Always Mine (23 page)

Once abed, Damron propped himself on his elbow. “I will offer a compromise, and I ne’er compromise. When we are wed afore the priest as ye insist, and ye become a true wife to me, I will not come to ye from another. ’Tis more than any man need allow.”

“I, too, will make you a vow, husband. I will not come to you from another.” Her words were like arrows striking true.

Bounding to his knees, he grabbed her shoulders and lifted her till his face was so close her nose near touched his.

“Dinna dare think such if ye value yer life. No man will ever ha’e ye but me.” His sensuous lips thinned with anger.

Brianna tried to squirm away. Her nipples raked the mat of hair on his chest. It caught his attention, and he bent his head to stare at her breast. Startled, she lifted her head. It cracked against his nose.

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“Lucifer’s bowels, wife. Ye broke me nose.” He turned her loose. The rope bed creaked and swayed.

Brianna tottered and grasped for balance. She fell backward. He grabbed for her—and missed. She disappeared over the side of the bed. He bounded after her.

The door crashed open, and Connor and Bleddyn charged into the room, their swords drawn. Connor’s mouth gaped at the sight of Damron, naked, blood dripping off his chin. Brianna lay on the floor tangled in the sheet, her eyes squeezed shut.

Damron dropped to his knees, blood staining the sheet.

“Where is the intruder?” Connor’s eyes searched the room.

“Nay, Connor. ’Twas Damron alone,” Bleddyn said with disgust. “I vowed to protect Brianna from someone unknown, but the louts won’t have to bother if he keeps this up.”

Brianna opened her eyes. “Oh, hell. I’m still here,” she muttered, and blinked at them. “Damron, if you’re dripping blood on me for sympathy, you’ll not get any. My head is pounding.”

Bleddyn grinned and lifted her onto the bed. “I will bring something for it. Connor, hold a wet cloth to the back of her head.” He sighed and added, “Damron, ’tis a wonder your brains do not also drip, for I believe they have turned to broth.” He left and was back shortly with a potion for Brianna. Damron, his head tilted back, watched from the corner of his eye.

During the night, the healer came in to ask Brianna her name. She replied, “Lydia.” When he again repeated the question she answered, “Brianna.”

Damron feared he had caused his wife to again scramble her memory.

Chapter 14

“Damron, tell me all since William forced ye to acknowledge Brianna,” Laird Douglas said from a chair beside his bed two mornings later. “She is a wee bonnie lass. Her character is strong, and I dinna ken what stands between ye.”

Damron had always unburdened his heart to his grandfather, and did not hesitate to tell him of his and Brianna’s confronta-tions. When he began to speak of their unusual wedding night, his voice stumbled. His grandfather burst out laughing.

“It wudna be so funny, sire, had
ye
been left with a ragin’

tarse fair to burstin’.” Damron scowled at his grandsire.

“So, this marriage can only be consummated when ye both speak vows afore the priest? Send this day for her family and all pledged to the Morgans. Ye will wed afore the moon again fills.

Woo her gently. The lass may be afeared of the marriage bed.”

“Brianna is not afraid of anythin’.” Damron wished she was.

A clamor in the hallway interrupted them as his wife and Meghan swept into the room, leading a motley crew of servitors.

At the old man’s first shout, Damron grinned. His grandfather would learn firsthand of Brianna’s independent character.

Brianna and Bleddyn had consulted with Damron, and he saw the wisdom of their request. They believed the dusty tapestries,

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animal skins and rugs were harmful to his grandfather’s breathing. Not to mention the smoke from the peat and the strong smell of the many candles the old man required.

For many years, his grandfather had fought his mother whenever she attempted to change anything in his room.

Mayhap Brianna could persuade him. For certs, she was stubborn enough to get her way.

As he eased the door closed behind him, he heard a stern command from Brianna. He waited, his head cocked and expectant. When he heard his granda’s roar, he chuckled and walked away.

“Ye’re goin’ to do what? No’ as long as I am in this bed!”

“Anger is bad for your heart, Papa Dougie.” Brianna shuddered and handed him a decanter and a small goblet. “Here’s a wee dram of the Scotch brew you all favor.”

Laird Douglas’s eyes lit as he sipped the whisky. He watched while she issued quiet commands and organized chaos broke loose. The musty animal hides were soon stripped from the windows, the fur covers and the pallet containing feathers from the bed. All went sailing out the window opening to the bailey below. The fireplace was emptied, cleaned and scrubbed, as were the floors and walls. Several hours later, the room smelled of soap and waxed wood.

Husky servants brought fresh bedding, linens and blankets made of heavy cotton. They placed pillows, prepared by Bleddyn’s orders, on the bed. Large braziers were set about the room.

When Bleddyn entered, Guardian burst into the room, sat and scratched so vigorously wolf hair flitted through the air.

“Stop,” Brianna yelled. He did. “Come with us, you flea-bitten monster. You’re not going to ruin all our hard work.”

She tugged Guardian from the room, fussing under her breath.

Meghan raced after her, and when they reached the castle gates, Malcolm followed to guard them. They hurried to a small lake

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sheltered with trees about four hundred yards from the castle walls that Brianna had seen when they arrived.

“Thank you for your protection, Sir Malcolm. Please turn your back until we are through.”

After seeing he did as she asked, she undressed to her smock. Meghan took a pot of strong soap and helped Brianna get Guardian into the lake. Brianna gasped and shivered in the cold water. Maybe she wasn’t too smart doing this, for she felt like she might be coming down with a cough. Too late now, she decided, and slapped soap on the beast. She and Meghan began to lather and scrub Guardian. When all was clean except his head, she pulled the wolf ’s soapy hair into silly spikes atop his head and down his neck. She grinned, then winced from the effort, for her wound was still tender.

“What foolishness are ye about, Brianna?”

Brianna jumped, and loosened her hold on Guardian. The beast bounded out of the water, tail wagging and tongue lolling like he had not a wildlife gene in him. She ducked, hiding her shivering body in the water.

“Where’d Malcolm go?” she asked.

“I sent him to warn the healer.”

“Whatever for?” She was truly puzzled.

“Ye are a wee, scrawny lass unused to our cold winds and water. Do ye think to do yerself harm? I heard ye coughin’

afore I cleared the trees. Come from the water. Now!” It was not a request. It was a stern command.

“Turn your back first. I need to get the unruly beast and rinse him.”

“Meghan, what were ye thinkin’ to aid her in this? She is not a hale-and-hearty Scots lass. Wife, Meghan will tend Guardian. Ye hie yerself from that water. I will wait but a moment. If I need to fetch ye, ye will not like it.”

“Aye, Brianna. I wasna thinkin’. Ye had best get dry clothin’ afore ye catch yer death.” Meghan sprinted to shore,

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water pouring from her wet shirt and breeches. She grabbed the wolf and started to rinse him, eyeing Brianna with a worried expression.

Brianna was conscious her wet clothing did little to hide her body from Damron. She turned her back on him and stepped backward toward the shore.

“My lord husband, please hand me a dry smock.”

“Closer, wife. I dinna wish to wet my boots.”

“Now, my lord?” Brianna huffed and was sorry she had, for it started a new round of coughing. She stepped back.

“But two steps more, my lady.”

She stepped back again and bumped against his hot body.

Before she could pull away, he turned their backs to Meghan and removed Brianna’s smock, blotted her dry with a cloth and dropped a warm linen tunic over her head. When her arms reached for the armholes, his palms covered her breasts.

He kneaded them gently while his rough thumbs slowly stroked her nipples. She gasped and jerked, but he held her close as he wrapped her in a heavy wool cloak. Lifting her, he placed her on Angel and mounted.

When they reached the keep, Damron carried her to their chamber where Bleddyn awaited them with the same potion he had given the laird. Damron sat with her on his lap beside a large brazier of hot coals.

“Drink all of it, wife. I will not have ye coughin’ all night and disturbin’ my rest.”

Brianna would have given him a tart reply, but she couldn’t catch her breath. She had to admit he was right. The honey in the potion soothed her throat. It tasted much like a hot toddy and was quite good. By the time she finished drinking two ample portions, she felt warm as toast, and her coughing eased.

She looked up at Damron and blinked.

“Why are you s-so pale, hmmm? I had a lovely t-time swaming, uh,” she frowned and searched for the right words,

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“sweeming with Greeper, uh, oh, heck, I know. Gardeener.”

She beamed at him.

“Lucifer’s ballocks!” Damron glared at Bleddyn. “Ye crazy sorcerer. Ye have scrambled her brains. She is a wee daftie.

What did ye give my Brianna? Look at her. She canna look straight out of either eye. By God’s love, she ne’er smiled crooked afore.”

His roars brought people running. Asceline shoved her way past Connor, before Meghan blocked her. Brianna turned toward the tumult at the door and beamed. She felt marvelous!

“Hi. Wha’s all the commotion? Demanor, uh, Damrorer, uh, oh, crud, husband, stop squishin’ my ribs.” Her eyes lit, and she held up a finger. “You know what? They’ll break. Jus’

like” —she frowned and tried to snap her fingers together to show them.

“Dolt,” Meghan laughed. “‘twas no poison, nor has her wits been taken. At least not for long. Whiskey was in his potion. Yer wife is a little fankled.” She laughed all the harder at Damron’s expression.

He flushed and held Brianna off a little to get a better look.

She breathed slowly and evenly, then she grinned at him before flinging her arms around his neck to pull his head down.

She nuzzled his neck like a hungry kitten searching for a teat. “You feel greath, and smell wunnerfull. I love your smell when you are clothes, uh, near.” She drew back from caressing his neck with her lips. “Did I ever tale you how saxy you are? Ohh, whut you do to my head.” She gave a gusty yawn, snuggled even closer and slept. His arms tightened around her.

Damron turned a baleful eye on the occupants of the room.

Bleddyn grinned at him as he herded everyone out the door and secured it behind him.

Why did Damron feel he must protect his wife from criti-

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cal eyes? All who had gathered there had smiled when they heard her slurred speech. Ah, except Asceline. His eyes narrowed remembering her scornful look.

Soon Damron had Brianna tucked in bed beneath warm blankets. He discarded his clothing and climbed in beside her.

After he pulled off her smock, he gathered her close to his naked heat. What would it be like to have a wife who snuggled so sweetly as Brianna had done just a short time earlier?

Would she ever do so again? His neck burned where her lips had nuzzled him.

Brianna felt his warmth, flung her arm around his chest and snuggled her head beneath his chin, sighing. Such a little sound, yet it tore at his heart.

“Aye, ye ken where ye belong, ye fankled wee beauty,” he whispered. “Whatever were ye thinkin’, goin’ into the cold water? Hm, defyin’ me, no doubt. Ye knew I would forbid it had I been there.” He clamped his teeth together, for her soft breasts pressed enticingly against his ribs. He rolled his eyes and stared at the canopy over the bed, trying to quell his raging sex with thoughts on the cruelties of battle.

He lost. His sex won.

His hands stroked down her spine and over the soft curves of her hips. He massaged her bottom, and she snuggled even closer, throwing her leg over his hip.

Since arriving at Blackthorn, he had not caressed her. Her soft whimpers of pleasure in her sleep made his heart speed crazily. He tilted her face up and brought his lips down to flutter over hers. Reluctantly, he moved his hand to stroke her back and make soft shushing sounds.

Damron shuddered. He wished she was awake and willing.

His rod bucked and throbbed against her warm flesh as he thought of gazing into her eyes while entering her. She would have to acknowledge him as her master then, and he planned to pleasure her many times afore he took his own. Groaning,

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he clenched his teeth and composed himself for sleep. He smiled, remembering Brianna and Meghan laughing together in the water. He was still smiling when he nodded off.

Deep in the night, he dreamt of Genevieve wielding his sword with venom. He broke out in a sweat and moaned, as his hand twitched over the ragged scar on his thigh.

Several days later, Brianna was not in the great hall when Damron returned from training the men in the practice field.

It was time for the afternoon meal and, worried that mayhap her cough had returned, he took the steps two at a time and was through their bedchamber door afore she could move.

His gaze narrowed, for she stood fidgeting in front of his clothing chest.

“What do ye seek, wife? Were ye lookin’ fer coins?” His left eyebrow rose high. “No? Weapons, then? Ye will not find either here.”

“Don’t be a sheep’s patoot. I’m looking for my necklace.”

“And what part of a sheep is that, pray tell? Should I add another two to yer tally?” He advanced like a panther stalk-ing his kill.

“It isn’t what you think. A sheep’s patoot is a domineering ram. Ask any shepherd. He’ll tell you.” His slow advance did not stop. She began to blather. “They call babies sweet patooties when they cry all night. Ask anyone.”