own."
The hell you will.
Colin had not wanted it to come to this, but Lark would not listen. The shell of determination and independence she'd built up around herself was like a wall that he needed to batter down, and there was only one way he knew to do that.
He did not like to have to humiliate her, to break her proud spirit, but as he sat down and hauled her, struggling, across his knee he told himself it was for her own good.
"Lass, you will obey me in this. You will!"
She fought like a wildcat as he flipped her skirt up, baring her alabaster bottom and thighs. That creamy white skin, so tender, so soft. He knew the slightest tap would mark it but put the thought out of his mind as he brought his hand down severely on the center of her bum. Lark screamed and clawed at the floor in an effort go get off his lap. He began to spank her fervently, his trained ear listening for the sounds of her anger to devolve into sounds of sobbing submission. To his surprise he did not have to wait long.
He was a strong man and even a powerful witch cannot combat an assault which leaves her energies so scattered. Nor can her protective spells shield her from action taken against her that she needs or deserves. The fact that no beam fell upon his head as he reddened her bottom only served to convince Colin that he was doing the right thing, and he imagined the gods nodding in silent assent as he gave their stubborn servant what she so desperately needed.
When he finally stopped, her bottom was covered in overlaying, pinkish purple imprints of his large, punishing hand. Lark was limp, sobbing softly.
"You will go," he said, his hand resting on her bum even as the other still held her in place. "I want your word."
He knew she would honor it if she gave it and he could feel her now, thinking. Was it worth defying him further? They both knew he would prevail.
"Very well!" she said.
"Swear it, lass. Swear it before the gods."
"Colin!"
He smacked her again - hard.
"Swear it!"
"I swear it!" She screamed the words as his hand fell on her lower left buttock.
Gently he tipped her to her feet and reached own, handing her the sack.
"Pack what else you may need. Take anything that could incriminate you, lass - spell books, potions, anything."
Lark's shoulders slumped and she began circling the room, removing what she could. It had never occurred to her how others may view the items she held so dear, items that set her apart. Her well-worn book, passed down from her mother and grandmother and others before her - its pages full of observations of moon phases and plant qualities and small bits of poetry recited in synch with healing. Instructions for how many knots to tie in a rope to bring about love or healing. Darker spells - sparingly and carefully used only against those who deserved them.
She removed her little clay goddess doll from the shelf, its hourglass shape so familiar in her hands. Little wooden talismans and runes come next. She could not take the potion bottles but removed a loose stone in her fireplace and hid them inside along with the poisonous mandrake and nightshade she kept there where little children and invading mice could not find them.
There were things she could not hide - runic symbols carved into stone, the five-pointed star burning into the corner of the mantle.
"We should burn it," Colin said hastily as he looked at the imprint, faded but still visible in the wood.
It would take half a dozen men to remove this hearthpiece," she said.
"I'm not talking about the hearth piece," he replied. "I'm talking about the cottage. There's still enough here to.."
"No!" she said vehemently. "I will return, Col. I do not know how but I will..."
It was useless to argue with her on this point, he knew. And Colin could not bring himself to destroy her home.
"My cat," she said suddenly. "What will become of Shade?"
"Shade's savvy to these woods," said Colin. "Not to mention leary of strangers. And I know enough of you to