by Shay Savage
“Branford, do not be angry with Alexandra,” Ida said as she came up. “It was entirely my fault. I didn’t know Lady Sawyer would want to chat, and I can hardly walk away from my future mother-in-law. Alexandra was only alone for the shortest of times, but still it was my fault, not hers.”
Branford froze for a moment, his eyes going wide as he looked first to his sister and then to me. He took a step backwards, releasing me from his embrace. Obviously, before that moment he had no idea Ida had not been with me when the girl was accosted or that I had been in the barn with those men without a chaperone. I watched as the realization came over him, and his confusion turned into the tyrant’s black rage.
“You…you were here…with them? Alone?” As Branford roared out the last word, both Ida and I took an involuntary step backwards. “While they were…were…”
Branford huffed sharp breaths through his nose, and his eyes went dark and narrow as he stared at the ground in front of his feet. He did not seem able to complete his sentence though he tried several more times. I stood silent and still as his hands clenched and unclenched from fists to wide, spread fingers. I did not dare wonder what he was thinking any more than I dared utter a sound. Slowly, his head rose and his dark emerald eyes met mine. I wanted to reach out for him, but his anger was still too raw and unfocused.
“Come with me,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Branford, maybe you should—”
“I am talking to my wife, Ida!” He growled his response. “You and I will discuss this later.”
With that as Branford’s final words to his sister, he took me by the hand and began pulling me behind him. I nearly had to run to keep up with his long strides as he crossed the field and entered the castle gates, growling deeply under his breath. I should have known he would be angry. If I had a thought in my head, I would have cautioned Ida against mentioning it, but I had not thought of it in time. Now he was obviously infuriated with me, probably with her as well, and it occurred to me that he was taking me back to our rooms where we would be alone. For a moment, my mind flashed to several nights prior when he had similarly dragged me to our chambers in his anger.
Sunniva was not attending the tournament, so there was no one to protect me from his anger or support me for my infringement. My chest tightened in panic.
“Branford, please,” I said quietly. “You are scaring me.”
“I am scaring you? I am scaring you?” he yelled. He slammed his free hand into the door of our borrowed chambers and pulled me through, closing it loudly behind us. As he stalked to the other side of the room, I started to follow him, but he held out his hand. “Stay where you are. I do not trust myself right now.”
I took in a sharp breath and stopped moving. My chest was still tight, and I was trying to keep the tears behind my eyes from collecting and falling. I reminded myself of Branford’s promise—he said he would not harm me. I knew he had meant it…at least, at the time, he had. Branford paced in front of the fire for a moment and then turned sharply back in my direction.
“Do I need to assign a guard to you?” Branford bellowed. “For the love of God, Alexandra! Not five minutes beforehand, I had told you not to wander on your own, and to find out you were alone…with Sir Leland, that son of a…”
I could not help but let out a cry when Branford’s hand suddenly flew out, and everything that had been on the table near the fire crashed to the ground. He kicked out with his foot, toppling the table and smashing it against the wall. He growled out a long, feral sound before grasping the mantle above the fire and rocking back and forth against it. I watched his knuckles turn white as he dug his fingers into the wood.
I didn’t know what to do, so I stood by the doorway with my back against the wall, trying not to breathe. I was afraid he would start ripping the entire room to shreds, and I was not entirely sure I shouldn’t flee from his presence altogether. If I thought it would have helped instead of likely making it worse, I might have done so.
A moment later, he was rushing across the room. I cringed against the wall as he brought both his hands to either side of my head, effectively caging me between them. I braced myself, but for what, I did not know.
“God, Alexandra.” Branford dropped his hands to my shoulders and then pulled me forward. He held me tight against his chest with his hand in my hair, resting his head on top of mine. He growled once, and then his voice softened. “If anything happened to you, I don’t know what I would do.”
I felt his fear quaking inside of him as his anger slowly decreased in its intensity. I didn’t speak but reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck, relinquishing myself to him. I didn’t know how long we stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, but it felt like a long time. I pressed my face against his jacket and inhaled his scent.
Branford leaned back and moved his hands to the tops of my arms, pushing me away from him a little.
“You frightened me,” he said as he looked down at me. He reached up and brushed my cheek and neck. “To know you were so close to them when they were…”
He sucked in a sharp breath and pulled me back against his chest.
“If they had touched you in any way…God, we’d be at war now! Do you realize that?”
“War?”
“Yes, Alexandra! War!” Branford pushed away from me as his anger resurfaced. He spun around and kept his back to me as he leaned against the mantle, attacking the structure with his fingers clawing into the timber. “I would have slaughtered every one of them for touching you! By the end of the day, their kingdom would have heard of it and would be preparing to march against us! I am so close—so close—to being ready to attack Hadebrand directly. War on another front right now would destroy all of my plans!”
“I did not know,” I said quietly. Branford moved to sit on the edge of the bed and placed his head in his hands. His fingers circled his temples, and he sighed deeply. He refused to look up but only sat on the edge of the mattress and shook his head. I stayed where I was, for I could still feel the heat of his ire as it radiated off his skin, and I did not wish to be any closer to its source.
“You will be assigned a guard,” he said. His tone left no room for any kind of rebuttal, and I was not about to offer one. “When I am unable to be at your side, you will be accompanied at all times. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Branford,” I replied. He sighed, and I watched his shoulders lose some of their tension as he slumped slightly forward. Moving slowly, I approached the bed. He did not seem agitated by my presence so close to him, so I sat down beside him and placed my hand on his thigh. “I did not intend to cause you worry.”
He continued to rub his fingers against his temples, and for a long moment, he did not acknowledge me. Truly, I understood his ire. I had been in a dangerous situation though I did not realize it at the time. I wondered if any of them would have been bold enough to harass me if they had known who I was, or rather, to whom I was married. It seemed unlikely, though for men who would do such a thing to that girl—slave or not—the list of things they would not dare do must be short.
Branford covered my hand where it rested on his leg, and for a moment, he just gripped my fingers. He then brought my hand to his mouth and touched his lips to my knuckles. He opened his eyes and turned to face me, his anger gone. Only worry and concern seemed to be left. He reached up to pull me close to him, his mouth covering mine. He kissed me softly at first, but as we touched, I could feel his increasing desire as he pressed against my lips and then ran his tongue against mine.
“I need you,” he mumbled against my lips. I could only nod in response as he fumbled at the ties to my dress, and his tongue invaded my mouth. Branford pushed my dress from my shoulders and then stood to remove it entirely. He pressed against my shoulders, pushing me back against the edge of the bed. He pulled his shirt up over his head and tossed it to the ground behind him as he stepped closer and nudged my thighs apart with his knee. He gripped my legs, pushing them farther ap
art and pulling my hips to the edge of the bed at the same time. He slowly lowered himself to the floor next to the bed, and his eyes stared into mine as he took me in his mouth.
I cried out at the contact of his warm lips and tongue against my sensitive flesh. I reached down to the top of his head as my hips rose reflexively toward the pressure from his mouth. I cried out again as his tongue entered me, caressing my body in ways I never could have imagined before we were wed. His mouth and his fingers invaded me until I could stand no more, and his name escaped my lips in a flood of ecstasy.
Without further preamble, he rose and lowered his trousers, exposing his hard male flesh to me. He grasped my hips and pulled them closer to him as he stood between my legs and thrust completely into me with a long, drawn out moan. He held himself there, buried to the hilt, with his eyes closed for a while before he began moving in and out of me, slowly at first, but quickly reaching a faster pace. He ran one of his hands down the outside of my leg, grabbing my ankle and pulling my leg up high until it rested on his shoulder. He gripped my hips again, pulling me sharply against him as he penetrated me deeper than I had ever felt before.
I didn’t understand these reactions from him—his sudden need to possess my body when he had been angered or worried—but I relished the feelings it seemed to bring forth from both my body and my mind. This feeling of being so urgently desired and needed was overwhelming. Was this what it meant to be a wife to such a man? To be here for him to channel his frustrations into desire for me? Would this be his outlet for all those things that plagued his mind? Would this seemingly simple act temper his emotions when his duties as king might otherwise overcome him? Was this at least part of my role in his life?
I hoped that it was.
For as long as his emotions were channeled into his passion for me, he would not be punishing those who were not deserving of his wrath. If I could claim both his temper and his passion, how many of those in the Kingdom of Silverhelm could be spared? I would relinquish my body to him without hesitation if it would give him the peace his mind needed. In all honesty, I would surrender my body to him regardless and for my own selfish reasons as well.
Our moans erupted in tandem as he pushed into me deeply, pulled back, and then thrust forward again and again. His pace continued to increase until I could see the beads of sweat covering his forehead and arms. He leaned over me, entering me faster and harder as I lay back on the bed and let the sensations wash over me. He released my hip and reached between us—a single touch against me that brought forth my release as my back arched against him.
Branford leaned back again, changing the pressure where we were joined. He wrapped one hand around the leg that still rested on his shoulder while the other still gripped my hip, pulling my body toward him with every thrust of his hips. I looked up to his face as he tilted his head to the heavens and cried out as he filled my body completely.
He was spectacular.
The strain in the muscles of his neck, across his broad shoulders, and down to his wrists was evident as he received his pleasure. His strong grip on me finally relaxed as the tension dropped from his shoulders and arms, and his body collapsed on top of mine. He wrapped his arms around me. He sought my skin with his mouth, and he held me close as his breathing and heartbeat slowed.
We did not speak, but I ran my hand through his hair as he lay his cheek upon my breast. He began breathing slowly and deeply, and for a moment, I thought he might have fallen asleep. I was content to let him lie there as long as he wished though he was heavy with all his weight on top of me. But soon, he pushed himself up on his arms, and I could breathe easier.
His gaze met mine, and all the complex emotions that had been displayed in his eyes before—anger, frustration, worry—were gone. I could see only contentment left in his dark green irises. Branford reached up and took my face between his hands, angling my head toward his.
“You are precious to me,” he whispered. His eyes were dark again—intense, but not with anger or need. I wondered what it meant when his eyes turned that shade of green.
“Nothing happened to me,” I said, reassuring him. I touched his cheek with my fingers.
“But it is like you invite trouble into your midst,” Branford said. “Everywhere you go, there is danger lurking, just waiting for me to drop my guard long enough to take advantage of your vulnerability.”
He kissed me again, gently and softly.
“I would be lost without you now,” Branford said. His voice was still very quiet, and his eyes were still dark. He ran the tips of his fingers across my face, right along my hairline, and then down to my jaw. His lips briefly touched my throat as he brushed his fingertips over my breasts. He raised his head and kissed my lips again before pulling back and looking down at me.
“Forgive me, Branford.” I brushed my fingertips across his arm. “Truly, I was never close to them at all. They were all the way on the other side of the barn. I could not even hear what they said. I could only hear their laughter while they were…were…”
“Hush,” he said. He cradled my face as he looked into my eyes. “Do not think of it any longer.”
“Is there nothing that can be done?” I asked. I could feel the hot sting of tears in my eyes for the girl in the stables, the one whose life was tied to that horrific man. Branford closed his eyes, and his forehead touched mine.
“I will try to think of something I can do for her,” Branford said softly. “I cannot make you any promises, but I will see what I can do.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and held myself close to him for a moment. Then I loosened my grip enough to drop back against the pillow and see his face.
“Thank you.”
He smiled his half smile and kissed me on the bridge of my nose.
“Shall we dress and head to the inn?”
And that’s when I remembered where the knights were going.
Chapter 20—Reluctantly Wager
Sawyer Inn reeked of pipe smoke and the odor of strong ale. The building itself was quite large and more of a banquet hall than a drinking establishment. With my hand on his arm, Branford led me to the right where there were several ladies with their respective knights as well as Lord and Lady Sawyer. I glanced to the left, which appeared to be primarily men who had obviously been at the drink for some time.
We sat at a round table with Ida and Parnell along with another knight from Seacrest and his wife, Sir Rylan and Lady Suzette. Parnell’s parents were near us along with a host of other lords and ladies. Tankards of ale were brought around, and I tried to sip mine respectfully though I did not enjoy the taste as did the knights, who seemed to finish their first mugs with a single gulp.
Lord and Lady Sawyer were quite pleasant toward me, and though Ida was right—Lady Sawyer did seem to like to hear the sound of her own voice—I did not mind listening to her talk about the upcoming wedding of Parnell and Ida as well as talks of the mischief both Parnell and Branford got into as young boys.
“…and then Parnell ran inside, his face and clothes simply covered in mud, screaming that Branford had thrown him down,” she said with a laugh. “Branford stormed in afterwards, instructing him on how he should have held his ‘sword,’ which of course was only a stick, in order to defend himself!”
“Mother, I really wish—” Parnell tried for the tenth time to silence her but to no avail.
“And here they are, half a lifetime later, still doing the exact same thing!” She laughed again, and her honey-blonde hair shook with her shoulders. “Every time they compete in a tournament, they spend the next week telling each other what they should have done instead.”
“It is not as if they speak of such things only after tournaments.” Ida laughed this time as well. “You would think there was nothing more to their lives apart from the games.”
“There is always you to consider,” Parnell said as he leaned to kiss Ida’s cheek. “I could speak about you for hours, but Branford only rolls his eyes at me. I
thought it was always best to stick with other topics lest I feel the need to defend my fiancée’s honor from her own brother.”
“Well, now at least he can bore you with talk of Alexandra,” Ida said with a smirk in my direction.
I blushed, of course, and looked down at my hands as the conversation continued.
Though the area of the inn where we sat was relatively subdued, the group on the far side continued to increase in volume the longer we were there. I tried not to look over that way, for I feared what—or rather who—I might see. Sir Leland and his group had planned to be here, and I suspected they would be on that side of the hall. I did not wish to see them, so I tried not to look.
Unfortunately, averting one’s eyes is easier than averting one’s ears.
I heard Sir Leland’s voice and recognized the laughter from them all. I did not look but felt my shoulders tense, which seemed to catch Branford’s attention. He glanced over his shoulder as a group of men walked behind us and over in the direction of the rowdy crowd.
“Get me ale, girl!” I heard Sir Leland call out. From the corner of my eye, I could see the slave girl, Janet, as she rushed to do her master’s bidding. His voice sent further chills down my back.
Branford began to tap the tips of his fingers on the table in a short, rhythmic pattern. I looked to his face, but he kept his eyes on his fingers and did not look at me. Sir Rylan leaned over and asked Branford a question about hunting, which Branford answered but then went silent. Again, Sir Rylan tried to engage Branford in a conversation about the horses bred at Sawyer, which were apparently the finest anywhere, but Branford was polite only, his eyes and presumably his mind kept returning to the group of men across the room.
I took a sip of my ale and cringed as I heard the all too familiar laughter again. I dared glance in their direction and saw Sir Leland shove at Janet’s back, causing her to spill the tankards she carried.
