishonored man."

"Ah, but Fox, you did not know Suzanne before.  It was not
the first time we had taken a man as a plaything for the
evening, although it was the first and only time the man was
not a willing participant.  Suzanne was always the
ringleader in such activities.  She would often recruit
several men if we were camped near a town, to be our
entertainment.  She never cared for their desires until
John.  Then she went soft."

"And softness is not a good thing in a soldier," he stated
flatly.

"It is not.  Nor in a wife. Come," she replied, slipping her 
arm around his waist again.  "Let us forget this unpleasantness 
and return to our chamber."

"Oh, my lady..." he began with a slight groan, and she laughed
outright.

"Do not worry, Fox.  Our play this evening has tired
even me.  I plan on doing nothing more than sleeping in
my bed chamber, but I wish to do so with a beautiful fox
cub in my arms tonight."

"I wish that as well," he responded eagerly as they entered
the mansion.

They had just reached the top of the stairs when voices from
below drifted upwards.

"I am amazed, Walter, truly," Lady Maggie was saying as she
and her husband mounted the staircase.  "Who would have
believed a man could outsmart me at chess?"

Placing her finger conspiratorially over her lips, Dana
pulled Fox into the darkest corner of the hall, and they
both suppressed their giggles as they eavesdropped.

"I am certain it was a chance occurrence," Walter replied
blandly as he followed his wife upstairs.

"Are you?" Lady Maggie asked suspiciously, stopping to look
back at him.

He tried to hide his smile, but was unable to keep his
satisfaction a secret.

"I must confess, my lady, that chess is one of my strong
points," he allowed with a shy smile.  "I learned from Lady
Sharon's mother, and it appears I have somewhat of a gift
for the game."

"And Lady Sharon, did she play as well?" Maggie asked as
they continued their upward trek.

Walter groaned, gripping his head in mock pain.  "She
played, my lady, but she should not have.  She was hopeless
at the game, I fear."

Maggie laughed.

"The worst part was that she was forever gambling on her
games, and never learned to stay away from chess.  I saw
Lady Sharon lose many a gold piece to opponents.  On one
evening, when she had imbibed a particular amount of brandy,
she lost a diamond necklace that had been a family heirloom.
Her mother was furious."

He smiled fondly as he held the door to the West Wing open
for his wife to enter, and Dana and Fox, still hiding
silently in the opposite corner of the room, clutched at
each other as they held back shouts of laughter.  The idea
of the very proper Lady Sharon getting drunk and losing at
games was hysterical, for they both remembered her as a
somewhat prim, quite reserved lady.

When the door to the West Wing closed behind her mother and
Walter, Dana grabbed Fox by the hand and dragged him toward
the East Wing.

"Come, husband," she ordered with mock severity.  "I wish to
determine whether you are able to beat me at chess!"

"And if I win, my lady?" he teased, following her eagerly.

"If you win, I will take you into town with me next week,
after our guests leave, so that you may visit the shops and
enjoy yourself."

Lord Scully's eyes sparkled at the prospect, for he had
rarely been allowed into town before his marriage, and since
joining the Scully household, had simply been too busy for
such pleasures.

"And if you should manage to best me?" he inquired as they
entered their chamber.

"Punishment by pleasure."

The door closing stifled his groan.

-----

"Perhaps I could be of assistance?"

Fox started at the unexpected voice behind him, then smiled
gratefully at Walter.  He had been busy all day, supervising
and assisting with the cleaning of the mansion from top to
bottom, and he was exhausted.  His stomach growled loudly,
for he'd had no time to stop for lunch, and Fox was
surprised to realize it was already half past four.

"Thank you," he breathed, handing the dusting cloth to
Walter and sinking slowly into a chair.  Normally, he would
not be doing such menial work himself, but with the shortness
of time, every pair of available hands was needed.  He groaned,
grateful Dana only required the heeled boots for dinner and
formal occasions, and slipped off the comfortable shoes he was
wearing today.  Fox rubbed his aching feet while Walter took up 
his chore.

"Who thought it was a good idea to have eight thousand
porcelain knickknacks in this room?" he groused, staring
around the chamber gloomily.  "We shall never be ready in
time."

"We shall be ready," Walter replied calmly, taking up a
small ceramic vase and dusting it thoroughly.

"Lord Fox?" came Alex's voice at the door, and both men turned.

"I've finished scrubbing the floors in all the upstairs
chambers. What would you like me to do next?"

"Take the carpets from downstairs outside and begin beating
them," Fox ordered promptly.  "Take Sarah and Ellis to help
you.  They are both very strong, and can handle the heavy carpets
easily."

Alex gave a sullen nod, moving rather stiffly as he exited the room,
and Walter bit back his laughter when he saw the face Fox made
toward the man.  So Fox was still jealous of the young maid, was he?

"You've nothing to fear from him, you know," Walter told him
as they pulled down the curtains for airing.  "Lady Dana
would not give him a second glance."

"Why wouldn't she?" Fox demanded petulantly, tugging at the
heavy fabric and almost ripping it before Walter managed to
unhook it from the curtain rod.  "He's beautiful."

"He is," Walter agreed.  "But he is also forward and loose.  Dana
prefers modest men who know their place."

Fox looked disbelieving, and Walter continued.  "I believe she is 
quite taken with your company," he said, feeling sudden compassion 
toward his son-in-law.  "Fear not, young Fox.  She will not be 
taking that one to her bed."

"How do you know?" he asked suspiciously.

"Because I am older than you, and have been married far
longer.  I have seen the look a woman gets in her eye when
she wants to bed a man, and Lady Dana does not have that
look for the new servant."

"But the night I was downstairs..." Fox said hesitantly,
rubbing at a spot of dust on the bureau.

"Lady Dana slept alone," Walter told him firmly.

The hopeful look on the younger man's face went straight to
Walter's heart.

"Are you certain?" he asked eagerly.

"I am," Walter said positively.  "I heard some of the
servants discussing the fun they'd had with Alex that
night.  They kept him much too busy to warm Lady Dana's bed."

Fox, his heart singing, went about the rest of his chores
with a feeling of light cheerfulness.

*****

He entered the kitchen to check on the evening meal, and
when the smell of food cooking hit his nostrils, realized
how long it had been since he had eaten.  Grateful that he
was no longer feeling ill, he sank down on one of the
benches at which the servants took their meals and asked
Natalie to bring him some soup.  He tugged off the cloth
he'd wrapped around his hair to keep the dust out, and
slipped his filthy apron over his head, tossing both to
the bench beside him.

"My lady says you are to eat a proper supper with her, in 
the dining room, Lord Fox," Natalie contradicted.  "She is
awaiting you now."

Fox glanced down at his grimy clothing, swiped at his sweaty
face, and lamented the fact that his hair was a mess and he
most certainly smelled rather ripe.  He debated the
possibility of sneaking upstairs for a bath, but knew that
Dana would never tolerate being kept waiting.  A perfect
husband would not keep his lady waiting, anyway, he chided
himself.  A perfect husband would present himself at his
lady's table, appropriately groomed and ready to attend to
her needs.  With a sigh, he realized perfection was a goal
which he would be long in attaining, but he must keep trying
in order to win her affections.

Quickly, Fox slipped outside to the pump, managed to wash
his face and clean away some of the sweat-smell that clung
to him, and returned to face the family at table.  Dana
smiled when he entered the room, seeming not to notice his
disarray.

"Ah, Fox," she greeted him.  "I am glad to see you looking
well."

"Thank you, my lady," he murmured, sliding into his chair.
"Please forgive my appearance.  I had not realized it was so
near supper time."

She examined him critically, saying, "You do look as if you
could use a bath," and then proceeded to discuss patients she
had seen that day with her mother, for the most part
ignoring her husband.

Fox sat beside her, shoving food around his plate and
occasionally taking a bite, but his appetite had gone with
her words.  She had not seen him all day, and all she could
do was criticize his appearance?  He didn't even want to be
at this table--he would much prefer to be soaking in a tub
of jasmine scented water just now, but she had demanded his
presence.

He caught Walter's eye, and the older man gave a slight
smile.  "Do not let it bother you," he said softly, and Fox
nodded, swallowing the lump that had appeared in his throat
again.  Of course Dana wished to discuss business with her
mother.  She was an important healer in the village, and
Lady Maggie had many more years at the practice of medicine
behind her.  Dana simply wished to take advantage of her
mother's expertise.

Yawning tiredly, Fox began pulling apart the slice of bread
that lay beside his plate.

"So, what did you do all day, Fox?" Dana asked pleasantly,
when she had finished her meal and pushed her chair back
from the table.  "Did you manage to keep busy?"

Fox choked back his retort, angered at her inference that
his job consisted of so little work that he must search for
things to keep himself occupied.  Perfection, he reminded
himself.

"I have been preparing the house for your guests, my lady,"
he said demurely, eyes on his plate.  "It is quite a task. I
don't believe some of the chambers have been cleaned
properly in twenty years.  I simply wanted everything to
look nice for your guests."

Dana shrugged.  "But surely the house was clean enough?" she
teased.  "It was hardly necessary to go so far as dusting the 
attics and polishing the weathervane."

Clearing his throat, Walter cut in, "I believe Fox has been
quite industriously supervising and assisting with a
thorough cleaning of the mansion, my lady.  He has not even
stopped for a meal.  Because he was ill abed yesterday, he
has had much more work than usual to accomplish today."

Dana took notice for the first time of the weary slump to
her husband's shoulders, the limpness of his hair and the
lines of fatigue on his face.

"Fox, we have servants to clean the manor," she said gently.
"There is no need for you to work yourself so hard."

Fox took a deep breath before replying, "I realize that, my
lady.  It was the shortness of time that presented a
problem.  Every pair of hands was necessary, including mine.
And Walter has assisted in many ways as well, which I thank
you for allowing, Lady Maggie," he added, giving a nod of
deference to his mother-in-law.

"Indeed, Fox, the two of you have accomplished a great deal
in the past two days," Lady Maggie responded with an
affectionate smile.  "Dana and I will be quite proud to have
you at our sides when our guests arrive."

Fox nodded gratefully, closing his eyes just for a moment,
and felt the conversation melt into a blur around him.  What
seemed as if it could only be seconds later he felt Dana's
strong hands pulling him to his feet.

"You are asleep in your chair, sweeting," she laughed.
"Come, let's get you into bed.  You must be fresh and pretty
when Lady Suzanne arrives tomorrow."

He allowed Dana to lead him to their chamber, still
half-asleep, and sat on the side of the bed while she
washed some of the dirt from his hands and face with water
from the basin next to the bed.  He fell back wearily to the 
pillow, giving a deep sigh of relief, and Dana kissed him 
soundly on the lips.

"Rest now, Fox," she instructed.  "You may have a proper 
bath in the morning.  Get as much sleep as you can, for 
tomorrow night I intend to take you quite thoroughly."

His eyes flew open as she left the chamber, wondering
uncomfortably how he was supposed to get to sleep with
*that* thought in his mind.  He felt his manhood stir to life
as he realized she'd neglected to put a nightshirt on him.  
Climbing out of bed, Fox intended to rectify the oversight,
until a thought stopped him.  Perhaps she'd intended him to
sleep in the nude, as she often did?  One thing he had learned
about his wife was that she rarely did anything by mistake.
A perfect husband would not dress himself if his wife wished
him naked.  Hesitantly, he fingered a clean nightshirt for
a moment, then slammed the dresser drawer and slipped back
into bed.  If Dana wished him dressed, she would tell him
so, he decided sleepily.

He recalled her final words, and resolutely rolled onto his 
stomach, forcing himself to call to mind all manner of 
unpleasant thoughts in order to banish the image of her 
lovely body possessing his.  He had almost accomplished the 
task, drifting slowly into much-needed sleep, when there came 
a knock at the door.

"Enter," he called sleepily, raising his head in curiosity.
Who could be wanting him now?  Surely the entire mansion was
in readiness for the company that would arrive in the
morning.

Fox sighed in resignation when Alex slipped through the
chamber door.  Groaning inwardly, he wondered what he had
forgotten to do, and why the servant he most detested had
been sent to remind him.

"Yes, Alex, what is it?" he asked wearily.

"We need to have a talk, my lord Fox," Alex replied, his
sneering expression conveying none of the respect the words
should contain.

Fox frowned.  "I dislike your tone," he said evenly,
gripping the coverlet to contain his anger.

"You shall dislike much more than my tone by the time I am
finished," Alex replied, throwing the latch to lock them
inside the chamber.

Fox's eyes widened, but he refused to allow the servant to
see his sudden flicker of fear.  The entire family was
downstairs, out of earshot should Alex attempt to harm him,
but surely there were other servants nearby.  His eyes
rested momentarily on the bell cord.  It was two feet from
the bed.  He could make it before Alex reached him if he
must.

"Don't consider calling for help," Alex told him coldly. "I
assure you, my lord, you do not want the rest of the
household to witness what I have to say."

"Why should I wish to listen to anything--"

"You will listen," Alex interrupted, reaching the bed in
three quick strides.  He grasped Lord Scully's left arm
without warning and twisted it behind his back, holding
him in place. "You will listen
to all I have to say, and when I am finished, you will do
exactly as I tell you.  If you call for help, I will reveal
my story to the entire household.  Surely you wish to hear
it before you allow that to happen?"

Fox closed his mouth and nodded once, sullenly, then waited
for the servant to continue.

"I know your secret, Fox," Alex whispered harshly.  "I
worked with Isaac Tremont in London, and he told me all
about how you helped him escape from Lady Diana Fowley."

Fox stared back at Alex, too stunned to even protest, all the
breath suddenly leaving his body.  It couldn't be!  Surely
the man was lying!  And yet, if he did not know the truth,
how would he ever connect Isaac's name to his?  Isaac must
have--  Fox clenched his jaw in fury.  He had sworn Isaac to
secrecy about his part in aiding the poor servant's escape,
and Isaac had vowed to protect him.  If Alex knew, how many
others did as well?

"I see I have managed to render you speechless," Alex
continued with wry amusement.  "Did you truly believe you
would never be found out?"

"I had thought that the man I saved was trustworthy," Fox
replied bitterly.  "Obviously I was mistaken."

"Isaac is trustworthy, Fox.  He is also very, very grateful.
He confided in me, late one night, about a gentleman of the
Nobility who had helped him escape from a lady who held a
five year contract for him.  The Lady in question had left
him to die.  Isaac didn't give any names at first, but..."
Alex shrugged.

Furious, Fox tried to punch at Alex with his free arm, but
the servant grasped him around the waist, squeezing his arms 
so tightly against his body that he could scarcely breathe.
"What did you do to him?" Fox demanded, fearing Isaac had
been made to suffer further because of his own actions.

Alex smiled, and there was nothing but ice in his
expression.  "I got him drunk," he said simply.  "I
convinced him I was his friend.  I convinced him I was
*your* friend.  He told me everything I needed to know.  I
only had five months left on my contract, and when it was up
I came here.  Luckily for me, your Lady was quite eager to
hire a young, pretty upstairs maid, but had she not been so
eager, I had another card to play."

"How do I know *you* are not lying?" Fox spat angrily.
"You have no proof of your accusation.  My lady will believe 
the word of her husband over that of a mere servant."

Alex gave a short laugh.  "Do you think I never considered
that possibility?" he smirked.  "I have a letter from Isaac,
addressed to you, recounting his gratitude to you for all you
did to help him.  He's quite thorough with the details of
your assistance, and begs that your Lady employ me now.  He
knew I would be looking for a new employer in this region,
and wished to help his friend."

"You? A letter?  You, who cannot read or write?"  Lord Scully's
derisive tone only angered Alex further.

"Yes, I who cannot read or write, but who knows how to survive,
how to bribe those with more learning but less intelligence
than myself, and how to make their arrogance work in my favor," 
he hissed.  "I know exactly what the letter says, I have 
committed it to memory.  I'll allow you to see it if you wish.
There is another copy in existence, left in the hands of a trusted
friend, one who has instructions to deliver the letter to Lady
Fowley in the event of my untimely death or disappearance."

He sat quietly for a moment, but Fox seemed unable or unwilling
to respond.

"So you see, dear Fox--you belong to me.  You will do as I say,
or I will see you delivered into her hands immediately, and there
will be nothing your fine Lady can do to save you.  The law is
clearly on the side of Lady Fowley."

Fox struggled angrily at Alex's words, but he was unable to
escape the servant's iron grip.  

"What do you want of me?" he demanded, his chest heaving.

Alex looked thoughtful, gazing down at the beautiful man
beneath him, and Fox felt pure terror pierce his heart.  He
had heard of men who preferred to lie with other men, but
had never felt any such urges himself.  The thought that
Alex might demand to use his body sickened and terrified
him.

Alex seemed to perceive his thoughts, for he gave a short
bark of laughter.

"Not that, Fox," he whispered softly, running his free hand
down his captive's cheek gently.  "Although if I thought you
would be willing..."

Fox shuddered.

"I'm not a rapist," Alex went on coldly.  "However, I am not
above extortion.  I can use you, Fox, for many things.  I
can improve my life immeasurably with your cooperation.  Should
you choose to be difficult about the situation...well, Fox, if 
the idea of lying beneath me is horrifying to you, picture yourself 
at Lady Fowley's mercy.  She would have the right to claim you for 
a period of four and one half years, the length of time left to 
Isaac's contract when he escaped her.  Do you believe she would 
pass up the chance to do so?"

Fox didn't answer, but he knew Alex saw the defeat in his
eyes.

"What shall I do?" he asked dully, suddenly feeling as dead
as winter inside.

Alex appeared to consider, but Fox had a suspicion that he
had planned every move before coming to his chamber.

"For now," the servant told him carefully, "I want you to
step forward and take the responsibility anytime I am to be
punished."

Fox swallowed hard, remembering the whipping Alex had so
recently received, not to mention what came after.

"The--the respons--"

"The responsibility *and* the punishment," Alex told him quietly.

"But I--"

"Do not look so desperate.  I have no doubt that Lady Dana
will deal much less harshly with you than with me.  I am
certain she would not give you to the servants for an
evening of their pleasure."

Fox did not miss the bitterness beneath the words, and his
kind heart softened for a moment.

"I am sorry that happened to you," he said sincerely.  "I
would not wish to see anyone suffer such a punishment."

Alex's face darkened.  "What do you know of what happened
to me?" he demanded.  "Have you ever been forced to pleasure
woman after woman, denied your own release, while your bottom
is whipped and you have a--"  He stopped suddenly, surprised
at the sudden guilt that crossed the other man's face.  He had
not expected Lord Scully to have a conscience.
  
"If you value your freedom, it will not happen again," he
continued quietly.  "Do we have a bargain, or shall I contact 
Lady Fowley?"

Fox met his challenging stare for a few seconds before
closing his eyes in surrender.

"We have a bargain," he answered faintly.

"Good."  Alex stood, releasing Lord Scully's wrists, and Fox
merely lay upon the bed, wanting to accost the servant but
fearing to make the attempt.  If he should try and fail...

"Do not consider revealing this conversation to your Lady,"
Alex warned, "or my friend will go directly to Lady Fowley.  
You cannot escape me, Fox.  There is no use in trying."

Fox nodded dumbly, waiting until Alex released the latch and
left the room, and then curled up into as tiny a ball as he
could manage in the center of the bed, fighting back his
tears of anger and fear.  With one fist, he pounded
the pillow in frustration. He had been trying so
hard to be perfect, and had almost begun to believe his plan
had a chance of success.  In spite of her words, Fox had
begun to believe that she might truly care for him, just
a bit, and hoped her caring would grow into something
more.  He had been so happy with Dana, and now this...this 
*maid* was threatening it all.  And yet, what choice did he 
have but to agree to Alex's demands?

Fox had no doubt that if he told Dana the entire story, she
would have Alex killed, and he knew he could never live with
the guilt that would bring.  He also knew that she would punish
him severely, but maybe she would not send him away.  Besides,
if he told her, and she dispensed with Alex, there was the other
person, whose name was unknown to him, who would immediately
reveal his secret.  It was simply too dangerous to risk.

Burying his face in his hands, Fox prayed silently, begging
the Goddess for Her help--surely there could be no
assistance from any other source.


Chapter 8


Fox lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the
tightness in his gut.  He was torn between wanting to tell
Dana everything, and the fear that, if his actions were
revealed, even to her, he would end up in the hands of Lady
Fowley.  Fox knew very little about the law, but he did know
that in this case, Lady Fowley would have a valid claim on
him to replace the four years and six months of Isaac's
contract that he had, essentially, stolen from her by
freeing the poor man.  The one thing he did not know was
whether Dana, with her power and influence in the village,
could get him out of the trap in which he now found himself.

Also, if Dana knew about the situation, not only would she
in all likelihood lose any affection she had for him, she
might also decide to murder Alex in order to protect her
family's good name.  Then, assuming Alex was telling the
truth about his friend who had a copy of the letter, Fox
would still be found out.  She might even go so far as to
challenge Lady Diana to a duel, and Fox shuddered at the
implications of that.  He wouldn't want to live if he were
the cause of her injury or death.  And should Dana lose, not
only would Fox belong to Diana for the rest of Isaac's
contract length, but there was little chance that Diana
would let him go at the end of it.  She would probably
convince the Queen to let her keep Fox, or even marry him,
and he would be in her clutches forever.  Besides, after
years in Lady Fowley's clutches, he would be disgraced,
ruined in decent society.  Dana would never take back a
soiled man as her husband, or even as a lover.

He tossed and turned for hours, until at last the chamber
door opened and he saw Dana's small form enter the room. She
tried to creep quietly inside so as not to wake him, and Fox
closed his eyes, pretending to sleep, but she was able to
tell by the rhythm of his breathing that he was awake.

"Fox, are you not resting?" she asked quietly, setting the
candle holder on a table and snuffing the light.

"I--I was, my lady," he said apologetically.  "A--a dream
woke me."

She took his chin and studied his face in the moonlight.

"You are lying, sweeting," she stated calmly, and slipped
out of her clothes, dropping them carelessly to the floor.
Sliding into the bed beside him, she pulled him close, and
Fox gasped when he realized she was completely naked.

Her hands wandered down to cup his manhood, and he squirmed,
feeling himself growing hard against her fingers.  Slowly,
Dana traced one fingernail gently up and down his shaft
until he moaned with need.

"Do not worry," she yawned.  "I am far too tired to take
advantage of you tonight, my dear."

He'd been certain she intended to make love to him, and
turned to face her, astonished.

"But I dislike being lied to, Fox," she said silkily, in
answer to his questioning look.  "You are fortunate I am too
weary to take my hand to your backside.  Now, sleep. You
need to get your rest as well, for we must greet our guests
soon after we break our fast."

"Yes, my lady," he mumbled, burying his face in her shoulder
as she put her arms around him.

"Fox," she asked, drawing back when she felt the wetness of
his tears on her skin.  "What is wrong, sweeting?"

"Nothing, Dana," he told her peevishly, swiping angrily at
the wetness of his eyes.  "I'm just tired."

She ignored his tone, settling his head back to her shoulder
and stroking her fingers through his hair.  Poor dear, she
thought, he was exhausted.

"I feel I must owe you an apology," she said hesitantly.

Fox raised his head and stared at her for a minute, utter
surprise on his face.

"Well don't appear so taken aback!" she laughed softly,
pulling his head down once again.  "I am able to apologize,
on those rare occasions when I am in the wrong."

"What is my lady apologizing for?" he queried curiously.

She gave a small sigh, putting aside her teasing for the
moment.  "I truly did not intend you would work so hard to
prepare for Suzanne's visit," she said, her voice almost
contrite.  "I am not learned in the ways of a man's work,
and I am sorry for leaving you so little time."

He said nothing, merely relishing the feel of her fingers in
his hair.

"You are still angry with me."

"No, my lady, not angry," he corrected quickly.  "Although I
did feel as if you believed my work to be unimportant, or so
easy that I must search for ways to occupy my time."

"Well, as I said, I was wrong," she answered grumpily,
giving a little swat to his bottom, and he yelped,
unprepared. "Let us not dwell upon the past.  You shall be
much busier when our children arrive."

"Children?"

His astonished look made her laugh again.  "Yes, Fox,
children.  Did you think we would never have children?"

"I--hadn't given it any thought at all, my lady.  When shall
we have them?"

She laughed once more, and he gave her a look of
consternation.  How he hated being found so amusing!

"Do not fret, sweeting," she said, dropping a kiss atop his
head.  "I find you refreshingly unspoiled, and totally
delightful.  As to the children," she continued slyly, "I
suspect you shall know that before I."

"But *how* will I know?" he persisted.

"You will know, Fox, when the time arrives.  Now, hush your
chatter and go to sleep.  When you are unable to awaken in
the morning, I shall punish you severely for your
slothfulness," she teased.

Fox quieted immediately, listening as her breathing slowed
and settled into its nighttime rhythm, but he knew he would
have no trouble waking in the morning.  In truth, he did not
sleep a wink that night, for as soon as he was left alone
with his thoughts, he began to toss and turn and fret once
more.

His mind played out every possible scenario to its logical
end, and with a growing sense of terror, Fox realized how
well and truly trapped he was.  The one thing he knew for
certain was that he wanted to see the letter Alex claimed to
carry.  If the servant could produce no such letter, Fox had
made up his mind to tell the entire story to Dana
immediately.  Surely she would have a solution.

By the time dawn arrived, Fox was tense and irritable, his
head aching and his entire body sore from lying abed for
hours without really resting.  As soon as Dana began to
stir, he crawled out of bed and rang for their bathwater.

"I want to see that letter!" Fox hissed at Alex as the
servant poured steaming water into the tub.

Alex just smiled and gave a slight nod.  He'd expected Lord
Scully to demand to see proof of his claims, in fact, he'd
been surprised when the request wasn't made the night
before, but he supposed Fox had been too stunned to think of
it.


By the time she was awakened enough to be aware, Fox was
already dressed.  He'd hesitated momentarily--would a
perfect husband bathe before his wife?--and then decided he
did not care.  He was tired of being the perfect husband
anyway, and it seemed she would never be more than "fond" of
him.  He felt dirty after his conversations with Alex last
night and this morning, and longed to wash the smell of fear
and sweat from his body.  Besides, he reminded himself as he
quickly bathed, she would not be happy with him if he kept
her waiting, and there was much to do this morning.

"I take back what I said about your probable difficulty
arising," she said dryly, watching as he prowled the room
restlessly, picking up items and putting them back down,
tidying areas that were already perfectly neat, the muscles
in his back so tense she could make out the knots beneath
his clothing.

"I had no trouble," he said shortly.  "However, if my lady
does not pull herself from the bed soon, she will be
greeting our guests in a shocking state."

Dana regarded him coolly, taking note of his blush at her
scrutiny, before sliding deliberately from beneath the
coverlet and strolling, still naked, to the tub.

"This water is cold," she informed him brusquely.  "Have
more brought."

"If my lady had only--" he began, but bit back his retort.

"If I had what?"

"Nothing, Dana," he murmured, tugging on the bell rope.

He blocked the door when Alex arrived, so as to prevent the
maid seeing his wife without her clothing, and gave the
order for additional bath water.  Why, he wondered
irritably, did Dana insist upon parading around in such a
casual state of undress?

As soon as the door was safely shut, he approached her with
her midnight blue robe.

"Perhaps my lady would like to--"

"My lady would not," she interrupted curtly.  "This is my
house, and my chamber, Fox.  I shall do as I like, and you
will accustom yourself to that fact."

"But, Dana, Alex..." he pleaded desperately.

"Alex will see what he cannot have, and his envy of you will
only grow," she retorted, never suspecting how her words
would increase his fear.  "He is a servant, Fox, a mere
maid.  You are Lord Scully.  You must drop this wretched
rivalry with him."

"It isn't a rivalry, my lady," he answered sullenly, again
holding out her robe.  "I only wish you to get dressed."

He realized he had overstepped his bounds when she glared at
him, but before she could take action, the servants bearing
water rapped at the door.

Fox opened the door a crack and ordered them to leave the
buckets there.  He dismissed them sharply, and turned back
to see an amused smile on his wife's face.   He waited until
the servants had departed, then struggled with the buckets,
dumping each of them into the tub while she watched
silently.

When she stepped into the tub, he took the empty buckets and
set them outside the door again, closing it carefully in
order to avoid giving in to the urge to slam it so hard as
to make the rafters shake.  She watched him, and when he
turned, she was actually laughing at him.  Laughing!

"That display of jealousy was touching, but hardly
necessary, my sweet," she said, a tinge of sarcasm coloring
her words, and Fox finally felt his temper snap.

"Is it your intention to humiliate me at every turn?" he
demanded angrily.  "Must I endure the gossip of the
servants, as well as their groping hands, when they say that
you are taking your pleasures with those other than your
husband? Must you shame me--"

"Silence!" roared Dana, and Fox stepped back, as if moved by
the very force of her anger.  "I have told you before, Fox
Scully, and I will only say it once more--I will not have my
behavior dictated to me by any man, certainly not my
husband!  You have proven to be headstrong, thoughtless of
your own safety, and largely lacking in self-control.  Your
behavior has warranted severe punishment on more than one
occasion.  Do not force me to discipline you before
breakfast."

She stood up in the tub, reaching for the drying cloth, and
ignoring his fury, said, "Wear the black shirt I bought for
you last week.  I like the way it displays your chest and
belly. I wish to be the envy of my friends, when they see
you."

Her arrogant words, the casualness of her tone, and the lack
of concern for his feelings, all combined to cause him to
suddenly lose control, in a way he never had even dreamed of
before in his life.  Completely out of his mind, uncaring of
the consequences, indeed, not even considering that there
would *be* consequences, he raced toward her with a roar of
rage.

"I am not a whore!" he yelled, grabbing her around the waist
with one strong arm and throwing her to the bed.  She landed
on her back, bouncing a time or two, and was so stunned by
his action that she didn't even try to defend herself.  Fox
threw open the drawer of the dressing table where she kept
her scarves and, working quickly, flipped her onto her
stomach, tying her wrists to the bedposts as she had so
often done with him.

"Fox, are you bewitched?  Release me at once!" she demanded,
but he ignored her.

"You treat me like a common man from the streets of London,"
he panted, yanking her ankles apart and fastening them to
the bed posts.  "You never give a care to how I am feeling,
you always simply force your will upon me.  How does it
feel, Dana?  How does it feel to be used as nothing more
than an object for pleasure?"

"Fox, I have *never*--"  Her protest was cut off in mid
sentence when he jammed another of the scarves in her mouth,
tying it tightly behind her head.

She twisted her head around and glared up at him with all
the fury she could muster, jerking at the scarves that held
her captive, but he was not deterred.

"Let's see how you like a little punishment, Lady Dana
Scully," he gloated, climbing onto his knees beside her and
raising his hand above his head.

"One. For treating me like a common whore!" he said firmly,
bringing his hand down upon her white buttocks, and she
flinched.  He stared at the red handprint her skin and
smiled a smile of pure delight.

"Two. For allowing the servants to touch me as they would
any cheap trollop!"  Another mark joined the first, and he
rubbed his hands over them, feeling the heat emanating from
her bottom.

"Three, for consigning me to that vile dungeon!"  The third
stroke was harder than the previous two, and Dana screamed
behind her gag.

"Mphh uhkn bssstd!" she yelled, and he laughed.

"What's that you say, my dear?" he asked saucily, pretending
to listen.  "You want me to take you until you beg for
mercy? Why yes, Dana, I believe I can accommodate you."

Rising, he quickly stripped off his clothes, then climbed
onto the bed behind her.  He reached beneath her hips and
lifted them roughly, bringing her ass up to his face,
kissing the red marks while his fingers probed her womanly
flesh.  He grinned even wider when he felt the moisture
there.

"I think my lady enjoys this," he gloated, rubbing her
sensitive nub while she ground herself against his hand.  "I
think my lady enjoys this very much!"  He continued stroking
her, watching as her movements against him grew more and
more frantic, and just as it seemed she was about to reach
her release, he pulled away.  She screamed in frustration.

"Punishment by pleasure, isn't that what you called it?" he
asked, sliding his hands under her twisting form to cup her
breasts.  He pinched and tweaked at them until her nipples
were rigid and her head turned frantically from side to
side.  A steady stream of unintelligible words came from
behind the gag, but he ignored them all.

"I'm going to take you now, Dana," he whispered into her
ear, biting the lobe of it sharply, and she gasped as he
pulled her bottom up and slid swiftly into her, impaling her
upon his rod until she could feel his sacs pressing against
her woman's parts.

She moaned, pushing against him again, and he laughed.  "Is
this what you want?" he taunted, moving his hips back and
forth a couple of times, teasing her.  When he stilled, she
bucked beneath him in an attempt to make him move.

"You like it fast, don't you, sweeting?" he asked,
deliberately using the pet name she had given him.  "Fast
and hard?"

She nodded, moaning again, her eyes closed in anticipation
of promised ecstasy.

"Well, not today," he told her, beginning to slide back and
forth in maddeningly slow, maddeningly deep strokes.  She
groaned and he slowed even more, squeezing her breasts while
she ground her hips against him.

"No," he said firmly, releasing her breasts and swatting her
bottom again.  Then he took a firm grasp on her hips,
holding her in place.  "Not this time.  This time *I'm*
making the rules."

She twisted her hands in a futile attempt to free them,
begging incoherently behind the gag while he proceeded to
take her ever-so-slowly, building her so deliberately to a
release that she thought she would die.  At last, when she
thought it would never end, that she would never find that
sweet completion she so desperately sought, she felt his
hands slide around to brush lightly across her womanhood.

His touch sent her screaming in paroxysms of pleasure, and
as her inner muscles gripped his manhood, he pressed fully
into her, crying out his own release.

When his seed was spent, he collapsed gently across her
back, mindful of his greater weight, then rolled to one side
so she could breathe.  A silly smile still adorning his
lips, he turned his head, looked into her eyes and froze. It
was only then that he truly realized the magnitude of what
he had done.

"Dear sweet Goddess!" he breathed, his face turning pasty
white as he stared at his wife, trussed up and gagged, his
seed spilling from her, the red marks of his hand still
plainly visible on her buttocks.  "Oh my lady..."  It was
more a moan of distress than any coherent sentence that
emerged from his mouth as he quickly released her, gently
untangling the scarf from her hair and pulling it from her
mouth.

Fox watched as his mistress sat on the edge of the bed,
rubbing at her wrists, and winced when he saw the angry red
marks caused by her struggle.  She stared at him wordlessly,
and he dropped to his knees, his eyes fixed firmly on the
floor.  He had never lost control of himself in this manner
before in his entire life, and Fox couldn't even imagine
what the punishment would be.  If she sent him to the
dungeon for one night simply for attacking a servant, what
would she do to him for assaulting her?  For daring to tie
her to the bed, and *spank* her as if she were a disobedient
child--and then to tease and torment her, taking his
pleasure from her roughly, ignoring her protests--

He closed his eyes in agony.  He would be in that dungeon
for the rest of his life, if she even allowed him to live.
She might take her sword and run him through, but no, he
decided on the heels of that thought, Dana would not kill
him so quickly.  No, she would want him to suffer, in order
to pay for the way he had dared treat her.

"Fox," she said, and her voice sounded odd.  He thought it
must be the blood rushing to his brain, the pounding in his
ears that made it seem so.  "Bend over the bed in your usual
position."

Scrambling up on shaky legs, he obeyed quickly, wondering
how severely she would whip him before sending him below. He
bit back a sob--things had been going so well until the day
before, until Alex and his threats.  Up until then, Fox had
truly believed he had a chance at a happy life, but now, it
was clear that his only possible future was one of misery.

She slowly pulled open a drawer of her dressing table and
withdrew a vicious looking cane, cut to the length of his
forearm. Fox paled when he saw the instrument--his mother
had owned one similar.

He opened his mouth to beg for mercy, and found that his
voice refused to function.  Wetting his lips, swallowing
hard, he managed, "My lady, please forgive me--"

Her face bland, without expression, she approached him
slowly.

"Dana, please, I did not sleep well, I am not myself," he
continued to babble, but she ignored him.

"One, for daring to use your strength so unwisely," she
said, and the cane landed across his buttocks sharply.

"AHH!" he cried, squirming as if to escape, but she placed
her hand firmly on the small of his back and held him in
place.

"Two, for your appalling language."  The second stroke
landed just below the first, and he screamed as it burned a
line of fire across his skin.  The pain was more intense
than anything he'd felt at her hand before, and he was
certain flesh must have been ripped away.

To his surprise, she tossed the cane to the bed, tugging him
up until he was standing before her, tears wetting his face,
his eyes still full of terror.

"Three," she announced gently, "for pleasuring me in such a
way as I have never known before.  You have truly surprised
me, my dear, and a little astonishment in a marriage is
sometimes a good thing."

Then, to his utter amazement, she pulled his head down and
bestowed a passionate kiss upon his lips.  He moaned again,
this time not in pain or fear, and she pulled away to look
at him.  He felt intense and utter relief to see her teasing
expression.

"You will tell me where you came upon such an idea," she
commanded, and he blushed.

"I--was not myself--" he stammered, but she shook her head.

"I know why you lost control of yourself," she cut in, "but
I want to know where you learned of such a...technique."

He flushed even redder, and stared at the floor, while she
waited patiently for his answer.

"My lady has a well-stocked library," he offered at last,
grinding one toe into the rug, and she broke out in peals of
laughter.

"I can see that I shall have to inventory the books there,"
she gasped through her mirth.  "Perhaps I shall give you
some specific volumes to read."

He said nothing, confused at her reaction--shouldn't she be
ordering the servants to chain him downstairs at this very
moment?

Dana returned the cane to its place, then calmly lowered
herself into the now cooled tub and quickly bathed again.
She beckoned him over and used the washing cloth to clean
the evidence of their passion from his body.  He closed his
eyes and gripped the side of the tub while she attended to
his still-sensitive manhood, wishing she would decide to
skip breakfast altogether and take him back to her bed.

"Wash your face, Fox," she told him gently, rising from the
tub yet again, "and let us go down to breakfast.  I expect
you to sit on your chair and eat a good meal.  If you do
not, I shall warm your bottom again."

"Yes, my lady," he said quickly, hurrying to do her bidding
and then dress himself.  Somehow, he thought, she seemed to
have forgotten that he had overpowered her, tied her up and
taken her without her permission.  He sent up a quick prayer
that she would not soon remember, and followed her from the
room




Lord Walter was been brushing Maggie's hair when the
piercing shriek had echoed through the mansion, and they
exchanged a knowing look in the dressing table mirror.

"Young Fox is quite headstrong," Maggie remarked, taking up
a comb and handing it to Walter to arrange in her hair.
"Dana must punish him frequently."

"He will adjust, my lady, as did I," Walter answered calmly,
fastening his wife's hair up into the style she preferred of
a morning.  "He is very young."

She smiled, her one dimple showing.  He found it wildly
attractive, and fought back an urge to kiss it, thinking as
he restrained himself that Maggie did not care for forward
men any more than did her youngest daughter.

"Were you ever that young, Walter?" she asked, donning a
bracelet and matching earrings.  She had seen his desire in
his eyes, and wished briefly that he would be more
spontaneous, but she supposed, with an inward sigh, that
Lady Sharon had eliminated any urges he might have had in
that direction.  Lady Sharon had been exceedingly proper and
old-fashioned.

"Oh yes, my lady, indeed," he replied, standing back to
admire her.  "Lady Sharon punished me quite often when we
were first married.  It was perhaps a year before I learned
to do as she expected."

'Blast her soul for breaking him while she was about it,
too!' Maggie thought with a tinge of anger.

"Was she a difficult taskmistress?" she inquired, waiting
for him to fall into place behind her.

"I wouldn't say she was that, my lady," he answered
honestly.  "She was simply rather...unyielding at times.
Quite unexpected was her behavior.  I remember once..."

He shook his head, as if to rid himself of the memory.  The
expression on his face indicated it had not been
particularly pleasant.

"Yes?" Maggie prompted with a smile.

"I am afraid I forget the story, my lady.  Tell me, when do
we expect Lady Modeski to arrive?"

"You fool me not, husband," Maggie remarked, smiling into
his soft brown eyes as she gently patted his cheek.  "I will
hear this story of yours, perhaps in our chamber this
evening, where I may persuade you properly if need be.  Lady
Modeski arrives before noon."

Walter nodded obediently, and stifled a sigh as she made her
way downstairs ahead of him.  He wished he could take back
his words, but now that Maggie knew there was a story to be
heard, she would be relentless until her desire to know was
satisfied.

"But I am grateful you do not share Lady Sharon's fondness
for gambling," he murmured as they entered the dining room,
and she shot him a look that said he would be telling her
everything, and very soon.

Soon after they seated themselves, Dana and Fox appeared,
and Walter gazed sympathetically at the young man as he slid
carefully into his chair.  His head was bowed and his face
flushed, a sure indication that he had been chastised
severely by his lady only recently.  Dana, on the other
hand, looked fresh and remarkably happy.

"You are looking well, daughter," Maggie observed.  "And
Fox, you appear quite lovely as well.  I do believe black is
your color."

He glanced swiftly down at the black shirt and breeches that
Dana had told him to wear, flushing at the compliment.

"Thank you, my lady," he said softly, casting a sidelong
look at his wife.

"Fox does not care for black, he says it makes him look as
if he is to attend a funeral, but I believe it is his best
color," Dana said with a wink at the man beside her, who
blushed even more deeply.

"Good morning," Melissa sang happily, entering the room
last.

A chorus of greetings rose from the table as Melissa
approached, and when she reached her chair, she stopped,
staring at Fox as if enthralled.

"Sister?" asked Dana a bit testily, waiting for Melissa to
take her seat.

"I am sorry," Melissa smiled, seating herself quickly.  "I
was so taken aback by this ravishing creature before me that
I completely forgot where I was."

This level of praise was simply too much for Fox, who didn't
see why women complimented him anyway.  He knew that he was
passably pretty, but certainly no more so than any other
man, and far from the "ravishing" his sister-in-law had
described him as.  Besides, he could tell that her praise of
him made Dana angry.

"Please," he murmured quietly to his wife, "may I excuse
myself?"

"No, Fox," she answered gently, nodding toward his
still-full plate.  "Eat your breakfast."

He held back a sigh and nodded obediently, giving Melissa a
quick smile of thanks for her kind words.  The sooner he
finished his meal, the sooner he could leave this
uncomfortable situation.  He ate as much as he was able, and
when he sent an imploring look Dana's way, she glanced at
his plate again, looked into his beautiful eyes, and gave
him a nod of dismissal.  He hadn't eaten everything, but she
recognized that it had been a difficult morning--poor Fox,
she thought, taking another bite of ham, he had expected the
worst kind of punishment after what he had done.  It
wouldn't do to let him take advantage of her in that way too
often, but she was pleased to see him showing a little more
spontaneity.  She wondered exactly which book he had found
which had given him such ideas.

"My ladies, Walter, please excuse me," Fox said, rising
gratefully.  "I must attend to some last minute details
before our guests arrive."  Fox hastily made his exit,
breathing deeply as he exited the dining room.  He didn't
know why Melissa insisted upon saying such things to him--he
suspected it was simply to tease her younger sister, but he
hated being a pawn in their rivalry, no matter how
good-natured the intent.

Maggie and Walter excused themselves a few moments later,
and Dana and Melissa were left alone at the breakfast table.
Dana signaled for more tea to be poured into her cup, then
sipped at the hot liquid carefully.  Melissa drank her own,
studying her sister over the rim of her cup.  Dana was
irritated with her, she could tell, and Melissa experienced
a spark of regret at her earlier words.

"Sister, I would apologize to you," she said softly.

Dana's eyes flew to Melissa's face.  "Apologize?" she asked
gruffly. "Why?"

"Your husband is a beautiful man, indeed, one of the most
beautiful I have ever seen, and I enjoy showering him with
compliments, but I assure you, Dana, I do not look upon him
with lust.  I would not attempt to take him from you, even
if his heart was not firmly in your hands."

Dana said nothing, and Melissa could see the suspicion still
shadowing her eyes.

"Come, Dana, let us be friends as we used to be," Melissa
offered, holding out her hand with a smile.  "I promise not
to praise your beautiful Fox again if it makes you
uncomfortable.  You know I always did enjoy teasing you both
as children."

"You did indeed," Dana agreed, slowly taking the hand that
was offered.  "And I fear the Scully temper is greater in
myself than in you.  My apologies as well, Missy.  I have
not been a very good hostess during your visit here."

Melissa's smile deepened when her sister used the
affectionate name from their childhood.  "You have not
called me that in years," she said in a voice slightly
choked.

Dana, fearing her sister was about to give in to a wave of
useless emotion, briskly shoved back her chair and stood.

"I shall find you a man as attractive as Fox," she announced
with an impish grin.  "Then you will find your head turned
in other directions than his."

Melissa laughed aloud at her plan.  "Your scheme is
admirable, but as for finding a man as beautiful as Fox..."
she lifted her cup in toast to her sister.  "I wish you
luck."

Dana squeezed her hand again and left the room, and Melissa
stared after her thoughtfully.  She had appeared to be at
least partially serious, and Melissa wondered if Fox had
managed to make his way more deeply into her sister's heart
than Dana was able to acknowledge.  She also wondered if she
would have prospective husbands paraded before her at an
alarming rate now.  Dana rarely failed at something to which
she put her mind.


Fox roamed the lower floors, making certain that all was in
readiness.  He entered a small parlor where the family often
took tea and frowned.  Dust was accumulated on the
furniture, and books lay in disarray on one of the small
tables.  He had ordered Alex to clean this very room only
yesterday.  Obviously the maid had felt his orders not worth
following.  Moving decisively to the bell cord, he gave it
an angry tug.  A houseboy quickly appeared.

"Yes, my lord?" the young lad asked, eyes downcast timidly.

Fox studied him carefully.  He was young, perhaps fourteen
but small for his age, with golden hair and delicate
features.  He was quite lovely, and Fox was suddenly
grateful that Dana required lifetime contracts from her
servants.  If this child chanced to find himself employed by
some of the less honorable women, he would end up being
nothing more than a toy to warm their beds, Fox was certain.
Even on this estate, the women were especially lusty,
although they did not appear to interest themselves in
children.

He wondered if the boy was a virgin, and if so, how he could
possibly protect the child from being ravished by the female
servants.  He resolved to look into the matter further when
he had more time--right now he must see to the arrival of
Dana's guests.

"Your name--it is Aja, is it not?" he asked the boy kindly.

"Yes, my lord."

"Aja, you may look at me when I speak to you."

Aja raised clear, piercing blue eyes to stare up at him.

"I would that you summon Alex, the maid, to this room
immediately," Fox told him.  "Then you may go into the
kitchen and tell Natalie that I ordered you to eat at least
three of the pastries she baked this morning."

Aja's face lit up in a happy smile, and almost before his
enthusiastic, "Yes, my lord!" was out of his mouth, he was
gone.

Fox smiled at the boy's hasty departure, then continued to
pace as he waited for Alex to appear.  He wanted to
castigate the maid severely for his lax attention to his
duties, but did not dare.  However, a maid who simply didn't
work was not to be endured.  Surely, even Alex could
understand that.

"Yes?" Alex asked insolently from the doorway, his approach
so silent Fox did not hear his footsteps.

"I told you to clean this room yesterday," Fox replied,
hiding his surprise at the sudden appearance.  "It has not
been straightened, nor dusted.  See to it now."

"Certainly."  Alex crossed to a small knick-knack shelf and
picked up a green painted pottery elephant, examining it
closely before lifting it high above his head.

Fox gasped when he realized the servant's intent, but before
he could utter a word, the elephant lay shattered upon the
floor.

"You--" Fox began, but Alex held out a hand and made a
shushing motion.

"Remember our agreement," he smirked as footsteps
approached.

The entire family, who had been gathered in the main salon,
had heard the noise and come to investigate its cause.  When
Dana saw the shattered elephant, she gave a miserable sigh.

"It is the elephant you brought me from Africa," she said
sadly to her sister.  "I adored it."

Fox felt his heart sink at her words.  It couldn't be some
useless piece of bric-a-brac, oh no, it had to be a
cherished item, one that was, in all likelihood,
irreplaceable.

"What happened?" she demanded, looking up at the two men,
one face guilty, the other smug.

Alex glanced expectantly at Fox, and Fox swallowed hard.

"It--it was my fault, my lady," he offered at last.  "Alex
was cleaning--"  At the servant's glare, he changed his
sentence.  "Alex was doing a bit of last minute dusting and
I'm afraid I clumsily bumped into him.  I made him drop the
elephant.  I am sorry."  He stared at his hands, waiting for
her to spill her wrath upon him, but instead, she merely
shook her head sadly.

"Tis no matter," she told her husband with a small smile. "I
enjoyed it for a time, but it was merely a piece of pottery.
There are other possessions which I hold in far greater
value."

Dana did not see Alex's eyes narrow quickly in anger, but
Fox did.

"But my lady, it was my own stupidity that broke your
treasure," he insisted with an uneasy glance at the servant.
"Surely some punishment is in order?"

She stared up at Fox, puzzled.  "Am I to understand that you
are asking me to punish you, Fox?" she asked, her voice
colored with disbelief.

Fox felt trapped.  Surely there was only one answer the
perfect husband could give, and yet it would not satisfy
Alex.  Perhaps the next "accident" Alex caused would not be
so minor as this one.  With an inward sigh, Fox answered at
last.

"It should be as you wish it, my lady."

"Exactly, my husband," she agreed.  "And what I wish is for
Alex to clean up this mess, then attend to his duties
upstairs.  Fox, our guests will be here any minute.  We must
prepare to greet them."

She turned and left the room, followed by Walter and Maggie,
who had silently observed the entire scene.  Fox followed,
still uncertain, but Melissa crossed her arms and leaned
casually against the wall.  After a few second's hesitation,
Alex shrugged his shoulders and knelt to scoop up the pieces
of the broken elephant.

"You seem upset, Alex," she observed as he scraped the
pieces angrily into one hand.  "Are you concerned that your
job is in jeopardy because of an accident?"

"No, my lady," he answered dutifully.  "I am sorrowful that
Lord Fox has caused Lady Dana to lose a treasured
possession."

"Indeed."  She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment.  "I
trust that, now you realize what a clumsy oaf Lord Fox is,
you will be all the more careful that accidents do not
happen in his presence.  Fox has a tendency to accept blame
for things of which he bears no guilt."

Alex's head jerked up in surprise, and he saw the knowing
look in her eyes.  He paused as he licked his suddenly dry
lips. "I should not like to have my lord bear the blame for
my mistakes," he told her, an expression of careful honesty
on his beautiful face.

Melissa smiled coldly.  "I shall remember that.  I would
that you remember it as well." With that, she turned on her
heel and left the room, leaving a shaken but still fuming
Alex to finish cleaning up the results of his efforts.


"They have arrived!" Dana cried excitedly, as soon as the
sound of carriage wheels coming up the drive could be heard.

She took Fox by the hand and pulled him toward the front
door.  "Roberta, I shall greet them myself," she told the
butler, who bowed politely and stood aside.  "Suzanne is my
dearest friend," she told Fox, her eyes on the approaching
carriages.

Fox was nervously counting servants--there appeared to be
two carriages, one bearing Lady and Lord Modeski, with two
male servants riding atop, and another with luggage and
several other servants of both sexes.  Abreast of the
carriages, riding the tallest mounts he had seen in his
life, were four very large women, well armed and
dangerous-looking.

"Guards," Dana told him, seeing his curious look.  "Suzanne
must travel dangerous roads between her home and mine.  She
always brings along several trusted guards in order to
protect John's safety."

"I imagine he must feel very secure in her care," Fox
remarked, and Dana glanced at him curiously.  Was that envy
she heard in his wistful words?  It had not occurred to her
before that Fox might feel insecure.

"No one is allowed to trifle with John," she told him
seriously, pushing the thought of his security to the back
of her mind for the moment.  She would consider it later,
when she could be alone.  "No one."  She turned back to
Roberta.

"Roberta, did you make the servants aware of the special
nature of these particular guests?" she inquired.

"Yes, my lady.  All have been informed that Lord Modeski is
not to be touched or molested in any way.  Dire consequences
has been promised, should that restriction be broken by
any."

Dana nodded her satisfaction as the first carriage drew to a
halt before them.

"Dana!" called a tall, blond woman, emerging almost before
the wheels had stopped turning.  "It is good to see you!"

The two women embraced briefly, then Suzanne turned to the
carriage and held out her hand.  A man's delicately white
arm emerged, grasping the hand nervously, then John Modeski
shyly exited the carriage.

Fox studied the man who had endured the horrible ordeal of
which Dana had told. He was tall, thin, with light brown
hair that framed his face in a short beard.  He was well
dressed, and appeared comfortable in the same boots that Fox
lamented the wearing of on a regular basis.  He stood beside
his wife, his bearing naturally graceful and poised, his
hand still clutching Suzanne's tightly.

"This is Fox," Dana said, taking his arm gently and urging
him forward.

"Fox," Suzanne said warmly, taking his hand and squeezing it
quickly.  "How lovely to meet you.  I am sorry I was unable
to attend your wedding," she went on, turning back to Dana.
"John's mother was quite ill, and we were in attendance to
her."

"Is she recovered?" Dana asked, concern shadowing her face.
Suzanne had told her John was very close to his mother.

"She is perfectly well now, thank you, my lady," John
replied, stepping forward at last.  He seemed to have
overcome his shyness, at least for the moment.

"Fox, this is my husband, John Modeski."

"Welcome to Scully Manor, Lord John," Fox said, bowing
formally.

John laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners pleasantly.

"Just call me John, please," he said, looping his arm
companionably through Fox's.  "Nobody calls me Lord John
except the servants.  How I hate it.  I am not used to
having a title, even yet."

"Suzanne, my sister Melissa is visiting.  I don't believe
you have met her."

Suzanne shook Melissa's hand warmly.  "It is an honor to
make the acquaintance of one who holds so high a position in
our Queen's guard."

"And it is my honor to meet the woman who saved my sister's
life in France," Melissa responded seriously.  "Dana has
told me the story."

Suzanne laughed.  "It is true, the Frenchwoman's sword was
swift, but luckily, mine was swifter."

"'T'was skill, not luck," Dana objected as they entered the
salon.  All traces of the broken elephant had been removed,
she noted with satisfaction as they took their seats.

"It was no more than any good commander would do to preserve
her fiercest warrior," Suzanne said.  "And Dana had already
become my friend."

Roberta entered then, bearing a tray of refreshments, and
the conversation flowed freely.  Fox listened, fascinated,
as the women recounted stories of their battles in France,
and Melissa even threw in a few tales of her own travels.
Fox was mesmerized by her description of the places she had
visited.

"Is it true that there are societies where men rule, my
lady?" he asked her curiously, and listened raptly while she
described the village of Godanza to him.  His eyes grew wide
with wonder at her description of the men going off to hunt
while the women remained behind, tending the homes and
caring for the children.

"Retain no peculiar ideas from this, Husband," Dana said in
a voice soft, yet firm, meant only for his ears.  "If such
societies were successful, they would not be limited to
deepest Africa."

He blushed slightly, dropping his eyes to his lap.  "I would
never presume to think I could rule you, my lady," he said
with a tiny smile.

"He is quite lovely, Dana," Suzanne said from across the
room.  "And he blushes most becomingly.  One wonders what
words you whisper in his ear to produce such a fine hue on
his face."

Fox blushed even deeper at her words, but stared up at Lady
and Lord Modeski in surprise when John responded, "Suzanne,
do stop.  You embarrass Fox.  No doubt he is unused to your
type of teasing."

"No doubt he is very used to it, having been married to Dana
for all these weeks!" Suzanne retorted, gazing laughingly at
her husband.

Fox was astounded at the easy conversation between the two
of them, at the liberties John took freely with his wife--he
grasped her hand frequently, and even kissed her on the
cheek a time or two during their conversation.  He had never
seen a man behave thusly toward his wife.  Then he
remembered his own earlier behavior, and felt a tightening
in his stomach.  Had she truly forgiven him, or was the
remainder of his punishment to come after their guests
departed?  After all, Lady Modeski had expected to meet Lord
Scully the Younger--it wouldn't do for Dana to have him
banished to the dungeon.  Perhaps she was only waiting a
week before sending him there.

He sought out Walter's gaze, and saw the older man give a
slight nod at his confusion.  It was as Walter said, then;
Suzanne did regard John as an equal.  The thought simply
boggled the mind.

When Roberta returned to collect the tray, Fox motioned her
over.

"Were there adequate accommodations for all the servants?" he
inquired quietly.

"Don't you worry, my lord," she grinned, running her eyes
seductively down his bared chest toward his groin.  "They've
all been taken care of."

Fox drew back reflexively, biting his lip in consternation
when he saw Dana frown at him.  It was a harmless glance, he
told himself, and it was expected that he ignore it as
beneath his notice. After all, Roberta was the highest
ranking servant on the estate, and he was a mere man.  At
least she hadn't touched him.  That, in front of their
guests, would have been too humiliating to endure.

His glance happened upon John, after Roberta withdrew from
the salon, and he was astonished to see that the man looked
positively ill.  His eyes were huge, and he was staring at
Roberta's retreating form as if she were a viper about to
strike.  As he watched, Suzanne put a calming arm around her
husband's shoulders.

Dana, seeing his reaction to Roberta's lustful examination
of Fox, leaned forward intently.  "John, the servants have
been given the usual orders.  You will not be touched while
you are here, and should anyone take unwelcome liberties
with you, you are to report it to Suzanne immediately, so it
can be dealt with.  You are a guest here, and I will not
have you made uncomfortable."

"Thank you, my lady," John whispered, his hands clenched
tightly together in his lap.  He looked pleadingly at
Suzanne, and she stood, holding out her hand to him.

"Dana, if you will excuse us, I believe John would like a
rest before luncheon."

"Of course," Dana replied, rising as well.  "You are in the
blue chamber, as usual.  Roberta will see to your luggage."

"Lady Maggie, Melissa, gentlemen, thank you for your
company," Suzanne bowed.  "We look forward to a long,
friendly visit."

So saying, the Modeskis left the room, John clutching his
wife's hand tightly, her arm encircling him protectively.

"Roberta."

Roberta turned her thoughts from the luggage to her
mistress' voice.

"Return to me when you are finished settling Lady Modeski in
her chamber.  I wish to speak with you."

"My lady, if you will excuse me, I should see that the
luncheon preparations are under control," Fox said, and Dana
nodded.

He made his way quickly to the kitchen, wondering what she
wanted to say to Roberta.  He knew he would never find out
unless he managed to overhear the servants speaking of it,
for if Dana had intended him to know, she would have
commanded him to remain.

He entered the kitchen to find Natalie calmly stirring a pot
of stew while three of her assistants tormented Alex.  The
hapless maid was backed against a wall, his breeches
unfastened, his hardened manhood jutting out as the women
took turns caressing it, and his bared chest.  His protests
went unheeded, and Fox had no doubt that the man would end
up on his back servicing the women very shortly.

"Leave him be!" he said sharply, and the women turned to
him.

"Ah, my lord Fox," one of them cooed, leaving Alex, but
allowing her gaze to rake over Fox until it rested pointedly
on the bulge his manhood made in his tight breeches. "You've
a lovely body, but unfortunately, my lady forbids us taking
our satisfaction with you."

"Just to look at him is satisfaction enough," said another,
reaching to pull his shirt open a bit further.  He backed
away at her touch.

They had often indulged themselves with a grope of his
person here and there, and occasionally he had been set upon
by more than one of them, usually when they were somewhat in
their cups, but never had he felt so entirely assaulted, and
he put it down to the sleepless night and unusual morning he
had spent. With a flash of empathy, Fox thought he felt a
tiny inkling of what John must have suffered.

Just as he feared they would transfer their attentions from
Alex to him, he heard Roberta's welcome voice call out
loudly.

"Leave off him," she ordered, clapping her hands together to
get their attention..  "I has new orders from Lady
Dana."

The servants backed away at the mention of Lady Scully's
name, for none wished to earn her wrath.

"Lady Dana has told me that it makes Lord Modeski
uncomfortable to see our attentions to Lord Fox.  Therefore,
while Lady Suzanne and her husband are visiting, neither
Lord Fox nor Lord Walter is to be touched."

There was a slight ripple of protest, to which Natalie
responded, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, "Never mind, me
girls.  I believe a certain blue-eyed upstairs maid is still
available for our attentions and pleasures whenever we wish
it."

"That is quite true," Roberta agreed, "but for now, you all
have duties to attend."

The women returned to their tasks, happily discussing what
they intended to do to Alex when they were released from
their chores that evening, and Fox groaned.  He was certain
that he would pay for any unwanted attentions the servants
forced Alex to endure.

"Lord Fox, my lady wishes your presence in her chamber,"
Roberta said formally, withdrawing from the kitchen at once.

"All is in readiness here," Natalie said in response to his
enquiring look.  "Go to your lady."

Fox obeyed quickly, praying that the servants would obey
Dana's order that he was not to be touched while John was
visiting.  He wondered if he could persuade Lady Modeski to
make Scully Manor her permanent home.



"Fox, what is wrong?" Dana inquired when he entered the
bedchamber.  "You look upset."

Fox approached the chair where she sat, falling to one knee
before her and taking her hand in both of his.  He kissed
her palm before looking up into her concerned face.

"My lady, I beg you grant me leave to ask a favor of you."

She smiled, smoothing his hair with her free hand.  "Of
course, you may always ask favors of me," she said gently.
She cupped his chin and asked, "What is it you desire,
sweeting?"

He seemed hesitant to speak, now that he was before her,
biting his lip nervously until she raised an eyebrow at him
curiously.

"My lady, the servants...the women...I hate it when they
look at me--sometimes they even touch me!" he suddenly said
all in a rush.

"You appear to have enjoyed their caresses in the past," she
said, reminded of his arousal on the evening he spent
trapped in the stocks.

He flushed bright red at her observation.  "Indeed, I do
not," he replied haltingly.  "My weak man's body betrays me,
but I wish no hands to caress me save yours.  When they
touch me, I feel...cheap and dirty," he finished, his
bravado dying a quick death, the last word coming in almost
a whisper.

She smiled slightly.  "Like a whore?"

He bit his lip at her reference to their morning
conversation, and Dana took pity on him.

"It is a common practice, Fox," she reminded him gently. "It
is the way of the world which our Goddess has created."

He shook his head, staring at the hand he still held between
his two larger ones.  "I do not believe our Goddess holds
men in lesser esteem than women, else She would not have
made us necessary to the creation of daughters."  He raised
his eyes to hers, a bit afraid of the forward way in which
he had spoken, and yet unwilling to back down from the
words.  "I have never grown resigned to it, nor has any man
of my acquaintance."

She raised both eyebrows at that revelation.  "Does Walter
share your view?"

"I--we have not discussed it, my lady, but I feel certain he
does.  Walter is a modest man, and to be treated as a
plaything by those whose rank should be beneath the
Nobility, but is not simply by virtue of their gender...it
does make one feel like a common whore."  He spoke simply,
honestly, and Dana found herself contemplating what it must
be like to be a man.  She imagined the situation reversed,
that men were the dominant sex and that she, a woman, was
considered a mere plaything, available to all the male
servants with her husband's blessing as long as they did not
cross a particular line.  She remembered the way he had
taken her that morning, the excitement she had felt when he
had tied her to their bed, her rush of at his unexpected,
incredibly forward behavior, and then the pleasure she had
experienced at his hands.

How would it have been, she wondered, if it had not been
Fox, but a man, or perhaps several men, uncaring of her
feelings, taking their pleasure with her not because she was
who she was, but simply because she was female, a vessel
into which they could spill their seed.  She shuddered,
shaking off the vision, and stared at the man who still
knelt at her feet with renewed respect.

"Fox, I am sorry that you have endured this," she said
seriously.  "I truly had not thought--"  She broke off,
running an agitated hand through her auburn locks.  She
shook her head at her own stupidity.

"I owe you an apology, yet again," she told him with a
rueful grin.  "I have treated you as no more than a common
street man, simply because most women do so and that is how
I was raised."  She raked her hand through her hair again,
and Fox considered that it would need a good brushing before
they met their guests for supper.  "By the Goddess, I begin
to see your side of it," she continued, anger at herself
deepening her voice. "I do not wish you to feel
uncomfortable in your own home.  I will speak to the
servants at once."

"My lady, thank you!" he said, nearly overcome with relief.
He kissed her hand again, over and over.  "You have my
devotion for all of my life!" he told her fervently.

She laughed aloud at that.  "But I would have had that
anyway, would I not?  At any rate, I cannot speak for my
mother, but I will discuss the matter with her this
afternoon.  Perhaps she will wish to include Walter in this
plan, and perhaps she will not.  I can only command how you
are treated."

"I will do anything you wish to thank you," he said.  "I
cannot express the relief I feel.  Walter and I were both
quite envious of John."  His face was serious, but his eyes
were twinkling, and she laughed again.

"Get up now," she told him.  "Suzanne and John are resting
from their journey, but they will arise soon.  We are to
dress for dinner tonight."

Fox thought of the hated boots, but said nothing.  They were
a small price to pay for the freedom she had just granted
him.  Squaring his shoulders, he resolved to wear any outfit
she chose for him without complaint.

"And now, sweeting, I have a gift for you."

His eyes lit up.  "A gift, my lady?  What kind of gift?" He
was on his feet in a flash--Fox loved surprises.

"Do not thank me too quickly," she smiled, withdrawing a
small jeweler's box from a drawer.  "Part of the gift you
will enjoy, but part of it will require some bravery on your
part.  However, you will look lovely, and I wish you to wear
these things as a sign that you are mine."

He took the box, glancing at her hesitantly before removing
the lid.  Inside, gleaming in shiny gold, was a ring, shaped
into the Scully family crest--the head of a lion, the body
forming an 'S' and the tail ending in a sword. Nestled
beside it was a gold earring, bearing the same symbol,
smaller, but just as beautiful.  He stood there, uncertain,
while she removed the ring from the box.

"I should have given you this at our wedding, but I was
having it prepared, and the jeweler took ill.  She has only
just recovered enough to finish the ring this week."

She slipped it onto his right hand, on the traditional
finger of marking, and Fox gazed at it proudly.  Most
husbands didn't have a marriage ring, indeed, it was usually
only the very wealthy who wore them, and this symbol that he
was a part of the Scully family was one he knew he would
treasure always.

"I will give it to our eldest daughter when she takes a
husband," he whispered reverently, caressing the band around
his finger.

"I think that would be a lovely gesture," she replied,
taking his hand in hers and kissing the finger the band
encircled.  "And now, the other part of the gift."

Fox swallowed hard.  An earring in the left ear was a common
male adornment, but he had never worn one, indeed, he had
been grateful when his mother did not insist upon having his
ear pierced.

"Will it--will it hurt badly?" he asked, his voice small and
frightened.

"It will hurt quite badly for a moment," she replied
honestly.  "I will pierce the hole myself, and after the
earring is safely in your ear, I will rub it with some
medicine that will take the pain away."

His face went quite white as she led him over to the bed,
pushing him down until he was lying on it, leaning over him.

"You must trust me," she said, her voice firm, and he nodded
shakily. "You will endure this, because I wish it.  I am
your mistress, Fox, and I command you in all things."

In spite of his fear, Fox felt himself growing aroused at
her words.  He loved it when Dana became forceful with him,
reminding him of his own natural male submissiveness and her
dominance over him.

"When will you do it, my lady?" he asked breathlessly.

"I will do it now," she told him.  "And once we are
finished, I will reward you for your bravery."

He nodded again, his mouth suddenly too dry to answer, and
watched while she rose and collected two of her scarves.  He
sighed and closed his eyes as she approached him with them.

"I'm going to tie your wrists very tightly, Fox, because I
don't want you to move while I'm piercing you--you might
hurt yourself."

"Yes, my lady."

He kept his eyes closed while she completed her task, not
opening them even while he heard her rummaging through her
medical valise and setting items upon the night-table next
to the bed.  He slitted them open when he felt the bed dip
as she sat beside him, and opened them fully when her
unexpected kiss landed on his nose.

"You are brave and strong, Fox.  In a few moments it will
all be over, and you will be well marked with my symbol."

She took his left earlobe between her fingers, pinching it
to get the blood flowing, then he felt her rub an
odd-smelling lotion on it.

"This will cleanse the ear so that you do not get an illness
from the puncture," she told him at his curious look.  "I
should not like to lose you to a fever now."

He watched as she reached for something on the night-table,
and clenched his eyes tightly shut again, turning his face
away, when he saw the large needle she picked up.  He felt
her turn his head back into position, then place something
beneath his ear lobe.  A moment later he felt the prick of
the needle against his flesh, and he sucked in his breath.

"I shall do this quickly, Fox," Dana said, intent upon her
task.  "There is no need to draw out the agony."

So saying, she plunged the needle through his ear into the
cork beneath it.  She held him, expecting the jerk that
might have bungled the job had she been less experienced,
and almost before the tears began to fall from his eyes, she
was rubbing the soothing salve on the wound.

"There now, darling," she said soothingly.  "It is all over
now, and you will look more beautiful than ever with my mark
on your ear and your finger."

Dana quickly inserted the earring through the newly created
hole in her husband's earlobe, dousing it liberally with the
medication that would wash away both the blood and the pain.

She allowed him to lie there, gently stroking his hair and
face, until his breathing returned to normal and the color
crept back into his face.  He closed his eyes, enjoying her
attentions, and soon felt her hand leave his face and travel
downward.  He couldn't help smiling as her hand cupped his
manhood, growing larger within his breeches.

"How feel you now, sweeting?" she asked mischievously,
leaning forward so her hair tickled his face.

"My lady promised me a reward, I believe," he whispered
shyly, too embarrassed to open his eyes and yet hoping
against hope that she would take him now, while he was still
bound and at her mercy.  He tugged experimentally at the
scarves and found that he could not loosen them even a
fraction of an inch.

Dana saw his shy hope, read his mind, and proceeded to
slowly unfasten his shirt until his chest and stomach were
completely bared.  Then, bending to take one of his
sensitive nipples in her mouth, she teased and tormented him
with her tongue and teeth until she thought he would burst
out of his breeches with need.  He moaned, arching up toward
her, and she took his other nipple, giving it the same
treatment.  She moved back and forth, lavishing attention on
first one, then the other, until Fox was whimpering,
writhing uncontrollably on the bed, pleading with her
incoherently to take him, bring him to his release.

With a wicked smile, she released his nipple and began
slowly kissing her way down his stomach, lapping eagerly at
the indention on his belly until his pleading turned to
all-out begging.  He promised her anything, everything, his
eternal devotion, if she would only bring him satisfaction,
and finally, deciding that he had endured enough torment,
she released his breeches and took his member into her
mouth, stroking up and down slowly with her tongue, nibbling
lightly with her teeth, until at last he arched against her,
screamed out her name, and shuddered his passion into her
warm, moist mouth.

Fox lay in a daze, feeling light-headed and dizzy, while she
cleaned him with a damp washing cloth and straightened his
clothing.  She untied the scarves, kissing each wrist in
turn as she placed his arms gently beside him on the bed.

"I fear you shall have bruises again," she observed, and he
shrugged lightly.

"I do not mind the bruises, when they are accompanied by
such pleasure," he whispered shyly.  "My lady, please..."

"What, Fox?" she whispered in return.

"Please kiss me."

She did, quite thoroughly, and before they left the chamber,
he had given her as much pleasure as she had given him,
perhaps more.


-----

They entered the dining room, Fox walking behind Dana as
usual, and Suzanne, seeing the couple, gave an audible gasp.
Fox had been dressed carefully by Dana, wearing a shirt of
black silk, which she had allowed him to button to
mid-chest, much to his delight.  His hips were encased in a
matching pair of black breeches, the boots on his feet were
polished to perfection, and the earring glittered in his
ear.  When he raised his right hand self-consciously to
brush back his hair, the marriage ring glimmered in the
lamplight.  He was positively stunning, and Suzanne crossed
to take his hand, raising it to her lips and kissing it
reverently.

"Fox, you are an absolute vision," she remarked.  "Dana, I
am almost envious of you!"

Dana smiled when John, pretending jealousy at his wife's
attention to Fox, moved to her side and slipped his arm
about her waist.

"What say you, Dana," John jested.  "Shall we exchange
spouses for the evening?"

Fox appeared shocked, unable to determine as yet if his new
friend was joking or not, but Dana threw back her head and
laughed loudly.

"I should not like to face your lady after having dared to
touch you, John," she told him with a wink at her former
Captain.  "She is much larger than I, and quite ferocious
when crossed."

Suzanne, having released Fox's hand, grabbed John and jerked
him playfully against her body, staring into his eyes with a
smouldering intensity.

Fox tossed Dana a pleading look and she shook her head,
taking his hand to lead him toward the table.  "Nay, Fox, be
not afraid.  Suzanne only teases.  She would no sooner give
John over to another woman than I would relinquish you."

"I am happy to hear it, my lady," he said, joining in the
fun now that he had been reassured.  "They appear
well-matched."

"Indeed, John is my match, my mate for life," Suzanne said
softly, still staring into her husband's eyes, and she
leaned forward, bestowing a kiss upon his lips that, while
appearing chaste to observers, bespoke of much passion to
come later.  John gave a small, secret smile as he twined
his fingers in Suzanne's, and the two of them approached the
dinner table together.

"Mother has asked that we excuse her and Walter this
evening," Dana announced when the four of them were seated.
"I believe she wished to spend some time alone with him.
Melissa has gone into to town to visit a friend, as she must
depart for London on the morrow."

"It is like old times," Suzanne remarked, "with the addition
of your lovely husband, Dana.  Come, let us regale him with
stories of our conquests, that he may understand what a
fierce warrior he has married."  As she spoke, her eyes
twinkled merrily.

Dana laughed again, and Fox watched her happily, aware that
there had not been many occasions for such gaiety since their
marriage.  As for himself, he had been so upset by Alex's
recent revelation that he had been more quiet and withdrawn
than usual, but he had been doing his best to be the perfect
husband he had resolved to be.  Now that Dana had forbidden
the servants to molest him, he felt more confident in
searching for a solution to the Alex problem.  In any case,
there was nothing to be done about it tonight, so Fox
squared his shoulders and set himself to enjoy his dinner.

Both couples sniffed appreciatively at the bowls of steaming
rabbit stew that were placed before them, and Fox picked up
his spoon eagerly.  It was one of his favorite meal
beginnings.

He took a large spoonful of the soup, instantly spitting it
back into his bowl, grabbing at his goblet of water while
Dana watched him in surprise.

"Fox?" she questioned, confusion evident, but her query was
answered immediately when Suzanne took a bite of the stew.

"Pepper!  Goddess, that's hot!" Suzanne gasped, grabbing at
her own goblet which had been filled with wine.

John and Dana put down their spoons in tandem, each turning
to their respective spouses to assist them in recovering.
Fox, his eyes streaming, coughed a few times, feeling Dana's
pat on his back, then pulled himself together.

"If my lady will excuse me," he murmured, "I shall discover
what caused such a grievous error with the dinner
preparations."

Dana merely nodded, seeing that he was all right and turning
her attention to Suzanne.

"I don't understand it," she was saying as he quickly left
the room.  "Natalie is an excellent chef."


"Natalie, I am in need of your assistance," Fox called,
entering the kitchen.  The servants, most of them seated at
the long trestle table where they took their meals, looked
up in surprise when Lord Scully the Younger entered.

"Yes, Lord Fox, what is the trouble?" Natalie asked,
emerging from a side room bearing a tray of breads left over
from the day before.  She set it at one end of the servants'
table, then gave him her full attention.

"Has anyone here tasted the rabbit stew?" he asked quietly,
not wishing to broadcast the problem to the entire staff. He
needn't have worried--they were intent upon getting their
fair share of the bread making its way down the table.

"No, my lord, that was reserved for Lady Dana and her guests
alone," Natalie told him.  "Is something wrong?"

In answer, he picked up a spoon and scooped up a bit of the
stew, holding it out for her to try.  Almost as soon as her
mouth closed around it, she was spitting the vile mixture
out into a bucket used for washing pots and plates.

"What happened to it?" she demanded, staring into the stew
pot as if the answers lay therein.

"Did you follow the recipe I gave you exactly?"

Natalie shook her head.  "I didn't prepare the stew, Elan
did.  It seemed a simple enough dish, and I am attempting to
train him to be my assistant.  Perhaps he is too stupid to
follow a simple recipe," she said darkly, turning to stare
at poor Elan.

Elan, hearing his name spoken, rose and approached the two.
"My lord Fox, is there something wrong?" he queried
uncertainly.

Fox gave him a taste of the stew, watching as his reaction
matched Natalie's.

"But--I don't understand!" he exclaimed.  "I followed the
instructions you gave me to the letter, I swear it!"

"May I see the recipe?" asked Fox calmly, holding out his
hand.  He could feel his gut curling, but kept his face
carefully neutral.  Elan quickly retrieved the scrap of
paper, written in Fox's own perfect hand, and after taking a
look, Fox immediately spied the problem.

"Look at this," he whispered, turning his back so the other
servants couldn't overhear.  "Someone has changed the pepper
measurement.  It is now four times what it should be!"

Elan felt his face drain.  "I--I thought--that you had done
it, my lord," he gasped.

Fox looked at him then, taking note of his fear, and put a
comforting hand upon his shoulder.

"Do not worry, Elan, it was a simple mistake," he reassured.
"You will not be punished, if that is your fear."

"But indeed, he should be!" Natalie glowered, for she felt
that anything that emerged from her kitchen reflected upon
her, no matter who had done the actual preparation.

"Nay, Natalie, he shall not be," Fox said firmly.  "If I
must speak to my lady to prevent it, I shall.  It was a
simple mistake, most likely mine own.  I was ill abed when
these menus and recipes were prepared, you recall.  It is
quite conceivable that I simply wrote the amount
incorrectly."

Natalie took the paper, gazing at it thoughtfully for a
moment.  "I do not believe that is what happened," she said
at last, "but neither is that Elan's handwriting.  He is
perhaps a dolt when it comes to measuring peppers, but he
did nothing with malicious intent."

"I am certain of it," Fox declared.  "Serve the rest of the
meal, and we will simply forget the stew.  Elan, think
nothing more of this, it was not your fault."

"Thank you, my lord Fox," Elan breathed gratefully, hurrying
to empty the rest of the offending stew into a garbage pail.
Not even the animals would eat such slop, he reflected as he
took the stew pot outside to rinse it at the pump.

Fox returned to the dining room, making light of the
incident, and the rest of the meal passed pleasantly, but he
noticed Dana giving him odd looks throughout.



Walter stared apprehensively at his wife as she closed the
bedchamber door quietly.  She had excused them from the
evening's socialization, saying she wished only to spend a
quiet evening with her husband, leaving the younger people
to entertain one another.  Thus was the privilege of age,
she had smiled before taking his hand in a firm grasp and
leading him up the stairs after the two of them had
shared an intimate, early dinner.

Now, she was eyeing him speculatively, and he sighed.  He
had a choice, he knew.  He could either tell her now what
she wished to know, escaping the methods she planned to use
in forcing the secret from him and enjoy a good quiet
night's rest, or he could hold out as long as he was able,
enduring the Goddess knew what until he finally revealed the
story, but enjoying the inevitable end result of her
interrogation.

"Now Walter," she said patiently.  "You know that I dislike
secrets.  You are aware that you cannot simply dangle a
juicy tidbit before me, as you did earlier today, and expect
me to simply disregard it.  Indeed, I have dwelt upon little
else for the entire afternoon."

"Yes, my lady, I realize that," he nodded, his eyes
downcast.

She removed her tunic, then her trousers, standing before
him in nothing more than the undergarment she favored
beneath her casual clothing--a concoction of lace and white
silk that made his eyes widen and his manhood take notice.
Cursing his weakness, he bit his lip.  He truly did not wish
to tell the story, for it had been a humiliating incident in
his life, and yet...as his wife, did she not deserve to
know?

"Will you reveal the details now?" she asked, approaching
him slowly, "or must I persuade you further?"

"How will my lady go about persuading me?" he asked
cautiously, breathing heavily as he stared down into her
lovely eyes.

She smiled coyly.  "You must make your decision first," she
informed him.  "Speak now, or speak later--you know I will
not be deterred, Walter."

"I--"  He took a deep breath, truly intending to reveal the
story, and found he could not release the words.  "I'm
sorry, my lady," he said softly.  "It is something of which
I cannot speak."

It was her turn to sigh.  "Very well, Walter.  Undress and
come to bed.  It is early yet, I know, but we are both
gaining in years, and shall enjoy the extra time for sleep."

So saying, she crawled beneath the coverlet while he stared
at her, his eyes wide with surprise--rarely did Maggie give
up a quest so easily, and he had not expected it this
evening.

"Extinguish the candles, will you dear?" she yawned, turning
on her side and tucking the coverlet beneath her chin, and,
still reeling in astonishment at her apparent surrender, he
did so.

He slipped quickly into his nightshirt, thanking the Goddess
that Maggie had decided to be merciful.   But then, the
moment he climbed into bed beside her, he knew he had
severely underestimated his wife.

"Now," she said briskly, snapping the metal armband around
his right wrist, hauling his arms above his head, and
placing the matching band on his left wrist.  She hooked
them together with a short chain she threaded around the
wooden headboard, and sat back to survey her handiwork in
the moonlight.

"Maggie, my lady--"

"You will not deny me what I wish to know, Walter," she
interrupted, her tender voice edged with the steel that
reminded him that Maggie was, after all, the matriarch of
the Scully women.

"Will you torture me, then, until I break my promise and
tell you?" he asked sarcastically, jerking at the chain that
held him captive, and instantly regretted his words.

"I shall do nothing of the sort," she replied, reaching to
re-light the candles, then drawing the draperies carefully
closed so that no inquisitive person could possibly see into
their chamber.  "I merely wish to have you inform me of the
effectiveness of certain new...implements my daughter
brought me from London."

"Im--implements?" he stammered, watching wide-eyed as she
crossed to a drawer and removed a small bag.  He stared as
she withdrew several items, laying them on the table beside
the bed.

The first item she took up was a wicked-looking paddle, and
Walter swallowed hard when he recognized it.  Such devices
were designed specifically with the punishment of wayward
men in mind, and Lady Sharon had owned one similar to this.

Walter was grateful he was lying on his back as Maggie
approached him.  Her gentle smile would have been reassuring
had it not been for the instrument she carried.

"My lady, please..." he began as she drew near, but she
merely shook her head.

"Walter, a husband must trust his wife with all his
secrets," she said tenderly.  "I expect you to do so with
me, willingly or not."  

She lay the paddle on the bed, reaching for the hem of his
nightshirt, and quickly slid it up to reveal his bare thigh.
Then she retrieved the paddle, and a moment later he yelped
loudly as she rolled him onto his side and swatted his hip
with it.

"My lady!" he gasped, tugging reflexively at his bonds as he
squirmed to take his hip out of her reach. "That is simply
vicious!"

"Vicious," she repeated thoughtfully, gazing at the paddle.
"Thank you, Walter.  And now..."  She assessed the
implements remaining on the table, picking up a particularly
nasty looking cane.

His eyes widened with fear as she studied him, and she
smiled again.  "Should you wish to avoid this trial, I shall
listen to you," she suggested, but he remained silent,
closing his eyes and turning his head away from the
threatening cane.

"Very well," she continued, and he bit his lip as she
quickly rolled him onto his other side.  Then as he choked
back his scream, Maggie quickly marked his other hip with a
stripe of the cane.

"My lady, please," he begged, tears forming in his eyes as
he chanced a look up at her, hoping to find mercy.  "It was
a very long time ago, and I have never told anyone of it.
My lady would be bored and embarrassed."

"I should prefer to make that decision," she answered,
replacing the cane and taking up the last object.  He had
been unable to see what the third implement was, and when
she brought it into view, he began to struggle wildly,
already feeling his skin crawl.

"Not that!" he gasped, his eyes pleading with her as he
attempted to wriggle away from her.  "My lady, I beg of you,
not that!"

Maggie laughed, shaking her head in amusement at her
husband.  He could endure the paddle and the cane, but a
mere feather caused him to break down and beg.

"You may end this at any time, Walter," she commented,
stroking the tip of the feather along the sole of his left
foot and watching with interest as he jerked it away.

She lay the feather down and retrieved two more bands,
fitting them quickly around his ankles, threading yet
another chain through the bed's footboard, and soon Walter
was stretched helplessly on the bed, eyeing the feather with
horror.

She picked it up again, stroking it slowly up his leg toward
his awakening manhood, and he whimpered when the tip of it
found his sensitive sacs, probing at them gently.

"My lady, please, I beg of you--" he began again, but broke
off with a sharply indrawn breath when the feather began
tickling the very tip of his rod.

"As I remember, you said that Lady Sharon gambled..." Maggie
prompted, mercilessly attacking his most sensitive areas
while he squirmed in a fruitless effort to elude the
torment.

"She--lost frequently--" he managed between barks of
tortured laughter.  "Chess was not--her best game--"

"Lady Sharon lost a game of chess...that's hardly shameful."
The feather slipped beneath his nightshirt to stroke across
his flat belly and then further upwards, finding his
sensitive nipples.  His manhood stood completely erect now,
and he groaned as she leaned forward, blowing air softly
across it.  He hungered for the feel of her sweet mouth
around him, but knew that pleasure would be denied him until
he gave her what she wanted.

"But she...she lost to Lady Selah Withers," he panted.
"Maggie, please!"

"And the wager, Walter?" she questioned silkily, returning
the feather to his rod, stroking it slowly up the length of
him, circling the tip, and then teasing it back down until
she found his sacs again.  Walter groaned, straining against
his chains, his body covered with a fine sheen of sweat, but
he could not elude her.

"The wager--was--"  She leaned over him again, and now
instead of the feather torturing him, it was the silky
strands of her hair, touching him with a touch that was
barely there, tormenting him with a desire greater than he
had ever known.  He could smell the soap she washed her hair
with, and the scent went straight to his groin, making an
uncomfortable situation even more desperate.

"Yes?  The wager was...?"

"Me!" he gasped, arching up toward her mouth, moaning in
frustration when he did not find it.  "The wager was me!"

She sat back, the game forgotten, staring at him in
horrified shock.

"Do you mean to tell me," she questioned in a tightly
controlled voice, "that Lady Sharon actually wagered
ownership of you on a game of chess?"

"Well...no, not ownership..."  He was extremely upset by the
memories that came flooding back, but she was not about to
allow him to stop now.

"What, then?"

"One night," he replied at last, turning his head away from
her, as if ashamed to allow her to see him, now that he had
told her the story.  She grasped him by the chin and forced
him to look in her eyes.

"She wagered a night with her husband, and she lost," she
repeated, as if to confirm the appalling truth to herself.
Such wild wagers among the younger nobility were not unheard
of at court, or in London perhaps, but were highly unusual
here in the country.  And no decent, true and honorable lady
would ever do such a thing to a poor defenseless man,
regardless of the game.

He nodded.

"And Lady Withers, what did she do?"

He bit his lip again, and flushed dark red, so dark she
could clearly see his discomfiture even in the candlelight.
His eyes roamed about the room--he was clearly embarrassed
that she knew what had happened.

"She...took you?"

"Yes, my lady," he whispered, feeling the gut-wrenching
shame even after all these years.  They had been very young
when Lady Sharon had gambled his favors away so foolishly,
but he had never forgotten the feeling as Lady Withers had
led him away from his wife, to spend the night in her
chamber.  When he had been returned to Lady Sharon, he had
fallen upon his knees, sobbing his humiliation into her lap,
and had begged her never to do such a thing again.  She had
gently stroked his hair, making light of the incident, but
she had never offered up her husband as a wager in a game
again--at least not so far as he knew.  If she had done so,
she had not lost.

"Walter, you are my most precious possession," Maggie
whispered, gently releasing his wrists from the chain that
held them.  "I would never do such a thing to you, never."
She gathered him into her arms to comfort him, and carefully
stroked his back.  "While I live, you need not worry that I
would ever suffer another woman to touch you."

"Thank you, my lady.  It was--not an experience I soon
forgot," he said in a low voice.

"Indeed, you have not forgotten it yet," she observed,
taking one of his trembling hands in hers and bringing it to
her lips for a comforting kiss.  "I should think the shame
of such an event would never be forgotten."

"Perhaps my lady could remove the bitterness of the memory,
at least for tonight?" he suggested, glancing down at his
still erect manhood.

Maggie smiled.  "Indeed, my sweet Bear, I shall give it my best
effort," she replied, reaching for him, and as she
positioned herself above him and slid his silken shaft into
the depths of her womanhood, all thoughts of Lady Sharon and
her gambling losses were driven far from his mind.




Later that evening, after the meal had been cleared away,
after Suzanne and John had beaten them soundly at cards and
all had retired to their chambers, Dana stared at Fox in the
mirror as she brushed out her hair.

He sat on the bed, removing his boots gratefully, flexing
his feet in their newfound freedom.

"Fox?" she said softly, and he rose and crossed to her,
silently taking the brush and beginning to stroke it through
her hair.  It had become a nightly ritual, one he cherished.

When he made no sound, she continued.  "Such a mistake is
unlike you."

Fox shrugged, keeping his eyes downcast.  "It is as I said,
my lady.  I was ill, and not clear in my thinking.  I am
sorry for ruining your dinner."

She placed a hand gently upon his hip, stroking almost
absently over his pleasingly curved buttocks, enjoying the
little sigh of pleasure he gave at her touch.

"The dinner was not ruined, indeed, everything else was
prepared to perfection.  You are a fine husband, Fox, and I
am pleased with the way you run my home."

He smiled, coloring a little at her praise.

"I merely question whether the mistake was truly yours.  You
are far too kindhearted, Fox.  I can picture you taking the
blame for Elan in order to save him from punishment."

"My lady, I assure you, the mistake was not Elan's," he
answered truthfully as he stared at her reflection in the
mirror.  Fox put down the hairbrush, twining his fingers
through her silky hair and pulling her head back so that he
could drop a kiss upon her lips.  Dana allowed him this
liberty for a moment before her arms reached up to clasp
around his neck, taking command of him and of the kiss,
deepening it until he was nearly gasping against her.

"You have pleased me greatly this day, husband," she
whispered against his mouth.  "Should you like to be atop me
tonight?"

Mindful of his perfect-husband vow, Fox answered, "I wish
only what you wish, my lady."

She pulled away, standing to glare at him, her hands on her
hips menacingly.  "And if I say I wish my wild, untamed Fox
to return, what say you then?" she demanded.

"I--I--what?" he asked, confused at her sudden change.

She gave an aggravated sigh.  "Fox, you are entirely too
malleable these days.  Ever since I made you spend that
damned night in the dungeon, you have been much too obedient
for my tastes.  Are you so afraid I might send you back
there?"

He stared at the floor, his hands clenched at his sides.  "I
am only trying to be a good husband, my lady," he said
tightly.  "I have no wish to displease you in any manner."

"And I have no wish to be married to a stranger!"

His head shot up and she caught the look of hurt on his face
before he masked it.  "Am I to understand that you wish me
to disobey you on occasion?" he asked, deliberately leaving
off the respectful 'my lady' with which he normally
addressed her.

Her face softened, but he was beyond reassurance in his
hurt.  "I only wish you to be the man you are," she said
gently.  "Shy and mischievous and wild and reserved and
always coming up with a plan to drive me berserk.  I miss
that about you.  Had I wished for a perfect husband, I
should have found a silly, boring man raised in a convent."

He remained silent, unmollified, for her words had cut
deeply.  It was simply too confusing.  He had been trying so
hard not to disgrace her, to earn her affection, and now she
was telling him she preferred him flawed!  What did she
require of him?

Seeing that he was still angry, Dana approached him slowly,
her eyes promising much.  She took him by the hand, looking
up and down his entire body with pride.  He was beautiful,
this husband of hers, never more beautiful than when in the
throes of passion, and that was how she wanted to see him
now.

"Come, Fox," she bid him gently.  "If you are to be the
perfect husband, you must do as your lady commands."

"What is it you wish of me?" he asked stiffly, unwillingly
allowing her to pull him toward the bed.

"I wish you to make me scream with pleasure," she said
seriously.  "And then I wish to do the same to you.  I wish
to hold you in my arms as we fall asleep, and when we wake
in the morning, I wish to find the untamed Fox I married in
my bed."

"My lady enjoys punishing me," he accused.

"It is the taming of you that I enjoy," she corrected,
falling backwards suddenly onto the bed, pulling him down
atop her.  "There are many methods to employ when taming
such a wild one as you, sweeting, and I plan to enjoy them
all. Now, I have offered to allow you to be atop me tonight.
If you do not wish it, I could always retrieve my scarves
and ribbon from the drawer and punish you with pleasure for
your insolence.  I have not yet forgiven you for beating me
at chess."

He laughed then, he simply couldn't help himself,
remembering her astonishment when he had checkmated her
queen.  She had glowered at him, accusing him of using manly
wiles to distract her thinking, then she had taken him to
bed and made slow, passionate love to him until the wee
hours of the morning.  He had smiled all the next day.

"May I kiss you, my lady?" he asked, his face inches from
hers, and she smiled, happy to see his good humor restored.

"You may do as you wish," she whispered, and he lowered his
mouth to hers, taking her lips in a claiming kiss that was
reminiscent of the way she took his, teaching her what he
had learned from her, and soon she screamed her pleasure,
and much more, for Fox had a passionate nature beneath his
shyness, one which she treasured above all other things.

It was going to be an interesting life...



Chapter 9

Melissa took her leave the next morning, amid hugs and
promises to write often, for the sisters truly loved one
another, in spite of their differences.

"You must busy yourself finding a husband for me, Little
Sister" she told Dana teasingly.  "One as fine as your Fox
Cub would be most delightful."


"Perhaps I shall, Elder Sister," Dana said, and Melissa saw
a glint of determination in her sister's blue eyes.  With a
hint of concern, she wondered what plots Dana was busily
hatching. Shaking her head slightly, she hugged her mother,
kissed the hands of Fox, Walter and John, and bowed to
Suzanne, telling her again what an honor it had been to make
her acquaintance.

After she had mounted her horse and ridden away, flanked on
either side by her military attachés and hounds, the family
went back inside.

"It seems so quiet when she leaves," Maggie sighed.  "I
remember when the four of you were children, Dana.  Always
screaming, fighting, laughing, and very, very noisy.  I
remember once when you got your brother William down and sat
upon him, twisting his arms behind his back until he gave
you whatever it was you wanted from him.  The two of you
never got along well."

"William was forever trying to rule me, Mother," Dana said
firmly.  "He forgot that I was a woman and he merely a man,
in his eagerness to point out his greater number of years."

"Things were quite exciting when I first married your
father, as well," Maggie revealed, smiling in fond
remembrance.  "He was inclined to try and make decisions
unsuited to his gender, and husbandly status.  It did not
take me long to disabuse him of the notion that a small
woman is a weak woman.  He truly thought his superior size
made him my equal, the silly man."

"How did you convince him otherwise, my lady?" asked Walter
curiously.

Maggie's smile grew wider.  "I simply introduced him the
wife's best friend, or as some call it, the rack," she said
blithely, continuing toward the salon.

Walter stopped short.  "The--rack, my lady?" he asked, his
mouth suddenly dry.


Fox ventured, "I have read of such a torture device used in
the previous century. It was quite severe."

"This rack is meant for quite a different purpose, Fox,"
Maggie told him gaily.  "Reminiscent of your punishment with
Thunder and the sugar water."

Fox blanched.  "You mean..."

"The disobedient male is spread upon the rack, naked, tied
tightly to its corners, and then set upon by those who are
to punish him," Dana clarified.  "They may use feathers,
small twigs, their hands, or any other device they choose."

"Please," Walter said, licking his lips nervously, "tell me
this device was destroyed in a flood, or chopped into
firewood long ago, or has perhaps collapsed to the ground,
rotten with age and disuse."

"Indeed no," Maggie replied wickedly.  "It is kept indoors,
and is in pristine condition.  Although I must say, I never
had to use it more than once."

"Where?" both men asked at once.

"In Mother's hidden play room, of course," Dana answered,
barely containing her mirth at the husbands' consternation.

"A hidden PLAY room?" Walter demanded, while Fox merely
gaped.

Suzanne could hold back no longer, and burst into guffaws of
mirth, wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes.  John,
who had suspected all along that Maggie and Dana were
teasing their husbands, simply smiled peacefully, content in
the knowledge that his wife would never punish him so
severely.

Fox buried his face in his hands while Dana rubbed his back
soothingly.  "There now, sweeting," she comforted, "we were
only having a bit of fun with you and Walter.  The two of
you take things so seriously sometimes."

"I--if you will excuse me, I must check on the luncheon
preparations," he babbled, rising and bowing to the ladies
before absenting himself quickly from the room.

"Dana, that was unkind of you," Suzanne scolded, but Dana
simply shrugged.

"He sometimes takes liberties," she answered nonchalantly,
"and I enjoy keeping him off-balance."

"I should say you do that very well," her friend replied
with a giggle.  "He hasn't grown accustomed to those boots
yet."

"But I do like the way his firm little bottom wiggles when
he walks in them," Dana answered solemnly, and Walter
blushed while all three women laughed until they were nearly
ill.

-----

The week passed quickly, days spent visiting, reliving old
times, telling the men of their past together, meals were
taken without mishap, and in the ensuing quiet fun, Fox
almost forgot about Alex and his threat.  Now that the
servants were forbidden to touch him or Walter, they turned
their attentions more forcefully to the male servants, and
as Alex was the prettiest and most desired prize of them
all, he received more than his share of their attentions.

Fox and John took long walks in the garden, sometimes
accompanied by Walter, and the three men grew to be fast
friends.

On their last evening, Dana suggested the ladies go into
town to visit her friend Jeanne, who ran a gambling saloon
and pleasure retreat.

Fox, intrigued at the idea of such a business, begged to be
allowed to accompany them, but Dana was firm in her refusal.
"It is a rough place after dark," she declared.  "No decent
man would be seen there, and your beauty would certainly
endanger you."

"You could protect me, my lady, as you always do," he
pleaded, but Dana was adamant.

"Hard and vulgar women will be there, along with men of
uncertain reputation," she replied.  "It would not do for me
to have to defend your honor in a violent manner while I am
entertaining guests.  You and Walter will stay at home with
John.  I trust the three of you will find a satisfactory way
to pass the time."

"Oh yes," John said, coming up behind Fox and taking his
friend's arm.  "Do stay with me, Fox.  I wish to obtain your
fascinating recipe for rabbit stew."

Fox rolled his eyes, then laughed with good-natured grace.
Dana gave him a quick goodbye pat on his behind, and the
three women departed, admonishing the men to behave
themselves.

As soon as the door closed behind them, John rubbed his
hands together mischievously.  "They will have their fun,
and now we shall have ours as well," he declared, and Fox
and Walter stared at him suspiciously.

"Come to my chamber," John told them.  "I have a bottle of
brandy."

"Brandy?  Real brandy?" Fox questioned, his eyes lighting up
a bit at the illicit suggestion.  Men of polite society were
allowed to drink liquor only on rare occasions, and then
only a very small portion.  He had never tasted brandy in
his entire life.  Both his mother and Dana had been very
strict with him about strong spirits.  Left to his wife's
direction, he thought mutinously, he would probably never
have the excitement of tasting good French brandy on his
tongue.

They followed John upstairs to the Blue Chamber, where he
quickly passed out small goblets which he filled with a dark
amber liquid. Fox, unsuspecting, took a large swallow, and
both John and Walter clapped him on the back while he
coughed and sputtered.  "Sweet Goddess, it burns!" he
gasped, and John laughed.

"Sip it slowly," he instructed, and the three men did just
that, Fox a rapt pupil to John's superior knowledge of all
things sophisticated and intoxicating.

The night wore on, and goblets were refilled several times,
until at last John picked up the brandy bottle and shook it
sadly.

"'S'allgone," he mourned, and Walter made a 'tut-tut' sound
with his tongue.

"Guess we hafta go to bed," he slurred, setting down his
goblet, but Fox was not ready to give up his good time so
soon.

He rose, steadied himself against the bedpost, then put his
finger over his lips.  "Shhh," he said in an exaggerated
whisper.  "I'll b'ri'back."

He left the room, only occasionally reaching out to steady
himself against the wall, and Walter and John stared at each
other solemnly as they waited for his return.  It was only a
few minutes before he reappeared, clutching a small
cut-glass decanter carefully in both hands.

"Here sh'is," he said brightly, setting it down in the
middle of the table, and John unsteadily poured them all
another drink from Dana's prized hoard of rare Empress
Josephine Brandy.

The laughter grew louder, the jokes grew sillier, and the
decanter grew emptier as the night wore on.  Alex, hearing
the ruckus, poked his head through the door, saw the three
men growing drunker and drunker, and smiled as he silently
withdrew.  Lord Fox would most surely be punished for this
little misdeed.

Alex had grown greatly tired of being the plaything of the
servants night after night, although they did allow him some
pleasure of release.  He had taken to sleeping in a corner
of the attic, and had thus far not been discovered.  As he
climbed the stairs, he heard the laughter from the three men
in the Blue Chamber growing more raucous, and sneered to
himself.  "Soon, Lord Fox," he murmured.  "Very soon."


-----

The three women arrived home in good spirits, having come
away from the village with a goodly amount of winnings for
the evening. Maggie had insisted they limit themselves to
one tankard of ale apiece, and in doing so, they had
retained their wits while their opponents had slowly lost
theirs as the evening wore on and the drink flowed more
freely.

"Lady Maggie, I do enjoy a good mug of ale, or two or three,
and I adore gaming," Suzanne commented as they entered the
mansion, "but I must say, your method of separating the two
has admirable results."

"Indeed," Maggie agreed.  "My own mother always taught
me--either plan to drink or game, but never both at the same
time.  It is a very simple lesson, and one that few women
stop to consider, since drinking and gaming seem to go hand
in hand."  She thought of Lady Sharon, having wagered Walter
away for an evening, and wondered if that woman had imbibed
heavily before the bet had been placed.  She could not
fathom any other reason for Lady Sharon to take such a
chance with a prize like Walter, and it had obviously hurt
him deeply.  If Lady Sharon was not already cold in the
ground, Maggie vowed, she would have taken great delight in
beating her senseless for such a foolish action.

"There is another benefit to remaining sober, Mother," Dana
added, casting her glance upward as they began to climb the
stairs.

"And what is that, Daughter?" questioned Maggie with a
knowledgeable glance.

Dana smiled wickedly.  "I shall not be too impaired to show
my husband just how much I have missed his company this
evening," she grinned, and the other ladies chortled in
agreement.

Lady Maggie entered the massive doors that led to the West
Wing while Dana and Suzanne departed in the opposite
direction, calling goodnights and making plans to meet quite
early for breakfast.

As soon as Dana pushed open the doors to the East Wing, they
could hear the laughter coming from the end of the corridor.
All the rooms were dark except for the Blue Chamber, where
light much too bright to emanate from simple candles spilled
from the open doorway.  It was from there that the noise
originated.

The fireplace had been lit, and in the warm summer weather,
the heat in the room was almost unbearable.  Fox stood
unsteadily with his back to the hearth, Dana's battle sword
clutched between his hands.  Walter snored softly in the
armchair while John, who had taken Suzanne's sword from its
sheath, was waging an excellent duel with his own shadow,
which flickered against the wall.

"Fox, I believe you're being attacked!" he shouted, throwing
a feather pillow toward his friend. Fox raised Dana's sword
and swung clumsily at the pillow, slicing it open with a
lucky aim before it could land in the fire, scattering
feathers about to join the ones from the pillow John had
already murdered.

The women stared, scandalized at the scene before them, for
several seconds before they were noticed.

"Oh dear," Fox said clearly, staring wide-eyed at his wife
and her companion.  "I t'ink 'm in trouble."

"Yesss, none left...all gone," agreed John mournfully as he
took another lunge at his shadow, slicing dangerously near
where Fox stood.

Dana's eyes fell on the crystal decanter in the center of
the table, and she sighed.  It was the last of the brandy
Melissa had brought her from France.  She had been hoarding
the precious liquid, allowing herself only a tiny bit every
few weeks, for it was far superior to the brandy that could
be purchased in the village.  Now it was gone, and she
stared into the glazed eyes of her husband.

"Maggie?" Walter questioned, starting awake suddenly and
eyeing the empty doorway.

"You, stay where you are," Dana commanded, shoving a sleepy
Walter back into his chair.

Suzanne quickly relieved John of her sword, responding with
irritation to his silly smile as she helped him over to sit
on the bed.

"I have a bit of a sickness," he confided to her in a loud
whisper.  "Do you think we could be expecting a child at
last?"

"I doubt it," Suzanne corrected, placing her hand over his
mouth and glancing worriedly at Fox--she wasn't certain how
much her friend's husband knew of pregnancy yet, but now
definitely wasn't the time to discuss such matters.

"Oh," John replied, disappointed, and Suzanne reached down
to tug at his boots.

"You need to get into bed," was all she said as she began to
undress him slowly.  He sat there limply while she removed
his shirt and slipped a nightshirt over his head.

"Fox Mulder Scully, come with me," Dana ordered brusquely,
snatching her sword from his hands and turning on her heel
to stride out of the room.  She glanced back a moment later,
furious to discover that he was not following, and found him
clinging to the wall for support.

"I'm sorry, m' lady.  The floor in this room 's quite
uneven," he explained to her seriously in response to her
angry glare.  "I canno' understand why I have never noticed
it b'fore."

Dana took his arm, pulling him against her so she could help
support him.  "Come to bed," she commanded.  "We shall
discuss your behavior in the morning."

"Yes, Dana.  I 'pologize for the uneven floor," he called
over his shoulder to Suzanne and John as Dana pulled him
from the room.

Just as they entered the corridor, Maggie appeared, her face
tight with concern. "Have you seen Walter?  He isn't in bed,
and he certainly should be, at this hour," she asked before
stopping short to stare at her obviously inebriated
son-in-law.  "Well, I begin to understand," she answered
herself in a voice that was full of exasperation.

Dana jerked her head toward Suzanne's chamber, and Maggie
entered to find Walter leaning over the table, having fallen
fast asleep again.

"Walter Scully, wake up," she said sternly, shaking his
shoulder. He raised his head slowly and stared at her with
bloodshot eyes.

"Maggie?"

"Yes, it's Maggie, and you, husband, are in a great deal of
trouble."

Walter cooperated as his wife pulled him to his feet and
dragged him by a firm grip on his ear back toward their
bedchamber.  When they entered the corridor, he glared at
Fox, who surely had instigated this disaster.

"Sorry 'bout the uneven floor," Fox apologized again as Dana
shoved him inside their chamber and shut the door.  "I shall
request that it be r'paired immed--immed--t'morrow," he told
Dana as she led him toward their bed.

"I suspect you will find it has righted itself by morning,"
she told him firmly, tugging his clothing from his body.

When he was naked, she covered him carefully, noting with a
smile of fond exasperation that he was already asleep, then
disrobed and climbed into bed beside him. She pulled him
into her arms, and found that before she could say a word,
Fox was snoring soundly.

It was no matter, she told herself.  Tomorrow was soon
enough for him to face the music.

-----

When morning arrived, Fox rolled over slowly, groaning as
the bright sunlight hit his eyes.  He closed them hastily,
wincing at the daggers of pain slicing through his head.

"What's happening to me?" he muttered, swallowing hard in an
attempt to lubricate his dry mouth.  His tongue felt
swollen, and he was certain his words were slurred.  He
enunciated very carefully so as to be understood. "Dana?  I
think I'm dying."

"You are not dying, Fox," his wife replied from the doorway
of their chamber, "but you will wish you had once I have
finished with you.  This is a lesson I do not plan to
repeat."

"Lesson, my lady?" he whispered, clutching at his aching
head in a desperate attempt to drive out the pain. "What did
I do?"

"What did you do?"  she echoed in disbelief.  She crossed to
him and sat carefully on the side of the bed, placing the
mug she carried on the bedside table.  "You, Walter and John
drank your way through my last decanter of French brandy,
among other things."

He slitted his eyes open carefully.  "Are you certain, my
lady?  I don't recall doing such a thing." Fox suddenly
remembered Alex and his threat.  Surely the servant had done
this, and he was expected to take the punishment!  Still
feeling somewhat uninhibited from the alcohol level in his
body, he muttered, "No.  Alex did this to us.  I know he
did."

Dana stared.  "Alex?  That trollop?" she demanded carefully.
"What has he to do with anything?"

"He's--" Fox stopped short, suddenly realizing what he had
said.   "Never mind, my lady."

"Never mind indeed," she retorted.  "I am uncertain for what
you are attempting to blame Alex--the condition in which you
find yourself now or the fact that my brandy is gone."

"My lady...I don't feel very well," he announced suddenly,
hoping for enough sympathy to take her mind off his stupid
blunder.

"I'm not surprised," Dana commented.  "Here."  She slipped
her arm beneath his head and gently raised it, ignoring his
protests, then brought the mug to his lips.  "Drink this
potion.  It will cure both the headache and the sickness."

He obediently took a sip, grimacing at the vile taste, and
swallowed the rest reluctantly when Dana did not seem
inclined to pull it away.

"That is disgusting," he complained, and she smiled in
anticipation.

"I agree, but it is most effective."

He lay still in the bed for several minutes, feeling his
illness grow until at last, he bolted from the bed toward
the chamber pot and emptied his stomach of its contents.

"I thought you said it would help me!" he protested weakly
when at last he collapsed to the floor.

"It did," she replied calmly.  "It is a most efficacious
purge.  Do you not feel better?"

He tried his best to glare at her, but his look was more
imploring than ferocious.  Reaching down, Dana helped him to
his feet and got him back into bed.

"My head still hurts," he moaned, snuggling beneath the
coverlet.

In response, Dana drew the curtains over the windows and wet
a washing cloth, placing it gently upon his brow.  She sat
beside him on the bed and stroked her fingers soothingly
through his hair, over and over, until she felt him begin to
relax.

Eventually, he fell into a light sleep, and Dana quietly
left the room.  She descended to the dining room and found
her mother and Suzanne already there, just beginning their
breakfast.

"Good morning," she greeted them as she slipped into her
chair and waited to be served.

"How is Fox?" both women asked at once, and then laughed.

"Sleeping, after having expelled the contents of his stomach
quite violently," she replied.

"Only once?" Maggie inquired with a slight smile, and Dana
nodded.  "Then he was lucky.  Walter was repeatedly ill
throughout the night.  He is also sleeping, at last, and I
thought it would be a good time to feed myself.  Certainly
he would not tolerate the smell of food well this morning."

"John was ill all night as well," Suzanne reported.

"They will suffer more when the physical results of their
folly are past," Maggie said grimly, and Dana nodded
agreement.

"You'll punish them, then?" asked Suzanne.

Dana stared.  "Of course!  Surely even you must agree that
discipline is warranted after such an action?"

Suzanne smiled fondly, thinking of the sleeping man in her
bed.  "I believe the result of the folly to be its own
punishment.  All three men have learned a lesson, I expect."

"Really, Suzanne, a lesson like this one requires
reinforcement," Maggie put in.  "I know this from my own
experience as a wife.  Men are the weaker sex, and easily
tempted.  It is the duty of a Lady to correct her husband
when necessary, and improve upon his behavior."

"Perhaps," Suzanne replied quietly.  "However, I consider
John to be an adult, and responsible for his own actions."

Maggie nodded, smiling slightly.  "I know you do, my dear,"
she said gently.  "You must deal with your husband as you
see fit.  However," she announced, rising and placing her
napkin beside her plate, "Walter is old enough to have known
better, and as such requires a much more forceful hand.  If
you ladies will excuse me, I'd best see to him.  I don't
want him to awaken alone while he is still ill."

Dana glanced at her mother's retreating back in amusement.
Awaken alone indeed; it was clear that Lady Maggie held very
tender feelings for her husband, no matter how strict a
disciplinarian she might be.

"So you really won't punish John in any way for last night's
debacle?" Dana asked, turning back to her friend and sipping
at her tea.

Suzanne shook her head, smiling.  "You knew that I would
not.  How long have we been friends, Dana?"

"Long enough for me to know I should never question you,"
Dana replied with an answering smile.  Both women finished
their breakfast quickly, hurrying upstairs to see to their
husbands.

Because of John's condition, the Modeskis were forced to
delay their departure until late afternoon, when he at last
felt well enough to travel.

"I am sorry, my lady," he told Suzanne sincerely as they
drove away slowly in the carriage, the driver mindful of his
Lordship's delicate stomach.  "I did not mean for this to
happen."

"My dear," Suzanne said gently, placing a tender kiss upon
his forehead, "the next time you wish to indulge in spirits,
perhaps you should make certain there is a more experienced
drinker beside you.  I would be an excellent choice."

He nodded, settling gratefully into her arms, and was soon
lulled to sleep by the motion of the carriage.

------

After their friends had disappeared down the drive, Fox
turned slowly to his wife.

"My lady," he said in a quavering voice, "what will be my
punishment?"

"Hmmm," she said, pretending to consider.  "Perhaps Mother
and I should discuss this.  After all, you and Walter are
both equally guilty in this indiscretion."

"I quite agree," Maggie said from behind them.  "Walter, go
upstairs to our bedchamber and wait for me.  You will remain
there throughout the supper hour, and afterwards, I shall
inform you of what your punishment shall consist."

"My lady--please--not the--not the rack!" Walter stammered,
his brown eyes desperate behind his spectacles.  "I beg of
you, please--"

"Walter, upstairs.  Now.  Dana and I shall decide together
what the two of you deserve.  Now go," Maggie answered
firmly.

Fox, after a confirming glance at Dana and a small sigh,
followed Walter up the stairs.

"What do you think they'll...?" Walter asked quietly as they
neared the landing.

"Well, I don't believe such a rack really exists," Fox said
staunchly, despite his personal doubts, as he turned toward
the East Wing.  "I think it was an invention Lady Maggie
dreamed up to frighten you."

"But how can you be sure?" Walter fretted.

"Boys!  To your rooms!" called Dana from below, and both men
scurried toward their respective chambers immediately.

Walter sat, staring blankly at the wall, his hands clenched
tightly in his lap, while Fox paced the length and breadth
of his chamber as the ladies enjoyed a leisurely supper.

"How long should we let them stew?" Dana inquired as she
sipped at the wine in her goblet.

"At least another two hours," Maggie replied.  "If I know
Walter, he will be busily tying his stomach up into frantic
knots as he waits."

Dana giggled.  "Fox will be wearing tread marks in our
floor," she confided.  "Poor dears.  What shall their
punishment be?"

"Well..." Maggie mused.  "The dungeon?"

Dana shuddered.  "I do not believe I could bear to send Fox
there again.  In truth, Mother, I acted in anger that night,
and haste makes regret.  Punishment should not be undertaken
in the heat of the moment."

Maggie smiled.  "I have no wish to banish Walter to that
place either.  Surely, though, you must agree this misdeed
warrants more than a simple purge?"

"I do," Dana mused.  "But there is a more effective choice.
Tell me, Mother, what punishment does Walter fear most?"

"Why, the rack, of course, that silly boy," Maggie laughed.
"Did you not hear the trembling in his voice when he
inquired of it?"

"Then perhaps you should give him Lady Maggie's version of
the rack in the privacy of your chamber."

Maggie wrinkled her brow, staring thoughtfully into space
for a minute.  "Walter does hate being tickled more than
anything," she commented.  "Yes, that might be quite
effective." Raising an eyebrow at her daughter, she went on,
"And Fox?"

"Punishment by pleasure," Dana said promptly.  "And tonight,
I am not inclined to allow him to find his release."

"Quite right.  Well," said Maggie briskly, rising from the
table with a determined air, "it seems we are decided.  And
now, in the interest of effective discipline, may I interest
you in a game of chess?"

Dana readily agreed, and after several rounds at which the
women were almost evenly matched, Maggie taking the
miniature tournament by one game, the women headed up to
confront their men.

------

"Walter?" Maggie inquired as she entered their chamber.
"Have you been thinking over your misdeed with Dana's
brandy?"

Walter nodded miserably, his eyes fixed on his wife, hoping
for her mercy this evening.  "I am sorry, my lady.  I am
older than both Fox and John, and should have been more
responsible," he began, but she held up a hand to silence
him.

"I have no doubt of your repentance, my dear," she said
quietly. "However, actions such as yours cannot go
unpunished."

He said nothing, knowing she was correct but reluctant to
agree to his own doom.  Perhaps, he told himself, if he was
properly penitent, he could avoid some horrible punishment.
Truly, Walter told himself, the illness he had suffered the
night before had been its own foul consequence.

"My lady," be implored, sliding off the chair and sinking to
his knees before her, "please, I beg of you, show me mercy."

Maggie stared down at the man at her feet, and her hands
went involuntarily to caress the nearly bald head.  He was
so precious, this husband of hers, and he had been horribly
ill-used by his previous wife.  Would it be so bad, truly,
to allow him to escape punishment just this once?  Would
anyone know, or care, that she had failed to discipline her
husband for his misbehavior?

"Walter," she sighed at last.  "I am entirely too
soft-hearted where you are concerned."

Walter took her hands in his own and began covering them
with light kisses.  "Does this mean I shall receive your
mercy?" he asked between tender caresses.

Maggie smiled warmly down at him.  "Not mercy, perhaps, but
leniency."

Walter froze, still holding her hands.  "Leniency?" he
echoed faintly.

She nodded firmly.  "I shall give you a choice.  You may
either spend the morning with Thunder and the sugar water,
or you may remove your clothing now, lean over the bed and
receive six strokes of my paddle."

He swallowed hard.  The new paddle was vicious, but surely
six quick strokes was preferable to becoming a breakfast
treat for that damned horse.  Besides, after his spanking,
Maggie was almost certain to take him to bed and love him
senseless.  It was her way.

"My lady is most fair," he said softly, gazing up at her
with adoration he could not conceal, even now when about to
receive discipline at her hand.  "I should prefer the paddle
to the sugar water."

"I thought you would," she said kindly.  "Remove your
clothing at once, and bend over the bed."

Walter obeyed immediately, burying his face in the coverlet
as he lay across the foot rail of the bed, his bare bottom
exposed to the room.  Occasionally it would quiver in
anticipation, an action Maggie found utterly delightful.

She took her time removing her own clothing, dressing in a
soft robe, brushing her hair out slowly, then removing the
paddle from the drawer and approaching him.

Walter, who had heard the drawer open and knew that his pain
was only moments away, tensed up nervously, but Maggie
stroked his back with long, soft caresses, whispering
endearments to him until he began to relax.

"Now, only six, my dear," she comforted as she stood back
and prepared to administer his discipline.  "I expect you to
count them for me."

"Yes, my lady," he replied, his voice muffled by the
coverlet, but his sharp shriek penetrated the manor house
when the first stroke of the paddle landed upon his upturned
bottom.

"Count, Walter," she reminded, and he gasped out the number
desperately, clutching at the coverlet with his fists,
determined not to scream again.

The second stroke fell just above the first, leaving a line
of fire in its wake, and Walter choked back a sob as he
counted.  "Two!"

"Three!" he gasped after the next one, and Maggie stopped to
caress his back some more.

"You are doing superbly, my Bear," she soothed.  "I'm quite
proud of you.  You are halfway finished."

He nodded, wiping his tears on the coverlet as he prepared
himself for the next stroke.

"F-four!" He gritted his teeth, holding back a scream by
sheer force of will, and Maggie watched him proudly.  He was
strong, this husband of hers, and worthy of the Scully name.

The next stroke fell across his thighs, and seemed to drive
all the breath from his body.  Maggie waited patiently while
he gasped for air, muttering, "Five," before she delivered
the final stroke across the fleshiest part of the beautiful
bottom before her.

"Six," he sobbed, covering his face with his hands to hide
the hated tears that he was no longer able to hold back.

Maggie returned the paddle to its place, then doused the
candle and slipped off the robe she wore.

"There, now," she murmured, helping him climb beneath the
coverlet and keeping the fabric carefully away from his sore
backside.  "It is over, and you are my brave Bear.  Come,
let me hold you now."

Walter snuggled gratefully into Maggie's comforting arms,
then found his entire body growing as warm as his bottom
when she began to nip and kiss her way toward his rapidly
awakening manhood.

"Maggie!" he gasped as she took him entirely into her mouth,
and she drew back, giving him a reproving glare in the
moonlight.

"Be quiet, Walter," she said with mock severity.  "You are
mine, and I wish to entertain myself with you."

"Yes, my lady," he said obediently, a huge smile settling on
his face as she took him inside her mouth again.

Walter hoped it would be a very long night.

-----

Fox, on the other hand, was praying to the Goddess that She
would allow the night to end quickly. Dana, after tormenting
him with nothing more than her words and the tip of a plume
pen for what seemed like hours, had played with his body
unmercifully ever since.  She had already taken her pleasure
of him twice, and Fox felt certain he would explode inwardly
if she did not allow him his release soon. Biting his lip
firmly, Fox vowed to bravely endure the rest of his
punishment, even if it lasted all night.

-----

Fox rose from the bathing tub, wrapping a drying towel about
his waist, and glanced at his wife as she patted the bed
beside her.

"Come here," she instructed, "and lie down."

He approached her warily, confused at her command, and gave
a small gasp when she grabbed the towel and whisked it away.
She grinned wickedly as she indicated the bed, and he lay
upon it as she ordered, wondering if she was about to tie
him down again.

"Please, my lady, I--"

"Hush!" she ordered, reaching for his limp manhood.  She
took it in her skillful hands, ignoring his moans, and soon
had it standing proudly erect. "You shall not reach your
release even yet," she told him firmly, and began winding
the ribbon around him again.

"Dana...please..." he begged, but she finished her task
resolutely.  She bound the ribbon more loosely about him
this morning, but still tightly enough that he knew he would
maintain at least a partial state of arousal for some time.

"If you behave yourself this morning, I shall reward you
after luncheon.  Now come, Fox, I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise, my lady?" he asked eagerly, the ribbon all but
forgotten in his child-like delight.

To his immense relief, she handed him a pair of loose
breeches to wear, instead of the tightly cut ones she
normally preferred, which would have revealed his excited
state to all.  His shirt also hung loosely, cut almost to
the waist, but flowing freely around his hips, falling just
below his buttocks in length.  At least in these clothes, he
could maintain some privacy.

Fox found his muscles were stiff and sore from the night's
activities, but her talk of a surprise motivated him to
hasten.  "What is it?" he continued as they left their
chamber and started downstairs.

"Today I shall take you into the village," she answered
pleasantly.  "You did win our chess match ten days ago,
remember, and I promised you this."

Fox, who had forgotten her promise in the ensuing bustle of
guests, not to mention Alex's threats, gave a happy smile in
return.

-----

"Poor sweet Samantha, I've neglected you lately, haven't I?"
Fox crooned, allowing the mare to nuzzle against his neck.
"I shall give you more attention in the future, my darling."

"I should like to have your portrait painted," Dana told
him, staring down at the two of them from astride Thunder's
back.  "You with Samantha.  It is a beautiful sight, to see
the two of you together."

"Must I, my lady?" he asked, swinging up onto Samantha's
back.  "I detest having my portrait done.  Standing still
for hours posing for an artist must be the most boring thing
I've ever had the misfortune to do."

"We shall see," she commented mildly as they started toward
the village.  "Perhaps I shall describe the pose I wish, and
have Lady Gainesborough do it from her imagination. She is
quite talented."

Fox sighed inwardly with relief and they rode toward the
village in companionable silence.

-----

Jeanne, Dana's friend, was the most fascinating individual
Fox had ever had the good fortune to meet.  She was a large
woman, quite buxom, full of good cheer, very motherly, and
she wrapped Fox in an embrace upon being introduced to him.

"I'm so happy to meet ye, Lord Scully," she cooed, giving
him an extra squeeze for good measure before releasing him.
"Dana, he's fair skin and bones!  Have ye not been feeding
this boy?"

"I feed him, Jeanne," Dana laughed, embracing the older
woman fondly.

"Ah, then you're workin' it off him, are ye?  Too much
pleasure, is it, young man?"  She slapped Fox heartily on
the back and gave him a bawdy wink, and he blushed.  Even
one as innocent as he could not mistake her meaning.

"Have you customers now, Jeanne?" Dana asked, and Jeanne
shook her head.

"Not now, my dear, they won't be in before lunch, most
likely.  Your Fox looks like a curious sort."

She smiled at the young Lord Scully, who was trying
desperately to peek inside the doors of the saloon.

'Azure Tavern,' proclaimed the sign above his head, and then
in smaller letters, 'Ale and Gaming.'  Fox was dying to see
the inside of a gaming saloon.  He was fascinated at the
idea of a business making a livelihood from games of chance.

"Inside with ye, young Fox," Jeanne urged, shooing him
toward the door.  "My husband, Richard, is behind the bar.
He'll show ye around to your heart's content.  Go on, now."

Fox glanced anxiously at Dana and, receiving an encouraging
nod from her, disappeared immediately through the door. Once
inside the dim building, he stopped short, his eyes wide as
saucers, taking in his surroundings.

The room was much larger than it had seemed from the
outside, and dart boards lined one wall.  Behind the
throwing area sat two billiards tables, and dotting the rest
of the room, small tables for other games of chance. The
tables containing dice, cards and chess boards were small,
with room to seat four people, but toward the back were
three others, longer tables, slightly taller, with no
chairs, which Fox found quite puzzling.  Across the back
wall, spanning nearly the entire width of the room, was a
long counter with wooden stools lining it, and behind the
counter stood a man, leaning on one elbow, carefully writing
in a ledger.

"Hullo?" asked the man in surprise when he saw Fox staring
curiously around.  "Can I help you, son?"

"My name is Fox, Lord Scully the Younger," Fox said,
approaching the counter and holding out his hand for the
older man to clasp in greeting.

"You're Lady Dana's husband?" he asked, his face lighting up
with a bright smile.  "Welcome, my boy, welcome!"

"My lady wife is outside," Fox explained, and Richard
nodded. "She promised me I could visit," he went on eagerly.
"It's quite interesting."

"Well, my boy, decent young men like yourself are usually
not to be found in places like this.  It simply ain't
proper."

"I don't care if it's proper, it's quite fascinating," Fox
answered, looking around curiously.  "Besides, you seem a
decent man, and you're here."

"Ah, but I'm not of the Nobility," Richard clarified, and
Fox shrugged.

"Our Goddess created us all, did She not?" he asked, and
Richard immediately decided the boy was of excellent
quality.

"What are those large tables for?" Fox asked curiously.

Richard's face clouded, and he ignored the question.  "Let
me show you how some of the games of chance work," he
invited.  "Do you play dice?"

Fox shook his head, watching in wonder as Richard opened a
small box containing several sets of ivory dice.

"The simplest way is to roll for an agreed upon number," he
told Fox, shaking a pair of the dice loosely in his hand.
"For instance, if we determine the number of our game to be
ten, each of us would roll, and whichever rolled a number
closest to ten without going over would be the winner."

"What would they win?" Fox asked curiously, and Richard
laughed.

"I've seen just about everything wagered in my day, son," he
boasted.  "Anything from tankards of ale to a man."

Fox's brow furrowed.  "A man?" he repeated in disbelief.
"You mean...for...?"

Richard nodded.

"What kind of a lady would wager her man?" Fox demanded,
angry at the injustice of such a suggestion.  Certainly a
lady had a legal right to do such a thing, but still...it
was just...wrong.

"The kind of men being wagered are not strangers to such
doings, Fox," Richard explained kindly.  "Nor are the ladies
who are wagering them."

Fox shook his head in disbelief.  Such a lifestyle was
incomprehensible to him, with his sheltered upbringing.

"Do the customers only wager against one another?" he asked.

"Oh no, most often times they wager against the house,"
Richard replied.  "We have special..er, people who work
here. Their jobs are to run the games of chance."

"But how do you stay in business?"   Fox was astonished that
a saloon could keep from going broke, with all the talented
gamers in the land.

Richard gave a secretive smile.  "We have our little
tricks," he confided.

Before Fox could ask more questions, Dana entered the room.

"Fox, we must be going if we are to visit the shops," she
called.  "I wish to buy you a new shirt to replace the one
that was torn last night."

Fox blushed again as he remembered how his shirt was torn,
but he bowed to Richard and thanked him for the tour.

"Come back any time your lady allows," Richard told him,
giving him another friendly hand clasp before they departed.

----

They spent the rest of the morning touring the shops in the
village, where Dana bought Fox several outfits of clothing
and another earring to change for the one he wore.

"I love it, my lady," he said, staring at the small diamond
she presented him with, "but my favorite will always be the
one with the Scully symbol."

"As it should be," she replied, raising his right hand to
her lips and gently kissing the finger that bore her
marriage ring.  "And now, let us head for home.  I am
growing quite hungry."

"Perhaps we could have lunch at the saloon?" he suggested
eagerly, but Dana shook her head.

"I know you would enjoy that," she told him, "but at this
time of day there is likely to be a large crowd of the
village women there.  I should not like to be called upon to
defend your honor.  Some of them are rather forward, even
with a Lady present."

Fox nodded demurely, swallowing his disappointment.  Dana
had been kind to him this day, which he did not feel he
deserved after keeping his secret from her, and he did not
wish to trouble her further.

"Let us go home, have some luncheon, and then perhaps a nice
long nap in our bed," she said, giving him a wicked smile,
and Fox nodded eagerly.

"My lady, will you allow me--that is--may I--" he asked
breathlessly as they rode toward home.

She laughed at his discomfiture.  "I intend to make you
scream with pleasure, sweeting," she assured him, and he
ducked his head to hide his reddened face, even as he smiled
in anticipation.

They were riding through the forest, up the long hill that
led to Scully Manor, when a flock of starlings, startled by
the noise they made, alighted from a tree and ascended to
the skies.  Fox watched them fly, a look of sheer pleasure
on his face that took Dana's breath away.  His graceful neck
beckoned her as he leaned his head back to watch the winged
creatures, and Dana felt her hunger for him suddenly grow
unbearable.

"Follow me," she commanded brusquely, turning Thunder off
the well-worn path and heading into the forest.

Fox, confused but unafraid, obeyed immediately, and after a
good ten minutes' ride, they came to a small clearing, the
ground lined with soft moss and the sunlight barely peeking
through the trees which formed a canopy overhead.

Dana slid off Thunder's back and tethered him lightly to a
nearby bush, and Fox followed suit with Samantha.  His eager
eyes took in the clearing with delight.

"It's beautiful here, my lady," he whispered.

She was unable to tear her eyes from her husband's fine
form, oblivious to the natural wonder of the clearing.

"You are beautiful, sweeting," she said huskily.

Fox glanced at her, surprised by her tone, and felt himself
begin to grow warm at the way her eyes raked him up and
down, the way her tongue darted out to moisten her red lips.

"Dana?" he asked uncertainly, his natural shyness
momentarily shadowing his desire for her.

"We are on Scully land, Fox.  No one would dare trespass. We
shall remain unobserved."  As she spoke, she reached up and
ran her finger slowly down the bare skin revealed by his
shirt, and he shivered.  She smiled seductively, hooked her
fingers in the fabric and began to unfasten the few barriers
between herself and his naked chest.

His breathing grew noticeably heavier as she removed his
shirt, pulling it slowly down his shoulders and slipping it
off him, dropping it carelessly to the ground.  He felt
himself growing impossibly hard inside his breeches, and
hoped she would not torture him with a long wait before
satisfying him--the previous night had been deliciously
terrible.

In a moment of uncharacteristic boldness, Fox grasped her
roughly by the arms and pulled her to him for a passionate
kiss, one which left both of them reeling by the time he
finally released her.

"Remove my clothing," she ordered, a strange glint in her
eye, and Fox grasped the tunic she wore and yanked it
roughly over her head, revealing her golden breasts in the
early afternoon sun.

"You are beautiful as well, my lady," he murmured, pulling
her to him again as he nuzzled her soft skin with his mouth,
taking one rosy nipple between his lips and teasing it until
he heard her gasp.

He drew back, afraid he had overstepped himself, and heard
her say breathlessly, "Continue!"

He complied, kissing her breasts, stroking them with his
tongue, until she began to moan.  Suddenly, unexpectedly,
she hooked her leg behind his knees and brought him to the
ground, cushioning his fall as much as possible, and was
soon straddling him.  He pressed himself against her almost
involuntarily, completely overcome with need for her.

Dana pinned his wrists to the ground beside his head and
ravaged his mouth with a kiss that left him dizzy.  When she
finally released his lips, her tongue worked its way down
until she found his own nipples, stroking over them
repeatedly until he thought he would lose his mind in a
frenzy of lust.  At last, he could endure her teasing no
longer, and exerting all his strength, he rolled her over
until he was the one sitting atop her.  She gazed up at him
with eyes glazed over by desire.

"A temporary exchange of power in a marriage might be a good
thing," she whispered huskily, and that was the only
permission he required.

Reaching his hands to the fastener that held her trousers
together, he quickly rid her of them, holding her down with
his superior size as he proceeded to drive her simply wild
with his tongue, lips, teeth, hands, while his lower body
ground suggestively against hers.  Dana wrapped her legs
around him, holding him against her tightly, while she
closed her eyes, threw back her head and began emitting
small mewling sounds--she seemed beyond coherent speech at
that point.

"Do you want me to take you, my lady?" he asked, his voice
slightly taunting as his manhood, still trapped in his
breeches, tormented her naked woman's flesh.  "Do you wish
me to drive my rod inside you, impale you with my manhood,
make you scream your pleasure to the forest?"

"Yes!" she panted.  "Take me, Fox, take me now, or I shall
surely make you regret it!"

He halted his movements immediately.  "Ah, but Dana, we have
exchanged power," he teased.  "I am in command of you now.
You are my lady, to do with as I please, and right now, I
please to kiss you."

He lowered his mouth to hers, plundering it as thoroughly as
she had ever done to his, nipping lightly at her lips before
plunging his tongue deep inside, claiming her, setting his
mark upon her as she had done so often with him.  His hands
reached up to stroke her breasts lightly, then he pinched
her nipples and she bucked against him in frantic desire.

He released her breasts and slowly stroked his fingers down
her flesh, tickling her gently, until he reached her woman's
mound.  He began caressing her lightly, and soon she was
struggling in earnest, desperate not to free herself from
him, but to release him from his breeches and take him
inside her.

He laughed lazily, pulling her hands away, and held her
wrists together as he kissed his way down her belly toward
her female flesh.  Dana gasped aloud as his mouth found her,
his tongue stroking her slowly at first, lightly, then with
more speed and pressure, occasionally dipping inside her,
then returning to find the nub of her desire again and
again.  She writhed frantically on the soft moss that was
their bed, at once attempting to pull away from the
tormenting mouth and drive herself further into it, until at
last she found her screaming, shattering release, clutching
at thin air while his hands still held hers, bucking against
him until she was simply exhausted, light-headed, and
completely satisfied.

He allowed her to catch her breath while he quickly removed
his breeches, tugging at the knot that bound the ribbon
around him until his manhood was freed, and then he was
back, atop her yet again, this time ready to take his own
pleasure.  He forced her legs above her head, throwing them
over his strong shoulders, and drove into her in one long
stroke, enjoying the wail of pleasure she emitted almost as
much as the feel of her silken flesh around him.

It had been his intention to torment her further, taking her
slowly until she begged for release, but he found that once
he was inside her, he could no longer hold back.  He drove
into her repeatedly, thrusting deeply, hearing her small
cries that nearly drove him cross-eyed with lust, until at
last he plowed into her, crying out his pleasure to the
forest as his seed spilled deep within her.

He lay atop her for long minutes, both of them relishing the
languid aftermath of their lovemaking, before Dana at last
moved beneath him.

"Perhaps we should be getting home, my love," she whispered.
"Mother will be concerned."

He stiffened at her words.  *My love*?  Had she truly
addressed him as her love?  He pulled away, gazing at her
curiously, but Dana seemed unruffled by the incident,
casually pulling on her clothing and helping him into his.

It had been a slip of the tongue, he decided as they rode
toward home, and he had to fight to keep down the grin of
satisfaction when she settled herself carefully on Thunder's
back.  He had taken her roughly, mercilessly, and she had
seemed to enjoy it as much as he.  She had simply been
overcome by their passion, unaware of the words which had
crossed her lips.  It meant nothing.

Still, Fox couldn't hide the glow of delight that surrounded
him as they made their way home.

-----

"Fox, I am afraid I have some bad news."

Fox looked up from the breakfast he'd been pretending to eat
and stared at his wife.  "My lady?" he asked uncertainly.

"Mother and I must travel to London for a few days.  There
is a conference of Healers to take place, and both of us
have been asked to make speeches." She caressed his hand
lightly.  "I shall miss you, little one."

He couldn't help smiling at her endearment, for he was far
bigger than she.  "Must you go?" he asked plaintively.

She sighed.  "I am afraid so," she told him.  "I shall only
be gone four days.  You will be glad to have a break from
me."

"I shall miss you terribly."  His face was forlorn, and Dana
rose from her seat, holding out her hand to him.

"Then let us go upstairs, and I shall give you something to
tide you over until I return," she said wickedly, causing
him to turn quite red, and glance around to make certain
they were truly alone.

Holding back tears as he waved goodbye to her and her mother,
he reflected that he would remember their most recent
lovemaking for a very long time.  Coming on the heels of
their romp in the forest a few weeks earlier, Dana had once
again allowed him to tie her hands above her head and drive
her quite mad with pleasure.  He had even swatted her bottom
a few times, lightly, of course, and she hadn't seemed to
mind.

Of course, he told himself, it wasn't the same as when she
punished him, but then, it was not a husband's place to
correct his wife.

He sighed as he and Walter turned back to the house.  It was
going to be a long four days.

-----

It was as if Alex had waited for a chance to torment him,
Fox reflected when the servant left his chamber.  With Dana
and Lady Maggie away, the maid had become even more forward
in his behavior, and had arrived this morning bearing both
fresh bathwater for Lord Fox, and the infamous letter.

Fox had read it over carefully, his face growing more and
more pale, because it appeared to be exactly what Alex
claimed-- a complete revelation of his guilt.

When he finished reading, Fox had quickly lit a candle and
burned the offending piece of parchment, while Alex looked
on in amusement.

"I have another copy, you know," he reminded Lord Scully.
"I had a friend produce several for me--as insurance.  You
cannot destroy them all."

"Perhaps I shall destroy you instead," Fox said darkly, and
Alex laughed aloud.

"You may do so if you wish, my lord, but it would be your
doom.  My friend will take his own copy of the letter to
Lady Fowley immediately upon my demise."

Fox had waited for Alex to leave his chamber, sinking into
the bath water anxiously, his mind racing desperately for a
way to save himself. Perhaps if he was able to search the
servant's quarters, he could locate any other copies of the
letter Alex might have in his possession.  He felt certain
the he and Walter together could force the maid to tell them
the name of this so-called friend, and perhaps that threat
could be eliminated as well.

He loved Dana, he accepted that now without denial.  And he
would not let anyone threaten his life with her, certainly
not an upstairs maid with beautiful blue eyes and the morals
of a gutter rat.

Later that evening, after making certain Walter was abed,
Fox crept from the Manor and made stealthily for the
servants' quarters in the rear.  The shed where Alex and the
other men slept was nearer the Manor house than the women's
quarters, and he should be safe, he told himself, if he
remained as silent as a mouse.  Besides, Dana had given the
order that he was not to be touched, and the servants surely
would not disobey her.  She could be as ferocious in the
punishment of a deserving female servant as with a male, he
knew.  He did not wish to test their loyalty, however,
should they possibly be in their cups this evening.

Carefully drawing open the door of the shed, Fox winced when
he heard the hinges creak.  He listened carefully for a
minute, then after detecting no sound, continued.  There
were three male servants fast asleep in their bunks, while
the fourth bed remained empty.  Fox had heard Sarah and
Roberta complaining that Alex was no longer to be found of a
night, and wondered where the little tramp was sleeping. Not
alone, probably, he thought with disgust as he carefully
felt all around Alex's bunk.  Surely the letter must be here
somewhere!

Quickly and silently, Fox searched the vicinity of the trunk
as well as the chest where Alex kept his things.  He found
nothing more interesting there than several changes of
clothes and a few paltry pieces of silver, no doubt hoarded
carefully over the years.  With a small sighing of
exasperation, Fox quietly crept out of the shed, leaving the
door slightly ajar to avoid the creak, and made his way back
to the Manor house.

He held his breath as he climbed the stairs, praying he
would not be so unfortunate as to make a sound, and with a
smile of triumph reached his chamber unaccosted.  His smile
faded when he entered the room, only to come face to face
with a thoroughly furious Walter.

"Uh--W-Walter--"

"Where have you been?"

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Fox asked carelessly, sitting
down and kicking off his shoes, hoping to brazen out the
incident.  His forced nonchalance disappeared a moment later
when Walter jerked him up by the arm, pulling him close
until they were nose-to-nose.

"I asked you a question," Walter ground out, "and I expect
an answer."

"You aren't my wife," Fox replied flippantly.  "You aren't
even my father."

Walter, who was determined not to allow Fox to cause trouble
for him again, threw the younger man gently over the foot of
the bed, placing a large hand in the middle of his back to
prevent him rising.

"Walter!" Fox yelped, astonished at this turn of events.
"What do you think you're doing?"

"I may not be your father, but with both our Ladies away, I
am the authority here," Walter replied firmly.  "I am Lord
Scully the *Elder*, Fox.  That means it is my job to protect
you and make certain you do not find mischief while Dana is
absent.  Now, I shall ask only once more--where have you
been?"

"None of your--ouch! Stop that!"  Fox twisted his head
around to glare at Walter, shocked at the heavy swat that
had just been landed upon his upturned bottom.

"Where did you go?"

"I went--ouch!--downstairs for a cup of water!"

"You're lying," Walter responded calmly, raining several
more swats on the defenseless bottom beneath his hand. "Your
water pitcher is completely full."

Fox squirmed as his father-in-law continued spanking him,
his stomach sinking as he realized that he was not going to
be able to escape the elder man's superior size and
strength.

"I just took a walk outside!" Fox gasped, his hands flailing
wildly in an attempt to protect his rapidly warming behind.

"Unescorted?"

"Oh!  Yes, unescorted!"

Walter stopped for a moment, and Fox dared hope he was
finished, but his heart pounded wildly at the next words.

"You know, Fox, I once swore a vow to myself that I would
get even with you for all the punishments I endured because
of you," he said conversationally.  "I was never punished so
frequently as I have been since you joined the family.
Finally, however, I decided it was simply in your nature,
and as long as you didn't take me along with you on too many
escapades, you could be forgiven for your impulsiveness. You
were young, I told myself, and would soon learn."

He landed another stinging swat and Fox yelped.

"It seems, however, that you have not learned a thing." 

"I--I--would you just *stop* for a minute, so I can think!"

"I suggest you tell me the truth, Fox," Walter prompted.
"You are not a skillful liar.  You were no more simply
walking the grounds than you were seeking out Alex for an
evening of friendly gaming."

"Oh, all right!" Fox exclaimed.  "Let me up, and I'll tell
you everything.  But you have to swear, Walter, not to
mention a word of this to anyone."

Walter stood back, allowing Fox to rise, and stared at the
disheveled young man thoughtfully.  Fox didn't look like a
man who'd simply gone for a stroll in the moonlight--he had
a desperate look about him, as if he'd had one chance at
something and had failed.

Taking a seat in an armchair, Walter gestured toward its
opposite, waiting while Fox settled himself gingerly. "Tell
me," he demanded, "and perhaps I shall forget to mention to
your lady that you were wandering about the grounds alone
after dark."

-----

Fox spent most of the next three days in his chamber,
telling himself that the illness he felt was simply
loneliness for his wife, and concern over having revealed a
dangerous secret to one even so trusted as Walter.  The
older man had promised to ponder the problem, but his first
advice, to confide in Lady Dana and allow her to address the
matter, was not one Fox felt he could tolerate. He didn't
think Walter would betray him to Dana or to Lady Maggie, but
how could he be completely certain? An underlying nausea was
with him round the clock, and Fox lay fretfully in his bed,
counting the minutes until Dana was to return.

At last the day arrived, and he rose from his bed to bathe,
dressing in his most becoming clothing, ignoring the feeling
of dizziness that plagued him. This afternoon, he reminded
himself, with the first hint of a smile in days, this
afternoon she would be home.

He paused as he heard a loud rapping at the front door
knocker, but did not move to leave his chamber.  Most likely
it was only a traveling peddler, and Roberta would soon send
her on her way.

Downstairs, Walter, who had been going over the estate's
account ledgers, looked up when Roberta entered the room,
followed by a fine Lady whom he recognized, although he had
not seen her in years.

"Lady Amanda," he greeted cordially, if without much warmth.
Lady Amanda Rutherford had been one of Lady Sharon's
frequent opponents in the games, besting his wife more often
than he cared to remember.

"Walter, my dear," Lady Amanda greeted, her eyes glittering
as she raised his hand to her lips.

Walter hid his aversion, drawing back his fingers as quickly
as was discreet, and signaled to Roberta to have
refreshments brought.

"What brings you to Scully Manor, my lady?" he asked, taking
his seat once she had settled herself comfortably.

"You, Walter," she smiled.  "I understand you are Lord
Scully the Elder now."

"Yes, my lady, that is my honor, and I am quite happy with
the situation."

"I am sorry to hear that."

He started at her unexpected phrase.  "S--sorry, my lady?"
he stammered.

She nodded in a bare semblance of commiseration.  "I'm
afraid so, Walter.  You see, on the last occasion Lady
Sharon and I had to wager with one another, I was the clear
winner.  She wrote me a promissory note, to be delivered
upon at the time of her death.  I should have collected my
winnings earlier, but I have been abroad.  I only recently
returned to England and learned of Lady Sharon's untimely
demise."

She handed him a scrolled parchment, which he unrolled and
scanned hastily, his face growing white as he read the
words.

"But, my lady, this cannot be!" he sputtered, raising
fearful eyes to her.

"I am afraid it is all in order," she corrected.  "You will
recognize Lady Sharon's signature."

He looked at the bottom of the page, unable to deny that the
boldly scrawled, 'Sharon Skinner' written there was indeed
in his late wife's hand.

"But I don't understand," he said in a hollow voice, feeling
suddenly as if the entire world was falling away and leaving
him at the end of a very long tunnel.  "This says--it says I
belong...to you."