Always Mine (7 page)

Galan turned a bright shade of red. Elise shouted, “Blessed St. Bridgit! It has stung Galan also. He is turning purple.

Quick, we must get him home.” She started twirling in circles searching for their mounts and escorts.

Connor emerged from the sheltering line of trees, surprising Lydia. Had he been the one spying on them?

Her eyes opened wide. His sparkled with amusement.

“It’s my fault,” she blurted. “I thought a lizard climbed onto my shoulder. I jumped like a ninny.”

Connor grinned and arched his brows at her. She scowled back. Without a doubt, he had seen the reason she had bolted up. She motioned to Elise and Galan.

“Come, let’s cool our feet in the lake before going back to the keep. Galan, I promise I won’t jump and cause a foolish commotion if a fish swims close.”

Galan shot her a look of gratitude as he joined them at the water’s edge. Lydia removed her shoes and lifted her hem to her ankles to enjoy wading. She wriggled her toes through the muddy silt, and then stood still, waiting for the water to clear again. Were there minnows darting out from their hiding places and inspecting her toes? No one spoke. She filled her lungs with fresh air and soaked up the surrounding beauty.

After several minutes, everything was back to normal.

The return ride wasn’t as comfortable as it had been when they set out. Connor purposefully rode beside her, forcing Galan to drop back beside Elise.

“Did you enjoy your outing, before the amorous lizard nib-

ALWAYS MINE

55

bled your neck, my lady?” Connor did not bother to suppress a chuckle.

“It’s a good thing I didn’t swat it. It could have bitten me, don’t you think?” she asked softly.

“Happily it did not. I would have had to skewer the bold in-vader for being on territory that doesna belong to him.”

His reply sounded like a quiet threat; his gaze had turned serious. What right did he have to question her?

She frowned. “The territory doesn’t belong to anyone, Sir Connor. Was there a reason for your presence in the woods?”

“I had reason, Lady. And this territory does have a master.”

Before she could reply, they came out into the clearing before the keep. Connor called to a knight named David to take his place, nodded to her and spurred his horse forward.

She watched until he disappeared through the gatehouse into the outer bailey.

As they approached the outer walls, she again felt that prickle on her skin that warned someone studied her. Looking up, she discovered the source. Damron stood atop the barbican.

His hard green gaze raked over her, his look declaring he had the right to explore her at his will. His intensity felt like hands searching over her body. Goose bumps spread over her flesh, for she
remembered
those strong, callused hands from another time, undressing her, caressing each inch of her flesh as he uncovered it.

And her own instant reaction to his touch! Eagerness.

Damron had been supervising the training of Brianna’s Saxon escorts, intent on molding them into disciplined warriors. Never again would they be so foolish as to allow his wife to stray from their protection.

In the bailey below, warriors scaled walls and sprang over

56

Sophia Johnson

ditches, while others practiced vaulting onto saddles fixed atop wooden horses. Seeing Connor approach, he went down the stairway to meet him.

“What mischief have you to report?” His cousin was as wise as he in the ways of women. If Brianna’s behavior was less than ladylike with Sir Galan, Damron would see they regretted it.

“I think you needna worry the lady will let him sniff too close.” Connor’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he related the incident to Damron. “The young man’s face did not lose its fiery glow until we came from the forest.”

“I will see it turn blue if he oversteps again. I like it not he thinks he has the right. If Brianna isna the innocent they told me, they will find hell a welcome respite!”

He would see she spent the rest of her days guarded and locked away at Saint Anne’s Abbey.

The muscles in his jaws twitched as he went to meet her.

He put his hands around a waist so small his fingers touched in the back. After lifting her to the ground, he moved her hair aside to study her neck. She tried to jerk away.

“Dammit! Take your hands from me.” Her voice quivered with indignation as she pushed at him.

She reminded him of one of the prickly cats belonging to his half brother, Mereck. Her nose wrinkled disdainfully, no doubt from the pungent odor of his body heat and the chain mail that covered him. Did the lass expect a warrior to smell like flowers?

His anger simmered. “My name is Damron, not Dammit.

You will cease your strange words.”

“Damron, Demon, Dammit are all the same to me,” Lydia muttered after she stepped back out of his reach. She stifled the urge to kick his shins. She had long ago learned to control her fiery temper, but this man, whose drawing had so

ALWAYS MINE

57

fascinated her, seemed to provoke her worst behavior. His eyes narrowed dangerously.

She decided she’d better leave and give his temper a chance to cool. Whirling around, she hurried over to the stairway that led into the keep.

“Oh, saints help us, Brianna. I thought he would throttle you. He told Father yester eve that someone must needs take you in hand. Let us stay from his sight. If your head had not been bleeding the day you fell, he would have thrashed you.

He said someone should have years ago.”

“What? A thrashing? He must be out of his mind.”

Elise nodded. “Father was so aggrieved he spluttered when he talked and turned red. Mother was so afeared he would swoon she threw a cup of ale in his face.” Elise heaved a gusty sigh as she rushed up the stairs.

No one had laid a hand on Lydia since she was four years old. She had slipped away from her parents and tried to crawl inside a suit of armor at Blackthorn’s museum to find the man hidden there. Everyone had come running when they heard the crash of collapsing armor. Her father had swatted her bottom once, not because of the armor, but to impress on her never to wander off on her own again.

When she passed through the heavy door of the solar, she took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.

Elise sat on a cushioned bench and began to pluck the strings of a harp, and when Elise started to sing, Lydia realized she knew the words. She began to sing along with her.

Elise’s earlier comment about her singing with Galan had surprised her. Her attempts to sing had been a joke between her and her parents. Her words cracked like an adolescent boy. From the time she was a child, whenever she heard beautiful voices, she felt that a giant hand had squeezed her heart.

But today, the notes came out strong and sure, without a waver or a squawk.

58

Sophia Johnson

Happiness surged through her, as if someone had returned a rare and valuable gift lost for many centuries. When Elise began another melody, Lydia again was familiar with the song, but felt she hadn’t heard it for a very long time. As her confidence grew, her clear soprano increased in volume.

They lingered in the solar for the remainder of the day.

When they returned to their room, handmaids were there filling the tub. The two buxom young women giggled and talked about the knights they had helped to bathe earlier.

“I was ta help the dark lord. He would but let me soap his back,” one said wistfully. “He scrubbed like he would wash the skin from his body. He grumbled about Saxons and their prissy noses. When he stood for me to rinse him, he turned so I could not see his male member.” She giggled and wriggled her eyebrows.

“Ha. Ye’d best stay clear of that one. The other man seems eager enough ta share his lovin’,” her companion said.

“Aye. I made sure soap got in the dark lord’s eyes so I could take a look. He has a fearsome scar from the hair of his maleness down a hand width inside his thigh! Someone must have been jealous of sech a huge tarse and ballocks and tried ta rid him of them.”

“Lucky you were out of his reach when he wiped his eyes.

He was right angered,” her companion replied.

Picturing Damron naked, complete with scars and soapy water trailing down his body, made Lydia catch her breath. “Don’t you dare get attracted to him,” she mumbled to herself.

“Oh, cousin! I would never be so brave,” Elise whispered behind her.

“Brianna still acts strangely.” Damron paced his sleeping chamber like a caged beast. “David reported she searched every floor, opened doors and looked under furniture to study

ALWAYS MINE

59

it. After their ride, the women secluded themselves in the solar. He believes her voice is unusual. I will have her sing for me. Mayhap she has redeemin’ qualities I havena yet seen.”

Connor quickly defended her. “She has many good qualities. She is kindness itself to everyone, has loving patience with Elise, and always smells sweetly of roses and heather.”

“Were I ye, I wouldna let myself be so close as to catch her scent. Ye could end with blood on yer pretty face.”

Connor shrugged and grinned. “One of her best qualities is her spirit. She is no timid creature who cringes when you scowl. If you push her too far, you are the one likely to have a bloody face,”

he teased as he cuffed Damron on the shoulder.

Damron scoffed at the idea. Once she learned he was her lord and master, she would not dare lay a hand on him. If his plans for the next several days went aright, he would soon know more of this unusual lass.

Before dawn broke the next morning, Lydia forced herself to stillness so Elise would not wake. She needed to think.

Several times the previous day she had sensed that something was familiar that should not have been. Earlier, she had hoped it was because she had read so much about medieval times.

Now, she knew it was because she had lived it before.

Moaning softly, she curled into a tight ball. Her brain screamed what her mouth could not. “Why! How could this happen? How am I going to stop it? Will I ever go back?” She prayed to her mother and father, both gone two years before in a plane crash. If only she could talk this over with them.

The sound of horses tramping in the bailey drew her to the window. Clutching the neck of her sleeping garment together, she looked out. Rushlights on the outer walls of the keep lit the area below. Riders milled about in helmets and mail. A flash of white to the left caught her eye. Angel. When the

60

Sophia Johnson

destrier’s rider looked up at her window, his gold-plated nose guard caught the light, making it gleam like the sun. She felt his hard stare.

Damron had sensed she was there, though he could not see her. Quickly, she stepped back from the window. She heard the clop of many hooves, the creaking of saddles and words softly spoken. Were he and his men continuing their journey to Scotland? She took a deep breath. Hopefully, she would find her way back to her own time and body before they met again.

From this moment on, she must think of herself as Brianna, or everyone would believe her crazed. What year and month were Lord Damron and Lady Brianna wed? She broke out in a cold sweat. Though she had never felt such a strong sexual attraction to any man as she had for him, she couldn’t marry him. How could she commit her heart, her soul to a relationship when she didn’t know whether she would be here for the rest of her life, or be whisked back to the future at any moment?

In times of stress, she often rode before dawn. As the sun crept over the horizon in the early morning hours, it brought peace to her troubled mind. Dressing in deep green, she combed her hair and tied it back with a ribbon. Fastening a heavy black mantle about her shoulders, she made her way down to the stable. The stable master came to tend her.

“Please ready Sweetpea. I want to ride before the day begins.

I wish to do so astride.” She prepared herself for his protest.

The man did not seem surprised. He called for an escort and placed a boy’s saddle on Sweetpea. After checking each fitting, he helped her mount. He turned his head when she threw her right leg over the saddle. As she rode through the gateway with four men in front and four behind, she sighed with relief.

Brianna reveled in Sweetpea’s power as she rode through the woods. The wind slipped her hair loose from the ribbon, and her tresses flew around her head as free as the tall grass

ALWAYS MINE

61

blowing around them. Husky laughter rose from deep in her throat. She urged Sweetpea on until the men trailed behind.

They let her take the lead. It was evident they were used to the way she rode.

The beauty of the morning enthralled her. The sun began to rise over the eastern mountains, and its fiery light turned the tips of the wet leaves and grass to jewels.

A mischievous gust of wind whipped her mantle up from her legs, leaving them bare below her knees. As she drew in a deep breath of pine-scented air, she took pleasure in the feel of the horse and the early dawn. Finally, she realized the sounds of her escorts had diminished. She panicked.

“Oh, damnation. Don’t tell me I’ve lost them again!” she shouted. Again? Her eyes widened at the memory. The sound of hoofbeats thundering ever closer caught her attention. She glanced over her shoulder.

A horse length behind, Damron rode on Angel. With the intense glare of his slitted green eyes and lips set in a grim line, he did indeed look the demon she had named him.

Chapter 5

Damron had quelled Angel’s restless stomping in the front bailey, before even a hint of dawn lit the sky. The air around him sparked with sexual awareness he felt only when Brianna was nearby. He sensed her gaze studying him and glanced from the corners of his eyes. She was not here, even hidden in the shadows the rushlights did not reach.

He tilted his head back to peer at the window opening above, but he did not see her lurking there. He did not need to. His body sensed her. Blood throbbed through his veins, and his nostrils flared as if he caught her female scent. He stared at the darkened window until his instincts told him she had jumped aside from it.