Binding Passion: Passions, #3

By Katherine Kingston

The people of Alderwood, including young, lovely Lady Mary, got nothing but abuse from their last lord, Sir Benwyck of Cryll. When the King grants the estate to Sir Philip, they expect no better treatment from him, and they’re determined to see him gone—the sooner the better.

When Philip is finally forced to assert his control over the manor and its inhabitants, he gets a shocking surprise. Lady Mary, daughter of the previous lord, finds herself intrigued by the handsome knight. His offer of marriage stuns her and she hates having to refuse him, but she doesn’t believe she can be a true wife to him.

Philip’s got one year to show Mary the pleasures of sex to win her as his bride, to bind her with his passion…

Series description: The Passions stories are a series of loosely related Medieval historical romances that include strong BDSM and Domestic Discipline themes. The heroes are alpha and dominant but the heroines are also strong women in their own right. The first in the series is a romantic short story. The others are full-length novels.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Katherine Kingston
• Release date: May 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386873983

Book preview

Binding Passion

Katherine Kingston

* * * * *

This Electronic Edition Published By:

Katherine Kingston

Copyright © 2003 by Katherine Kingston

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by an electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

First electronic edition 2003

Ellora’s Cave Publishing

Second electronic edition 2017

Katherine Kingston

Electronic Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously.

Author’s Note: I try to produce as clean a work as possible. This book has been through several rounds of editing in an effort to eliminate errors of grammar, usage, and consistency. However I realize that even multiple editors will overlook some things, so I ask that if you find any errors in this book, you let me know. You can email me at [e-mail].

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Author’s Note

About the Author

Preview of Healing Passion

Chapter 1

Sir Philip de Mont Charles, newly created Baron of Alderwood, stalked down the corridor of his manor, hoping he’d remember which door led to his private solar. He thought it was the fourth door on the left, but after only two weeks as lord of this confusing keep, he still had doubts.

He had doubts about any number of things, including his fitness to be the lord of a keep, with people depending on him, their very lives possibly resting on the decisions he made. As the third son of a vigorous father, he hadn’t been raised to such a position. Until a few weeks prior he’d been a knight in service to his best friend, Lord Jeoffrey of Blaisdell, now the Earl of Highwaith. Given the unlikelihood of his inheriting an estate, he’d had no expectations and hadn’t tried to prepare himself for the role.

His questions about whether he had the right room grew when he reached the door and heard a strange scrabbling, squeaking noise within. Perhaps a maid was cleaning, but late afternoon was not, in his experience, the usual time for it. He’d always had to ask specifically for a bath to be brought to him, and he hadn’t yet done so today, so he doubted that was the answer.

Given the numerous attempts already made to injure or harass him, no doubt with the object of driving him away, caution was becoming a familiar companion.

He halted at the door, stopped and waited. Another squeak was followed by the sound of feet moving across the floor. He was pretty sure this was the door to his solar.

He wore soft indoor slippers rather than boots, so he moved quietly down the stone-flagged hall. Whoever was inside likely hadn’t heard him approach. He grabbed the door latch and pressed down on it carefully, releasing the catch without a revealing clatter. Quiet voices sounded. A small giggle followed another noise that sounded oddly like—the croak of a frog?

It all stopped abruptly when he pushed the door sharply inward. The panel swung on its hinges all the way back until it banged loudly against the wall. Two faces turned toward him, twin mirrors of surprise and guilt.

Though both were still beardless, neither of the two boys staring at him with guilty frowns was truly a child. For a moment, they just stood there, frozen in place by shock. A bucket behind them emitted another croak, and Philip drew the obvious conclusions.

The taller one recovered more quickly and tried to dart past Philip for the door. Philip sidestepped to block his way, and the other came at him as well. Philip hadn’t spent years training as a knight to be defeated by two beardless boys in unarmed combat. The struggle was brief; the outcome inevitable.

With the two in neck-locks, one wedged under either arm, Philip used his foot to kick the door closed. He reached for the cord without releasing either one and pulled on it to summon a servant. He walked them over to his bed and dumped both boys onto it.

Anger and satisfaction settled in his gut as he stared at them.

So, finally, I’ve caught my tormentors, he said, softly, watching them blanch as they heard the menace in his tone. In the act. What was it to be this time? he asked them.

My— My lord, the taller one, whom he took to be the older as well, though he hadn’t even a bit of fuzz on his face as yet, squeaked. His voice cracked. We were here to swab the floor for you.

At that moment the bucket emitted a series of unhappy croaks, drawing all eyes toward it.

And that’s the water bucket? he asked. I suppose it’s purely a coincidence it’s making those noises. He shook his head at the boys. Frogs in my bed this time? he asked. ’Tis not as dangerous as some of the tricks you two have played, but ’twould certainly put me out should I have discovered myself sharing the bed with them in the late hours.

My lord, we didn’t... That is, we wouldn’t...

Philip stared hard at them. The younger one, a pale boy with brown hair and brown eyes, cringed and appeared too terrified even to speak. The older boy had lighter brown hair, lightly tanned skin, and strange, pale green eyes flecked with bronze. Those eyes met his gaze more boldly although Philip could read the fear in them as well.

Don’t compound your guilt with lies, he warned. You’re not—

A knock at the door interrupted the lecture. At his bidding a servant entered. The man’s eyes widened as he took in the scene, but he wisely said only, My lord?

Summon Sir Thomas, Sir Peter, and Derwyn. Tell them I have need of them in my solar immediately.

Very good, my lord. The man made a hasty exit, shutting the door again as he left.

Philip continued to watch the two boys, though it was mostly the older one who held his attention. The younger was too frightened and timid to be much use. While we wait, may I ask exactly what you hoped to accomplish with these...harassments?

We didn’t...

Do not lie to me! Philip’s tone held an intended harshness.

Both boys blanched again. The older one drew a deep breath. What plan you to do with us, my lord?

Philip studied them. He’d been asking himself that same question, but he knew what had to be done. Make an example of you, he answered. He hadn’t thought either one could get any paler, but both did. The younger one moaned and started to cry quietly.

The older boy leaned over and brushed a hand across his shoulder. My lord, he said, his voice carefully controlled, Ross was only involved in this because I made him help me. He patted the younger boy’s shoulder again. Spare him, if you please. The guilt is entirely mine.

Admirable, Philip said, holding the older boy’s gaze. What is your name, young man?

Martin, my lord, the boy’s voice broke into a squeak that he controlled with some effort. Martin Fisher.

Martin Fisher, you admit this prank was your idea and your doing? And all the other pranks as well?

The boy nodded quickly.

Very well. I’ll keep that in mind. But your friend Ross did assist you and so cannot be entirely excused from punishment.

But you will spare his life?

Spare his life? Philip couldn’t help his astonishment. What do you think I’m planning to do?

My lord, you said you’d make an example of us.

And what do you take that to mean?

Martin had to draw a deep breath and steady himself to speak. A stretched neck, I should suppose. He tried to make the words light, as though he cared little about it, and failed completely.

Philip had to control a small gasp of shock on his own part. It’s past time all in this keep understood I am their lord now, whether it pleases them or no, and I shall have order and discipline in my household. That said, though, he continued, watching the boys’ reactions, I’m no tyrant either. While some of your pranks of the last few days have come close to being attempts to kill me, I would still decline to execute children for such. I think a sound whipping, performed before the assembled household, will get my point across, just as effectively.

Chapter 2

Both boys looked dazed as three of his own men, Sir Thomas Preston of Westvale, his nephew Sir Peter Wrathkin, and Derwyn of Eastchester, arrived to assist him. Philip had his men secure the two, then he sent Sir Thomas to demand the household assemble in the great hall immediately, Derwyn to cut a set of switches, and Sir Peter to gather the rest of the equipment he would need.

He waited with the boys while his men carried out his orders, studying them. Following his pronunciation of his intentions, both had looked momentarily relieved, but then, no longer burdened by the worry of impending execution, the older one had let anger and defiance show on his face. With their hands and ankles bound, there was little else they could do now.

I ask again, he said. Why have you been subjecting me to this harassment? What did you hope to accomplish by it?

The younger boy looked up at the older.

You’re not our true lord, Martin said defiantly. You have no right to be here.

And who has determined that? Philip asked.

The boy shrugged as well as he could. You have no connection to the Alderwood family.

There were no male heirs remaining after Sir William took it and slew the old Baron and his son. Title therefore reverted to the crown. The king granted it to me in thanks for my part in defeating Sir William. Do you gainsay the king’s right to bestow the honor?

The boy shrugged again.

Who would you have in my place, then? Sir Philip asked. Surely you recognize the need for a lord to hold the keep and secure your safety?

We did well enough without one before your arrival.

For a short time. ’Twould not have been long before some other warrior in the area noted your lordless state and set his sights on it. Many would be far less comfortable than I to deal with. He looked at them, but saw no change in either boy’s expression. I at least will endeavour to be fair to all herein, to rule justly, to secure the safety and prosperity of all who depend on these lands. I am not by nature cruel, harsh, or tyrannical. I’ll be firm when needed—as now—but will deal gently and respectfully with those who accord me the same.

Pretty words, my lord. But you do not know these lands or the people on them. Why should we believe what you say? Why would you want to settle down and remain here in this out-of-the-way place? Surely an important and powerful knight such as yourself will have more pressing business elsewhere much of the time.

Philip looked at the boy again, struck by something out of place in the way he spoke. It took him a moment to realize the boy’s tone and words suggested a better education and more boldness and self-confidence than usually found in a household servant.

I plan to demonstrate the truth of what I say by the way I conduct myself and the affairs of the keep. I intend to learn what I can of the lands and the people. And I do plan to settle here and make this my home. I have no taste for politics or the intrigues of court, and my closest friends are not far removed from here. But you, sir. What is your role in this household?

Oddly, the boy blushed, a hint of pink rushing over the tanned skin. He hesitated a fraction of a second too long. I’m assistant to the steward, my lord.

Philip doubted it was an outright lie, just as he doubted it was the entire truth. And your friend?

Works in the stables, my lord. He’s very good with the horses.

A knock sounded at the door. Sir Thomas pushed it open and stuck his head in. All is in readiness, my lord, he said.

Good. Philip stood, went the bed, and pulled each boy to his feet. Release their ankles, Thomas, and help me escort them to the great hall.

As he and Thomas pulled the young men along with them, Philip had to admire the dignified way the older boy faced his fate with head held high and no begging or whining. He even sent the younger an encouraging smile every now and again.

For a moment Philip didn’t want to punish these youngsters. The older one, in particular, had a courage he could admire. But then he remembered the frogs in the bucket in his room, the excessive spice in his stew, the chair leg that had been damaged so that when he sat in it, it collapsed, pitching him back and off the dais on which it was placed. But for a lucky twist of his body, he might have been badly injured by that fall. The thorn in the blanket under his saddle might likewise have caused serious injury were his steed not so well trained to battle.

He dared not tolerate such incidents and allow them to go unanswered.

Philip didn’t know the household well enough to be sure everyone was present, but the gathered crowd was large enough to represent a significant portion of it. All seats at the trestle tables were taken, while groups of people clustered throughout the hall and lined the walls. Those not present would hear the story of this day’s work.

He signaled Thomas to take the boys to one side as he stepped up to the dais. He pitched his voice loud enough for all to hear. His speech to the assembled household wasn’t eloquent or pretty, but it got across his messsage that he was now the lord of this household, that he wanted to be fair and just, but he would have discipline in the place and would serve justice as best he could. That included meting out chastisement when it was due.

He explained to the group what the boys had done and why they were being punished. He added that the older of the two had already admitted his guilt and that he’d been the instigator and leader of the efforts, so he would get the heavier penalty.

He called the younger boy to stand before him. Thomas escorted the young man and untied his hands.

What is your full name, young man? Philip asked.

R-r-r-oss Cameron, my lord. The boy stuttered badly but managed to get it out.

Ross Cameron, you admit to taking part in malicious pranks against my person?

Aye, sir, the boy said.

You did so at the behest of your friend, Martin Fisher?

Aye, sir. B-b-but I... Sh... No one forced me to it.

Philip regarded the boy. An admirable observation, and true as well. For your fault you’ll receive a dozen cuts with the switch. Undo the laces of your breeks and lay on the bench, facing toward the room.

The bench was long enough that the boy’s entire length could be spread on it with some room to spare. Sir Thomas and Derwyn moved to the bench and quickly used lengths of cloth to secure Ross’s hands to the legs of the bench and fasten him down on it at waist and knees. Philip rolled the boy’s breeks down to his knees, picked up a solid feeling switch and proceeded to deliver the promised dozen strokes.

He struck sharply, trying to measure his blows to raise significant welts without drawing blood. For the most part he succeeded.

The first three strokes left red lines across the flesh but didn’t raise welts. Philip increased the force on the next ones. The boy accepted the punishment more stoutly than Philip expected. He only groaned and tried to kick free once or twice.

The room grew quiet during the punishment, the only sounds the whiz and crack of the switch as it struck skin and the small gasps of the victim. Looking around Philip saw one or two of the softer-hearted women wince with each cut, while some of the men nodded. Most remained stone-faced, however.

After seven strokes, his switch splintered and he picked up a new one. He delivered each stroke in easy rhythm, but he did make the final one harder than those that had gone before. It struck with a resounding crack and painted a brilliant red line almost straight across the boy’s bottom that rose quickly into a thick, angry welt. The boy squealed loudly, then controlled it into a series of panting groans.

Philip dropped the switch, restored the boy’s breeks and signaled to his men to release his bonds. Ross wavered a little as he got to his feet and Philip steadied him.

I hope you learn from this how unwise it is to provoke your lord’s wrath, Philip told him.

The boy looked up at him. His brown eyes were bright with unshed tears and his voice was unsteady as he said, Aye, my lord.

You may go, then. And all is forgiven, but please do not try my anger again.

Aye, my lord, the boy repeated. Derwyn helped him climb down from the dais and stagger off to a side of the room.

Philip sighed as he turned to the other miscreant. Ross’s punishment had no doubt felt harsh to the boy, but in truth it was fairly light. This next one would be considerably more severe.

Sir Thomas and Sir Peter escorted Martin to the dais, removed the rope binding his wrists