After they caught their breath, he arranged her on his lap in the water, holding her and unable to resist keeping a possessive hand on her stomach. A child. She was carrying his child and he smiled against her hair, imagining how she would look months from now, her belly heavy and swollen. Ah, he couldn’t wait, and he decided to tell her as much.
She laughed. “I don’t think you’ll want me then, Galien. I will be quite fat.”
“You will be quite beautiful, Claire, and if you ever call yourself fat, I will give you a sound thrashing and make you stand in the corner with your punished bottom on display.”
“Will you be upset if it’s a girl?”
“Why ever would I be upset? I’d love to have ten girls, spirited girls with long dark locks like their mother.” He tugged on her hair for emphasis.
“The same reason all men want sons, silly. Don’t you wish to produce an heir the first time?”
He patted her stomach. “I wish for a healthy child, a boy or a girl, it matters not. We have plenty of time to create a large family, my wife.”
“You want a large family?”
“Aye,” he said, nodding. “I had my cousins growing up, and a few foster brothers too, but I was an only child and found it lonely at times. I always wished for a real brother or a sister. Did you like having six brothers growing up?”
She trailed her fingers through the dark curls covering his chest. “I suppose so. I did like having a large family. We took care of one another, and no matter where I went, I always felt safe knowing one of my brothers was close by, watching me.” She chuckled. “Always ready to scold me and run off to tattle to our parents.”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t have given them reason to tattle, Claire.”
She peered up at him, batting her eyelashes. “But, my lord, however would I have had any fun?”
Restraining a smile, he tapped the tip of her nose. “I cannot wait to interrogate the duke of Leuthold and get him to tell me all about your naughty antics as a child.”
Epilogue
The keep bustled with activity, all the servants putting forth their best efforts for the duke of Leuthold’s visit. Claire sat in the great hall on the first evening of her reunion with her brother, feeling as if she had come to the end of a long and difficult journey. She shared a trencher with her husband, and Leuthold sat to his right at the long table. Their heads were bowed together as they discussed some trivial matter about the training of knights, a subject that bored her to tears. She smiled at the two men though, certain she had never been so happy in her life.
After they finished their talk of knights, Leuthold began telling tales about her childhood, per Galien’s request of course. He started with the time she decided to live in a tree, and how it had taken hours to locate her in the forest during a fierce rainstorm. Claire pretended to ignore them as they laughed over her antics.
Her brother sat back and regarded her with amusement after a while, giving Galien that same look she recognized as one of pure brotherly evil. She’d seen that look growing up, and it meant he was plotting something—something more sinister than regaling her husband with ridiculous stories, many of which contained extreme exaggerations.
“It’s time you both know the truth about your marriage,” Leuthold said, a twinkle in his eye. “Judging by your happiness, I don’t see the harm in telling you about your father’s plot.”
“My father?” Galien asked, his brows drawing together.
“Aye. Your father sent me a letter listing his concerns about Minrova, his chief concern being your refusal to marry and produce an heir. He felt his time was growing short and he asked for my assistance.”
Claire grasped Galien’s hand, anxious to hear the rest of Leuthold’s story.
“I had been writing letters to you, Claire, only to receive no response. I worried for your well-being after Diterich’s death. Well, I worried for you before his death, but there was naught I could do to help you then. I decided to order Galien to marry you, sweet sister, after he visited Leuthold and I decided he was…”
“Suitable enough,” Galien cut him off, as if they’d had this conversation before.
“Aye,” the duke said with a smile. “Suitable enough.”
Galien laughed and glanced at Claire. “You should also know this brother of yours extended my holdings into the valley to North Wenzton to compensate me for having to spend the rest of my life with his spirited sister. I believe those were his exact words.”
The two men laughed while Claire glared from one to the other, trying to be angry over the bribe but failing. She found herself smiling as relief filled her, because at last the truth had been revealed, and it lifted her spirits that Leuthold did care enough about her to see her married to a decent man, a man whose tender love and firm guidance cleansed her heart of all the hurt she endured during her first marriage. Now Diterich and his cruel family remained but a distant, fading memory.
She covered a yawn, exhaustion sweeping over her. The babe growing inside her left her tired at the end of the day, and sometimes she napped after the midday meal, unable to keep her eyes open even when the sun streamed through the keep’s windows.
Galien put an arm around her and gathered her against his side as he rose up. “Please enjoy the minstrels while I put my wife to bed. She must be growing a fierce warrior inside her with all the extra sleep she’s requiring of late.”
“Nay, not a warrior,” she said. “A little beast.”
He smiled down at her as he led her from the hall and upstairs to their chambers. Her lady’s maid was waiting, but Galien dismissed Erwyn because he enjoyed helping his wife prepare for bed. He stripped her of all her clothing and helped her don a thin white shift.
“Rest now, sweet Claire.” He kissed her forehead and placed a hand on the swell of her stomach.
She peered up at him and felt her eyes growing heavier as another yawn stole over her. “Will you wake me up later when you return, my lord beast?” She giggled at the faux stern look he fixed on her.
“Aye, I will wake you later. I think you require a lesson in how to properly address your lord husband. A very firm lesson, indeed.”
She drifted to sleep, murmuring, “Firm lesson, yes. I believe that’s exactly what I require, my lord.”
The End
Kidnapped and Claimed
By
Dinah McLeod
Prologue
I almost didn’t make it to the dining hall for the evening meal. My stomach was tied up in knots that I felt keenly with every step I took, and I wanted nothing more than to lie down and rest. But I took my duty as the Duchess of Württemberg very seriously and felt that I must be seen with my husband as often as possible.
It was a decision that I regretted almost instantly upon entering the dining hall. As soon as the smells of cooked meat and fish reached my nose, I nearly lost my balance, and would have, if not for the steading arm of my lady-in-waiting at my elbow. I gave her a small smile of thanks, the best that I could summon, and collected myself before walking down the length of the room. Since I was a child, I had become accustomed to being looked upon, which made it easy to disregard the stares that followed me. Only when I approached the head table did I realize that these were not the usual cursory glances.
There sat my husband, the duke, at the head of the table, as was his right. My chair on the other end was empty, of course, though I could not say the same for my husband’s lap. I stood stock-still, taking it in and refusing to let even an ounce of emotion show on my face, even though I longed to drop into a faint or turn and flee. I could do neither. I was not common-born, and I had a responsibility in every moment—even horrid ones such as this—to maintain a certain level of dignity.
“Good evening, my lord husband,” I called out to him when I was confidant I could keep my voice from shaking. I could let neither anger nor shame show, though I felt them both.
He took his time acknowledging me. It shouldn’t have surprised me; Wa
llace was always content to cause a scene. The woman perched upon his lap, however, had frozen the moment I’d spoken. It was Anne Clover, the maid who handled the chamber pots every morning. She was looking at me, as was every other person in the dining hall, courtier and servant alike. She did not have my gift for hiding her emotions and her shame-stained cheeks were visible to all who cared to look.
Good, I thought, rather meanly. Let her be ashamed. She should be. Yet, Anne Clover mattered little. I knew that. It was my husband who should truly be repentant.
Lazily, he sipped his small ale before turning those piercing gray eyes of his onto me. When he smiled, I dipped my head and curtseyed, though I was acting out of habit as much as out of a need to avert my eyes. His smile had been full of menace, as though he knew he was hurting me and had not the energy to care.
When I’d collected myself once more, I rose and returned his smile with one of my own. “I hope you fare well this evening,” I said, speaking loud enough for the entire hall to hear. I didn’t know what I hoped—perhaps that he would remember himself and shake the servant girl from his lap.
But if anything, his hold on her seemed to tighten, and right in front of me, right before the eyes of the court, he leaned over and kissed her. Anne made a strangled sound, as though her throat was closing up, and perhaps I could have felt sorry for her, if it were any other man’s lap she was perched upon.
I surveyed Wallace with cool eyes that belied the heavy pounding beneath my breast. He was a handsome man, of that there was no doubt. He was tall and muscular from the hours he spent fencing and jousting. His hair, which he kept neatly tied back, was long and the color of straw. His most notable feature was not his long, aristocratic nose, but his dark gray eyes which could pierce you with no more than a glance. I longed to be able to copy his cutting manner, but I knew myself to be hopeless at such imitation, else I would have cut him to the quick right where he sat.
“Will you join us, my lady?” he asked smoothly, as though naught a thing were amiss.
I found myself stuck—I couldn’t let the court know how seriously this slight vexed me, and yet, my feet felt like lead, so heavy that I could not move them even if I wanted to do so. “Is there a shortage of seating?” I asked at last. “Shall I find a chair more suitable for Miss Clover?”
The girl in question flushed scarlet, much to the delight of onlookers who laughed to see her embarrassed so. I myself felt my lips twitch, but I did not give into the smile.
“She is fine right where she is, aren’t you, sweeting?”
The knots in my stomach tightened to hear him coo to her so. When was the last time he’d ever spoken so kindly to me?
“Then I shall take my meal in my rooms,” I replied. “Good night, sir.” I bobbed a quick curtsey and turned to leave when Wallace’s laughter rang out.
“Don’t play the fool, Cecily. Come and take supper with us.”
My spine froze upon hearing how casually he would speak to me, his own wife. Did he have no regard for my station?
“Thank you, no.”
I had taken but one step further when I heard a commotion behind me. I turned my head to see that Wallace had indeed shaken the girl from his lap and was now stepping toward me.
“You will eat where and when I say you shall!” he commanded, his booming voice giving the stunned courtiers plenty to gossip about.
“Perhaps, if your dinner companions were chosen in better taste…” I spoke so that only he could hear, trying not to tremble as his eyes narrowed into slits.
“You’d do better to obey your husband,” he growled, stalking closer still.
Even though he was still a few feet from me, I could smell his breathe, pungent with drink. “You are not yourself, my lord. You do not realize the scene you are—”
“Why in all hells do you concern yourself with what they think?” he bellowed, sweeping an arm out to indicate the courtiers who dined. “I never do.”
“Then perhaps, my lord, you might concern yourself with what I think.” I was doing my very best to keep the emotion out of my voice, but it trembled despite my efforts. It was a hard mask I was trying to wear, and the mounting shame of this moment was making it harder to maintain.
“Why should I?” he sneered, reaching me at last. “If I want a whore upon my lap, then I shall have one. Who are you to tell me I can’t, when you are no better?”
I gasped at the accusation, feeling the beginnings of tears prick my eyes. I did my best to fight them, but I knew it would be a losing battle, just as this one was with Wallace. He was drunk and nothing I said or did would make him recall himself. “I bid you good night,” I whispered thickly before turning on my heel.
I would have run, but for the hand that seized my arm, grasping tightly at my flesh. “You shall take your leave when I say and not a moment before,” he shouted, his face reddening.
Despite all the countless lessons I’d had on courtly bearing, I was losing myself to his drunken rage. “Please, Wallace—”
“Please!” he snapped, shaking me. “Please?! You are not worthy of my attention,” he decreed, snarling. “Get out of my sight before I whip the flesh off your body, inch by inch.” He tossed me to the floor then, in front of everyone, as though I was nothing more than a dog to be discarded at will.
A sob lodged in my throat, but I fought it back. He gave me a vicious, mean smile and then turned his back on me, walking back to the table where every courtier—and Anne Clover, of course—sat with gaping mouths and stunned expressions. Never once did he look back.
My ladies swarmed around me at once each one offering assistance, but I batted them away impatiently, standing to my feet and fleeing the room with as much dignity as I could muster. I did not let the tears come until I was safe inside my chambers and my ladies had been instructed to see that no one disturbed me.
I never could have imagined enduring such abuse as my own husband had just put me through. I hadn’t thought it possible, and yet, it had happened. When the first tears streaked my cheeks they were laced with sorrow and regret, but the ones that followed were hot and full of righteous anger. By the time my tears cleared, I knew just what I had to do. I would ride for home, for Hohenzollern. Upon learning what had happened, my cousin Susanna, the princess, would surely find room for me.
Wallace would be lucky if I ever returned to him, which I would only do if he got down on his hands and knees and crawled like a beggar. The thought filled me with no joy—I did not wish to return to him at all, under any circumstances, though I knew that if he asked, I must. Never again would I let him command me. Never.
I had bid my ladies to return to the hall and take their meal. A few had protested, but I knew it was for nothing but show. I was certain each was eager to be away from me. They must decide what way the duke’s favor was turning, and if they could benefit from it in some way. And if nothing more, they would hear the gossip and be plagued with questions after my health. They would relish it, to be sure. There wasn’t one in my train who cared more for me than she did her own future.
Once upon a time, I would have thought myself lucky to know who I was, to know that I was royal born and would never have to act so, but now I wasn’t so sure. I never would have thought that a husband could treat his wife so cruelly, either. And yet…
I shook the thoughts from my head as I saddled my horse. She’d been a wedding present from the duke, and he’d told me with pride in his voice that he’d named her Fortune, for that was what he’d found when I’d agreed to be his wife. From the moment I set eyes on her, so beautiful with her snow-white coat and so strong, I’d fallen in love. I would have left her for the memories she carried, but I feared that she would fall at the wrath of his hands once he discovered I was gone.
“We’re going home,” I whispered as I took a moment to stroke her neck. “Get us there quickly, Fortune.”
She was an obedient mare, and well trained. She took to the road and even though there was hardly any moonlight t
o see by, I trusted her to get me where I wanted to be. My mother would know how this should be handled, and I was certain that Susanna would give her leave for me to stay at the castle for a time while I worked this out.
That I would have to go back to Wallace was a certainty, one that made me feel faint. I could hardly get his face out of my mind. It had been nearly purple in his rage as he’d spat those horrible, hateful words: Get out of my sight before I whip the flesh from your body. I had no trouble believing that he meant every word and that he would take pleasure in carrying out his threat. Though I knew I had been nothing but the most devoted, dutiful wife I could be, it mattered not. Wallace ruled our household, and my wellbeing would depend upon his mood.
Yes, I knew that I would have to return. My mother would insist that I forgive him, which as a lady, a royal duchess, I would—but only after he dismissed Anne Clover from court and promised me his unfailing fidelity.
I was so lost in my thoughts that I was surprised when Fortune stopped and I realized that we’d made it safely to Hohenzollern. “Good girl,” I praised her, patting her flank before I gently guided the reins toward the stable. I would see her safely in the stable before I went to Susanna. She would be surprised to see me, to be sure. I had only made it back home once since my marriage to the duke, and she’d known I was coming. But there was nothing to do for it now; I was here already and everything would soon be explained.
At first, the stable seemed empty. I shouldn’t have been surprised—it was time for the evening meal, after all—yet, I was annoyed. Now that I’d dismounted, I realized how hungry and tired I was. I wanted nothing more than to see my horse cared for so that I could seek solace with my mother, and perhaps partake in a bit of supper myself. A movement out of the corner of my eye had me turning my head and when I saw a figure crouching down low, watching me, my irritation grew.
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