Carrick let Camilla rant without replying, then gazed down at the kneeling slave as he struggled to speak, his pale gaze hard as flint. The boy's voice was thick, and not merely with emotion. Clearly he had injured himself in trying not to cry out under the punishment he had received.
"You were right to resist them," he remarked, his fingers stroking the high cheekbones in soothing motions. "I told you that you were going to belong to me and to nobody else - that your body is for my pleasure. That you're mine to use." His voice hardened. "But you shouldn't have done it by insulting them and bringing shame on your Mistress. I didn't tell you to insult your betters. Most men would say you've been disciplined enough, but your Mistress is a very great lady. I won't see her insulted. She has every right to see me punish you."
Carrick uncrossed his legs and indicated his lap. "You know what to do, slave."