Captive Fox
Chapter 9

by Bluebonnet





Disclaimer: Yeah right, like I could create characters like these?

Rating: NC-17, baby!

Keywords: Sex and discipline--need I say more?

Summary: In a world where women rule and men are chattel, Fox Mulder Scully is his wife's most prized possession...

Notes: Most awesome thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Carolyn, who asks the hard questions, catches the little discrepancies, and makes me be better than I am. She's the one with all the good ideas.



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 wved 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."

End chapter 9