‘You took your punishment bravely, Kitty,’ he crooned, ‘but we’ll see how you get on tomorrow, when the process will be repeated after breakfast, dinner and tea.’ Kitty made an incoherent sound of half-rage, half-despair. ‘Oh yes, Kitty, surely you didn’t think I would let the matter drop so easily? I will get to the bottom…the very red bottom…of this, young lady. You will tell me who you are or you will resign yourself to never sitting again.’ Kitty screwed up her face. It was impossible. She could never tell him the truth. She would work on a convenient fiction while she lay abed tonight. Anything to get out from under his merciless hand. ‘Is that understood, Kitty?’ ‘Yes, Captain,’ she moped. ‘Good. And now that I have warmed your bum, you may go and warm my bed.’ ‘WHAT?’ ‘Calm yourself, my dear. Do you expect to bunk down in the hold with my crew? Your maidenhead would be a distant memory within seconds. It is the only…relatively…safe place for you to sleep. Don’t fret, I won’t. For all she knew, he had met somebody else and was just being polite. ‘Didn’t think you were coming,’ she continued when he said nothing more. ‘Oh, you know, free booze is always worth turning up for.’ ‘I doubt it will last long with this lot,’ Rosie said dryly as they both watched Fred Garret and Harry Smith staggering past with two full glasses of beer apiece. ‘No, I think you’re right,’ laughed Marc before his face took on a serious expression and he reached for her hand. ‘Come with me,’ he said softly, ‘We need to talk.’ Rosie allowed his fingers to thread through hers and he pulled her along a corridor and into an inner hallway. It was quiet in this part of the house. Dark oil paintings hung on gloomy walls and thick carpets muffled their footsteps. From the main part of the house, loud music began to play and there was the faint sound of breaking glass. Marc pushed open a small door at the end of another corridor and they began to climb up a circular stone staircase. ‘I don’t.
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