Free Her Rogue Knight by Natasha Knight Page A

the tender flesh, tracing what she imagined were the marks of his sword belt. “You’ll be sore for a few days, I believe,” he said before flipping her dress down to cover her. “But your skin is uncut.”
    She stood stock still, unable to see him until she finally felt him raise the top plank of the pillory so she could free herself. She rubbed her wrists then began to massage her neck. She couldn’t yet meet his eyes.
    “Gemma,” he said.
    She kept her gaze to the ground, the lump in her throat making it impossible to swallow.
    “Look at me,” he said, his voice gentle.
    Her skin prickled, her belly felt strange, and she began to tremble.
    His hand was soft as he lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. Hers were filled with tears when she turned them up to him.
    “If I hadn’t come when I had,” he began, “they would have hurt you badly.”
    She nodded, the stream of tears now having begun to flow. She knew that; he didn’t have to tell her that. Her next inhale was a loud sucking in of air, and her throat felt too full. He pulled her tight into his arms as she began to weep loudly.
    “I’m sorry I had to punish you so harshly,” he said, holding her while her body rocked with her sobs.
    “I know… it was…” she began, unable to finish a sentence without having to gasp for breath between words. “My fault.” She sucked in air. “I know what they might have done to me. I’m sorry.”
    “Shh.” He held her tightly, rubbing her back. “It’s over now. You’re safe. You’re forgiven.”
    At that she found herself tucking her body even closer to his, unable to understand her confused emotions, wondering how she could take comfort in the arms of the man who had just whipped and humiliated her so mercilessly. She should hate him, shouldn’t she? But she didn’t. Not at all.
    At her own mental chastisement of herself, she pulled herself away and wiped her tears, putting on a long-learned, false front of bravado.
    Sir William watched her, waiting to take his cue from her it seemed. Her body shook one last time with her next breath, and she forced herself to push her emotions deep inside her. She would deal with these strange new feelings later.
    She took a step back and made herself meet his eyes, forcing herself not to think about what had just happened between them.
    He studied her, his eyes curious, nothing angry or harsh in their now quiet blue depths. “You must be hungry,” he said, his gaze seeming to penetrate deeper, as if he were trying to read her mind.
    But she wouldn’t allow that.
    “I brought some bread with me from the tavern, and I’ve loaded what supplies they had into our saddlebags.” He walked over to the horses, and she followed. When he offered her the loaf of bread, she took it.
    “Thank you,” she said, her voice tight, still unable to hold his gaze.
    “You’re welcome.” There was an uncomfortable moment, then, “Gemma…” he began.
    She looked at him, willing herself not to feel hurt, not to show her vulnerability. She should be able to do this by now. All her life, she’d put on a brave face. After the day her mother had died, she had never again allowed anyone to see her cry—not until she had learned Alys had been kidnapped. She hadn’t been willing to share her weakness. Now here was this man who could manage to bring it out of her. It wasn’t the physical pain she was crying over, no, that would have been easy. She would be sore for a few days, she knew that much. But that she could manage. It was the humiliation.
    “Punishment is over. I don’t want you to feel ashamed,” he said, as if on cue.
    He’d touched her there . His fingers had been on her sex. He had pushed inside her bottom. The fact that he knew it shamed her only made it worse. Her face began to crumple, but she turned away, willing herself not to hear the kindness in his words, forcing herself to collect and keep her emotions in check. It would be easier if he were cruel.