Conquering the Dark Axe (12 page)

The image of a woman flinging herself off the moors
in trying to escape him filled his vision and Rourke, with a hard shake of his
head, shook the painful memory away and swallowed the bile in his throat. 
Straightening from his crouched position, he focused on his wife.  She was
like the wind.  He  had always been quite agile but even he was
surprised to find himself winded, his breath coming heavier by the moment as
he   matched his pace to hers, just a few feet back.  He’d managed
to avoid her seeing him for the most part.  But this last time she had
turned, he swore she’d looked right at him. But nay, the stubborn and defiant
hellion had not.

Even with the fear of being caught glowing in the
dark night, the wench turned and lit through the forest like a butterfly, her
long amber tresses loose, fanned out behind her as she ran and that thin shift,
barely covered by the short cloak- God’s blood! How he wanted to choke
her.  

He’d just returned from his nightly long and hard ride
that he’d taken since their fight.  He would have missed her had it been
but a moment longer when she’d climbed down that window
ledge.    At first his heart had lodged in his throat as that
horrible image came rushing back to him from so long ago as he’d watched her
balance herself ever so carefully. 

Another one that would rather flee than suffer his
touch. 

He’d then stepped back into the shadows under the
big oak when he’d spied the makeshift ladder.  Annoyance had surged
through him when he recognized a few of his new tunics tied to the bed
linens.  That hellion!  His fingers itched to choke her and he’d
balled them into fists at his sides.  He’d closed his mouth and held his
breath when her feet touched the ground and watched her cock her head as though
to listen.  He knew she’d heard the sexual sounds coming from the two
guardsmen shirking their duties to guard her.  He would deal with those
two imbeciles later.

Now, he let curiosity give her a bit more reign and
continued his pursuit until she reached the clearing.   

She walked over to an old tree that looked like a
hand reaching upward for the dark skies and stars. Cut off at the middle of its
trunk and jutting crookedly out of the ground, the huge ugly tree looked out of
place amongst its tall neighbors.  It was surrounded on all sides by tall
brush and Rourke as he drew nearer, saw a small hut hidden within it. 

How had he missed that?  They had covered these
grounds thoroughly over these past few days and had passed this area twice and
he’d not seen it.  Upon closer inspection, he shook his head, yea, he
had.  He watched her disappear through the small opening covered by thick
vines and heavy foliage.  The small hut was purposely fashioned, to give
its appearance that of a thick hedge growing next to the ugly tree. 

In truth it was, Rourke saw as he reached out. 
The vines, limbs that grew into it proved that it had been built many years
prior, if not hundreds of years ago, purposely designed for concealment. 
The wood he could see was actually the same as the bark and moss of that of the
tree ran across the bottom.  A thick root bent at the door showed that the
hut was indeed part of it.   The sound of clinking metal drew his
attention. 

Rourke did not think he would be able to fit his
shoulders through the small door but he sure as hell was going to
try.  

With one large hand on the foliage covered door, he
pushed it open with a hard shove and had half his right side inside when
something cold and sharp pressed tight against the tender spot under his chin
and his wife spoke. 

“Move another inch and find my blade in your thick
skull, Norman.”  Her hot breath fanned near his ear.

Rourke exhaled a tight breath.  She did not
know how easily he could deflect her small weapon even in this awkward
position.  But he would let her bask in her moment of victory, believing
she had the upper hand and just when she was feeling sure he would crush it and
relish the moment.  Rage consumed him that she had the arrogance to press
another weapon yet again to his throat.

“If I do not move you cannot pass, hellion.” 

Her answer was the weapon pricking his skin. 
Rourke let out an oath as the trickle of warm blood ran down his neck. 
She held fast, even coming round for him to see her.  Had she been a man,
she would already be dead by his hands snapping her neck. 

“Back out, now.” Her command came out as a shaky
whisper. 

Rourke did and as he did he noticed the long sword
at her hip.   

Alexa, breathing heavily, wanted to kick herself in
the next moment.  She should have made him remain inside.  With him
standing upright, he would have the advantage and she would not be able to keep
her blade at his throat.  Damn his hide! She could not think clearly with
him so near.

She saw it in his eyes too late that he was way
ahead of her on that bit of knowledge.  The bastard Norman had known!
‘Twas the reason he’d backed out so easily without much protest.  By the
time she drew her sword to point it at his throat, it was too late.  He
had her on her arse in the moss covered and damp ground.  Her dagger
knocked out of her hand as he came over her with his minty breath, fanning her
hair away from her face as he growled fire down upon her. 

“Your continuous will to try my patience has run the
well dry. Think you could actually escape me?”

Alexa struggled against him.  She knew it was
futile, but she would not do anything easy- with him.  “Aye, I would have
had it not been for your pigs poking the maids so loudly-“

“Ah, so you did notice.” Her body stiffening told
him all he needed to know.  He continued, “Try to escape again and I will
beat you.”

Alexa roared.  “Do so and I will kill you while
you sleep.” 

His hand circled her throat.  William’s words
came back to him and Rourke tightened his grip.  “Did I not tell you to
cease your silly threats?”

“Never. It’s not a silly threat. I will not
stop. Until you are dead!”   She spat hotly. 

“God’s blood! You will cease to threaten me. Your
aim to kill me proves true with your will to cut me yet again with your
ridiculous weapon.  Still you do not learn!”  He bellowed. 

Alexa kicked her feet when she saw him reaching to
his waist for the band he had tied there.  Nay! She could not bear to be
bound again. Rage made her strike out with the only weapon she had left, her
mouth. “It cut you all the same, did it not? Had I but not shoved just a bit
harder and deeper.” 

He shook his head in disbelief and his cruel laugh
made her cringe.  “Such steadfast impertinence. You are your own worst
enemy, hellion.” 

His words and the look in his eyes did something to
her and Alexa felt something in her snap.  She freed one hand and tried to
scratch his cheek, but Rourke turned his head in time and her nails raked his
neck. 

He cursed and then yelled, “Stop!” She was like a
madwoman and when he subdued her enough to clasp both of her hands in his one
above her head, he repeated, “Stop!”

She bucked violently beneath him, then leaned up and
tried to bite him. Rourke drew back. A true devil of a hellion.  Rage
shook him as he pressed down on her harder and shouted. “Enough! Continue to
fight and I’ll strip you right here and bind you with your own clothing. ‘Tis
your choice.” Rourke’s yell was as loud as hers when she turned her head and
sank her teeth into the fleshy part of his palm.

“You highborn Saxon bitch!”

He tore his hand from her and held her in a death
grip. His blood smeared her parted lips.  A string of French words spewed
from his mouth.  Alexa understood some of it, but his words came too fast
for her to decipher it all. She just knew they were really bad and she wanted
to shrink away from them, but she would not and the willfulness in made her
raise her chin. 

His tirade stopped and his expression changed to
something deadly at her blatant defiance.   Alexa lay still as death
and fear engulfed her in that scant second it took for her to recognize she’d
truly pushed him beyond. 

Intense disgust blazed brightly in his emerald
depths and she did not think it was possible again, but the man stood and
lifted her by neck with his hand still on her throat and shook her.  She
was surprised her neck did not snap he’d done it so hard and she was left with
her head spinning, dazed.

“God’s blood! There is no win with you, hellion.” He
snarled and tore the band from his waist.  Alexa choked on her scream.

She was trapped. His gaze burned into hers, his
words spoken coolly. “I could have simply ridden in here and taken this place
with plenty bloodshed. Had it been a year ago, I would not have thought twice about
killing you or leaving you to be raped by us Norman swine. In truth it can
still be arranged if your plan is to make me so Norman savage
again.”   Her grimace of terror over his harsh and mock words did not
move him.  He’d had enough. Her steady and willful defiance infuriated him
beyond any foe he’d ever met in battle. 

Heartless he was.  Alexa pressed her lips tight
with a sniff and told him, “Do your worst.” 

She wanted to take the words back, but it was too
late.  Cursing her damning tongue, she fought back the sting of tears as
he roughly wrapped the cloth around her wrists. 

 “’Tis the last time ever a threat leaves your
lips toward me.   Had I not need of an heir, I would find more of
that wine and pour it down your throat myself.”  Rourke felt her stiffen
and he did not care.  He was too full of ire and something else.  She
had brought this upon herself.  “I had thought to give you some
slack.  But you took more. You have brought this upon yourself. You will
now remain in a separate chamber.”

His glare and words were so cold and empty. 
Alexa tried to duplicate the same tone and she countered sharply, “Good. 
I do not wish to share a bed with you, Norman.”

“’Tis your true prison with no reprieve,
hellion.”  Water filled those wide amber eyes of hers as dawning finally
struck home and Rourke relished the fear he read there.  “As before, I
will come to you nightly to plant my seed.  Whether it is a year, two,
three or five…Once it takes, you will have my son.  Then and only then shall
you be free to do what you want.  For I will have no need, as tempting as
it is, to partake of your traitorous Saxon flesh.”

Alexa gasped at the horror of his words and the
truth in those green glittering eyes in the dark of the twilight.  Deep
grief slammed her.  He yanked her sword from the ground, along with her
dagger.  Saddened and shaken by his words, she stood stiffly as he threw
her over his shoulder, not at all gently as he’d once done before.

“The person that returned your sword to you will be
punished. As for this shack…‘twill be burnt to the ground.”

She heard no more as he stomped back toward the
manor.  

THIRTEEN

True to his word, he had her things moved to the
empty room across the hall.  Lisbeth’s bedroom.  As the servants
brought in her things he’d stood there over the bed the entire time watching
her.  Those cruel green eyes tore a painful bleeding path to her heart and
Alexa, something inside her breaking, turned away from him. 

She did not look at him again until she heard the
clank of steel in the room.  She turned to see her blacksmith, a mournful
expression upon his old tired and weathered face as he handed the pile of irons
to his lord.  He left without meeting her gaze. 

Alexa’s eyes widened on the iron chains in her
husband’s large hands.  Four small cuffs were hanging from those
chains.  Her facade of bravery crumbled as her eyes shot up to his. He
wouldn't!

She wanted to scream but when her eyes met his she
saw nothing in them.  He did nothing more than hold her gaze as he slid
the cold irons around her wrists as she fought him.

She twisted and turned but he held her.  No one
came to her aid and she damned them all, along with him to hell. She cursed him
loudly, not caring if they heard.   Alexa was breathless as was he.
She would not break under his stare, she would not. 

A second later, her eyes begged him silently for
mercy. 

None came. 

His man, Goran, refusing to watch, shot him a dark,
baleful look of disapproval but the Norman ignored his friend and Goran turned
and walked out. Rourke clamped the cold irons around her ankles binding her
completely in front of all that had remained.   No slack.  She
had seen the rage in his eyes; his large frame had shaken with it and seemed to
grow in intensity with each extremity he’d fastened.  She’d felt the
tremble in his warm fingertips against her skin, but when he was done, he did
not look at her again.  She kept her gaze riveted to his face, trying to
will him to look at her.

Rourke, awash with the guilt and regret for what she
had forced him to do, could barely force himself to look at her for fear he’d
back down from her stricken expression.   He could scarcely
breathe.  The best attack on one like her, one as proud and willful as
she…was humiliation.   He would not lose another one to death nor
would he add to the pain of the one he already carried. That pain far
outweighed what he was doing to her.