Turning her attention back to Dominic, she took in his bloodied face. Tears welled again at the thought of the beating he had endured. It had taken all her willpower not to break down in front of Odo when she’d seen him shackled and battered. And then he had almost been crushed…
He held up his arms so she could tuck herself into the cocoon of his arms, his shackles resting lightly against her back and she sagged against him, flattening her forehead to his chest. He flinched as she wrapped her arms around him but when she struggled to draw back, he held her firm. She smiled suddenly to herself. He loved her. And if his actions were anything to go by, he loved her as much as she loved him. He would die for her, just as she would for him.
Dominic must have felt her tears seeping onto his chest as he shifted back and studied her. “Why do you cry, lass?”
She sniffed and shook her head as her throat closed over with gratitude.
Kissing away her tears, he eyed her seriously. “I do love you, Luce, more than aught. I should never have waited so long to tell you.”
“Nor I.”
“What am I to do with you? Leading an army and attacking a keep? You will turn me grey with worry.”
She pressed a kiss to his jawline and then another to his cheek. “You could marry me,” she suggested with a twist of her lips.
Dominic chuckled. “Aye, I suppose I could,” he murmured before kissing her hungrily until all thoughts of death and crumbling castles were a distant memory.
Epilogue
Darting a glance out of the window, Dominic tugged on his tunic before running a hand through his hair. Again.
“Why you are nervous, Brother, I know not. She is already your wife. Even if she didn’t turn up, she’d still be yours.”
Dominic turned abruptly and darted a wild look around the inn. “If she didn’t turn up—? Are you trying to tell me something, Jake?”
His brother laughed and settled a large hand on his shoulder with a thump as he thrust an ale into his hand. “Lucy will be here, you know that. She’s not left you these past two seasons, I hardly think she’d leave you on your wedding day.”
Squeezing his fist at his side, Dominic resisted the urge to bring it across his brother’s grinning face. It was well enough for him, he had Isabel waiting for him at the church along with their lovely newborn babe, Emma. Lucy had been at her father’s home for a sennight and his heart was empty without her.
His fist uncurled as his glanced up at his brother’s face and he released a begrudging smile. As much as Jake enjoyed teasing him, he recognized that his brother was pleased that he had found someone to stand by his side. Ever the older brother, Jake still worried about Dominic and the duties he bore but less so now that Lucy was his wife.
His wife.
Would he ever get used to calling her that? At one point, it had seemed that he would have to fight forever to get her to agree to marry him and now that summer was upon them, they had been man and wife for nigh on six months.
And now he would give her the wedding day she deserved. Their first ceremony had been small, and with Isabel heavily pregnant and Jake reluctant to leave her, it had been quiet too. It didn’t matter much to Dominic, and with the effect of the reivers still felt in the borderlands, it seemed appropriate, but he looked forward to the chance to announce it to the world.
Lucy was his.
What a woman she was. So courageous, so willful. He grinned to himself. They still argued -- there was no getting around her fiery tongue -- but each argument usually ended up in a session of passionate lovemaking. Lucy still had her moments of coyness, but they were few and far between and never with him.
The ringing of a bell jolted him out of his thoughts and he stepped back from the window as he sucked in a deep breath.
“Is it time?”
Jake nodded. “Aye, ‘tis time.”
“Come then, Jake, let us greet my bride.” Dominic paused. “She will be there, will she not?”
Jake closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head with a sigh. “Aye, she will be there. Hell, Dominic, for a man that claims to know everything about women, you don’t know your wife very well. She loves you as much as you do her. Anyone can see that.”
“Och, I thought I knew women until I met Luce. She’s one of a kind, that lass.”
“Aye, you’ll get no arguments from me there. There’s few women that would hand themselves over to the reivers for your sorry backside.”
“Don’t remind me.” Dominic shuddered. “Are we to away to this church or not?”
Jake laughed. “As you will, my lord,” he said as he gave him a dramatic bow. “Let us see if your bride awaits.”
Drawing his shoulders up, Dominic drained his ale and slapped it down on the windowsill. Swiping a hand across his mouth, he sucked in a breath and nodded. Jake’s eyes softened as he regarded him and Dominic shook his head.
“Do not even say it, Jake. Save your sentimental words for your wife.”
“Aye, you are right, Brother. I am happy for you, ‘tis all.”
Jake patted him on the shoulder as the two men eyed each other for a moment. With a cough, Dominic broke the silence and both men shifted on their feet.
“Right then, let us away,” Jake said as he motioned to the door.
Patrons shouted their congratulations as Dominic passed and he nodded his thanks as they shuffled out to follow him to the church. Many of the villagers lined the short walk to the church in hopes of glimpsing the bride. He chuckled to himself as he noted that the ale was flowing freely, many a man and woman with a cup in their hand. He had declared the day a holiday. The villagers deserved it.
His stomach twisted as he neared the church. A large crowd gathered around the porch but he could see no sign of Lucy. She would be travelling directly from Tyneridge but she should have been here by now. He could not wait to get his hands on her once more. A mere sennight without her was too long. He needed her supple skin beneath his palms and her sweet lips on his more than anything else. Without her, he was lost.
Jake urged the crowd to part, his big stature and glowering expression carving a path to the gates. Dominic ground his teeth as he looked around anxiously. Isabel awaited them on the porch, looking serene with little Emma in her arms. She offered his brother a loving smile and he knew Jake would be beaming back. Hastening up the steps, Jake came to Isabel's side and took the babe from her. The image of his giant of a brother with his tiny dark-haired daughter almost ate through his apprehension. Almost.
“Where is she?” Dominic asked snappily as Isabel leant forward to greet him with a kiss.
“Here,” a voice said from behind him.
He spun around and opened his mouth, but no words came. It was as if the breath had been stolen from his lungs. Lucy wore a pale blue gown, cinched in at the waist with a golden girdle on her hips. The cut highlighted her spectacular curves and enhanced her fair hair and skin. With her hair coiled around her head and tucked under a delicate net, he fought the urge to bury his head into her elegant neck and kiss and suck at it until she begged for more.
She smiled impishly. “Think you I would not come to my own wedding day?”
“Well...well...I...” Dominic stuttered as he cast his gaze up and down.
“My, my, the great Dominic of Thornewall is speechless. This is indeed a momentous occasion.”
Shaking himself out of his stupor, he held out his hand as he bowed to her. “Lass, I find I am often without words when you are around.” She took his hand and he tugged her into him. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered in her ear as the priest approached. Her eyes flashed as he nipped briefly at her lobe as the priest took his position on the porch. “I cannot wait to get you back to the keep.”
“Dominic!” she scolded quietly as they came to stand in front of the priest. Glancing around at the crowd of people watching them, she gave him a wicked grin. “Me too,” she admitted as her cheeks flushed.
Unable to resist, he hauled her int
o his arms and pressed a determined kiss to her mouth. She squealed but quickly relaxed into him, wrapping her arms around his neck as the villagers clapped and cheered.
When he finally pulled away, Lucy shook her head as she gathered her breath. “You’re meant to kiss me after the ceremony.”
“I can do what I want, lass. I am the lord of Thornewall and you are my wife.”
“That I am.”
The priest coughed and they both grinned at they turned to face him.
“I told you I’d make you my wife, Luce,” he couldn’t resist adding as the ceremony began. Lucy merely smiled and Dominic knew she would make him pay for that smug remark later. He couldn’t wait.
THE END
Borderland Betrayal
Samantha Holt
Chapter One
Northumbria, England 1370
James swirled his ale around his cup, eyeing it with distaste. He cast his gaze about the alehouse and grimaced. In an attempt to gain peace in a place where his face was not known, he’d resorted to seeking out an inn on the outskirts of Durham, far from the busy lodgings in which he was staying.
Draining his ale, he motioned to a serving girl for another. Aye, this inn did not have decent drink as The Rose and Crown did, but no one knew him as the Captain of Thornewall here. The rough patrons suited the dilapidated state of the alehouse, but at least they left him alone.
He allowed his gaze to follow the movements of two peasants as they staggered out the door, letting a waft of fresh air cut through the stale, sweat-tinged odor of the building.
Curse the idiot criminal who thought he could hide out in Thornewall. Escorting the thief back to the sheriff had taken him away from his duties, and James did not relish leaving the castle in the hands of Lucy, his lord’s young bride, who now carried Dominic’s babe.
Grin hidden behind his cup, he conceded that if anyone could run a keep as vast as Thornewall while her husband toured the lands, it was Lucy. The Lady had proved her worth time and again.
The battered wooden door swung open once more with a thud and James glanced up as a woman in a drab brown gown and apron wove through the long tables, carefully skirting the sprawled legs and groping hands. James straightened as he studied her. She carried herself with surprising grace, and his breath caught as her gaze settled briefly on him, interest sparking in her expression.
With her long brown hair caught in a messy braid and that plain gown, it would have been easy to dismiss her as her nothing more than a wench, but one glimpse of her face made his blood simmer. Her strong features and exotic dark skin were far from the pale, delicate looks of the noble women he knew, but underneath the peasant-girl appearance was a face that could start wars.
Sensual lips quirked into a smile as she bent and spoke with a grizzled old man. Murky smoke from the tallow candles swirled as she breezed around the crowded inn. All eyes remained on her as she tugged something out of her apron. She grinned as she approached the nearest table, leaning over and fluttering her eyelashes at the men as she inserted herself between them. Over the din of raucous laughter and leering shouts, James just made out her voice as she offered the men love potions. A hint of a lilt in her tone told him she was not native to England. Spanish perhaps.
She slapped at the errant hands of the men as she pressed little fabric parcels into their palms and took their coin with a wide smile. James watched closely. As much as she seemed to have the men under control, she would be no match for any of the drunkards if they decided to push themselves upon her. His hand flexed over the pommel of his sword. His mouth thinned as he noted the movement of her hands while she seduced them with her charms.
A thief.
God’s blood, the woman was a thief. As she distracted the patrons with her looks and potions, she snaked a hand into their coin bags. James shook his head to himself. Suddenly she did not seem so enticing. Dishonesty made his stomach curdle.
The woman secured her gaze on him as she rose from the table and made her way over, her hips swaying. James scowled. Her every movement held all the men captive, including him, in spite of his disgust. As she settled on the bench next to him, he gritted his teeth and studied his ale, determined to ignore her disturbing presence.
“Sir Knight.” Her voice was smooth and flowing, with just the faintest hint of an accent. Spanish, for certain. Yet her words were as well-spoken as an educated lass. “Does a woman put that scowl on your face? Mayhap you would like a love potion? Your beautiful lady will likely fall head over heels for you with but a drop of my herbs in her wine. Or mayhap you would prefer her to fall into your bed. I have potions for that too, though I suspect a man like you has little trouble with such matters.”
Giving into curiosity, James met her teasing gaze and studied the woman properly. Her long straight nose, expressive dark eyes and high cheekbones instantly captivated him. Her lips were pale against her skin and even when curved into a grin they remained full and succulent. Aye, certainly her looks were worth fighting for. A pity her soul was wanting.
Though tempted to ignore her, he wondered if he could not teach her a lesson. A lesson from him would be far better than one from any other man. He did not find pleasure in the thought of her put in the stocks or worse.
“Aye, I shall take some of your herbs.”
Her smile widened, revealing a set of pretty teeth. Extremely uncommon in a peasant girl. Who was this woman?
“And which herbs would those be, good sir? For bed or for marriage?”
“Whichever, I care not.”
“You care not whether you bed or marry her? She cannot be a special woman. Or mayhap you take delight in tormenting a woman so. Mayhap you are already married and take joy in women falling desperately in love with you.”
James let his glower deepen and he extended a hand. “Are you here to sell me your herbs, lass, or question my morals?”
“My, you shall need these herbs with that scowl. I have never met a knight with such rough manners.”
“And I have never met a lass with such a candid tongue.”
“‘Tis time you did then. Here, you shall have these. I will not reveal which I have given you. You shall find out for yourself when you administer them.”
The woman slipped a small packet into his hand and forced his fingers to close about it as if it were some sacred potion rather than a mix of likely useless herbs. Though rough, her fingertips glided over his hand, creating a simmering sensation under his skin.
Mimicking her, he pulled a coin from his money pouch and snatched at her wrist. She sucked in a breath and observed avidly as he pressed the coin into her palm. Her eyes lit but he couldn’t be sure if it was the coin or the touch of his hand that did it. Enfolding her fingers around the coin, the desire to bring those fingers to his lips struck and he dropped her hand abruptly.
A disturbance broke out nearby and James instinctively thrust an arm in front of her as the two men crashed into a table and sprawled on the floor. He almost missed the tug on his belt as the woman’s intrepid fingers delved into his money pouch. Had he been inebriated, he doubted he would have noticed.
As the two fighting men were shoved out of the building by the burly innkeeper, James snatched her wrist and yanked it from his bag. She gave a slight cry and her eyes widened in alarm as he held her hand out in front of him, a coin clearly clasped between her fingers.
“I think that mayhap I cannot afford the cost of your herbs, lass. Here I did not realize they would cost me all of my coin.”
“P-pray,” she tugged away from him but James tightened his grip, “forgive me, sir. I had no intention of…”
“Robbing me?”
“Nay! Nay…I am desperate. Pray, my lord, I shall cause no trouble again, I swear it. Just release me and I shall hand you back your coin.”
James plucked the coin from her fingers and slid it safely into his leather pouch. Her reaction appeared to be one of genuine fright, not something he expected from a seasoned thief. In his exper
ience, they usually attempted to worm their way out of trouble using quick tongues and even quicker movements. The lass had a quick tongue to be sure, but it seemed she had lost the use of it.
“My lord, I beg of you…” She wriggled against his hold.
“Calm down, lass. I’ll not see you punished but I trust you will not thieve again.”
“I will not,” she promised breathlessly. “I am not a bad woman, pray believe that.”
A shadow fell across the table and James glanced up to see the innkeeper bearing down upon them.
“Ellise, ‘tis ye? Ye are leaving me patrons barren of coin?”
“Oh nay,” she forced a giggle, “we are just sharing a jest, Rob. I am no thief.”
Rob’s brows rose and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Is this true, sir? Ye be jesting?”
James gently released Ellise’s wrist and nodded. “Aye, just a jest.”
The innkeeper snapped his head round as a man from across the room shouted, “Hey, me coin! Some little thief has been at me coin! Rob, ye’ve got a wretched thief in yer midst. I’ll see ‘em hanged, if I catch ‘em.”
Rob’s nostrils flared, his jaw tense as he motioned hastily to a serving wench. “See that Tom has his fill of ale for free this night.” Seeing the other man’s dissatisfied expression, Rob waved a hand to the man. “Ye’d have lost all yer coin on ale this night anyway. Ye cannot complain surely?” His gaze darkened as he turned his attention to Ellise and James curled a hand around his sword. “Ye, girl, will be leaving now. I’ll not have a thief driving away my patrons. Grab yer belongings and be gone with ye or I’ll take ye to the sheriff.”
“Where shall I go?” Her voice wavered and James’ heart panged with remorse.
“Away from here. Now,” Rob barked before pushing his way back past the customers and slamming through the rear door.
James grimaced as he glanced at Ellise. Hell’s teeth, he hadn’t meant for the lass to lose her lodgings. He’d only meant to teach her the error of her ways. This was the last time he’d take the moral high ground.
The Borderland Legacy Page 31
