Midnight's Bride (26 page)

Netta squeezed her eyes tight, denying the room's blackness was lightening to gray, for it foretold dawn. She longed to hide in the room, but she could not. Her thoughts turned as gloomy as the Highland day was sure to be.

She was thankful Meghan was with her when the sun rose high and Spencer arrived to request her presence in the laird's solar. Her stomach churned. Inside the solar, it took all her courage to look at the laird. Damron's face was not forbidding as she expected.

“Good morn, Netta.” His voice was soft, his eyes gentle. “Ye look verra tired. Did ye not sleep at all last night?”

“I could not, milord. I have disgraced myself.” The words flew out of Netta's mouth. “I understand why I'm unfit, and you wish to send me back to Father. Mereck thinks me unclean. Despoiled. Truly, I didn't know the horrible man lurked about. I even caused Mereck to turn into a raving beast.” Her breath caught on a sob. “Now Father will surely marry me to a swineherd.”

She clenched her teeth to keep from blurting out another thought. Oh, God in heaven. Without thinking, she had rattled on saying everything that came to her mind, just one thing after the other, and goodness she even did it in her thoughts. It must be the wine Meghan made her drink before coming here.

“Why do ye think my brither believes ye despoiled?”

Netta stared at the tips of Damron's boots. A curl slipped over her brow, and he brushed it back from her bruised face.

“Why? Because.” She blinked, trying to ward off tears of shame. “That is why.”

“Because of what, Netta?”

“He tore my clothes off.” She swallowed and kept her voice low. Only he would hear her.

“Me brither?” Damron's voice rose in surprise.

“Nay. That foul man. He touched me and bumped me and ruined me, and everybody saw me naked.” Her last words trailed off. She swiped away the tears wending their way to her jaw, and felt further shame when she hiccupped.

Damron patted the top of her head. Before he drew Mereck and Connor to the far end of the room, he eyed Meghan and tilted his head at Netta.

Meghan moved close to smooth the ebony curls back from Netta's damp cheeks. “Henny, because the man mistreated ye doesna mean ye are unclean or soiled. Did he hurt ye in any other way ye didn't tell me of?”

“That filthy man bumped me.” She hiccupped again, then looked suspiciously at Mereck. She pulled Meghan between them to safeguard her thoughts. “He didn't sound like it hurt him the way Marcus had in the stable, but he bumped me and moaned and beat my bare bottom when I tried to get away.”

“Bumped ye?”

“Aye.”

Meghan sounded more than a little confused to Netta. She looked it, too. Why, her not knowing about bumping was strange.

“Tell me about this ‘bumping' and Marcus. Why do ye think it makes ye unclean?”

Netta blushed and described what she saw Marcus doing in the stable. She told her how the vile man had kept bumping his horrible sex against her arse while he fought to free his tarse. Meghan chuckled. Netta didn't think it was one bit funny. Meghan hugged her and told her the “bumping” forced on her was nothing like what Marcus had done, for the man had not uncovered his sex.

“Blessed saints. He didn't despoil me? I am only unclean?”

“Nay. Ye're not unclean either. I had me doubts ye would have any skin left on yer hide the way ye scrubbed it last eve.”

Netta was woozy with relief. Or was it the wine again? She wished they had waited one more day to question her, for every bone in her body ached.

Reassuring warmth, like a warm breeze blowing across the room, flowed from her head to her toes. On a dreary Highland day? Puzzled, she peeked around Meghan in the direction it seemed to come from, and met Mereck's gaze. She could not believe the warmth and gentleness there, so at odds with his battered face. So very at odds with the Baresark she had seen.

He came toward her, his voice as soft as his look. “Netta, lass. You are neither unclean nor despoiled. Not one thing that another could do to you would e'er make you unworthy. E'en if the worst had happened, you would remain pure in my eyes.”

He lifted his once beautiful hands to touch her face. She flinched and drew back. His battered knuckles were split and swollen now. The blackguard's dirty nails had dug long bloody gashes in their backs when he fought to free his wretched neck from their grasp.

Mereck dropped his hands and stepped away, his movements stiff and painful.

Wary still, she studied him. She noted the cuts on his face, on his arms. White bindings swathed his chest. Merciful heavens. The swelling on his left cheekbone almost closed his eye. His split lower lip looked likely to bleed if he smiled. Her stomach sank. She had caused this.

Brianna called out Damron's name and entered the room. Netta was grateful for the respite. The changes in Damron's face whenever his wife was nearby still surprised her. Why, that huge man near turned to mush. Elise trailed behind her, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Cloud Dancer flew right to the window opening of Brianna's solar. He had a parchment bound to his leg.” Elise's voice squeaked with excitement. “Look. Bleddyn rolled and sealed it with wax. Like a regular missive.” She was so interested she ignored Connor's arm around her shoulders, and even that he drew her against his side.

“He is but a day away. Father Matthew is with him.” Brianna handed her husband the Welshman's message.

“What say ye to a wedding Sunday, two days hence, lass?”

Damron strolled over to sit on the edge of the table he used to keep his accounts. He handed the small missive to Mereck.

Netta hoped he was speaking to Elise. He was not. He looked at her, waiting for an answer. She blanched. How could she stand in front of the world and God and vow to be a wife? She was woefully ignorant on matters between a man and woman. What if he didn't like the way she bumped? She would sooner spend her life in a nunnery than chance angering Mereck.

“Should we not wait until Spring? We do not know each other well. Lord Bleddyn wouldn't want us to be hasty.” Seeing Damron's brows raise, she added, “Surely he would not.”

Mereck came to stand toe to toe with her.

“Netta, Bleddyn himself suggested we hold the ceremony on his arrival.” His forefinger under her chin lifted her face. He did not let her flinch away. “You may go to your room and rest, but you must attend the evening meal. We will announce our plans then.”

She thought to protest; he frowned and shook his head.

“You will be there,” he commanded and released her. He kept his gaze on hers, showing her his resolve.

Well, rats. Hundreds of fleas, too. He was doing his mind thing again. She had a hard time tearing her gaze from his. When she did, she turned and bounded from the room. Elise was hot on her heels.

“I suspected the same as Bleddyn has written,” Mereck told the others after she left. “It was no random assault, and no paid kidnapping for ransom. It had the flavor of revenge.” In his concern over Netta's distress, he forgot Meghan was in the room. “I believed it was the MacDhaidh, but Bleddyn suggests otherwise.” Hearing Meghan's alarmed thoughts, Mereck rubbed his hand over his face, winced and drew it away.

“Let me see the note.” Meghan snatched it from Damron's hand and scanned it quickly. “Saxon men are eejits.”

“Aye. They are passing strange.” Mereck flexed his shoulders to ward off the stiffness settling in. “Baron Wycliffe has a problem I couldna wish on a more despicable father. The fool insists Netta's a changeling, though Bleddyn confirms she looks markedly like her mother.”

“He must be havin' a time of it, what with five of her former suitors threatenin'war.” Damron strolled over and sat on a chair. He patted his lap while looking at Brianna. She soon settled against him with a sigh.

“They believe he betrayed them. When they heard Wycliffe betrothed her by his infamous decree, they must have been furious since they previously offered their suits. An immediate wedding is wise.” Brianna wriggled on her husband's lap. He growled deep in his throat; she giggled and cuddled closer. “That wily old bastard will take the biggest bribe to break your contract.”

“We will have the wedding. I canna promise the bedding.”

Mereck's face was rueful as he sprawled in a chair next to Damron's. He raked his fingers through his hair, messing it.

“Oh?” Damron's voice rose in surprise.

“Don't you understand, husband?” Brianna prodded him with a sharp elbow. “I doubt that doughy old Wycliffe ever lifted a sword in his life. He never exposed Netta to warriors. Not only did her abductor frighten her near witless, but she saw a man being strangled by her betrothed's hands. Mereck will have a hard time getting those hands on her any day soon.”

Damron pinched her as a warning to still her wriggling against his already turgid rod. “Well now, brither. I seem to remember yer great laugh at my expense when ye learned I didna have my weddin' night fer sennights.”

“Aye, but that was different. Your bride was mad as Hades at you. Netta is afeared I'll drain her very sanity from her. Now she's terrified I'll go berserk and strangle her. How did you fake your, uhh, husbandly duties?” Mereck's smile was bleak.

“Hah. Your ever diligent brother near cut his arm off over the sheets. Thinking he skewered me in haste, my poor aunts were so upset.” Brianna scowled at Damron while waiting for them to stop laughing. She used her name for him when she continued. “It's not funny, milord Demon. You didn't have to accept those jars of healing salve and wonder why everyone was so worried.”

“If ye do not stop yer wrigglin', wife, ye will have need of those jars afore the day passes.” His eyes twinkled when her hand flew up to cover his mouth.

 

To Netta's thinking, the hours passing were far too swift. She dressed in a light green chemise with a deep green tunic, and a silver girdle hung low on her hips. Elise combed and arranged Netta's black, silky curls to sweep down her forehead to hide the bruises on her face.

Netta explored one excuse after another to avoid going to the hall. She finally hid one of her shoes in the bedcovers.

“I must needs send Mereck a message that I cannot attend the evening meal. He would not want me to appear wearing naught but stockings.” She pretended a diligent search for the missing shoe.

“Do you think that great wolf took your shoe?” Elise's eyes grew huge with the thought. “Maybe he ate it thinking it a part of you.”

“Guardian wouldna do such. He likes his meat raw. The shoe is leather.” Meghan grinned at her. “How can ye lose one shoe, Netta? The other is here where ye left it before yer bath.” She stopped her own search to watch the Saxon girls.

“You could have lost it when we hurried up here. Perchance you left it outside the door.”

Elise cracked open the door and peeked out. When she found nothing that even resembled the missing shoe, she searched the room. When she came to the bed, she knelt to thrust her head beneath the bed ropes. She drew back, sneezed and rubbed her eyes, declaring it far too dark to see. She marched over to Netta's trunk and lifted the lid, then near stood on her head while she searched through the few things there.

She must have made herself dizzy between the kneeling and leaning over, for she wobbled her way to the bed and threw herself face down.

“Youch!” She jumped up, rubbed her breast and scowled.

Meghan pulled back the cover and found the missing shoe. She turned to Netta and shook her head.

“Ye willna get off so easily. If ye dinna hurry, Mereck will be demandin' ye come to the meal.”

“Aye, shoeless or not, you will come. Without delay.” Mereck braced his shoulder against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest.

Netta groaned. How long had he been there?

“Wife, put on your shoes.” His voice softened to a husky purr. “If you dinna, I must carry you down. I wouldna want the stones to injure your feet.”

Stiff from bruised and injured areas she could not see, he moved toward her without his usual grace.

Netta's heart slammed against her ribs. She shivered at the thought of him carrying her anywhere. He was so big he filled the doorway. She didn't think she was a coward. Any woman would be leery of such a giant. His eyes, the color of a new leaf, stared at her. They didn't soften.

She grabbed the shoe from the floor and leaned against the bedpost to slide it on. After she snatched the second from atop the covers, she hopped in a circle trying to slip it on her foot. A sigh, sounding like a strong gust of wind, should have warned her. It ruffled the hair on her head. She gasped when he lifted her, sat on the bed and settled her on his lap. She sucked in a full breath, capturing his scent.

“Be still,” Mereck's deep voice cautioned. He slid the remaining shoe on her foot and laced both shoes around her ankles. When done, he lifted her like a child and stood her in front of him. His gaze scanned over her to see if she had missed putting on anything else. Satisfied, he turned her toward the door and gave her a light shove.