The Winter Bear's Bride (Dubious Book 2) (3 page)

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Arick said with a bow, turning and disappearing into the snowy night.

Scar turned and smiled. “Hello, Mother.”

****

Her father wanted to see her.

Shit.
Her father only ever wanted to see her to lecture her about some misdemeanor, or to lecture her on his twin ideals of duty and sacrifice again, so her steps were less than hasty as she made her way to the main hall. She also made care not to be too slow either and carried a load of linen in need of mending down from the upper chambers with her.

The reason for the large stack was two-fold. It needed to come down anyway and if she’d left it up there, she’d only have to trudge up all the narrow stairs again to fetch it, and secondly, it was a viable, visual reason for her tardiness in answering her father’s summons.

As soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs, though, she realized her father’s order was far more than simply to lecture her again. Huge warriors filled the entrance hall, their hulking forms making the large space seem small. Catching her breath, she hovered on the bottom step for a moment. They weren’t warriors she knew, and she knew most warriors from the clans, which meant they could only be…

One turned around, and the black-on-black sigil worked into his leather jerkin confirmed her suspicion. Einar warriors. Here. Again. Dropping the linen on a chest near the stairs, she scooted around the edge of the crowd, trying to avoid getting squashed between a huge body and the wall. Warriors as big as these weren’t always careful. With a sigh of relief, she made it to the other side, avoiding making eye contact, and slipped into the main hall.

“Ahh, my daughter graces us with her presence.” Her father’s sarcasm slid off her skin like water from a seal’s fur, but it was the man standing in front of him who upset her composure. Scar turned as she entered the room, his warm gaze sliding over her like a physical caress.

Her steps faltered for a moment before she managed to pull her composure around herself again and walked forward. “My apologies, I was sorting laundry and organizing repairs in the north tower.”

“Very dutiful.”

Scar watched her every step of the way as she crossed the hall to stand next to her father. Curiously, she tilted her head, hoping Magnus would get the message and tell her what was going on. He didn’t, instead puffing out his chest and rumbling deep in his throat.

“Duty and sacrifice, the Asmundr watchwords,” he said flatly. “Now my daughter is present, what did you wish to discuss with us?”

Her eyes widened a little, but she was quick to hide her surprise. The note of displeasure in her father’s voice was obvious and didn’t bode well for the rest of the day. As a rule, he didn’t react well to the slightest hint of being told what to do, and if Scar…the Einar alpha…had insisted on her presence before they could talk, then he would take that as being told what to do.

Rapidly, she wracked her brains, wondering if she could get away with chores in the outer holdings away from the stronghold this afternoon and avoid the lecture that always followed when he was pissed off.

“She is, indeed. A pleasure to see you again, Lady Asmundr.” Scar favored her with a smile. “May I say how beautiful you look this morning?”

“Errr…thank you,” she managed, breathing a sigh of relief as he transferred his attention from her to her father.

Unlike last night, with her ball-gown securely covering her, today she was dressed for working in a simple wide-necked gown that highlighted her lack of the curves bear men found so appealing. It was easier when he wasn’t looking at her and she could study him instead, now she had the chance. Everything had happened so fast last night she hadn’t really had time to. It hadn’t stopped him dominating her dreams, chasing her and capturing her… She’d woken several times bathed in sweat, her sheets twisted around her legs and her body aching.

Even with the scar, he was handsome. Tall and broad-shouldered, he wasn’t the hulking brute many bears were. He was leaner, but no less muscled. His arms and the sliver of chest defined with muscle she could see through his jerkin did strange things to her stomach.

“I would like to extend an offer for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

The words dropped into the sudden silence of the hall. She froze between one breath and the next, her gaze sliding sideways to her father, who looked as stunned as she felt. She thought she’d anticipated everything he might say, from demands that the Asmundr yield lands in the south, right through to proposing an alliance between the Einar and the Asmundr.

Not once had she thought he was here for her.

A chill crept up her spine. The Einar had many warriors, so an alliance through marriage would bolster her father’s forces in case any of the others decided to mount a claim for the Elder title. For that alone, Magnus would sacrifice half his men. But would he hand her over?

Her heart pounded, her throat tight as she studied Scar from under her lashes. He scared and fascinated her at the same time. His reputation was the most ferocious in recent memory, certainly since the wars that had ravaged the south lands, forcing the bear clans to the safety of their arctic home. Would he be a kind husband? Or would he treat her with the contempt Brok and his like had already shown?

“No.” Magnus’s growl echoed around the room, growing in volume and anger. He snarled, his lip curled back, “I would never give over even a weakling daughter like this one to scum like you.”

Analise took a small step to the side, away from him, as her whole body tensed at the threat of violence. Used to him, she made the move as casual as she could. But there was nothing casual about the anger in Scar’s eyes as he marched forward, almost nose to nose with her father.

“Believe me,
my Lord.
” He drawled the word like an insult. “One day you’ll be kneeling in front of ‘scum’ like me. Remember this day when you are. Remember I offered this alliance.”

Turning, he caught sight of her watching him and paused. He gave a short, sharp nod. “Lady Analise. Your servant.” And with that, he swept from the room.

“The fucking arrogance of the man!” The words exploded from her father’s lips, his skin purple as he swung around to fix her with a hard glare. “This is all your doing.”

She tensed as he lashed out, backhanding her. Pain exploded across her face, blood filling her mouth as she fell. She caught herself on her hands, knees crashing against the floor, the thin fabric of her dress doing nothing to protect them.

He stood over her, roaring. “Can’t attract a decent mate, but you flutter your eyelashes at scum like that! No way would a man like that marry you. He’d bed you and put you aside. I should let him have you…let you be his whore!”

She shivered, hating the fact she kept her head down. The fact she had to cower before him ate at her like acid, but there was no other way. Not unless she wanted the beating she knew he itched to dole out. Her lack of response drew an irritated growl.

“Like any real man would ever want you,” Magnus snarled and, thankfully, stomped away.

As soon as her father’s footsteps had faded away, Analise picked herself up from the floor. Standing, she pushed her hair back over her shoulders and walked from the hall with her head held high. Once out of it, she turned sharp left and slipped down into the smaller corridors that ran through the stronghold like burrows in a rabbit warren. Her goal was the small, enclosed garden to the side of the south wing. With high walls, it was sheltered from the worst of the weather the circle could throw and on a day like today, with the sun high in the sky, it could even reach pleasantly warm.

“Lady Analise! My lady, wait!”

The female voice calling out behind her made Analise pause in the doorway, the spare cape she kept for just this reason already in her hand. Gathering her strength when all she wanted to do was escape to hide in her sanctuary long enough for the trembles that racked her body to ease. But she couldn’t, not if she was needed. Her father might be alpha, but she was the one who ran the hold, the one the servants all looked at to make the decisions. Like Rika, one of the servant women, hurrying down the hall to catch up with her.

 “Yes, Rika, what is it?” she asked, keeping her back turned so the woman didn’t see her face.

Her lip was split for sure, and from the feel of it, the bruising was spreading across her jaw. At least he hadn’t broken anything this time, but still, she didn’t really want Rika, or anyone, to see her when she was so vulnerable. She needed time to rebuild her defenses.

“I’ve done with most of the chambers now, and I’ve made up the fire in your room. Did you want me to clean the grate in the main hall before heading on down to help cook with the evening meal?”

Analise bowed her head a little, a soft sigh escaping her. Unlike the rest of the servants, Rika’s white hair marked her years, but she was as spry on her feet as any woman half her age. A widow, she’d come to the hold after her husband had been killed on the hunt, looking for work in exchange for food and a roof over her head and that of her son, Aevar. Pain and guilt lanced through Analise again, a dull ache that never went away.

She’d never understood why Rika stayed after her father had cast Aevar out. At first, she’d held out hope it was because Rika knew Aevar had been spirited away to safety in one of the villages…but no matter how many times she asked, the woman always gave the same answer. Her son was dead, gone…taken by the snow. Eventually, Analise had stopped asking. Now they never spoke of that incident.

As a worker, Rika was invaluable. Rather than dragging her feet as though every little task was beneath her, she worked hard. So much so, Analise didn’t know what she’d do without her.

“My lady?” Rika’s voice was hesitant, the touch of her hand on Analise’s shoulder even more so. “Are you okay?”

No words would come to her tongue, her throat thick with emotion, so Analise simply turned.

“Oh, my lady…” Rika murmured, hand covering her mouth.

Analise’s lips quirked slightly. “That bad, huh?”

The older woman’s eyes flashed with anger. Not much taller than Analise herself, she had a presence and bearing that marked her out from the rest of the servants. “Okay, you get yourself out there and put some snow on that to bring the swelling down. I’ll deal with the chores while you rest. If anyone asks, you’re darning the linen, okay?”

Analise nodded, the kindness and unexpected presence of an ally bringing tears to her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Rika ordered, pushing the door open. “Get yourself out there and let me deal with the rest.”

After bundling Analise up in the cape, Rika pulled the hood up and, quite surprisingly, dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

“Don’t worry, my lady,” she said softly at Analise’s surprised look. “Things will get better. I’m sure of it. Your mother…snow rest her soul…she’s up there looking out for you, of that I am sure.”

She didn’t get chance to reply. At the sound of approaching footsteps, Rika shoved her out of the door and shut it behind her quickly. Hearing a deep voice on the other side, Analise breathed a sigh of relief. It was not her father come looking for her, and Rika was more than capable of dealing with anyone else.

The magical feeling of being free from everything for a few precious minutes stole over her as she made her way into the garden. Not much grew in the circle, but here at least there were scrubby hedges and a trellis in what once had been an attempt at a maze. Apparently, it had been her mother’s favorite place as well, a fact she hadn’t gleaned from her father, but from reading her mother’s journals.

Written in her mother’s beautiful cursive, they told the tale of a very different life than the one Analise lived. One where Magnus was the handsome hero who’d wooed a wife who was very much in love with him. One where the child she carried had been wanted and longed for. Astra had written notes, and even though they’d been addressed to the boy she’d thought she carried instead of the girl Analise had turned out to be, she still treasured them. Proof that someone had once loved her, even though they’d never met.

Those words, and this place, were the only links she had left to her mother, so she guarded them jealously and came here when she needed comfort.

The snow crunched beneath her feet. Her thin indoor shoes weren’t really suitable for being out here, but she didn’t care. To go back inside and fetch her heavy boots increased the risk of being seen and the last thing she wanted was to face her father again with the mood he was in. So she worked her way farther into the garden, right to the bench near the back wall. It was next to a small fountain, the water frozen over months ago in a graceful arc.

Sitting down, she breathed a soft sigh. Covered with snow, everything sparkled in the sun like the winter wonderland her mother had often described, and it was moments like these she treasured most. Like they were a little link to the past.

If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine what a different life would be like…

“Hello, my lady.”

At the sound of the deep voice, her eyes snapped open. Scar stood by the wall, half hidden in the shadows, his dark gaze focused solely on her.

“What are you doing here?”

Her voice rang with surprise. She’d thought he and his men had left after the conversation with her father. Rising to her feet, she flicked a glance sideways. The door to the garden was all the way over the other side of the garden, hidden by the maze.

“You’ll never make it,” he said in a low voice, pushing off from the wall to approach. “You could try screaming, but believe me, I can get to you before you do.”

Her heart hammered in her chest, fear filtering through her veins. At least she thought it was fear… it had to be. He was her father’s enemy, a dangerous rogue who hated pure-bloods like her. So why wasn’t she trying to run? Her breath caught in her throat as she backed up. For each step she took, he took one forward, until her back hit the wall by the bench.