The Mercenary's Bride

Now, with his head still pounding from being hit with his own sword and with his runaway bride standing outside his tent, he hoped word of this debacle would not reach Giles or his lady Fayth for some time. And hopefully he could recover from the disastrous start and get his marriage, and the invasion of his keep, underway in a more successful manner. Taking a mouthful of the ale from his cup, he touched the egg-sized lump on his head to see if it had stopped bleeding yet. Bringing away nothing on his fingers, he drank again, hoping the ale would ease the anger and the pain.

He heard Stephen’s call from outside and waited for her to enter. Brice had chosen to get away from her when his fury about her attack and her disobedience nearly overwhelmed his better judgement, for he was not a man to take his anger out on others and he did not wish to do so now. Well, he might wish to do it, but he would not.

Gillian stepped into the tent, and it suddenly felt much smaller than it had. He watched as she moved a few paces in and let the flap drop back into place. From the corner where he sat on a stool he waited for her to see him. Her reaction, when she did, was not a good one, for she gasped and backed up towards the entrance. He looked in the direction of her gaze and realised that the bloodied rags he’d used in cleaning the gash on his head lay on the ground at his feet.

‘I … I …’ she began to stutter.

‘Do not make some false claim of regret, lady,’ he warned, kicking the rags out of his way and standing before her. ‘You wanted to escape, I was in your way, and you removed me.’ He crossed his arms over his chest and allowed himself a moment of enjoyment at her discomfort. He knew, though, that the way she reacted to his accusation was important in coming to know her better.

Gillian let out a loud sigh and pushed her loosened hair back out of her face. Her bedraggled appearance in no way marred her beauty; instead, it made him want to wrap her in his arms and kiss away the worries that caused the crease to deepen between her brows.

‘You are correct, my lord,’ she said softly. ‘My only intention was to escape. You were in my way.’

‘Why?’ he asked. The word surprised him until he realised that he did want to know her reasons for running from him. ‘Did you run from me in particular? From this marriage?’ She looked as though she sought a way out of answering, so he asked again. ‘You spoke the vows in front of the priest and witnesses. You pledged yourself to me. So, lady, why did you run?’

‘I ran from you. I ran from this marriage. I just ran,’ she said in a voice so low he nearly missed it. She looked away from him, too, not meeting his gaze, but staring down at her hands while she spoke. Hands that twisted the cloth of her cloak in a tight spiral.

He suspected that she knew he would intercept any of her attempts to get to the convent, but why had she not run back to her brother’s protection?

‘Why the convent?’ He took a step towards her, but paused when she backed away. Likely she feared his anger even now.

‘I would be welcome there. The reverend mother said I would be welcomed into their community.’

‘And your brother would not welcome your return to him?’ he asked.

The stricken expression at his words told him more than he ever expected to learn, for her face paled and her eyes filled with pain and fear. Brice reached out for her, but she moved farther away from him. Filled with uncertainty about how to proceed with her, he could tell by watching the lady that exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her even now.

It had been his plan—having her walk back to the camp would tire her out and make another attempt to escape this night nearly impossible. Now, as he watched her struggle to remain standing even while trying to appear strong, he understood the strength of her pride and her determination.

She was a worthy opponent, but would be a better lady to their people and a wife to him—if he could gain her trust and co-operation. Swiving her in this tent now would not accomplish that. Not consummating the marriage was not a choice, for if she did reach the convent it would cause a complicated mess that would take months or years to sort through. And he knew to the marrow of his bones that she would try again. Still, he shook his head and surrendered to the inevitable.

‘Seek your rest, lady,’ he said, pointing to the pallet.

She started and glanced between him and the pile of blankets they’d occupied not long ago. ‘I do not understand.’

‘It is nearly the middle of the night,’ he began. ‘Many new challenges face us in the morn, so seek your rest.’

Brice turned away and began to pick up the rags from the ground. She remained still where she stood, not yet moving to the pallet. So, he went over, lifted up several of the blankets and motioned for her to lie down. As though prepared for him to attack her at any moment, Lady Gillian crept to the pallet and sat down without ever taking her gaze from him. She started to untie her cloak, but then wrapped its length around her and lay down.

Brice layered several blankets over her and tried not to think about her presence in his tent. He tried not to think about the lovely, feminine body under those blankets. He especially tried not to remember the way she sounded, the way she gasped so softly as he slid his hand nearer to her womanly flesh. But when she loosened her veil and her hair spread around her head, he hardened in immediate response to her innocent actions and he nearly lost that battle.

Realising that his body had readied for taking her and distraction was necessary, he walked over to finish his tasks. He should call Ernaut to see to cleaning and arranging things, but that could wait until morning. After securing his sword where she could not reach it easily, he gathered the soiled rags and tossed them out of the tent flap. He busied himself with other menial tasks, all to keep himself from tearing off the blankets, freeing her from her cloak and garments and ploughing her as deeply and fervently as he wanted to do.

A short while later, the sound of clattering teeth filled the small space. Brice turned and walked closer to her. Now he could see that her whole body shivered beneath her cloak and the blankets. His own breath floated in front of him in the cold night’s air, making him realise that she must be chilled to the bone from both her run to escape, her walk back to the camp and the absence of any fire or hearth to warm her in the tent.

It was exactly the discomfort he’d wanted her to feel when he gave the orders, but now, watching it, he found he did not like the results. He secured the flap of the tent and after removing his dagger and slipping it under the edge of the pallet, he lifted the blankets and slid in behind the lady.

Since she lay on her side facing away from him, he shifted closer until her back touched his chest and wrapped his arms around her to hold her close. She reacted immediately, her body rigid as she ceased all movements. So still did she lie that he could not even feel her taking breath into her lungs.

‘Be at ease, lady,’ he whispered to her. ‘I seek but to warm you so that your teeth stop making those infernal noises when they clatter from the cold and I can get some rest.’

Gathering the folds of her cloak in his hand, he tucked them tightly around her and moved one leg against hers to give her some warmth. Brice waited on her protests, but none came. After a few minutes, her teeth did indeed stop their clattering. It was another little while before her shivering stopped.

‘Though I meant for you to suffer after what you did, I did not intend for the punishment to be so severe,’ he whispered as he felt her body relax against his.

He expected no reply, for his words were as close to an explanation as he would go, as close to an apology as he would permit himself to offer. But, as she had in most things since he’d first heard of Lady Gillian of Thaxted, she surprised him once more.

‘And though I meant to knock you out of your senses, I did not mean to wound you so deeply,’ she whispered back.

Brice could not stop his laughter then, releasing her for a moment and falling on to his back as he did. Then, he rolled against her once more, gathering her into his arms and settling back into their comfortable position.

‘Just so, lady. I suspect we may be well suited for each other after all.’

He listened for another reply, but none came, and soon he was met only by the deep, even breaths that spoke of sleep. Now that her shivering had ceased and the warmth of their bodies together increased, Brice could feel the pull of sleep lulling him to it. He might as well get a few hours of rest, before taking the next step with his new wife.

Oh, he knew she thought herself safe from his attentions, but his delay would only last until morning. Though she might have fallen asleep a virgin this night, he planned that she would not be one by the next. Or by the time they rose to face the challenges on the morrow.

Chapter Five

After the dampness of the evening had allowed the cold to seep into the very marrow of her bones, Gillian enjoyed the heat that pulsed through her. As she shifted around within the tight cocoon formed by her cloak and the blankets on the pallet, she realised she was also encircled by the source of the heat. As the sounds of a camp stirring to life began around her, she opened her eyes to find him, her husband, draped over her.

And staring right back at her.

It took but a moment for her to comprehend his intent before he leaned even closer and touched his lips to hers. With the blankets and her cloak and his arms holding her so tight, she could not move away. Or so she told herself that was the reason, but once his mouth took hers, she could think of nothing else but him.

He held her cradled with one arm under her back as he moved the other across her stomach to rest on her hip. The same feelings, the same heat that had rippled through her the last time he touched her like this did so again and her body shivered under his hands.

‘Are you cold?’ he asked softly, lifting back from the kiss just enough to see her face.

‘Nay.’ Gillian shook her head though another shudder shook her body even as she spoke. ‘I think not,’ she admitted. Then as his gentle, exploring touch ignited a path of fire across her stomach and down towards her legs, she said again, ‘Nay.’

He smiled then and her heart seemed to beat faster. He moved his hand along her hip and down her leg, and breathing became difficult as her lungs gasped and strained for even breath. But when he gathered the edge of her gown and tunic in his large hand and began to slide it up her legs, her body became a thing she could not recognise.

The skin of her thighs shivered beneath her gown as his hand glided over her and the blood and heat rushed through her veins to pool between her legs. For the ten-and-nine years of her life, she’d rarely had cause to take notice of the sensitive nature of that area, but now, with his attentions last night and this morn, it ached in a way that seemed almost pleasurable.

Without waiting for her permission and certainly not waiting for her to object, he held her closer and kissed her again—this time until she lost her breath and he felt her body press against his. He chuckled against her mouth, continuing to touch and taste her with his tongue even as he stroked closer and closer to that intimate place.

She knew his intent. She knew he would join with her and make her his wife in reality, but all the arguments she’d convinced herself of evaporated in the heat of his onslaught. Having sampled it last night before she tried to escape, she wondered now if fear of this unknown but provocative man and the feelings he made her body experience were what had driven her to run. When his fingers slipped between her legs, Gillian’s body arched and tightened, renewing and escalating those feelings and that same fear and need to escape.

Drawing back, she tried to move away from his touch, but the blankets and his arm held her to him. In spite of her movements, he never stopped his advance, his fingers dipping and stroking against the sensitive folds there, making her centre tighten and throb. She lifted her mouth from his and took in a breath, preparing to argue or fight her way out, when his expression stopped her.