The Winter Bear's Bride (Dubious Book 2) (6 page)

“My lady…” The tone in Brutan’s voice made her look up to find all the warriors around the table staring at her. Her world shifted. Only now her father lay on his deathbed did any of them actually see her. Anger curled in her heart, and she gritted her teeth to stop it spilling forth.

Of course they would start to pay attention to her now. She was her father’s heir. While he’d been alive and healthy, even without his true-mate, it was possible he could have fathered a male heir. She was sure his many concubines held out the hope of a pregnancy each and every month. But it hadn’t happened…so now, with him being taken into the snow, a place from which many didn’t return, she was it.

Her spine straightened, and a sense of purpose grew within her. She had his power and knew exactly what she was going to do with it.

She was going to end this bloodshed, whatever it cost.

Deciding to negotiate with Scar, the
fearsome
leader of the rebel clans because it turned out the Einar were comprised of more than one, was very different to actually doing so.

Analise was dressed as befit her new status as heir-apparent to the Asmundr clan. The thick cloak had been purloined from the closet in her father’s rooms, as was the jewelled headpiece, once belonging to her mother. Borrowed finery to bolster her courage made her glad she wore her own gown, the one she’d worn the night of the ball Scar had crashed. At least it was the right length and she didn’t trip over it.

Unlike the cloak. Made for someone taller than she was, it meant she needed to keep a grip on it for fear she’d catch the edge and face plant in the snow. Which was
so
not the impression she wanted to make.

She was, however, glad she’d listened to Brutan and Rika’s advice to wear the cloak. A blast of frigid arctic wind whipped, trying to sneak beneath the heavy cloth and freeze her to the bone as she climbed down from the carriage, drawn by two shifted warriors, which had brought her to the meeting place.

“Lady Asmundr, a pleasure to see you again.”

The big, blond warrior she’d seen with Scar before stepped forward from the side of the tent erected in deference to her non-shifter status. Normally, negotiations would take place in the open, but even wrapped in the thick cloak, she ran the risk of freezing to death. It was a little consideration she hadn’t expected, but was welcomed. Not that it would affect her decisions in the negotiations either way, so if they’d intended it to soften her up and influence her, then they would soon find out it was pointless.

She straightened her spine and stepped delicately over the snow toward the big warrior. Brutan and three others followed in her wake.

“The pleasure is mine…Arick, wasn’t it?”

The big bear smiled, his eyes alight with pleasure that she’d remembered his name. “It is, my lady. If you’ll accompany me, Lord Scar awaits you inside.”

He extended his hand to steady her footing over the treacherous snow and ice, an act that earned a growl from Brutan. Analise ignored him. It wasn’t her fault a rogue warrior had better manners than bears born and bred in her father’s own hall.

Arick’s hand was large and warm, gentle as it cradled hers with a consideration she hadn’t expected from such a rugged-looking warrior. As large and, she had to admit it, roughly handsome as he was, he didn’t elicit the same shivery feeling in the pit of her stomach as his leader did.

“This way, my lady,” he murmured, opening the flap of the tent and holding it up for her so she could duck beneath. She murmured her thanks, sighing with relief as the warmer air of the tent interior washed over her. How the men stood the frigid temperatures, she’d never know, but they did, often training bare-chested outside.

“Lady Asmundr, so glad you could join us.” Scar rose from his seat on one side of the tent, surprise written on his face as he approached. “Although, I have to say I am surprised you decided to come in person.”

He stopped in front of her, dark hair falling over his shoulders and looking so…handsome. Hot. Instantly, she was taken back to the corridor and being in his arms. The memory stole her breath for a moment until she realized what he was waiting for and offered her hand. He took it, his bigger hand swallowing it up, and bowed low over it.

A larger honor than she was used to and she almost pulled it back before she remembered she was effectively clan leader now. She couldn’t afford to look weak or discomforted. Not in front of him. Especially in front of him. Despite his amiable and solicitous manner, he was as dangerous as all hell, both on and off the battlefield, and she’d be a fool not to keep that in mind.

“Given the situation, I felt it was prudent to meet you myself to ensure that we can resolve this to mutual satisfaction for both our clans,” she replied, inclining her head in thanks as he seated her in the chair opposite his. Her collected demeanor, hard-earned through years of dealing with her father, stood her in good stead as she looked up at him.

It wasn’t easy to keep the polite smiling mask in place when she was aware of every move he made, every breath he took, but she managed it. Even when he leaned over her, hands braced on the wooden arms either side of her chair. His jerkin parted, giving her a glimpse of the carved chest she’d felt pressed against her when he’d kissed her.

“Still,” he said softly, his words low, as if meant for her alone, even though she knew all the men around them had excellent hearing. “It surprises me. After all, what is to stop me simply taking what I want?”

She kept her back straight, her hands folded in her lap and looked him in the eye. “Nothing other than your honor.”
Like in the corridor.
“I would not have come here had I thought you a dishonorable man.”

His expression didn’t change as he looked down at her, but she thought she saw the corner of his lips quirk a little. It was the tiniest movement, but might, just might, have been the beginning of a smile.

“Well played, my lady. Well played.”

Pushing off from her chair, he stalked across the intervening space to his and sat down with careless grace. His jerkin pulled taut across his shoulders as he motioned a scribe forward.

“In that case, shall we begin?”

****

She’d not only surprised him, she also fascinated him
.

Sat opposite the object of his desire, Scar propped his chin on his hand and watched her as she spoke. She talked with her hands, her face animated, her argument persuasive and eloquent. When he’d fought her father on the blood-soaked snow and wounded him, he’d thought that would be it…that after he allowed them to carry their fallen leader from the battlefield, the Asmundr would fold, wave the white flag and he’d ride into the keep to take what was his.

Her.
She’d been his from the moment he’d seen her, a promise he’d sealed when he’d kissed her in the corridor. 

Instead, a messenger had arrived to say that Analise, as the new Lady Asmundr, wished to negotiate a truce. He’d laughed at first, then realized that the message was serious, not a practical joke. Either the lady didn’t understand the rules of warfare very well or she had balls of steel. When she’d first arrived, he’d thought it was the former. After watching her in action, though, and finding himself ceding far more than he’d originally intended to, he was coming to the conclusion it was the latter.

She was playing him. And she was doing it so very, very well he almost didn’t realize it. He hid his smile behind his hand as he scrubbed at his stubbled chin.
Minx
.

“Enough!”

Deciding to put an end to her games, he surged to his feet with a snarl. She jumped, her eyes wide and her breath catching on a gasp, but she quickly covered her reaction and looked at him with a slightly puzzled, polite expression, as if he’d picked up the wrong soup spoon at dinner.

Scattering the scribes taking notes on the agreement, he stalked across the tent to loom over her again.

“These words are just words. Games.” He glowered. “You know exactly what I want, my lady, so quit trying my patience.”

She had to tilt her head back to look him in the face, her warm brown eyes, almost the color of caramel, studied him carefully. “I do know what you want, my lord, but I am also not an idiot, and I have people relying on me. And for your part, surely you would prefer a bride come willingly to your bed rather than be forced?”

She had him there. He knew he could make her want him, but it would be so much sweeter to get her in his bed, under him, of her own free will, he realized. Not that he could let her know that. To do so would give her too much power over him.

He held out a hand, waiting for her to put hers in his. He kept his face hard, not softening one iota. If she agreed, she needed to know what sort of man she was promising herself to. He wanted no misunderstandings. Her expression didn’t falter, but for a moment, he saw something flicker in the back of her eyes.

“Be warned, my lady, that you do not push your advantage too far. I have compromised all I am going to. Your people will be safe, no retribution will be taken against any warrior who swears fealty to me, and those who don’t will be allowed to leave without harm. The women and children may likewise make their own choices, and I will protect them no matter the decisions made by their menfolk.”

Relief showed for a second in her eyes at his words, particularly the last ones. Given the treatment she’d received from her father, that she would make sure to protect the women of her clan was no surprise. After all, that’s what this was all about. She hadn’t asked for anything other than he call an end to the bloodshed and he treat her people kindly. She hadn’t asked for anything for herself. No jewels or fine clothing as would be her right as the bride of an alpha. Respect rolled through him. Her actions were those of a true leader.

Duty and sacrifice. The Asmundr watchwords,
he reminded himself, and in that moment, as she put her hand in his, she was more an alpha than her father had ever been.

“If that is the case, my lord, then I agree to your terms.” Her voice was soft, yet firm, heard by every man in the tent. The scratch of the scribes’ pens behind him recorded the agreement as he pulled her to her feet.

“Thank you, my lady. Your decision honors me.” Triumph raged through him, his bear wanting to roar it to the skies. This tiny woman was going to be his. She’d agreed, and now there was no going back. His body reacted predictably, as it always did when he was near her, his cock as stiff as a pole-staff in the confines of his pants.

Gripping her hand, he pulled her closer.

“A kiss to seal our agreement?” At her flush, he smiled. “Come now, my lady. You’ve agreed to be my bride. You’ll come to my bed, so surely a kiss isn’t too much to ask?”

He felt the tiny shiver that rolled through her, the tension in her slender frame as he wrapped her in his embrace. Her expression carefully blanked, she lifted her chin, her lips so tempting just below his as she waited for him to kiss her.

That wasn’t what he wanted. He’d kissed her twice, and both times had to pull himself back from the brink of taking her hastily up against a wall. This time he wanted something different.

His lips curved into a small smile as he held her to him. They were betrothed, which meant by the laws of their land, there was nothing stopping him tumbling her to the furs at their feet and claiming her delicate body for his own here and now. A heavy shudder hit him, the fire in his rigid cock and balls urging him to do just that, but he resisted.

“Oh no, my sweet…this time you do the work. Kiss me. Make me believe you want me.”

He’d startled her. The tiny gasp she gave ended on a catch as her hands curled in reflex on his chest. Her gaze collided with his, the expression in her eyes wary, but also curious, dark with something that took his breath away. Unable to help himself, he bent his head to meet her halfway as she lifted on her toes.

Her lips bumped against his, the movement hesitant until they made contact. She broke away. Kissed him again. This time her soft lips clung to his. One kiss, two, more. She feathered her mouth over his as he held still for her, and time ceased to exist. There was just the two of them and her growing confidence in touching him. Kissing him.

He’d never been turned on by such a chaste kiss in all his life.

She pulled back to look at him, eyes wide, and he forgot all about making her do the work. Swooping in, he crushed her to him and claimed her mouth in a hard kiss. With one sweep of his tongue, he parted her lips and drove within. There was no softness about him now.

He thrust and took, plundering the sweetness of her mouth like she was the very air he breathed. Stroked her tongue with his as he spread his hand over the back of her hips to press her belly against his own. Against the hardness of his thick cock constrained in his leather pants. She gasped at the contact, but he didn’t let her go, kissing her until she whimpered and clung to him, her needs as great as his own. Only then did he break away and look down at her.

“Make no mistake, my lady. I am not a nice man. If you’re looking for a genteel husband to pander to your every wish and desire, I’m not him. I take what I want, when I want…you included.”

The soft flush on her cheeks was the picture of a perfectly brought up lady, but the darkness in her eyes, the need and fire there, took his breath away. Reaching up, he stroked a finger over her cheek.

“Tomorrow,” he promised. “Tomorrow I make you mine.”

****

“Are you sure you want to do this, my lady?”

Analise turned at the sound of Rika’s voice and had to smile. Standing with her hands clasped and on the verge of wringing them, with a concerned look in her eyes, the woman was the picture of a concerned parent. One who was worried half to death with what their offspring was doing.

She couldn’t blame her. There were dangerous games and there were suicidal ones, and even they would be safer than the one Analise was playing at the moment. Scar thought he had the upper hand with his army on the battlefield, then kissing her half to distraction yesterday, but he’d forgotten one very important thing.