The Northern Knights Series (Boxed Set)

by Amber Dane

  He shook off his musings, grunted out a curse of disgust and guided his warhorse in a slow ascent up the hill in her direction.

  The hairs on the back of her neck tingled and drew Alexa out of her state of grief. She remained in her crouched position as she listened. She heard nothing. But she felt something. She looked through her fallen locks that covered most of her face and could see nothing out of the ordinary down below in the village. But a movement- there! Aye, a fleet of soldiers dismounting in the manor courtyard. The sight caused her anger to resurface. So, the Norman bastard had arrived. Alexa stood abruptly, tore the sword from the ground with ease yet again and in a flash of steel wheeled around, the tip of her blade just missed beheading the giant that stood behind her.

  Before she could finish her battle cry, she suddenly found herself flat on her back with the breath knocked out of her and a wall of stone on top of her.

  “A man’s weapon is not a toy, wench.” The gruff voice of steel brushed over her brow. His use of her language was perfect on his tongue, and then he muttered something crude in his Norman French.

  She understood his words. Fluent in Latin to Norman French, her father had been insistent upon it and seen to it during her and Lisbeth’s early education. A foreboding sign of things to come it seemed.

  Alexa could not breathe. The stone wall was a man. A very large man in chain mail. She could feel the cold of his mail through her tunic. The fall had twisted her clothing and the cloak that was clasped at her throat, pressed down upon her wind pipe, choking her and it didn’t help that his large hand rested firmly on top of that. Panic and fury seized her.

  Rourke’s other hand wrapped around her wrist in a tight grip. “Drop it!” He hissed over her and felt her hand tighten.

  He pulled back a bit to look down at her. Most of her face was covered by wavy, amber-colored waves. Only the tip of her straight nose and full lips were visible. Her nostrils flared.

  He continued, “If I have to ask you again, wench, I will break this.” He applied pressure to her slim wrist to further his emphasis, and she let out a painful yelp. He waited just a second as she released the sword and it clanked to the ground beside them. He knew the moment she was about to fight. Rourke was ready. Or so he thought.

  The hellion almost threw his large frame off her by arching her spine and using her thighs to launch them both nearly off the ground. Rourke’s surprise at her strength wore off quickly.

  He had no idea that part of that strength came from her battle to breathe. His large frame was crushing her chest. Alexa was close to passing out if this big oaf did not get off her or release his death grip on her throat. She had sensed him behind her. Probably one of that Norman warmongering bastard’s soldiers. His chest and mail were crushing her. She bucked and had to fight off the threat, the pull of darkness. He finally removed his hand from her throat to pull both her hands in one of his and stretch them above her head. The move caused more of his weight to bear down on her and brought her face directly under his.

  He continued, “Men have died for less than your girlish foolishness. Now, what do you here?”

  She heard him over her heavy pants to suck in air. His booming demand hurt her ringing ears. Alexa managed to gasp out in a strong voice, “Your loudness is what gives you away. Unhand me at once!”

  “Not ‘til you tell me who you are,” Rourke seethed. He already knew who she was. She had just confirmed his suspicions by the authoritative tone in her gritty voice.

  “I will if you remove yourself from my person so that I may breathe, you lack-wit!” She spat the last at him.

  Rourke yanked her up roughly with the one hand that clasped both of hers together and held her away from him as if she were no more than a ragdoll. She moved her long legs as though to kick him. He gave her such a hard shake that Alexa felt her teeth rattle. Surely, the big lout had loosened a few or all of her teeth in her head.

  Rourke still could not see anything more than her nose and those full lips for that amber mop on her head still hid most of her face. He shook her again.

  “Answer!” He roared.

  As soon as the bastard put her down Alexa knew her first action would be to run him through. But for now, she would cut the giant warrior to the quick. She swallowed and said through clenched teeth, “Lady Alexa Barnett. If you value your life, you will put me down at once lest you-“ Alexa found herself on her arse again in the hard dirt.

  Rourke plucked up her sword and gazed down at her, a look of repulsion on his face. As he’d known. Luck had forsaken him yet again. His betrothed.

  This hellion of nothing but bones and legs.

  Rourke inhaled, a sound of censure left his lips and he stood to his full height as the hellcat scrambled to her feet. She was indeed tall. The top of her head came to just under his chin. She whipped those amber locks up into a quick and furious knot within seconds and glared up at him. Fury flashing in those amber eyes shot daggers at him. Spots of blood covered the front of her white tunic.

  Alexa stilled and took in the warrior before her. He wore no suit of armor or mail like she’d first suspected. He wore nothing more than a black cape that hung on one large shoulder over what was the largest chest she’d ever seen and his face- no other words came to her, angry or not- even though tall and savage looking, the man was beautiful. Golden hair graced his skull and was pulled back from his face; a shadow of whiskers covered his squared jaw. Bright green eyes shot fire at her and he possessed lips that were full like hers. She smiled when her eyes dropped to his throat.

  She may not have cut off his beautiful head, but she had not missed her target altogether after all. Blood trickled down the front of his thick neck, just below the bump on his throat. She could not stop her smile even if she had wanted to.

  Rourke took in her simple features. The wench left much to be desired. Plain with sharp bones, high cheeks, a strong jaw and large amber eyes to match that unruly mop on her head. The only thing he thought of, with some disappointment was that she was too thin and probably would die in childbirth. Her figure did not appear strong enough to handle the rigors of childbirth. He liked his women with more meat on their bones. Like his friend’s wife he’d just left, the Lady Danielle back at Gravane manor. Why couldn’t he have been blessed with a Saxon wife as that? The image of Lady Danielle’s voluptuous and tempting curves came back to him.

  Indeed, he’d no luck.

  Back in Normandy, the women there were not only raving beauties, but curvy. But, aye, it mattered not. He did not have to like this wench.

  He said, “Lady Barnett.” He would not bow. “Your betrothed stands before you. I am, Rourke Thorsson.” He kept his title to himself and waited. Her smile disappeared. Her amber eyes sparkled and went wide.

  He recognized the familiar look of horror flash in them over his size, and then it was quickly replaced- with anger. He ignored it as he always did. Yet, she surprised him when she met his gaze with a brave jut of that strong jaw.

  Alexa wished she had been successful in cutting off his head. Nay! Beautiful or not, this oversized warrior could not be who the King had promised to Lisbeth. Aye, what was she thinking, it could. Their new King was indeed a cold unfeeling man. Lisbeth would have taken one look at this hulk of a man and burst into tears with a plea to beg off the wedding. Oh no. Alexa narrowed her eyes. She could not marry this man either. She had to get away or she would have to kill him.

  She could not help but voice her objections aloud. “Next time I will take your head, Norman bastard.” She wiped at his blood on her tunic between her thumb and forefinger with relish before she smeared it slowly across her chest to further emphasize her slice of victory.

  Rourke’s hand went to his neck and felt the cut. His fingers came away wet. He stepped to her. He gazed down at her and said in a deadly whisper. “There will not be a next time, wench. Come the morrow, I will plant my seed in you.” He ignored her screech of rage.

  “Your king-“

  “Our k
ing!” he corrected.

  “Your king may force me to marry you, but I tell you this and best you remember it. You will indeed have to lock me up or kill me before I give you an heir or have you touch me, Norman bastard.” She spat at him.

  She gasped as with lightning speed he bound her hands behind her back with the sash he had at his waist and slammed her hard against his frame. He had moved so fast she had had no time to move. The corner of his lips turning up told her he enjoyed her flinch. Alexa let out a breath. The fury that blazed from his green eyes matched how she felt inside.

  “You may have learned to wield and play with a sword, but you have not learned how to hide your thoughts.” A cold smile spread upon his full lips that did not reach his green-eyed steely gaze. He continued with a shrug of those massive shoulders. “So be it. You will be locked away until my child is born. Hellion of a wench you may be, but you will not be escaping this union. Barnett lands are now mine and that makes you mine. No one takes what belongs to me. You do well to remember that and quickly, Lady Barnett. For it will make this marriage much easier, perhaps even pleasant for you.”

  Alexa glared at him and took a deep breath when he set her away from him a little, putting some space between them. He smiled, showing a flash of white teeth. The devil’s grin as his green eyes bored coldly into hers.

  He mounted the big warhorse and with little effort, pulled her up in front of him, face down across his lap. Her arse in the air. Her eyes fell upon his heavily muscled thigh down to the long ominous looking black axe fastened to the side of his saddle.

  Rourke ignored the string of profane words that spewed from her mouth as they descended the hill towards her home.

  TWO

  Alexa was so full of rage that her body shook with it. Just a little more than a sennight ago, bastard William’s messenger had arrived with news that she was to marry in Lisbeth’s stead. Then to have the Dark Axe arrive today, without warning. She could see why he was called such; it was not from his fair head. It was from that dark scowl the man wore. Alexa wanted to punch something. But there was nothing to punch other than her pillow.

  That rotten bastard had not only carried her inside her own home over his large shoulder past his sea of soldiers, who did little to hide their mirth, but past her servants, who lowered their heads ashamed. The final insult had been when the Norman had torn the cloth from Camm’s hands, her maid, and shoved it into Alexa’s mouth, gagging her to muffle the string of her promised threats.

  He’d held her firmly with one hand over his shoulder. His large hand seated just below her bottom and Alexa had turned even redder at the intimacy of his touch. The man did not care. He’d asked of her maid to show him where her chambers were and Camm had scurried ahead to show him.

  Once inside her chamber, he dropped her unceremoniously in the middle of her bed. Before Alexa could scramble off, he had grabbed her by her foot hard, with such a jolt; she had seen stars, stilling her movements.

  His words had been hard as he spoke over her heavy breathing with dead calm. “You will learn quickly enough that I never break my word, wench. Think you to do me harm with your squire sword? I will exact punishment in time for that mistake. As you wish, you will be locked up until we are wed and Lady Barnett,” he’d spoken the words a fraction away from her ear as they were meant for her ears only as he finished, “after my son is born, I will see what I can do about having your other request met.”

  She had stiffened at the threat. He wouldn’t kill her would he? Aye, the glint in his eyes told her he would. Perhaps she had been hasty in her anger.

  Others had accompanied them into the room. Another man, almost as tall as her future husband, had stood at his back along with two soldiers and they had rope.

  Rope that she now twisted and pulled against as she lay confined to the middle of her own bed. He had tied her with both arms to each post and her long legs, tied together at the bottom. The gag was still in her mouth. He’d left orders with Camm that it was only to be removed when she was to be fed or given water. Like an animal. After he’d first removed it, it'd been her own fault for she'd been unable to contain her fury and her vile threats against his person had spewed from her mouth. The giant that stood behind him had shaken his head no at her as though in warning, but Alexa had not cared.

  Upon nightfall, Camm came in to give her food and drink. She would have been relieved to see her maid and friend had it not been for the two soldiers that accompanied her. The men even remained when Camm had accompanied her to the hidden alcove that led to the garderobe so that she could relieve herself. Worse yet, the brooding brute was there to overlook the soldiers duty the entire time and to assure that Camm had no chance to talk to her beyond anything of relevance. Further orders from that Norman bastard. The brute made her uncomfortable the way his dark eyes watched her every movement.

  Morning came all too soon and the big brute, Alexa soon found out from Camm, was her bridegroom’s right hand man. His dark eyes made her nervous. He watched her intently and the soldiers like a hawk and never uttered a word. The nightmare she was trapped in was not a dream for sleep eluded her and with the dawn, she came to know and feel the full truth and weight of her predicament. She was grieving over all that had happened in such a short time.

  Her father dead at the beginning of the year. A skilled and excellent rider had been thrown from his horse and ended up with a broken neck. Her mother dead ten summers when Alexa had been all of four and ten. Now, Lisbeth, gone.

  Alexa felt out of her body when the maids dressed her in the gown that would have been worn by her dead sister. This after a few alterations, still left the gown slightly short and tight across her bodice and under the arms. Lisbeth had been shorter and less full on top. Alexa’s bosom was bigger as were her well-toned arms. The material pinched and scratched her skin. She ignored it. She did not even come alive as she was led down through the dining hall, to the small chapel attached to the side of the manor. Her hands bound in front of her and the gag dangling around her neck. Ready for his use if needed. Alexa had said nothing.

  The old priest’s eyes had all but bulged with shock when he saw her and he moved to protest, but a dark look from the Norman had him lurch into the ceremony at a hasty pace before she was fully kneeling.

  Alexa was brought to the present by the grip the Norman used on her bound hands, each time she forgot or did not respond promptly, he tugged the rope tighter. Hating him more and more with each tug and damning him to hell, she glared at him when the priest came to the honor and obey part. The two of them stared at each other long and hard. His green eyes looked right through her. Alexa knew right then what she’d thought earlier to be true. He’d neither heart nor soul. Why did someone not kill her now? Why could she not lie next to Lisbeth than have to endure this man’s touch? She shook off a shiver of deep despair.

  His golden brows furrowed at her movement and anger shot from those green eyes. He yanked on the rope hard. She broke the challenging gaze and said what was demanded of her.

  It was done.

  Then she turned back to him. Alexa opened her mouth and told him, “Know this and never forget it. I will never obey you or any man.” As she’d known, he reached out and placed the gag back in her mouth with ease as though he’d just fed her something with gentle care. It did not stop her tirade and she continued, although her words were muffled, she saw in his eyes that he understood every word. “Especially not a Norman murdering bastard like you.”

  For a brief second Alexa felt fear as his gaze turned deadly and seemed to engulf her as he yanked her hard up against his chest, pulled by the rope.

  “Aye, Lady Thorsson, you will.” His lips touched hers over the gag in a chaste kiss, so feather light she was not even sure he had touched her. But the warmth in her face told her that he had.

  He pulled back as if burned with what looked like disgust upon his beautiful face, yet, she saw something else flicker in his eyes and then it was gone just as quickly. Alexa
could not help but add, “Whoreson!”

  Rourke advanced quickly and snatched her arms up in a tight grip. “You will cease your name calling. Know this, ‘twill not stop me from planting my seed in you and being overlord here. I care not if you like it or not. Do you not give me a son, you will face the consequences.”

  The priest choked in protest at the ominous threat. Rourke quickly dismissed the cleric. His man, Goran came to her aid next.

  “Rourke. Now you just wed her. You cannot kill her.”

  “Aye. I can.”

  Time froze and Alexa could only stare at him. The look in his eyes told her he spoke truth. With a muffled cry, she tried to wrench free, but he held tight a moment longer. His face was so close to hers, she could see the little scars long healed upon his cheeks and the storm unfurling in his emerald eyes. Then he thrust her away from him with a hard shove. “Get her out of my sight,” he roared and quit the chapel and Alexa found herself in Goran’s outstretched arms.

  Alexa was undressed quickly by the maids and again, she shared a look with Camm, praying for a moment alone with her friend and maid. But there was no chance of that with the soldiers present. Although they had their backs turned away this time, they were still in the room and within ear shot. She felt like a prisoner and embarrassed as the only familiar face in her room was that of Camm’s.

  Out of the three other women attending her, there was a new face that had not been there earlier. A plump, redhead, her servant clothes cleaner than the rest, kept shooting dark glares every now and then in her direction as she moved with the others to prep the bed.

  Finally, Alexa had a brief second alone with Camm, and free of her gag for the moment, she whispered as low as she could. “Who are these women, Camm?”