In the Warrior’s Bed (14 page)

“Aye, that is exactly what I will wear and nothing else.”

The maid looked at Lydia and the woman rubbed her hands together for a few moments. Bronwyn turned on them.

“The man wants a wedding made with a stolen bride? Well, he shall have me as he took me. In my shift. Best that he begins to understand that I bring nothing else to this union.”

Her pride might be a greater sin but she put her boots on and tied the strip back around her breasts to help hide her nipples. With a deep breath she walked toward her wedding.

May God have mercy on them all.

H
er husband was displeased with her.

The muscle on the side of his jaw was twitching and the ones in his neck were corded. Bronwyn smiled sweetly at him as a meal was served to them. Druce was still gleeful, making her appetite flee. Cullen frowned again when she only toyed with her food.

“Enough, Bronwyn. It’s a full day’s ride to Sterling. Have done with our quarrel until we reach home.”

The word home made her throat constrict but she refused to allow him to see it. Picking up her spoon, she used it to begin eating the porridge in front of her. It was still half warm and her stomach approved.

She was amazed that something so life changing could be accomplished in so short a time. Their wedding hadn’t taken half an hour. Her cheeks warmed as she considered that deflowering her had actually taken longer.

That was only because her husband had a care for her pleasure as well as his own. Peeking at him, she studied the man she was bound to. He was ruthless in his way. But not a brute even if she’d labeled him one. There was many a reluctant bride that earned the back side of her groom’s hand when she dared to tell him nay.

Cullen had seduced her instead. More heat colored her cheeks. Well, in truth he’d used a combination of overwhelming her along with soft seduction when she was too blinded by desire to resist any longer.

“I enjoy seeing ye blush.”

Lost in her thoughts, Bronwyn dropped her spoon when Cullen spoke. He wasn’t frowning at her any longer. A playful light had entered his blue eyes and his lips curved up, the effect transforming him into a handsome devil.

“I’ve never seen a lass so fetching as ye when yer cheeks turn color for me.”

He held up a hand when she started to reply. “Have pity on me, Bronwyn, and let us nae bicker at my cousin’s table again.”

“Ye assume I was going to say something cross.” Heat crept down her neck because he was correct. She had been ready to argue with him about the cause of her blush.

Cullen grinned at her. “What I assume is that ye are nae complacent to my will.”

A soft sound of amusement left her lips. She could not help it, the way he teased her made her smile. Her new husband winked at her.

“Does that sound mean that there is something we agree upon?”

“I suppose it does.”

He stood up and reached down for her hand. With a firm grasp he pulled her to her feet.

“The weather will nae be our friend today. Best we begin our journey.”

With a sharp whistle Cullen walked out of the hall. His men pushed their benches out at the lower tables, many of them grabbing up rounds of bread that they tucked into their leather doublets for the journey.

Cullen didn’t stop until they were standing on the stone steps that led to the yard. Horses were standing in the now muddy snow. The wind blew up beneath her chemise, making her shiver. The surge of pride that had seen her wed in her shift was about to cost her on the long hours spent in the cold.

The huge stallion Cullen rode was waiting for his master. The beast tossed its head, snorting out white clouds from its nostrils.

“I’ve nae introduced ye to Argyll.” Cullen pulled her along with him toward the animal. He reached up and ran a sure hand along the horse’s muzzle, slipping his finger into the leather straps to check its grip. Such an action showed that he paid close attention to the animal’s care, not trusting it completely to those who served him due to his position.

“He’s a fine animal.” And there was no denying it. Stallions like this were expensive and rare.

“And a good friend.”

Cullen watched her hand as it petted Argyll. He stood close to her, maintaining his grip on her hand. He pulled it down to straighten her arm and keep her close.

“I’ve a mare for ye to ride today.”

Bronwyn heard the warning in his voice. Looking behind Argyll, she spotted the smaller animal. The length of McJames plaid she’d been given was draped over the neck of the horse. Standing next to the stallion, it was clear how much smaller the mare was. But it was a welcome sight, a horse for her to ride by herself.

Her hand was suddenly free as Cullen reached for a bundle strapped to his saddle. He looked curious as he pulled a dirk from the top of his boot and began poking at the fabric.

“Who would sew something closed that ye need while traveling?” The frustration on his face amused her because it was clear that the man was not used to picking out seams.

“My sister-in-law’s younger sister gave this to me. I don’t know what it is. Truthfully, I forgot it was tied to my saddle.”

“Well, I suppose ’tis nice to know that I was distracting enough.”

He paused, a twinkle in his eyes. “Is it now?”

Bronwyn shrugged. “Dinna let it swell yer head.”

He chuckled and returned to slicing open stitches. “Wed but an hour and yer rising to the chore of telling me what to do.”

The fabric gave way. Cullen replaced his dirk and pulled a folded garment from within the bundle. He shook it out and held it up. It was a woolen surcoat, with linen lining and deep over sleeves. It would button up to the neck and was also constructed with deep slits up the sides to accommodate riding. Her chilled limbs quivered just looking at it.

“Bonnie told me that I would need it.” He looked at her, his gaze lingering on the hard points her nipples made in spite of the binding she had over them. “And so I do need it.”

“Who is Bonnie to be giving ye her clothing?” Suspicion flared up inside her. Was there a mistress waiting on his return? A McJames woman who would be snuggling up to him now that she had taken her wedding vows?

“My sister-in-law’s sister, and too young a lass for the tone of yer voice, Bronwyn.”

With a swish he flipped it around her shoulders. Her chilled skin begged her to lift her arms and slip her hands through the arm openings. Cullen watched her, waiting for her to accept the garment. Her pride argued against it because it meant another form of submission to their marriage, but her flesh demanded to be shielded from the winter chill.

“Come, lass, save yer arguments for things that do not place yer health at risk. Bonnie sent it for ye.”

“Yer brother knows what ye set out to do?”

“Aye.”

Her hands slipped through the arm openings and a tiny sigh escaped her lips when she felt the weight of the fabric settle onto her shoulders. A flicker of satisfaction filled his eyes as he fastened a few of the buttons. Satisfaction shone in his expression as he ran a hand along the surface of the wool. It was fine, thick wool, the highest quality.

“Be angry at me if ye like, lass, but I do enjoy knowing I provide for ye.” His expression went hard for a moment. “Because ye are mine.”

“As ye keep telling me.”

“I am hoping ye learn to remember it. Dinna make me chase ye down on the road, Bronwyn.” His voice was stern but tempered with something that sounded like tenderness. She held her chin steady, refusing to answer him by word or gesture. It was bad enough that she was his captive. She refused to become obedient to his will.

He grunted and waved her mare forward. “As ye like, madam. Be assured that I will keep my word to keep ye.”

A page brought the mare close and Cullen grasped her waist. He set her in the saddle with an arrogant look that made her temper flare.

“Dinna be so proud, Cullen McJames.”

But it also hit her heart because the man wanted her and was proud of having her. She should detest it. But she had never been one to lie to herself. There was a part of her that was looking forward to being Cullen McJames’s wife. He flashed her that boyish grin once more.

“Dinna be proud of having ye for my wife? Why would I no be happy about that, Bronwyn? ’Tis the truth that I am quite proud this morning.”

He swung up into the saddle, then raising his fist into the air, cried, “Sterling!”

He rode through the gates, her mare following along with his retainers. Several banners flew with his crest on it and that of his brother. She was given a place of honor among the ranks of men and truly it warmed her heart.

She only wished that she had more confidence in it lasting past her arrival at Sterling.

The day’s journey was long and hard. Bronwyn gritted her teeth before noon. She wasn’t used to hours in the saddle.

And she was not used to being sore between her thighs.

She swung her leg over and sat side saddle until her hip went numb. She shifted the other direction and endured a few more hours, but she was as close to begging as she had ever been before the towers of Sterling came into view.

It was bitterly cold. The surcoat was not enough to keep her teeth from chattering. The length of McJames wool lay across the horse and she gave in. Wrapping it around her body, she even tugged it up over her head. Snow drifted down on them in soft flakes. How often had she watched them falling from the shelter of a window and considered the white flurries magical? With no fire to warm her, the snow took on another side. A cruel one as it pulled all of the heat from her body, beginning at her fingertips and then up to her knuckles.

She might not have survived on the road if she had made good her escape.

Knowing that did not cheer her any. The towers of Sterling came into view and the men who rode with Cullen sent up a cheer. They were returning home, and as they climbed the rise toward the sprawling castle that was the seat of the earl of Alcaon, she heard the bells on the walls begin ringing.

A true welcome.

She pulled her mare to a stop and stared at the castle. It was built in a series of towers connected by a large curtain wall. The flags on the walls were blue and gold, telling her that the earl was in residence. All of it was constructed of gray castle stone, no doubt where its name had once come from. It was a place she had heard so much about but never expected to see with her own eyes.

It was possible she might never leave its heavy walls.

“It’s too cold to linger out here, lass.”

Cullen spoke gently but he hooked her around the waist and pulled her off her mare. She landed in front of him with a bump that sent a bolt of pain up through her abused body. But he was warm. She shivered as she felt the heat bleeding out of his body like an oven. The hand holding her against him stroked her side in a soft motion.

“I dinna realize ye were so cold.” Disapproval coated his words. With a kick, he sent Argyll toward his home.

“’Tis nothing more than any other is enduring.”

He lifted one hand, displaying his leather gauntlet. “But my men are prepared for riding out in the weather.”

“I suppose ye should not make a habit of stealing women then. Since captives do not have the privilege of preparing for the journey.”

A twinkle of mischief sparkled in his eyes. “Ye think not?”

“Indeed.”

She sounded waspish but did not care. Cullen rode through the raised gate. People were crowded onto the front steps and faces peered out of the windows. All the shutters were open in spite of the winter chill as the household staff looked down to see their laird returning. She saw their white linen caps lining the window openings.

“I dinna know about that. It’s been a grand adventure, trying my hand at stealing ye. I’d be lying if I said I dinna enjoy carrying ye off to my bed.”

He pulled the horse to a stop as she hissed at him.

“Stop yer bragging.”

She slid off the back of the horse herself and sunk into the snow up to her ankles. She was suddenly thankful for the numbness in her feet because at least she couldn’t feel the ice. Her ankle boots were mere leather ones, meant for spring. They served well enough inside during the winter. Cullen and his men wore knee-high boots that were lined with thick wool and sealed with wax to keep their feet dry.

Bronwyn shivered as she looked at the steps crowded with curious McJameses. Standing in the snow wasn’t the best option either, but she remained in place as her body began to shiver.

“Come, lass, I’ll introduce ye to yer new home.”

Cullen swept her toward the door with a firm arm behind her back but her legs refused to walk. Her knees knocked against one another in a clumsy attempt. It was frustrating beyond endurance. Concentrating on her feet, she tried again, this time making it a few paces before her knees collapsed.

“And ye wanted to escape in this chill.”

Cullen swept her up against his chest. There was murmuring from those watching and more than a few grins. Clearly she was providing welcome entertainment for a winter afternoon.

“I would have kept walking, even in the snow.”

He frowned, but they had reached the top of the stairs. The earl stood there with his wife just inside the doorway and out of the weather.

Brodick McJames swept her with a critical eye. Cullen didn’t put her down even when she squirmed.

“May I present Bronwyn McQuade, my wife.”

The earl raised a dark eyebrow. “Yer wife?”

“Witnessed by Bishop Shaman and Druce. Our good cousin flew the sheet with his own hands.”

Bronwyn hit him. “Put me down.”

Brodick’s wife Anne peered at Bronwyn. “Why isn’t she dressed?”

Cullen shrugged before setting Bronwyn on her feet. Her knees wanted to buckle but she forced them straight.

“Och, well, it turns out I stole her away right after her bath.”

Bronwyn glared at the humor in his tone, but Anne’s eyes opened with alarm.

“That is barbaric.” Her delicate English accent lent gravity to her words. “And quite unkind in this winter chill, I might add. She’s half frozen.”

“I plan to warm her up.”

Bronwyn growled but Anne stomped her foot beneath her skirts. The earl’s lips were twitching as he tried to resist the urge to grin.

“The pair of you are a disgrace.” She shot a particularly pointed look at her husband before turning around to look at Bronwyn.

“I see it falls to me to offer you hospitality.” She dropped a small and practiced curtsy. “Please follow me and we shall find a warm bath for you.”

Anne turned back around to look at Cullen who was still grinning like a triumphant boy fresh from a victorious fist fight. “We shall see how many toes she still has after your handling.”