“I didn’t need you to save me, James. I was skilled, even at twelve.”

“I suppose you planned to have your legs wrapped around that horse’s neck, hanging on, screaming. Ah, that was a measure of your skill, wasn’t it? And don’t forget the time you told my father that I had seduced a Don’s wife at Oxford, knowing he’d be furious at me.”

“That’s not true, James. He wasn’t furious, at least not at first. He first wanted proof because he said he couldn’t imagine you being that stupid.”

“I wasn’t stupid, damn you. It took me a good two months to convince Father that it was all your doing, and you whimpered and whined that it was just a wee bit of a little joke.”

She smiled. “I even found out the name of one of the Dons’ wives to make it more believable.”

He shuddered, remembering clearly the look on his father’s face. “You want to know something, Corrie? I think it’s long past due that someone explained manners to you.” Without warning, he grabbed her arm and pulled her down off Darlene’s back and dragged her over to a rock. He sat down and pulled her between his legs. “This thrashing is long overdue.” Before she could begin to imagine what he was going to do, James flipped her over on her belly across his legs and brought the flat of his hand down hard on her breeched bottom. She gasped and yowled and struggled, but he was strong, more than determined, and held her easily. “If you had on a riding skirt,” smack, smack, smack, “this wouldn’t hurt because you’d have a half dozen petticoats to pad you.” Smack, smack, smack.

Corrie fought him, twisting, and yelling, “Stop this now, James! You can’t do this, you idiot! I’m a girl, and I’m not even your bloody sister.”