Tara stepped up to the mirror in the dressing room and looked over her outfit. Despite wearing it regularly, she always made a point of double checking how she looked. She didn’t want Logan to ask uncomfortable questions due to her walking into the house in clothes from the wrong century. Moving to the command deck, she checked the time/space coordinates. The DATE was on course and would materialize in the woods outside of town in about a minute. Her clothes were quite the contrast to the room; she was dressed as a simple farmer’s wife out of the 1800s in Scotland: long flowing blouse, plaid skirt that stretched to the ground, and the usual layers of undergarments. She smiled. Even in a frumpy outfit, she still looked hot. She tucked her long brunette hair under her cap. The blouse couldn’t hide her firm arms or ample breasts, and only her long legs and curvy butt were hidden. The command deck had the main console, a large round multi-tiered series of panels and screens, and then a sprawling open area around it populated by a hodgepodge of items, the souvenirs of all of her previous adventures.
I’m tempted to move them into my house back home, back in my time, but if Thomas ever found them, he’d know I’ve been steal-borrowing the DATE, and I can’t have that. Ah, we’ve arrived.
The time vortex, the huge glowing crystal suspended in a vacuum cylinder in the center of the console, stopped blinking, which meant they’d materialized. She felt a slight tingle along her spine. Her man was waiting for her, and if she’d timed it just right, he’d be properly miffed that she’d been gone all afternoon without explanation. Such were the virtues of time travel. She could go home to Thomas for a couple of weeks and then return to Logan and only a few hours for him would have passed. Waving her hand over the DNA scanner, the door opened, she stepped outside, and promptly pitched forward into the lake.
Damn, guess I didn’t get the landing coordinates just right!
Fortunately, the water wasn’t very deep along the eastern side of the lake, and she was easily able to wade ashore. She turned to look back at her ship and smiled. At least the camouflage circuit was working. The DATE looked like a tree in among many. Crossing the commons, she entered the outskirts of the village, and came to the stone fence with the sign that read ‘MacGregor Farm.’ She was home. Leaning on the wooden gate, she smiled and sighed happily. She did so love their little cottage: sturdy stone, a column of smoke spiraling up from the chimney, the barn and woodshed off to the right behind it, and then their crops rolling across the nearby fields. She made her way along the flat stone walkway, entered the front door, and looked around.
“Logan, dearest, I’m home,” she called out with a tentative voice.
“In here,” came his firm reply.
She turned to her right and moved through the wide doorway into the living room, following his voice. There he was in his easy chair by the fireplace, his arms crossed and a frown on his face.
“I… I realize I am behind my time,” she said meekly. “I’m sor—”
His right hand shot up, cutting her off. “No, do not even attempt to explain! Once again you disappear, and this time you’ve been gone all day.”
A whole day? Crap, I got the coordinates wrong. “Husband, please, it was not my intention to be gone so long.”
He rose from his chair; his broad shoulders made him look even taller than he really was, which, at over six feet, towered over her, and straightened his kilt. “It never is. Wait, your clothes are soaking wet, why?”
“I… ah, I had occasion to swim in the lake.”
Logan sighed, shook his head, and rubbed his temples with his fingers. Tara squirmed. It was what he did when he was truly exasperated. She was really in trouble this time, more so than any of her antics in the past.
“Wife, you will oblige me by going to the woodshed,” he said firmly.
She swallowed hard. “Yes, husband.”
Tara moved back to the entryway, walked past the stairs, and through the kitchen to the back door. It took less than a minute to reach the shed and then she prepared herself for what was to come. She shed her skirt and layers of undergarments down to the last one. Logan always took care of that himself. Tara played with her fingers and gazed at the assorted implements hanging on the wall. She’d never seen him this mad, and he certainly had just cause to feel that way. She was merely worried as to what sort of punishment she was looking at. She’d lost track of the spankings she’d gotten and the doses of the strap he’d given her, but at least she’d only gotten the cane a couple of times, and the latter had been on a dry bottom. While getting punished on a wet bottom was something she’d never experienced, she knew it would sting like the devil. It felt like an hour, but Logan finally appeared.
He set to work without a word. Taking her by the elbow, he led her over to the wooden bench and bent her across it, and she squirmed at the touch of his hands to her damp bottom. He untied the laces of her underwear and laid bare her bottom, and only then moved to the rack to choose his implement. Twisting her head, she saw his selection and she gasped.
“Logan, the-the strap? B-b-but why?”
He turned. His expression was a blend of anger and concern. “Dearest love of my life, had you returned after a few hours, I would have given you a right good dose of the cane. But, as the hours increased, my rage was tempered with worry until that came to dominate, and I roused the town to help me search for you.”
“The whole town?” she said, her eyebrows shooting up.
“Aye, and when we found no trace, Angus raced off on his horse to summon a constable from Edinburgh. I was beside myself with grief at losing you.”
“Edinburgh! He rode all the way there? Ohhh, my beloved, I am so very sorry. You’re right to thrash me. Go on, do your worst, I deserve it for being so empty-headed as to wander the countryside all day.”
He stepped over to cup her chin in his large callused hand. “Oh, dearest one, I could never be so severe with you. However, I shall be firm and just, and come the morn you shall apologize to our neighbors for the trouble you have caused.”
“Gladly, Logan,” she said with a nod, and then turned to face forward.
He stepped around behind her. The large strap touched her bare flesh. Goosebumps rippled across her skin at the feel of its cold leather, and she stiffened knowing he was taking aim. Her legs spread slightly without her thinking and her cheeks clenched a bit. When he swung it back, she inhaled a little, and then held her breath.
Crack! A very large red rectangle was painted across her damp cheeks. She didn’t have to see it to know it was there. Her eyes and mouth flew open as big as she’d ever known, because she’d just gotten the single hardest smack she’d ever experienced. Whack, the second landed, just a bit below the first, and she howled. She’d gotten that one right where ass met thigh, and that area was especially tender. Smack, swat, the next two were fast and furious.
“Ouch, ow, Logan, not so quick,” she whined.
“Good wife, do not dare complain to me,” he snapped. “Not after the trouble you have caused us this day. Be grateful I did not thrash you out in the commons for all to see. The pillory stands empty; I could just as easily set you in there, and let our neighbors have a turn at you.”
“Ouch,” she wailed, and gasped at his words. They brought up a memory of a previous adventure. “Sorry, so sorry!”
He was merciful; she only got a dozen strokes, and was then stood in the corner with her fingers interlaced on top of her head. Standing there, her bottom positively throbbing, the cool air making her hot skin tingle, she had to endure thirty minutes of scolding as Logan sat behind her.
“Tara, you would try the patience of ten saints, and as I have not received word from Rome as to my canonization, your behavior is going to have to improve.”
“Yes, husband,” she said meekly.
“I have heard your promises before, my wife, and how successful have you been at keeping them?”
She squirmed, her toes wiggling. “I… well…”
He rose; she saw the movement out of the corner of her eye. “You have failed, every time! So, sterner action is required.”
The air shot from her lungs. “Wha-what are you going to do?”
“Turn around, lower your arms,” he ordered.
She did so, her breathing coming fast and shallow. His commanding presence, his body of firm yet supple muscles, and the cool determination in his eyes all combined to reduce her to mush. Her pussy hungered for him.
“What am I going to do to you to insure you are a properly obedient wife?” he said, his eyes fixed on her. He sighed and shook his head. “I must give the matter some due thought, as I have never known such a troublemaker as you. Tara, I love you, but I do not know how to tame the likes of you.”
She chewed her lip. Yes, it was clear Logan loved her. Only a fool of a man hopelessly in love could possibly put up with all of her antics. She felt bad at having caused him such grief and resolved to make it up to him, in multiple acts of contrition.
“Again, apologies, husband, I will try harder in the future. Come; let me start to make amends by making supper.”
A very large surge rippled through her chest and pussy as he smiled at her words. It might be a cliché, but it was also true; reaching a man’s heart through his stomach almost always worked.
“Yes, I would be much pleased by another of your fine meals.”
Tara reached for her clothes, piled off to the side, but Logan stepped in her way.
“No, no, dear, not these wet things. You’ll catch your death of cold.”
“But, Logan, how will I get back to the house?”
“As you are,” he said firmly, and gestured for her to turn around. “I’ll lace up your drawers and carry your clothes, and you can change before starting the meal.”
She clenched her jaw and let out a soft squeak as she turned. Standing there, feeling his fingers and the cool damp cloth against her tender cheeks, she actually felt a bit lightheaded. Logan was quite the old-fashioned and conservative man; she was amazed that he would allow her outside in her underwear. Yet, she wasn’t about to argue with him, not with her bottom still throbbing almost as much as her heart. Once she was ready, he gathered up her garments in one arm, took her hand, and they set off at a slow gait.
Her heart truly pounded as she looked about. “Logan, are you not concerned at someone seeing me?”
“Not since the hiding I gave you last week concerning Mary’s wash. Short of the townsfolk seeing you in your birthday suit, what else is left?” he replied, holding the door for her. Always the gentleman. “Now, upstairs and change.”
“Yes, husband,” she said, scampering off.
Every step made her wince, especially as she climbed the stairs, and thus she was glad to reach their snug bedroom and be able to strip down. Once dry, she paused before dressing to look over her shoulder at herself in the full-length mirror. Cupping and caressing her red cheeks, she moaned and went up on her tiptoes. She so wished Logan was there! This was the tough time for her, post punishment when the fire in her flesh had finally reached her pussy and ignited her passion. Yet, she knew him, he was very strict about certain things, and chief among them was sex. He always dominated their lovemaking, which drove her wild.
He’s all man and he’s mine, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I better hurry before I earn myself more trouble.
She raced about, throwing on one layer of underwear, a nice green blouse, and a short plaid skirt. Logan loved to see her legs. However, he also expected to be fed, and if she angered him again she would find herself across his lap for another bottom warming. It was one of his rules: being sore from a previous punishment wouldn’t save her from another. Her record was three spankings in one day.
Mary’s linens had been the end of her ‘trifecta.’ It had been Tara’s own fault; she let Mary get to her. She’d been hanging their wash on the line when Mary MacStephenson, who lived right next door, had called out one of her thinly veiled insults.
“Ah, Tara, you’re such a lucky woman. Patrick expects me to get our linens to sparkle.”
Tara fumed, but just smiled and waited until she went inside, and then threw mud at Mary’s clothesline. The problem was that Logan came home early from tending the fields and caught her doing it. He’d been livid, sat on a log in their yard, pulled her over his lap, and spanked her soundly. As she was very tender from her two previous spankings, her howls attracted Mary’s attention, and then several other neighbors. Tara’s humiliation went up as each layer of her clothes did likewise, and then Logan told them all about the other spankings. He at least didn’t bare her bottom, but everyone had a good time watching her punishment, and then she had to wash and hang up all of Mary’s laundry.
That night had been their most furious lovemaking ever.
Now, standing in the kitchen, she tried to focus on her cooking, and not her smoldering pussy. She knew Logan. Fill his belly, make him comfy, and he would hunger for her body. Yes, all good things truly came to her who waited. It was merely that the wait drove her wild with fiery passion. Looking out the small window over the sink, she saw him, which only further fueled her desire. He was stripped to the waist and chopping wood, the sweat glistening on his rippling muscles in the early twilight. Tara furiously worked the pump to fill a pitcher, and then gulped down half of it. The icy water was positively bracing and she was tempted to throw the remainder in her face, but Logan would ask why she’d done it.
Instead, she moved to her little hiding place and pulled out some of the spices and seasonings she’d brought back from her time travels. These were the secrets to Tara’s culinary magic, flavors unknown to nineteenth-century Scotland. She’d gathered them across time and space, extinct herbs from long ago and spices from the distant future, and she used them gladly for one purpose: to make her man happy. A few minutes later she was grinning ear to ear; her ‘siren song,’ the aroma of her cooking was having the desired effect. Logan, shirt in hand, was marching toward the house. They soon sat down, she on a fluffy pillow, and enjoyed her hot stew and freshly baked bread. Despite her discomfort, she was ecstatic. It made her happy to see him eating well.
“Ah, Tara, would that your behavior matched your cooking, I would be a truly contented man.”
She fought to maintain her smile. A very real pain cut through her at his words. She felt bad about deceiving him, but she just didn’t see him understanding the concept of a sexual fetish. However, in the future she would strive to be a little better behaved.
“Perhaps, in time, you will tame my headstrong attitude. Your firm hand and strong arm can be a guiding influence.”
“Aye, that would please me greatly, and I would prefer that to them always being corrective,” he said, taking another helping.
Tara tingled to watch him eat. Working the farm gave him an appetite and a truly muscular frame. Each flex of his shoulders, every twist and turn of his arms put his physique on display; he’d sat without putting his shirt back on. So, sitting across from her man, her eyes drank in his glistening muscles, his musky aromas tickled her nose, and his sweet voice beguiled her mind.
Bedtime couldn’t come quickly enough for her.
He helped clean up, which further excited her. Getting so tantalizingly close to him, yet being kept distant, seeing him move and flex, knowing how strong and forceful he could be, these sensations all blended into an intoxicating aphrodisiac that made her heart pound and her pussy hunger for him.
Yet, she knew better than to ask to go to bed before he was ready. Logan always decided that in his own good time. They sat by the fire for a while, he smoking his pipe and reading one of his favorite novels, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.
He does so love his Jules Verne.
She sat across from him, again on a large pillow, and mended his work trousers. The task was now easier since she’d learned how to sew. That had been more of a challenge than quantum mechanics and temporal physics, especially as she couldn’t use a modern sewing machine. She didn’t mind, it was a true joy to make him happy, and to be able to master so basic a skill. Sitting there, seeing him bathed in the flickering light and looking so happy, it set off a different sort of surge within her.
It was the fires of love.
Finally, as the mantel clock chimed, he yawned and stretched, and put his book aside. Tara’s thigh muscles tightened and she sucked in a lungful of air. She put away her sewing kit.
“The hour grows late,” he said. “Tara, go to our room, and wait in the corner. I will be along presently.”
She let out a soft squeak. “Th-the corner? B-but, dearest, is the matter not settled?”
“Tara! You know who commands here,” he snapped.
Tingling, she rose, yet kept her head lowered. “You do, sir.”
He gave her a curt nod and she shuffled from the room. Climbing the stairs, she began to undo her stays and buttons. That was one of the drawbacks of this era; clothes were ill-suited to a quick change. Once in their bedroom, she stood next to the large and comfy bed, and completely undressed. She knew the routine. When Logan sent her to the corner, he expected to find her ‘naked as a newborn,’ as he put it.
She was careful to remove every stitch of clothing and put them in the hamper before taking up her usual spot. Standing there, shivering more from anticipation than fear, she cupped and caressed her naked cheeks. They were still so warm and stingy, and the fires smoldering in her pussy drove her wild with desire. She hungered for her man!
The heavy trod of his boots upon the stairs told her he was approaching. Normally, this was a moment of singular delight, the knowledge that soon she would be across his lap for a glorious spanking. Tonight, fear and dread consumed her. She’d never suffered a punishment on top of a severe one. The door opened, he entered, and took up his customary place in the chair.
“Wife, come here,” he said simply.
Biting her lip, she scampered over to stand before him. His broad and powerful frame was quite intimidating, and exciting. She also felt a bit silly at her desire to cover herself. After all, he’d seen her naked more times than she could remember. That he licked his lips as his eyes played up and down her supple body, lingering on her heaving and quivering breasts only served to enflame her lust.
“Yes, my husband.”
“Do you know why you’re to be punished now?”
She shook her head. “No, dearest, I am most confused by this turn of events.”
“Tara, your trip to the woodshed was to atone for the trouble and concerns you caused our friends and neighbors. This is for me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my love,” she replied, managing a small smile. “I accept this with a heavy heart for the grief and worry I caused you.”
He smiled back. “That pleases me, and know that I shall not be harsh, merely just, not angry or severe, only…”
“You only wish to remind me of my place in this home, and my place in your heart.”
“Aye, those words fit precisely. Never have I known such a woman as you: poet, chef, fiery temptress, and naughty as a schoolyard full of children. Come, take your usual position.”
Moving to his side, she crawled across his beefy thighs, his kilt riding up a bit. His left arm pinned her, so brawny was it that it felt like yet another thigh atop her back. His right hand gave each of her cheeks a mild squeeze. She bit her lip to keep from moaning.
Smack, a firm swat landed across the center of her ass. She squeaked, playing with her fingers, and bit harder. He was giving her a maintenance spanking, and thus the spanks weren’t too hard and the pace slow and steady. In some ways, she disliked this type of spanking more than a discipline one. The latter saw the intensity rise, there was the scolding, and the gradual disrobing instead of going straight to bare. All of those combined to heighten the excitement and fire.
Now there was merely the steady rain of firm spanks, her yelps and squeals, and then something else was suddenly added. Tara moaned. It was so abrupt that it caught her by surprise. She tried to control her body, but it fought her. Her legs spread slightly, her back arched, and her lungs heaved as her breathing sped up. Tara gulped air as she kept trying to calm down, she couldn’t figure out what was happening to her, and then it came to her.
She was drawing close to an orgasm.
What the hell is going on? I haven’t felt this way since that dystopian future and the school adventure. The former was forced on me, and the latter was just a holdover from that. Is this just a flashback to all that? Oh, God, the dose of the strap!
Yes, that was probably the critical factor this time. The strap had warmed her up something fierce, the time lag had allowed the fire and sting to migrate to her pussy, and now the spanking was pushing her over the edge. The smack of his hand boosted her fire, the humiliation of her position and state of undress enflamed her body, and all of it served to take her body to new heights of bliss. That her pussy rubbed against his wool kilt only added to the torment.
“Tara, answer me,” Logan snapped.
“I… what… oh, I forgive me, husband, I was… lost in the moment,” she choked out.
“Goodness, even across my knee getting your fanny warmed again you fail to pay attention! I asked if you were learning your lesson, but clearly I am being too gentle with you.”
Smack! His large hand struck again. Tara howled, but also whimpered and clutched his leg with both hands. She was almost there, growling out her fierce desire, her hips rolled back in anticipation of each swat to offer up her ass for the best possible contact with his strong hand. It was maddening; she had no control over the actions of her own body.
Oh, God, please, not this, not now, not like this, I can’t come across his lap while he spanks me.
The decision was not hers to make. She climaxed at that moment and wailed into his beefy thigh in an effort to hide it.
“Ahhh, sorry, sorry, so sorry, my love, I-I-I sorrrrryyy,” she screamed.
The flames consuming her sent her mind into the beautiful subspace of total delight. This was an orgasm unlike any she had ever known, and Logan’s firm hand just kept her locked in that state as orgasm built on orgasm and she used her cries of pain to cover her bliss.
Finally, when he declared her properly punished, she was again consigned to the corner, this time with the usual admonition against rubbing, and had to wait until he’d called her to their bed. Standing there, feeling the sweat and her juices trickle across her flesh, she drew in air slowly through her mouth, and then out her nose. Her focus was in calming her body.
It wasn’t easy.
Not only was her body enflamed with pure passion, there was the fiery sting in her ass. As she stood there, her bare cheeks red and throbbing, each pulse of her tender flesh sent another thrust of sexual energy straight into her pussy. It was driving her insane with desire. Yet, she had no release. She knew better than to beg Logan to take her to bed before he was ready.
He ruled their bed with an iron hand, and a silk one.
“My wife, time to come to bed, my anger has been sated, now it is time for passion.”
She spun to face him, her chest heaving as she drew a deep breath. Her nipples crinkled and her toes wiggled. Logan was naked and reclined across the bed, and he was not under the covers. It was his way of teasing her. She knew better than to dash to the bed. He expected her to exercise better self-control than that.
“Yes, my love,” she said, trying to control her tone.
She approached slowly, carefully measuring her steps, and drank in the sight of her man. He was a true stallion and his manhood was already fully erect. Moving to the foot of the bed, she climbed on, and then crawled to him. She then climbed atop him. Spreading her legs to straddle him, their arms entwined, their lips met, and he entered her. She grunted and moaned, the impact of his beefy pelvis to her tender cheeks was like a hard smack, but his delicious cock drove straight to her g-spot, and exploded fireworks of delight in her brain.
“Oh, Logan, you are my lord and master,” she hissed, her hands playing across his rippling chest.
“And you my goddess,” he said back, bouncing her on his shaft.
She tilted her head back and moaned louder, his hands cupping her warm breasts, his fingers tickling and teasing her nipples, and his body rocking hers in sync with its movements. His hands slid around her, forced her to him, he kissed her nipples, her neck, her ear, and she shivered as his hot breath caressed the side of her head. Her back arched as he thrust harder and she squealed. His hands had shifted to cup her tender cheeks, squeezing and caressing them, and forcing her to move as he wished. She tried to speed up, to bring her climax sooner, but he would have nothing of it. Words were unnecessary. He knew her so well, knew she longed for release, but kept her from it.
“Not yet, my love,” he whispered, his words hot in her ear.
“Please,” she begged.
“Who rules here?” he shot back.
“You do, my lord,” she whimpered.
He grinned, his hands played across her body, he sped up his thrusts and bounces, and kissed her again, long and deep. Tara was on fire, her body consumed by pure lust and sex, and her mind was being shredded. She had to come soon or she’d explode.
“Yes, now, oh yes, now it is time,” he shouted.
Tara’s head tilted back, her mouth dropped open, and she howled as Logan shot his hot seed inside her. Her mind and body erupted in the bliss of sexual release, and she was lost in the fires of orgasmic pleasure.
It was a long time before she cooled down.
Later, after two more incredible ‘rolls in the hay,’ as Logan called them, she stretched out, wrapped in his long and powerful arms, and his hands gently cradled her face against his broad chest as he slept. The beating of his heart was a true comfort to her, a continuous volley of cannon fire that signaled his enduring love for her.
Was any woman as blessed as her?
In the morning, after sending her man off to work their fields with a hearty meal in his belly, Tara set to her chores. Back when she’d first settled into this time and lifestyle, she’d had a little trouble dealing with things like laundry, ironing, making preserves, and so on. In her era, machines took care of virtually all such things, which made life easier, but she also saw that it tended to make life duller. She now understood where the terms ‘Wash Day’ and ‘Ironing Day’ came from. Even with her knowledge and organizational skills, these tasks did tend to take almost an entire day.
“Why, Tara, you’re alive?” came Mary’s voice from her yard.
Tara cringed. Shit, what now with that bitch? Painting a smile on, she turned from hanging a sheet on the line to face her. “Yes, dear friend, still here. Did you think me lost to some animal in the wild while gathering fire wood this morning?”
“Not at all,” she replied with a grin. “I merely thought your household had been visited by the banshee last night, considering the screeches and howls I heard.”
Tara ground her teeth, then breathed out hard through her nose. It practically burned her nostrils, and she grinned. “Oh, I don’t blame you for not recognizing those sounds, they were the fires of passion, and I imagine they’re not common in the MacStephenson household.”
Now it was Mary’s turn to burn with rage, yet try to control her temper. She snorted and grunted, seized her linens off the clothesline so hard that had the sleeve of the shirt she grabbed held an arm she would have broken it, and stormed into the house. Bam, the door slammed shut hard enough to almost crack the frame.
Tara’s grin went ear to ear. Ha, guess I told her, and I finally got the last word with her too. Yeah, a good morning.
In the afternoon, she saw something that took her breath away: Logan, and he was in a fancy motorcar with two other men. They drove up to the front door as she was tending her herb garden, the one made up of local herbs. She brushed the soil from her long plaid skirt, wiped her face, and stood in time to greet them.
“Dearest, you’re home early,” she said, trying to sound upbeat. “This is an unexpected pleasure, but you bring company without telling me. Shame on you, my husband, not permitting me to time to prepare myself or the house, I must look a fright. Gentlemen, allow me to make up for my great oaf of a husband’s poor manners by offering you some tea and cakes.”
The two men chuckled and Logan rolled his eyes.
“Tara, you try my patience with your jests and antics,” he playfully scolded. “Be glad I am in such a happy and forgiving mood this day. Now, come along inside, and let us make proper introductions.”
She smiled and kissed his hand, and they entered the house. The two men were clearly educated and professional, their clothes and bearing made that clear, and the leader had a name that rang in Tara’s mind: Dr. Joseph Bell. She’d heard that name before, but couldn’t place it. She was as good as her word, despite it being part of her little joke; she served a light snack while they chatted in the living room.
“My assistant and I were doing a lecture when your friend… ah, Angus came rapping on our door,” Joseph explained. “I instantly knew something was wrong and so admitted him, and he explained he was looking for the police station.”
“How did you know he had a problem?” Tara said.
“He knocked five times in rapid succession. A person merely looking for an address typically only knocks two or three times, more than that indicates a degree of agitation.”
Wow, he’s good, a regular Sherlock Holmes! “I see, and you thought to come here and help. Oh, dear gentlemen, a thousand pardons for dragging you away from your work.”
“It is quite all right, my dear,” Joseph said. “The countryside and other… scenery are just compensation for our time. In speaking with Logan, he mentioned a medical issue you were suffering from, and, as long as we’re here, I offered to perform an examination.”
Tara bit her lip. “Ahhh, an… exam? To what… end?”
“Now, now, my love, there is no shame in speaking of your trouble,” Logan said, getting to his feet. He took her hand and gazed into her eyes. “I have spoken to Dr. Bell of our difficulty in… procreation, and he’s offered to look you over. Given how busy his schedule is, it’s quite the honor.”
Tara’s eyebrows shot up and she suppressed a squeak. Damn, I should have seen this coming.
She’d been using birth control from her time period to prevent pregnancy, which had bewildered everyone. After all, she was young and healthy, and she and Logan certainly didn’t scrimp on their sexual activity. Yet, as much as she wanted to have a child with him, the prospect of going through childbirth in this era was just too much for her to take. So, now she was facing being examined by a doctor from Edinburgh.
“I… ah, yes, I completely understand. So… how-how do we… proceed?”
Joseph smiled. “A lady as fine as you is deserving of a modicum of privacy. Shall we repair to your bedroom and conduct the exam there?”
She slowly nodded and led the way, chewing her lip the whole way. Tara did not like medical exams, even in her own time, and she knew this one would be miserable. Once in the bedroom, she disrobed and slipped on a nightshirt as Joseph and Arthur, his assistant, laid out their equipment. Lying down on the bed, she truly cringed. They looked like implements of torture from some medieval dungeon. Logan held her hand, Arthur spread her legs and Joseph moved closer to her. Cold metal, their version of a speculum entered her, and she squirmed.
“Please, dear lady, try to stay still,” Joseph said. “I realize there is discomfort, I will try to minimize it by being quick, but you need to assist.”
“Yes, sorry, trying,” she whined.
“Cervix and other aspects are clear and normal, no signs of damage or diminishment. Also, very good ‘female drives’ are present.”
Tara blushed as she knew what he was referring to: the whole situation was incredibly humiliating, and it was turning her on. She was becoming quite damp. He withdrew his hands and began to check her over, Arthur making notes.
Joseph chuckled softly. “Hmmm, bit of redness to her glutes.”
“A rash?” Arthur said.
Logan snorted. Tara blushed even deeper.
“It’s not something we need to note in her file,” Joseph said. “Merely a husband exercising the ‘Rule of Thumb.’ My, my, such strong and well-formed bones,” he added, checking her legs. Moving around to the other side of the bed, he held her hand, then looked in her mouth and eyes. “Such healthy teeth. Never have I seen such fine and well-developed ones. Her hair is especially soft, no signs of brittleness from the harsh soaps of this region. You have an English name, but no English accent, curious.”
“She comes from America,” Logan explained.
“Really?” Joseph said, his brow wrinkling.
“Yes, born and raised in New York City,” he said.
“Huh, I suppose that would explain… it.”
“What, is something wrong?” Logan said.
Joseph shook his head. “Not… wrong, merely… unusual. Her nails are dirty, of course, from her various household chores. Yet, they’re strong and also well-formed, and almost seem to be covered with some sort of… clear varnish. She’s fair-skinned, yet deeply tanned, and not merely from a dose of domestic discipline.”
Damn, I knew I shouldn’t have gone to the beach so much while I was away!
“She also does not have a smallpox vaccination,” Joseph added.
“Oh, ah… I had it as a child,” she blurted out.
Joseph’s eyes narrowed. “Really? You have no scars.”
She swallowed hard. “Ah… I… had a mild case.”
“I see,” he said slowly. “Has your family lived in New York long?”
“Ah, oh yes, generations.”
“Since its founding? Were they among the first settlers in New York?”
“I… ah, think so. Family history has never been my strong suit, but my father is well-connected among the elite of the city,” she said, trying to make herself sound important.
After a bit more poking and prodding, and some more questions, the exam was declared over. Arthur gathered up the instruments and Joseph sent him away while he spoke to them, which Tara found odd. After all, Arthur was his assistant. Surely Joseph could speak freely in front of him.
“Logan, I would not worry about anything, your good woman is clearly in excellent health. In fact, she’s the healthiest wo… healthiest person I’ve ever met. I believe your issues are purely stress related.”
“Ah, that is good to know,” he replied. “The desire for children burns bright in our lives.”
Tara smiled and nodded, but it was forced, and she felt a pang to her soul. She knew how important family was to Logan, and it pained her to lie to him and deceive him. At some point she would have to remove the birth control implant.
Joseph nodded as he reviewed his notes. “Understandable. Fascinating, most fascinating, I really must write to my friend Herbert about your case, ‘The Case of the Woman Who Seems Born Out of Time.’ For now, I shall leave you two to continue the journey of your lives. I have urgent matters to attend to back in Edinburgh.”
“Thank you, Doctor, for all your efforts,” Logan replied. “Come, let me show you out.”
Tara also thanked Joseph and dressed as they left, and was left to wonder just what the doctor had deduced about her. He seemed smart enough to figure out a lot of things, even time travel!