Page 63 of Never Tempt a Scot
“I will put you over my knee, you little hellion,” Brodie warned. She stilled, her face red as she scowled at him.
“You do and I will hate you forever.”
“Better that you hate me than get yourself hurt.”
When she tried to hit him again, he ducked. In one swift move, he threw her over his shoulder, catching her legs with one arm to hold her down so she couldn’t kick and thereby fall and hurt herself.
“Careful, old boy,” Rafe laughed. “The kitten has her claws out.” Brodie ignored him as he marched upstairs, Shelton rushing up after them.
“Where is an empty bedchamber?” he bellowed at the poor man.
“Here, sir.” Shelton rushed to open the nearest door.
“And the key for the lock?” Brodie held out his free hand, ignoring the tiny fists that beat at his back in desperation.
“Let go of me, you brute!” Lydia yelled. Brodie took the key from Shelton and carried his wriggling cargo inside. He headed straight for the settee at the foot of the bed and sat down. After a brief struggle with her, Brodie slid her down in front of him and over his lap. Then he brought his hand down on her bottom, just hard enough to catch her attention.
“Ouch!” Lydia shrieked, though in a way that spoke of indignity rather than pain.
“That is for fussing,” he said and gave her a second whack. “That is for not listening to me.” Another three smacks and she quieted her outbursts.
He stopped, his hand hovering above her bottom, before he hesitantly placed it on her lower back, hoping to soothe her. He hadn’t spanked a woman as punishment in some time, and he wondered if he had gone too far. Lydia was a gentle-born woman and not used to such treatment. His intention wasn’t to harm her, but to get her attention and remind her that he was in charge. He turned her over on his lap, and his heart clenched at the sight of tears streaming down her face.
“Please let me go,” she said in a small voice.
“Did I hurt you?”
“Please, let me go,” she said again, and he did. She almost fell trying to get off his lap. Lydia curled her arms around herself and rushed away from him to the corner of the room farthest from him.
“Lass, I’m sorry.” He stood and came toward her, but she turned her back on him.
“Please leave me alone.”
Brodie stopped. He stared at her back a moment before he nodded to himself and left the bedchamber. He locked her in and slipped the key into his pocket before he headed down the stairs. Rafe was waiting for him in the drawing room, drinking a whiskey and lounging in a chair by a freshly lit fire.
“That was quick.” Rafe chuckled until he saw Brodie’s face, and then he sobered. “What happened?”
“I spanked her,” Brodie grumbled as he threw himself into a chair.
“Oh?” Rafe asked, a slight edge to his tone.
“Not hard, mind you. At least, I dinna think so. I just wanted her to stop and listen.”
“Not the best way to open someone’s ears, going through the derriere.” Rafe snorted at his own comment.
“Aye, well, she wasn’t going to listen to reason, was she?” The truth was he didn’t know what he’d hoped to accomplish. Even with all his restraint, he felt like he had been channeling his father. He felt like a bloody bastard.
“Perhaps not. You are right, though—she cannot go see her father. He’ll take her home, but only after he challenges you to a duel. Assuming you don’t let your temper get the better of you and kill the man before that.”
“Aye. I wouldna be able to refuse his challenge, not after what he’s done.”
“And he’s just as honor-bound to offer the challenge for what you’ve done to Lydia.” Rafe sipped his whiskey before he stood and walked over to the tray on a nearby table and poured Brodie a glass. Brodie downed it all in one gulp.
“You know, Kincade, that’s a sipping whiskey.”
Brodie snorted. “For aSassenach, maybe.” He held out his glass, and Rafe refilled it. “It’s not just the threat of a duel, though.”
“Oh? And what else is there?”
