The Warlord Claims His Bride (8 page)

The handmaiden looked at her with this ever-present blank expression on her face. “Pardon, milady?”

Genevieve sat up straighter and smiled. “I was only told that ye came from a neighboring village, but nothing else really.” She didn’t mention that Mattina didn’t seem to like to converse. “Ye seem happy, and so I just assumed life back home may no’ have been the best?”

Mattina walked over to her and handed Genevieve a cloth to wash herself with.

“Sit, speak with me,” Genevieve said and smiled once again. She knew servants were not to speak so boldly or openly with their charges, so perhaps that was why her handmaiden didn’t care to talk? But Genevieve also didn’t know anything about being a lady. She had only had this title for a small amount of time, and at heart she was no different from Mattina. The other woman sat on the stool beside the basin of water Genevieve was in. It took her a moment to speak, but she didn’t press Mattina. If the woman wanted to share, Genevieve was more than willing to listen.

“No, my life back home was no’ the best, but we made do with what we had.” Mattina looked at her, but there was no emotion on her face. “I was forced tae leave the man I loved behind.”

“Oh, Mattina, I am verra sorry. Maybe we can call for him, and he can work at the manor?” Genevieve didn’t even know if that was something she could promise, but she was a lady now, Bronson Lyon’s wife. That had to mean she had some leverage and power of her own, right?

Mattina shook her head. “It isn’t that, milady. The man I loved was called tae battle before I left.” This hard, angry look covered Mattina’s face before she quickly put on a neutral expression. She turned and stared right at Genevieve. “This world is no’ meant for the lowly like myself. We canna even have the one thing that we crave the most … tae be with the man we love.” Mattina stood and went over to the small table. “I’ll leave ye, milady, tae finish.” Mattina looked over her shoulder. “Unless ye need me?” There was this strange tone in her voice, one that spoke of distance and even hatred.

Genevieve shook her head. “No, I’m okay. Thank you.”

Mattina nodded and led herself out.

Genevieve slipped out of the bathwater and covered herself with the cloth Mattina had left for her. The small enclosure was warm and foggy from her bath. Once she was dried she dressed in a gown, and even after this time of being Bronson’s wife and staying in luxury, she could never get used to these things. She was used to the rags that she worked in, of the bath that was never smelling of flowers, and was only lukewarm, if she was lucky enough to get to it in time. And she certainly didn’t have people helping. Having servants was not something Genevieve cared much about, but she supposed it was no different from Genevieve working out in the fields, and helping her father. Work was work, and they had to do what kept them alive.

She took the brush off the table and started running it through her dark red hair. She hadn’t seen Bronson all day, but she knew he had been preoccupied with his men. She was not privy to what they discussed, but she didn’t want to know anything that had to do with battles, which she assumed was what they were speaking of. So, she busied herself with learning the layout of the manor, or working in the small garden on the back of the property that had gotten overgrown, and visiting the village. She saw Bronson during the evenings. He would slip in bed with her, take her like he was starving for her touch, and then wrap his big body around hers. He’d then speak quietly and gently to her in Gaelic until she fell asleep. She had never felt as well loved, cherished, and protected as she did in his arms.

It was late, and she excused Mattina for the evening. She should just go to sleep, but a warm glass of milk sounded heavenly. Her stomach had been queasy off and on, and she didn’t know if it was the fact she was finally settling in, or if it was because she had taken Bronson’s seed and there was a child growing inside of her. She turned and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her dark red hair was curling at the ends, and in a short time it would be a wild mess of waves around her head. She glanced at the closed door and then looked back at her reflection. She unlaced the ties at her waist, pushed away the layers of her gown, and stared at her nude body. She wore no undergarments because she knew Bronson preferred her to be bared and ready for him, but honestly she enjoyed the fact it pleased her husband to know she obeyed him. He wasn’t a bad man and didn’t mistreat her. But he certainly liked pleasures that were foreign to her, but ones she found most pleasing.

Her breasts seemed fuller and her nipples darker, but perhaps that was the low candles that were placed around the room and giving bad lighting? She cupped her breasts, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with touching herself. The sensitivity in the mounds startled her. She lowered her gaze to her belly, and although she didn’t see any change in the size, she rubbed her hands over her flesh regardless. This feeling inside of her intensified as she realized she hadn’t bled yet this month, and that she should have done so already. Could she be carrying Bronson’s son? The thought thrilled and frightened her. Her belly did a little flip as she laced the gown up again, and she turned and headed out of the bathing chamber. Genevieve headed toward the back hallway that would lead her to the kitchen. She turned down another hallway, but the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She glanced behind her shoulder, feeling like she was being watched. A gasp left her at the dark, huge shadows that covered the stone wall, but before she could react she saw Bronson move around the corner. A sigh of relief left her, and although she knew she was safe in this manor, there would always be a fear inside of her. Bronson was a man hated by many, had enemies that lurked in the corners, and they would love to get to him through her. She knew about that even when she lived on the farm. Princesses, kings and queens, and other high standing individuals had lost their lives and loved ones because of others that hated them. She would be a naive fool to think that she was exempt from any of that.

“Ah, I’ve found ye, lass.” Bronson’s deep voice filled her, but there was something different about it. “I have been looking for ye, wanting tae be with ye like a madman.”

She pressed her back against the wall when he stepped in front of her. He smelled of mead, and the honey that laced his breath had her pulse increasing. “Ye are drunk?” she said.

He shook his head, and the dim lighting in the corridor showed that he gazed down at her lips. “Nay, love, but I wish I was for the news I have tae tell you.”

Her stomach flipped. “What is wrong?”

He cupped her neck with each of his hands and smoothed his thumbs along her flesh. “Nothing that ye should worry yer pretty mind aboot, but it does mean I have tae leave tomorrow after sunset.”

“Leave?” There was a hitch in her voice. “But we just wed.” The thought of him leaving was so sudden, so pronounced, that she felt a sick sensation in the pit of her stomach.

“I know, lass, and if I could stay I would, in a heartbeat.” He lifted his gaze back to her face and stared at her for a suspended moment. “But I must leave in order tae protect ye and this manor, and tae make sure that all know that this is Lyon territory. All must kno’ that if they go up against Clan Lyon they will perish.” He slid his hand up her neck and cupped her cheek. “I need tae do this so we can live peacefully, so everyone that calls this land home can live happily, lass.”

She smiled at the sincerity in his voice. She didn’t miss the darkness that laced his words either. Bronson had a hard side to him that, and even though he was gentle with her, it still came through.

“Ye plan to go to battle?” Her pulse picked up, because even if this marriage had not been one that was built on love, she had found herself falling for her scarred warlord. The very thought of him injured on the field, or gods forbid not coming back at all, frightened her.

“Aye, love, but I donna plan on leaving ye a widow.” This fierceness came into his voice, and she couldn’t help but believe every word he said.

“Good, because I donna want tae be a widow, and I donna want my child tae be fatherless.”

There was a moment where he didn’t speak, didn’t move, and then this brilliant smile covered his face. “A wee one, lass?” Emotion clogged her throat. “Well, I have not bled, and I have noticed changes, but I have no’ had the healer examine me.” There was a moment of silence between them. “But I feel like there is a little babe inside of me, Bronson.” She stared into his eyes. “
Yer
little babe.”

“My Genevieve.” He leaned in and kissed her hard, possessively, and full of this powerful emotion.

“I donna know for sure, but I wanted ye tae know ... just in case.” She added the last part on a breath, and although she couldn’t even think about losing him so soon after being his bride, it was a reality she needed to accept.

“Love, I am no’ going anywhere.” He gripped her cheeks in his hands and looked right into her eyes. She knew he was this man that never failed and won his battles, but sometimes the gods didn’t look upon someone favorably so many times.

But she just nodded and smiled, because showing her weakness wouldn’t help anyone in this situation. Before she knew what was happening Bronson had her hand in his and was leading her down the corridor. He made several turns, and her bare feet were making this soft padding noise across the frigidly cold stone floor. Finally he stopped in a corridor that was with only one candle, pressed her against the wall once more, and took her mouth in a kiss.

She felt Bronson’s large hands flex and release on her hips, and Genevieve knew that this coupling would be fast, furious, and so heated that it would be like she had disconnected from her body. The fire running through her body could not be ignored. He kissed a path along her collarbone, and she realized he liked that part of her body. He moved his hands down her body and rested them right over her belly.

“If there isn’t a wee one in yer belly yet, I’m going tae make sure I put one in there tonight, lass,” he said against her neck, kissing and licking her flesh until gooseflesh popped out along her arms. “I’m going tae fill ye with my seed until it slides down yer thighs, Genevieve.”

She breathed out heavily. Only with Bronson had she heard such blatant sexual words spoken to her, and although she would have been highly offended by them, hearing them come from Bronson made her wet and so ready to take him into her body.

“I want tae see ye big and swollen with my babe.” He ground his hardness into her belly.

She wanted children, many of them in fact, but had always worried she wouldn’t be able to have them. What if she wasn’t carrying his child, and couldn’t give him the sons he so desperately wanted? Her father had said her mother had a difficult time conceiving her. What if she had the same problems? She let her head fall back against the wall Bronson had her pressed up against, and sighed out as the fire in her body became a raging inferno. They were in one of the back hallways where anyone could see them if they came down this way, but that was an aphrodisiac all its own.

He pulled away, as if maybe he realized where they were as well.

“No, Bronson, donna stop.” She grabbed onto his arms and pulled him closer. He groaned against her neck and ran his tongue up the length of her throat until a shiver worked its way through her. “I need you to put out the fire inside of me.”

She grabbed his head, tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled his head back until she could look into his eyes. He flared his nostrils, and his eyes glazed over with lust. She glanced down at his mouth, and for the first time in her life she was the one that took the lead. Genevieve took control of the kiss and gave back just as forcefully. He groaned against her mouth and grabbed a chunk of her hair behind her head.

He broke the kiss, pulled her head back, and growled out, “I’m the one that takes control, lass.” He bared his teeth. “I’m the one that will dominate ye, that will have ye under me, in my bed, and with my cock deep inside of ye, love.”

She gasped out when he ran his tongue along her pulse and ground his hardness into her belly. He smoothed his hands over her bottom, down the back of her thighs, and gripped her behind the knees. Before she knew what was happening he had the layers of her gown pushed up, and had his hand between her thighs.

“Bared and slick just for me.”

A squeak left her when he lifted her easily off the ground. She wrapped her thighs around his waist, but he had his hand between their bodies, lifted his kilt, and freed his cock. The hot, hard length of him rubbed along her inner thigh, and she felt this gush of moisture left her. He claimed her mouth once more, and speared his tongue between her lips. He ran his hand up her rib cage, skimmed the sides of her breasts, and in one swift movement tore the material in two. Her breasts sprang free and shook back and forth, chilled from the air when it touched her nipples. He immediately took possession of one of the mounds with his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the already stiff peak, sucked it between his teeth, and gave it a little tug. She moaned and grabbed Bronson’s wide shoulders for support. His hot breath skimmed over her breasts, causing her to suck in a deep breath of air. He moved from her nipple and licked a path between her breasts and back up the column of her neck, lightly sucking and scraping his teeth over the skin below her ear. He whispered endearments and also a string of filthy things he was going to do to her in Gaelic.

“Ye’re so ready for me, lass, so primed tae take me into yer body.” He reached between them again and placed the tip of his shaft at the entrance of her pussy. 

She shivered at the harsh deepness of his voice and looked at him from under her lashes. She took in the expanse of his wide, nude shoulders, of the scars that littered of his golden, hard flesh, and the air of power and dominance he emitted. She slowly gazed down at the length of his rippled abdomen. Every inch of him was smooth, golden skin. Her eyes drifted farther south, leading to what she wanted most at the moment. He was long and thick, and when he slowly started to push into her, parting her folds, she opened her mouth on a silent cry. She pulled her focus away from his shaft and looked into his face. He watched her with heavy-lidded eyes. He was pushing his way into her body, and the sensation of her being stretched was so powerful she curled her nails into his flesh. She looked down between their bodies again, and she watched as he pulled all the way out. The head of his cock shone a violent red, and his seed dripped down the length of his cock to fall to the floor. His length was covered in her wetness, and the candle that it the stone hallway made his shaft glisten because of it.