When I opened my mouth, he silenced me with one of his massive, tattooed hands over my thigh, squeezing so hard I knew for sure this time it would leave a bruise.
Lion Court was dark and quiet when we pulled up, even though it was only seven-thirty and Brando should still be awake. I didn’t question it though as I followed Tiernan into the silent, cave-like entrance hall, then through to the small glass solarium on the left side of the house. The air was moist and close, the scent green and earthy from the sub-tropical plants crowding the interior.
“What are we doing in here?” I found the gall to say, even though the words were a whisper.
Tiernan didn’t answer as he moved through the fat leaves and overgrown bushes to the back of the glass room where a small pond was encased in green marble, gurgling quietly from a fountain sculpted to look like a nymph caught in the arms of Zeus. It was hard to tell if she was struggling to get free or writhing with passion in the bare-chested god’s arms and the sight sent a pang of disturbing energy through me to my core.
A sharp crack pulled my attention back to Tiernan who stood by the pond near a thicket of bamboo. He’d selected a thin, strong branch and broken it in half. I watched with my heart beating in my throat as he tested the pliancy of the limb, then whistled it through the air a few times, his strokes strong and sure.
My knees went soft.
When he turned to me, I couldn’t read his expression in the murky dark of the moon spilling through the glass and iron ceiling.
“What did I say about obedience, Bianca?” His words were darker than the shadows as he stalked toward me, bamboo stalk in his right fist.
I tried to speak, but there was no air in my chest to power the words. My inhale was shaky, but I clenched my fists at my side and tipped my chin into the air. “Something arcane and misogynistic?”
He paused a few steps away from me as if to study me. A moment later, the bamboo reared back and landed on his bare palm with a brutal smack that made me flinch.
“No, I do not think so. Let’s try again, shall we? What did I say about obedience?”
“That you demanded it as repayment for taking Brando and me into your home,” I said obdurately.
Tiernan took one large step forward until a shaft of moonlight fell directly over his face, a diagonal streak of silver that caught his scar and made it blaze white. There was anger in the set of his jaw, in the taut line of his mouth, but also something dark and lurking in that pale gaze, something that took some kind of perverse joy in my fear.
A shiver rolled through me like a fog bank.
“I am the master of this house. I am the master of you,” he reminded me cruelly, the hand without the bamboo reaching up to grab me by the hair and tug it back painfully so I was forced to look up into his snarling face. “I warned you what would happen if you broke my rules, Bianca. I was kind and patient with you. I let things slide. Your sharp tongue, your reluctance to give me your locket, your unwillingness to follow even the simplest of orders. She’s grieving, I thought to myself. It’s an adjustment.” He paused, and for one small second, I wondered if I had been rude to him, if I didn’t owe him some politeness and regard for taking Brando and me no matter the reasons why he’d done it. “But no more. You will learn that I am not a man who takes disobedience lightly.”
He stepped back so abruptly, I lost my balance and staggered. Instead of helping me, he watched with a small sneer that glowed in the dark, teeth white and sharp as two rows of polished knives.
“Go to the pond,” he ordered softly, yet the words seemed to echo in the solarium, whispered back at me by the leaves and trees.
I hesitated, my heart thumping and swollen in my throat so hard I thought I might choke. He only had to tap that bamboo switch against his palm to spur me forward.
When I reached the marble lip, he demanded, “Bend over and brace yourself.”
My hands trembled as I placed them on the cold stone, fingers curling over the edge to brace for what I knew would come.
Tiernan moved behind me, studying my raised bottom precariously close to being exposed by the short hem of my kilt. I gasped, jumping, when he kicked my feet wider apart. For one moment, I wondered if he would flip up the skirt, reveal the full, thin expanse of my cotton briefs.