Authors: Sophia Johnson
’Twas a shock to Brianna. She had planned to live her life close by Ridley. Now, she was uncertain of her future in a land many considered barbaric. He couldna fault her for fighting him earlier, though she had been unduly angry when he told her she was his property. Her independence was strange. A husband conquers, but she refused to be conquered. Like his family motto,
With a Strong Hand,
he would control her.
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Damron turned to the baron. As Ridley’s overlord, he outlined what he expected. Yearly, he had improved Blackthorn’s defenses until they were as strong as any castle in Normandy.
He would do the same with Stonecrest and Ridley.
They spent the rest of the morning riding over the land.
Damron inspected and pointed out areas that needed attention. Within the castle walls, the baron assured him Galan was in charge of the defenses.
After they returned to the solar, Damron spoke directly to Galan as he explained his plans. He sketched what he wanted done. With these improvements, Ridley’s fortifications would be impossible to breach. He had no doubt Galan would do a masterful job. He was used to sizing a man’s honor.
When finished with his instructions, he went out into the bailey.
Entering the dim stable, he sighed with relief. The familiar sounds of horses and the smell of freshly strewn hay all soothed him.
Away from the gaping eyes of the castle inhabitants, he rolled and flexed his shoulders, relieving his tense muscles.
Horses were so much less complicated than people. He called softly to Angel, who ignored him. With his great head facing Sweetpea four stalls away, Angel whinnied, courting the mare with batting eyes, demanding her attention. His antics went unrewarded. Occasionally, Sweetpea snorted and shook her head, denying Angel’s invitations.
Damron grinned. How alike they were to their human owners. The mare could deny the stallion if she wished, but when the time was right, she would have little say in the matter of a mate, much like her human sisters. Or her human brothers, for that matter.
He told Brianna’s groom to ready Sweetpea to travel.
While he watched the man prepare the mare, he thought about selecting a smaller mount for Brianna. When they reached Blackthorn, he wanted his bride in one piece.
As if his thoughts had drawn her, Brianna rushed headlong
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into the stables with Elise following behind. Her eyes widened on seeing him, and she skidded to a stop. Elise crashed into her back, propelling them forward.
Brianna all but fell into his arms. He folded them securely around her and brought her close against his chest. He inhaled her fresh, appealing scent. Her warm flesh pressed tight against his length quickened his blood. Anticipating the night to come, his loins hardened.
Elise took one look at his face, squeaked and darted back out the door.
“Hmmm, wife, will ye have such enthusiasm about all yer endeavors?” he murmured in her ear.
His raspy voice and burgeoning sex told Brianna what endeavors had come to his mind. His embrace tightened.
She tossed her head with a disgruntled expression, much as Sweetpea had responded to Angel. He held back a laugh.
“If I’d known you were here, ogre, I would have run in the opposite direction.” She pushed against his chest as she talked.
“Name me ogre if ye will, wife, and I will be as ye call me,” he whispered. When his lips touched the sensitive flesh beneath her ear, a shiver coursed through her. He studied her face, but she could not meet his gaze for long. Did she plan to run from him a second time?
“To what purpose did ye race into the stable?”
“I came to make sure they groomed and pampered Sweetpea before we leave.”
“’Tis good ye are here. I would have ye choose a gentler mount.”
He relaxed his hold on her. She sprang back from him.
“Sweetpea is as gentle a mount as can be found. If you’re concerned because of my fall, don’t be. Sweetpea is unused to me riding that boxlike saddle from the abbey and didn’t like my skirts. They startled her.”
“Dinna dream to ride as ye did in the woods with yer
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clothin’ raised to display yer flesh for all to see.” His muscles stiffened and his eyebrows rose as he contemplated her.
“I have garments for riding astride, sir. Not a speck of skin will show.”
“Explain this attire to me.”
Annoyance crossed her face. Aye. She could not hide her feelings. Her lips tightened before she replied.
“It’s a slitted tunic and a special pair of leggings found for me by Lady Cecelia. Not only is it safer to ride this way, but I’ll keep Sweetpea to a faster gait.”
He had already decided to allow her the saddle, but wanted to see how hard she would work to convince him. Mayhap he could even coax a kiss from her?
“I have no thoughts of allowin’ ye to delay us. I willna cross Scotland at a snail’s pace. We will be ridin’ hard, and I dinna believe ye can keep up. If not, ye will ride behind one of my men.”
She rose to the bait. Anger flashed in her eyes at this male insult.
“You want me to ride pillion?” she all but shouted. “I will not ride on a horse’s butt behind some unwashed warrior all over Scotland, sir. By the time we got there I’d be nothing but a giant bruise.”
“If I decree ye ride on a horse’s ‘butt,’ as ye so elegantly deem it, or run behind holdin’ its tail, ye will do as I decree.”
He narrowed his eyes and stared down at her. “I have the safety of my men to look to afore thinkin’ of yer delicate arse and whether or not it will gather a few bruises.”
“Are you telling me your men are more important than your wife?” She looked at him and sucked her teeth in disgust. “I’m not hugging some smelly man’s back more than a hundred miles.
If you think I will, you’re in for a rude awakening.”
“Wife, I decide how ye are to ride. Ye will do as I say. We depart afore the sun rises.” His gaze bored into hers.
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She stared back, her body taut with anger. He noted the instant she realized, by the force of his will, she had to bend to him. To prove his point, he gripped her face and kissed her with savage possession. Waves of lust hardened him near to bursting, as he rocked his hips against her warm stomach.
Eyes spitting barely controlled rage, she lurched back from him. He saw her struggle not to strike his face, for her open hand lifted, then jerked down to scrub over her mouth. Stiff and proud, she spun around and marched out of the stable.
His brow quirked, watching her. So much for his “coaxing”
a kiss from her sweet lips. The sway of her hips and the memory of her soft mouth and body heated his blood with anticipation.
He would have no easy time of it when he claimed her as his wife this night. E’en so, by the next sun’s rise, she would be well used to pleasuring him.
Chapter 7
Brianna eyed the bulging clothing trunk beside the door and sighed. Now that she had a few minutes before she had to appear at the feast, her stomach churned.
What in God’s name did a woman in this century do when she found herself wed without having known of it? One thing for certain, she couldn’t tell Damron of Blackthorn to take his marriage contract and stuff it up his nose, then storm out of the castle.
Hearing Connor call from outside the bedchamber door, she welcomed the distraction. After she bid him enter, he thrust an oblong wooden box, embossed with bold Celtic symbols gilded with gold leaf, into her arms. She’d seen such a treasure as this only locked behind a glass case in museums.
“My Lady, Lord Damron wishes to present you with a gift. He requests you honor him this night by wearing it at the feast.”
The box’s weight startled her. What lay inside it? She raised her brows, curious. “Stones?”
“Not of the kind you think.” His eyes twinkled as he turned to leave.
“Blessed saints. Mayhap the giant is chivalrous after all.”
Elise peered over her shoulder. “Quick. Open it.”
Brianna sat on the bed and examined the beautifully carved
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box. She lifted the lid and gasped. Nestled in a bed of blue silk was a girdle made of round gold discs. Each disc was delicately etched with the Pictish symbol called the Double Disc, signify-ing the marriage of two families. Filigree gold loops chained each disc to the next. The clasp was a larger disc rimmed with rubies.
At its center rose a huge, brilliant sapphire. She lifted the girdle by the chain and admired the clasp as it twirled, catching the light to splash rainbows of color over the whitewashed walls.
“Oh, my, Elise. Isn’t it beautiful? Hmmm. I noticed you have a lovely black silk tunic. May I borrow it?”
“Saints, Brianna! Lord Damron expects to see you dressed as a bride, not a widow.” Elise sucked in a loud breath.
“Surely, a mourning outfit will prod his anger.”
“Oh, but the tunic is elegant. Rather sexy, actually. It will make a splendid background for this exquisite girdle.” The one thing she could control tonight was what she wore. “Besides, what can he do with so many people about?”
She knew him well enough now to know he despised scenes. Besides, even if he created one, nothing could be worse than what had happened to her
back
in the future. Back in the future? It was strange to think of it as back and not forward. She had walked in on her husband George and his, uh—
administrative assistant
. His secretary had said he couldn’t be disturbed. He was involved in the final editing of his paper on stem cell research. Lydia knew it for a lie, for they had worked on the edit together.
She’d wrenched open the heavy mahogany doors. Gordon, mouth agape and pants puddled around his ankles, stopped in midthrust. His
assistant,
sprawled atop the desk and unable to see the door, urged him on, kicking her heels against his bare buttocks. After one heart-stopping look, Lydia had whirled on her spike heels, leaving both conference room doors thrown wide in her wake. It was a wonder the collective gasps from the
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department staff didn’t create a vacuum strong enough to draw them closed.
She’d had no trouble getting a swift divorce.
Lydia shook off her ugly memories as she started to dress.
Elise fidgeted while watching Brianna don a gold-colored silk smock and the black tunic. When Brianna moved her shoulders, the sheer smock peeked from the v-shaped neckline. A gold-colored veil, held in place by a twined black and gold circlet, flowed over her unruly brown curls. Elise helped her fasten Damron’s gift low on her hips.
The time came to go to the great hall, and when they arrived at the landing she hesitated, to gather her dignity. The chatter and tumult of the crowded hall quieted.
“Ah, little lady. He has seen you,” Connor murmured behind her.
All eyes focused on them. Over them all, she felt Damron’s cold green stare as it traveled from her head to her toes.
A path opened before him. His gaze pinned her as he sauntered to stand at the foot of the stairs. His clothing was much as it had been that morning, but more formal. The shirt was of fine material. Ruffles streamed from the sleeves, and white silk ribbons tied the shirt at his strong bronze neck. Her heart fluttered.
He again wore the plaid drawn over his left shoulder and fastened with the brooch she remembered. A beautifully engraved leather belt and scabbard secured the material around his waist.
His hand gripped the hilt of the ceremonial sword there.
Garters below his knees held fine white stockings, and his shoes were of soft dark leather.
His body taut, he studied every inch of her. Her flesh tingled and heated under his hot, intense scrutiny. She controlled the urge to twitch.
He exuded raw, masculine power. Alluring. Enticing. As she studied the strong angles of his face, she swallowed. Her
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gaze came to rest on his wide, generous lips. It was a mistake.
The scar at the corner there gleamed white in his tanned face.
He was way beyond anger. He was furious.
Perhaps she should have thought longer before pricking his pride? How would a medieval man react to his bride wearing black? Well, hell. She was about to find out. One thing she did know: he wasn’t enchanted.
She squared her shoulders and met his gaze. She raised her left brow.
What can you do?
She started when she sensed his reply.
This night. Ye will
see this night
. His lips had not moved.
Brianna’s defiance did not surprise Damron. That she had shown it in such a challenging way, did. Deliberately, his gaze roved over her body, undressing her in his mind.
He studied her intently. His gaze started at the top of her veiled head to drift down to the tips of her shoes peeping beneath the black hem. His blood smoldered as he browsed back up to linger on her hips. He stopped for an instant to admire her slender waist and flat stomach. A minute nod of his head acknowledged his gift clinging there. Ah. ’Twas nestled against her body’s hot core.
His heated perusal next halted on her softly rounded breasts. Picturing them. As every fiber of his being focused, he imagined how he would suckle the rosy tips hidden there.
He wet his lips. They pursed, as if around her delicate nipple.
He allowed his gaze to be more suggestive. To show his lust.
A triumphant surge flowed through him as her nipples hardened and pressed against her clothing.
Aye. Brianna would respond quickly to his loving. Genevieve had never enjoyed love play, no matter how tender. Mayhap taking Brianna to wife would not be a hardship after all.
He continued to show his lust. Her skin flushed a soft rose.
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When he met her eyes again, she squared her shoulders. He admired her bravado, for her eyebrow quirked at him.
Ah, she questioned him about her attire. He answered her with his eyes, his thoughts.
This night. Ye will see this night!