by Shay Savage
“Will I always become ‘your lord’ when you think you are in trouble?”
“Probably,” I finally answered. Branford laughed, and the tense mood was instantly lifted.
“That’s where you heard me first speak of Lily,” Branford said.
I nodded.
“Who is she?” I asked.
“Lily was,” Branford said, correcting me, “my best friend.”
“What happened to her?”
“I’ll tell you,” Branford said. He stood and held his hand to me. “But it would be easier to show you at the same time. Let’s go.”
“I didn’t think we were to leave the rooms,” I said. “Queen Sunniva…”
“My mother’s intent was for us to be alone together,” Branford insisted. “For all practical purposes, we will be. She wants us to know and understand each other, and you cannot understand me without understanding this. She would not object.”
“All right,” I said.
Branford led me out into the hallway, where I noticed a guard standing outside the room. He was young and physically intimidating—his bulging muscles clearly visible under the chain-linked armor. I recognized him as one of the guards normally at the door to the great hall. He nodded and greeted us both.
“Good morning, Sir Branford, Lady Alexandra,” he said.
“Good morning, Dunstan,” Branford replied. “Is there some reason you are standing outside my rooms?”
“Queen Sunniva has ordered me to keep you in my watch, Sir Branford.” Dunstan shuffled slightly from one foot to the other. “I’m to report if you…take leave of each other.”
Branford growled something indiscernible under his breath, took my arm, and led me down the hallway with Dunstan walking a respectable distance behind us. Branford glared down at the floor in front of us and continued to mumble under his breath until we reached the doors and headed outside. When we reached the castle gates, he took a deep breath, ran his fingers through his hair, and looked out over the organized chaos before us.
The sun was bright and shone down on the busy marketplace where many merchants held various wares to sell in carts, baskets, and makeshift tables all around the entrance to the castle gates. There was a woman holding a basket of flowers, a farmer with a cart of vegetables, and a man with a string of fish hanging from a rack. It was not dissimilar to the marketplace in Hadebrand though I did not recognize any of the merchants. I started forward, but my husband stopped and leaned over to me.
“Alexandra,” he said and bade me look into his eyes. “When we are in common areas together, you will hold my right arm. I will always be addressed first, and if I give whomever addresses me leave, they will address you as Lady Alexandra. When returning their greeting, do not use a title at all. Just call them by their names. Understand?”
“Yes, Branford,” I said and smiled up at him. “Thank you.”
“I’m trying,” he said with a slight smile. He offered his right arm to me, and I wrapped my fingers around it.
Branford pulled me back between two of the carts where a man with white whiskers adorning his face, but long dark hair on his head, sat with a bowl in his hands of what looked like porridge.
“Channing.” Branford waved and greeted him.
“Sir Branford!” the man said. He stood, depositing the bowl on the ground beside him. “I wondered when you would return. This must be your beautiful new wife.”
“Alexandra,” Branford said as he turned to me, “may I present Channing—the finest breeder of hunting dogs in Silverhelm. Channing, this is my wife, Lady Alexandra.”
“Greetings, Lady Alexandra,” Channing said, and he bowed to me. I felt heat rise to my face.
“A pleasure to meet you, Channing,” I responded in kind. I saw Branford’s smile out of the corner of my eye and was glad he had taught me how to address someone.
“Have you come to see your new beauty, Sir Branford?”
“I have indeed,” Branford replied.
“Right this way!”
Branford and I followed Channing back behind his hay-filled wagon, where a light brown dog lay with a litter of pups at her teats.
“She’ll be all yours in just a few weeks,” Channing said.
“You’re getting a puppy?” I asked, my eyes wide.
“No,” Branford said with a shake of his head. “I don’t have time to train one right now, and if I got one, I’d want to do the training. I’m buying the bitch.”
I looked at the dog lying on her side, and she looked up at me. She looked tired but well cared for and obviously raising an excellent group of puppies. They were rolling around each other, nursing and whining. Their mother raised her head and licked at them for a moment before settling herself back down in the hay.
“I hate to give her up,” Channing said, “but Sir Branford drives a hard bargain.”
“I’m offering the stud services of my pack for the next breeding season in exchange for her,” Branford said, explaining their deal to me.
“I’ll be keeping three of the female pups,” Channing said, “but they won’t be able to breed with their littermates—not healthy for them. Sir Branford’s dogs are excellent hunters and not related to these pups at all. It will mean three good litters for me next year.”
“Come, Alexandra,” Branford said. He looked into my eyes and took my hand as he led me closer. He held my hand out and slowly pulled my fingers through the bitch’s soft fur. “Alexandra, I would like you to meet Amarra. She’ll become part of my hunting pack when her pups are weaned. She’s the replacement for Lily.”
My gaze darted to his, and I could see the strangest combination of sadness and mirth.
“Lily was a dog?”
“The best ever,” Branford said quietly. “She was found a week ago in the woods not far from the fields where my pack runs when we’re not hunting. She would have had pups in just under a month, but she was…well, she was killed. After she didn’t return to the stable one night, we found her hanging from a tree.”
“Oh goodness!” I cried. “Someone…someone killed her?”
Branford just nodded.
“She was rarely away from me at night,” Branford said, “but she needed to have a good place to have her pups near the rest of the pack. She had been staying out there with them for three nights before she disappeared.”
I looked up into his eyes, and I could feel the anger behind them.
“I do have enemies,” he said quietly, “and sometimes they know exactly where to strike me.”
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. Some of his words from this morning—the tale of his parents and his reluctance to trust—drove deeper into me, and I understood some of his reasons for his actions.
“She stayed with me in my rooms most of the time,” Branford said, and the purpose of the large square cushion by the fireplace was suddenly apparent. “I loathe the idea of replacing her so quickly, but it’s late in the season. If I want to have pups next year, I want to give the new bitch plenty of time to get used to the pack first.”
“I remember when you first took Lily with you,” Channing said. “You had her picked out the moment you saw her.”
“True, I did,” Branford said with a slight smile.
“It took a little convincing to get him to let the pup go back to her mother until she was ready to be weaned.”
“I wasn’t horribly patient about it as I recall.”
“That’s why you had to resort to hand-feeding her when you insisted on taking her too young.”
“How long did you have her?” I asked.
“Nearly five years,” Branford said. “She was with me almost constantly. The rest of the pack stayed together most of the time, but even when we weren’t hunting, Lily was always by my side. My hope is Amarra will be half as good as Lily was. If she is, I’ll be very pleased.”
“Will she stay in our rooms?” I asked.
“It would be my preference,” Branford said, “but only if you are agreeable
. The rest of the pack stays near the other side of the garden, next to the stables, and she could remain there as well.”
I could see in his face he didn’t like the idea.
“I don’t mind at all,” I said, and the glorious smile that greeted me was impossible not to return.
Branford looked up, glancing quickly from left to right before he turned back to me. I looked around as well, but saw no one save Channing, who was tending to the pups.
“Yesterday you told me I didn’t have to ask permission to kiss you,” Branford said so softly I didn’t think the breeder could hear him. “Pray, is that still the case?”
The skin all over my body started to tingle just at the sound of his words. Other than waking in his arms and the few touches of his fingers on my chin, he had barely touched me at all since yesterday morning. I didn’t dare look at his eyes because I knew if I did, they would be smoldering, and there would be no doubt I would agree to his wants. I needed to figure out if it was still all right if he kissed me or not before I looked at him.
There was certainly a part of me that feared even the most casual touches from him. It was difficult to see his hands and not remember them balled into fists and pounding the cold stone wall of the morning room, so dangerously close to my head. If I thought about it, I could feel his fingers grasping the flesh of my arm as he hauled me back up the stairs and into our rooms.
But today, he had been the Branford who had carried me on his horse to the abbey to prepare for our wedding. Today, he had been the same man who didn’t take me by force the first night even though it was his right. He was using the same tone of voice he had used when he held me the second night and told me he would be gentle when he touched my skin. He had been gentle, and the feelings he evoked were unknown and exciting.
Forgetting myself, I looked into his eyes, and as I suspected I would be, I was trapped there. Not only could I see his want for me, but I could also see his confusion and his hope. I had waited too long before answering him, and I could see he had all but decided I meant to deny him. He nodded slightly and then started to turn away.
“It is,” I said quickly before he could turn his back to me. His gaze swiveled back to mine, curious and hesitant. “It is still all right for you to kiss me.”
A slight smile appeared over his lips, and he looked around the area once more before leaning close to me again. I closed my eyes and felt the warm burn of his mouth as it pressed carefully against my lips. He didn’t push hard against me, nor did he open his mouth or touch my lips with his tongue. He kissed me simply and softly while my heart pounded in my ears. After exactly seven kisses, he pulled his head back, and his smile was much larger. His expression made him look much younger than he was—a boy, even. A boy who had just been given his first horse to ride—excited, encouraged, and relieved the day had finally arrived. Branford’s eyes were literally glowing along with the rest of his face, and I couldn’t help but smile back at him.
“Thank you, my wife”—Branford glanced first at the cart full of hunting dogs and then to my lips—“for everything.”
And that is how I knew our marriage just might work.
Chapter 11—Increasingly Establish
“Do you remember anything of your parents?” Branford asked.
“Not really,” I said. We were walking back from the marketplace to our rooms. The sun was high in the sky, and Branford claimed to be famished. “I was too young when they died to remember them. I only know my father died before my mother and that their surname was Fay.”
Branford opened the door to the morning room, and we walked inside. There were already several dishes containing stew, fruits, and breads arranged on the table inside. Dunstan, who had been following discreetly behind us, stopped at the doorway and took his place outside the rooms. Branford glared at him but said nothing as he slammed the door with the guard on the other side of it.
“I’ve never heard the name before,” Branford said. “My father knew a few families from the Village of the Eagle, but I don’t recall that one. Camden spent some time there. It reminds me, though—your things from Hadebrand arrived yesterday. I’ll tell Dunstan to have someone retrieve them for you. It will give him something to do other than hover around the damn door.”
“My things?” I repeated, trying to ignore his slight outburst. I had honestly been afraid he might decide to remove Dunstan by force as we had walked around the marketplace.
“Yes, a few articles of clothing, a comb, and a bowl I believe you wanted.”
“Oh! The bowl!” I exclaimed. I had all but forgotten it. Truly, I didn’t think he would actually have it retrieved. In my happiness, I turned and reached up to wrap my arms around his neck. “Thank you so much, Branford.”
“You are very welcome.” He chuckled and rested his hands on my hips. “If this is your normal reaction, I may have to start bringing gifts to you on a daily basis.”
I blushed, of course, and dropped my arms from him immediately, surprised by my own reaction. I turned from him and walked to the fire to add more wood.
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I said.
“What if I just want to?” Branford asked. He came up behind me, turned me around, and touched his fingertip to the end of my chin, but I couldn’t look into his eyes.
“There’s nothing I need,” I said softly. The idea of Branford bringing me gifts was unsettling, to say the least. Besides, there was already more in this room than I could ever want or need.
“But what do you want?”
“Nothing, my…Branford.”
“Nothing at all?” he asked. “I have the means, you know. I can get you anything you desire. Clothing, jewelry, exotics foods…anything.”
“Really, there is nothing.”
“There is nothing you desire?” he asked, disbelief apparent in his tone. “Nothing?”
“I don’t think so,” I replied quietly. I was beginning to wonder if I was giving the correct answer. Was I supposed to ask him for things? Princess Whitney certainly demanded gifts from those who would visit the castle from neighboring kingdoms, especially if the person in question was a potential suitor.
“Do you want me to kiss you again?”
The abruptness of his question caught me off guard, for it was not at all what I expected. I looked up into his eyes, and they were open and playful. His mouth was drawn up into that half smile as he darted out his tongue to wet his lower lip.
“All right,” I said. I felt the heat rise to my face as my eyes dropped to the ground.
“Look at me, Alexandra.” He leaned forward, his gaze on mine until his eyes closed, and his lips captured my mouth. He kissed me softly and then cupped my face. I felt his tongue brush across my lips, and I opened my mouth for him. I both felt and heard his words against my lips.
“Touch me.”
I placed my hands on his shoulders as I had done before, and he deepened the kiss. His tongue caressed mine, and one of his hands moved to the back of my neck while the other slid around my waist. He pulled me close against him and released me briefly before he changed the angle of his head and kissed me again and again. I could feel those strange, tingling sensations over my skin where his hands touched as well as other places around my body, and I found my hand slowly moving up and into his hair. I was surprised by how soft it felt as I easily slipped my fingers through it.
Branford groaned against my lips and pulled me tighter still. I could feel his body’s reaction to our closeness pressed up against my stomach. My heart began to pound in my chest, and he backed away just enough for his hand to move from my back, around my hip, and up to cup my breast. He lifted it slightly, and his thumb grazed over the nipple. I felt it harden as he touched it, and he continued to explore my mouth with his tongue.
“I want to see you,” Branford said as he broke away. He trained his eyes on mine and moved his hand from my breast to the ties at the front of my dress. He paused a moment, and I realized he was waiting for me t
o object to his desires. I nodded, stared up at him, and tried to keep my breathing in check as his fingers loosened the ribbons and pulled them from their loops. He glanced down as the laces opened, and my neck was further exposed. He tilted his head and kissed the edge of my jaw, then down my neck, and to the skin he had uncovered. He moved his lips over my collarbone as he used his fingers to further open my dress.
My grip on his hair tightened as he pushed the material off my shoulders and exposed the top half of my breasts to his eyes. He gazed down at them, and when I glanced down myself, I saw the top half of the circles around my nipples in plain view by virtue of the afternoon sunlight as it shone through the window. I bit into my lower lip, and I glanced back to his eyes, wondering what he may think of me. For a moment he was still, and then he looked into my eyes again.
“Am I…pleasing to you?” I asked. His eyes were dark, even with the bright sunshine cascading over us. I looked away quickly, sure he had found me lacking, until I heard his husky voice.
“Dazzling,” he finally said. He looked back down at me as adjectives flowed freely from his mouth. “Incredible. Beautiful and enticing. You are perfect, my wife.”
His breath was hot against my skin as he kissed languidly across the other collarbone, then back up toward the other side of my neck. I could feel his tongue tracing over my skin, and I felt his hands move up my sides. Branford brushed his fingers over my shoulder, and then he stopped abruptly and gasped.
“Did I do this to you?”
I flinched as his fingers touched the reddened area of my shoulder where it had hit the stone wall. I looked at Branford and saw his eyes closed and his jaw clenched.
“Will you ever be able to forgive me for this?” he asked.
“Of course, my lord.” My automatic response escaped from my lips.
He sighed, dropped his hands, and took a step back from me.
“When will you speak your mind to me?”
“I don’t understand.”
“That is obviously painful. I wish you would…I don’t know…yell at me or something. Tell me what an awful husband I have been so I can beg and promise to never do such a thing to you again.”
