Conquering the Dark Axe (3 page)

Alexa glared at him and took a deep breath when he
set her away from him a little, putting some space between them.  He
smiled showing a flash of white teeth.  The devil’s grin as his green eyes
bored coldly into hers. 

He mounted the big warhorse and with little effort,
he pulled her up in front of him, face down across his lap.  Her arse in
the air.  Her eyes fell upon his heavily muscled thigh down to the long
ominous looking black axe fastened to the side of his saddle. 

Rourke ignored the string of profane words that
spewed from her mouth as they descended the hill towards her home. 

TWO

Alexa was so full of rage that her body shook with
it.  Just a little more than a sennight ago, bastard William’s messenger
had arrived with news that she was to marry in Lisbeth’s stead.  Then to
have the Dark Axe arrive today, without warning.  She could see why he was
called such; it was not from his fair head. It was from that dark scowl the man
wore.  Alexa wanted to punch something.  But there was nothing to
punch other than her pillow. 

That rotten bastard had not only carried her inside
her own home over his large shoulder past his sea of soldiers, who did little
to hide their mirth, but past her servants, who lowered their heads
ashamed.  The final insult had been when the Norman had torn the cloth
from Camm’s hands, her maid, and shoved it into Alexa’s mouth, gagging her to
muffle the string of her promised threats. 

He’d held her firmly with one hand over his
shoulder.  His large hand seated just below her bottom and Alexa had
turned even redder at the intimacy of his touch.  The man did not
care.  He’d asked of her maid to show him where her chambers were and Camm
had scurried ahead to show him.

Once inside her chamber, he dropped her
unceremoniously in the middle of her bed.  Before Alexa could scramble
off, he had grabbed her by her foot hard, with such a jolt; she had seen stars,
stilling her movements.

His words had been hard as he spoke over her heavy
breathing with dead calm. “You will learn quickly enough that I never break my
word, wench.  Think you to do me harm with your squire sword?  I will
exact punishment in time for that mistake. As you wish, you will be locked up
until we are wed and Lady Barnett,”  he’d spoken the words a fraction away
from her ear as they were meant for her ears only as he finished, 
“after my son is born, I will see what I can do about having your other request
met.”

She had stiffened at the threat. He wouldn’t kill
her would he?  Aye, the glint in his eyes told her he would.  Perhaps
she had been hasty in her anger. 

Others had accompanied them into the room. Another
man, almost as tall as her future husband, had stood at his back along with two
soldiers and they had rope. 

Rope that she now twisted and pulled against as she
lay confined to the middle of her own bed.  He had tied her with both arms
to each post and her long legs, tied together at the bottom.  The gag was
still in her mouth.  He’d left orders with Camm that it was only to be
removed when she was to be fed or given water.  Like an animal. 
After he’d first removed it, it'd been her own fault for she'd been unable to
contain her fury and her vile threats against his person had spewed from her
mouth.  The giant that stood behind him had shaken his head no at her as
though in warning, but Alexa had not cared.  

Upon nightfall, Camm came in to give her food and
drink.  She would have been relieved to see her maid and friend had it not
been for the two soldiers that accompanied her.  The men even remained
when Camm had accompanied her to the hidden alcove that led to the garderobe so
that she could relieve herself.  Worse yet, the brooding brute was there
to overlook the soldiers duty the entire time and to assure that Camm had no
chance to talk to her beyond anything of relevance.  Further orders from
that Norman bastard.  The brute made her uncomfortable the way his dark
eyes watched her every movement. 

Morning came all too soon and the big brute, Alexa
soon found out from Camm, was her bridegroom’s right hand man.   His
dark eyes made her nervous.  He watched her intently and the soldiers like
a hawk and never uttered a word.  The nightmare she was trapped in was not
a dream for sleep eluded her and with the dawn, she came to know and feel the
full truth and weight of her predicament.  She was grieving over all that
had happened in such a short time. 

Her father dead at the beginning of the year. A
skilled and excellent rider had been thrown from his horse and ended up with a
broken neck.  Her mother dead ten summers when Alexa had been all of four
and ten.  Now, Lisbeth, gone.

Alexa felt out of her body when the maids dressed
her in the gown that would have been worn by her dead sister.  This after
a few alterations still left the gown slightly short and tight across her
bodice and under the arms.  Lisbeth had been shorter and less full on
top.  Alexa’s bosom was bigger as were her well-toned arms.  The
material pinched and scratched her skin.  She ignored it.  She did
not even come alive as she was led down through the dining hall, to the small
chapel attached to the side of the manor. Her hands bound in front of her and
the gag dangling around her neck.  Ready for his use if needed. 
Alexa had said nothing. 

The old priest’s eyes had all but bulged with shock
when he saw her and he moved to protest, but a dark look from the Norman had
him lurch into the ceremony at a hasty pace before she was fully kneeling.

Alexa was brought to the present by the grip the
Norman used on her bound hands, each time she forgot or did not respond
promptly, he tugged the rope tighter.  Hating him more and more with each
tug and damning him to hell, she glared at him when the priest came to the
honor and obey part.  The two of them stared at each other long and
hard.  His green eyes looked right through her.  Alexa knew right
then what she’d thought earlier to be true.  He’d neither heart nor soul.
Why did someone not kill her now? Why could she not lie next to Lisbeth than
have to endure this man’s touch?  She shook off a shiver of deep
despair. 

His golden brows furrowed at her movement and anger
shot from those green eyes.  He yanked on the rope hard.  She broke
the challenging gaze and said what was demanded of her. 

It was done. 

Then she turned back to him.  Alexa opened her
mouth and told him, “Know this and never forget it. I will never obey you or
any man.”  As she’d known, he reached out and placed the gag back in her
mouth with ease as though he’d just fed her something with gentle care. 
It did not stop her tirade and she continued, although her words were muffled,
she saw in his eyes that he understood every word.  “Especially not a
Norman murdering bastard like you.” 

For a brief second Alexa felt fear as his gaze
turned deadly and seemed to engulf her as he yanked her hard up against his
chest, pulled by the rope. 

“Aye,
Lady Thorsson
, you will.”  His
lips touched hers over the gag in a chaste kiss, so feather light she was not
even sure he had touched her. But the warmth in her face told her that he
had. 

He pulled back as if burned with what looked like
disgust upon his beautiful face, yet, she saw something else flicker in his
eyes and then it was gone just as quickly.  Alexa could not help but add,
“Whoreson!”

Rourke advanced quickly and snatched her arms up in
a tight grip. “You will cease your name calling. Know this, ‘twill not stop me
from planting my seed in you and being overlord here. I care not if you like it
or not. Do you not give me a son, you will face the consequences.”

The priest choked in protest at the ominous threat.
Rourke quickly dismissed the cleric. His man, Goran came to her aid next.

“Rourke. Now you just wed her. You cannot kill her.”

“Aye. I can.”

Time froze and Alexa could only stare at him. The
look in his eyes told her he spoke truth.  With a muffled cry, she tried
to wrench free but he held tight a moment longer. His face was so close to
hers, she could see the little scars long healed upon his cheeks and the storm
unfurling in his emerald eyes. Then he thrust her away from him with a hard
shove. “Get her out of my sight,” he roared and quit the chapel and Alexa found
herself in Goran’s outstretched arms.

Alexa was undressed quickly by the maids and again,
she shared a look with Camm, praying for a moment alone with her friend and
maid.  But there was no chance of that with the soldiers present. 
Although they had their backs turned away this time, they were still in the
room and within ear shot.  She felt like a prisoner and embarrassed as the
only familiar face in her room was that of Camm’s. 

Out of the three other women attending her, there
was a new face that had not been there earlier.  A plump, redhead, her
servant clothes cleaner than the rest, kept shooting dark glares every now and
then in her direction as she moved with the others to prep the bed.

Finally, Alexa had a brief second alone with Camm,
and free of her gag for the moment, she whispered as low as she
could.   “Who are these women, Camm?”

Camm continued to brush her hair and whispered back. 
“They came with the new lord, mistress.  That one that looks at you so
without a care, came this morning.” 

Alexa cast a glance over to her bed.  The
redhead lowered her gaze, but not before Alexa noted the loathing in them. “I
get the feeling she might have a problem with me.”

“Aye that one is a special one to the new lord or so
that is what has spread throughout the manor, mistress.  I don’t like her
too much myself.  She is rather high and mighty, when she should know her
place.”  Camm scoffed and held out the cup to her for Alexa to drink to
cover their talk as the one soldier eyed them suspiciously. 

Alexa moved her gaze from him back to the redhead
and felt something sting her chest.  She ignored it.  Good, she was
probably his whore.  That would be the reason for the girl’s obvious
dislike. Alexa turned away.  The wench could have him.  She told
herself she was glad.   Maybe he would, once he had her with child,
quickly find his way back to this one’s bed.  He would leave her be after
all. 

That’s what got her through the next few minutes as
the women finished preparing the room for the wedding night and soon they left
with the soldiers in tow.  At four and twenty, Alexa never thought she’d
marry nor had she wont to or ever the desire.  Her father had treated her
as the son he never had and she was glad of it.  She could wield a weapon,
her favorite, the sword as well as most men and ride just as well.  She
had no thoughts of love as had Lisbeth.  Sadness and longing shot through
her.  All this should have been for Lisbeth.  Not her.  Even
though Lisbeth would have fainted dead away from the sight of the man alone. ,
she was more of a lady than she and surely, Alexa knew that her sister would
not have had to be bound and gagged on her wedding day.  It probably would
have gone a lot smoother.

Rourke sat in the high back chair at the lord’s
table lost in deep thought over the day.  His foul mood was all over his
face and he looked more like he was at a funeral than his wedding feast. 
The wedding celebration was a somber one.  Yet all within the dining hall
still indulged and made merry.   The room, with tapestries hanging
behind the raised dais, was lined with intricate carvings on pillars and notched
arches that ran the length of both sides of the room which was sparsely filled
with trestle tables and guests.  His arrival had been without all the
fanfare and he cared not to befriend the neighboring nobles at this
point. 

“I knew you would be the last one to have a lavish
wedding, Rourke.  But, even you still deserve one better than how this one
has begun.”  Goran said next to him.  Rourke said nothing but Goran
was used to it.  They had been together long enough. 

“Perhaps ‘twould be somewhat better- a lighter
affair, so to speak, if you allowed your bride to attend. After all, is it not
her feast too? A chance to make amends…”  Goran knew he was pushing his
limit.  The new lady had drawn first blood on the Dark Axe and Goran knew
it would be a long time before Rourke would let that go. He knew the fierce
knight would eventually, but not just yet.  Nonetheless it did not stop
him from making an attempt.   

Rourke turned his head slowly toward his friend whom
he’d grown up with side by side since they were lads of six.  “Goran, I
think you abide in your cups too deep.  This should have been her sister’s
wedding celebration.  So, nay, it is not her night.  She deserves
naught.”  Rourke said calmly.  He’d glimpsed the family portrait
briefly when he’d carried the hellion to her chamber.  On his way back
down the circular stone stairwell, he had paused in his angry stride to look at
the family portrait again.  He’d gotten the short end of the stick. 
The hellion was not as comely as her sister. Lisbeth had not been a raving
beauty either, but she’d been blessed with handsome features more so than the
ones his wife possessed. 

Goran took a deep drink of the warm, bitter mead and
waved away a serving wench who came to refill it.  “But, you did not marry
her sister, Rourke.”

Rourke slammed his fist on the table.  The few
eyes in the hall turned their way.  Goran did not flinch and simply
continued to sip from his cup.