The Northern Knights Series (Boxed Set)

by Amber Dane

Alexa froze. He wouldn’t?

  He must have known what she was thinking for he said, “Aye, hellion, I would. Which is where you belong for your threats and untamed tongue the whole of the manor heard. Yet, I have decided to be kind enough, to be lenient so to speak. After all, we are now wed and I am willing to grant you some freedom. Although you shall remain confined to the luxury of this chamber… ‘twill be untied. Do you not know some men bed their wives and leave them to live out their remaining years in a tower? Chained and stripped of the life they had known before. However, seeing that the single tower here is in ill repair at the moment that option is out.”

  Rourke knew he should have stopped when her eyes went wide over his words, but his anger was too great the fury and hurt he read in her amber depths only fueled his anger further. He had no wish to care about her tender feelings. “I warned you before. Anyone that raises a weapon against me has never lived and this….” His free hand went to the fresh cut on his throat that she had given him and where she’d kissed him and cried out her pleasure last night.

  Her sword had done more than just prick his skin. A red scar about two inches long lay in a circular crest shape there. Alexa swallowed. That would explain some of his fury. Guess he’d gotten a better look at it too.

  Rourke fought not to shake her senseless. He pressed harder on her throat. “This is why you will remain in this room until you are with child. Your own words have come true. You shall have no freedom until then. All your meals will be in here. You will have guards at the door whenever I am not present and as for any of your hare-brained ideas on escape. One will be posted below your window.”

  How did he know about her thoughts of escape? Alexa was ready to erupt, but the pressure he applied to her throat silenced her as did his dark look.

  “I know what you think before you think it. Aye. You may swing a blade like a squire in training, but your silly try at a man’s weapon has cost you. You will not even be allowed a knife for meals. I told you, I never break my word, hellion.” Finally, he dropped his hand from her throat.

  Rage, hurt and disbelief blinded her and what caused her to swing at him, but Rourke caught, to his surprise, her tightly balled fist in his large hand.

  “You, Norman bastard! I am not your servant to do with as you wish nor your property to do with as you will.” Her gritty voice grew raw as she yelled at him.

  Rourke snatched her arm and shook her, replying. “You are mine. ‘Tis your mouth that gets you into trouble. This is the last time, I warn you, to cease cursing me and calling me a bastard. I will not tell you again. Why your father allowed you such liberties is beyond me. ‘Twas a grievous mistake. Saxons.” He said the last with such derision and a sneer on those full lips that Alexa flinched.

  “But you will obey me.” Rourke finished with a roar.

  He saw the myriad of emotions in those eyes, but he refused to acknowledge any of it and besides he didn’t want to. He needed to keep her at a distance. He’d felt more than he wished last night and it had driven him mad all morn and was what drove him more so now than the small scratch on his throat.

  In the next breath, she tore at him like a wildcat with her free arm and Rourke was taken aback at the punch she delivered to his middle. He coughed in surprise. She screamed at him and he grappled with her long legs and arms. She bucked against him. He stumbled backwards and fell with her clutched to him on the bed. Then he flipped her over with a smooth maneuver and was on top of her.

  “My father taught me well so I could fight over Norman murdering bastards like you. If he still breathed he’d have cut your head off himself.” Alexa spat as he pinned her body to the bed. Enraged further by the feel of his hard body against hers and her volatile reaction, Alexa felt tears sting her eyes. “Damn you and this marriage to hell. I hate you!”

  Rourke captured both her hands in his and pulled her arms above her head. A cruel smile curled his lips and he said calmly, “Good. At least we agree on that. But, no hell until you grow fat with my seed and produce my son. Then I will be all too happy to let you use the rest of your days spent in misery and in your own hell. For that too, you will get your wish granted.”

  He felt her go rigid beneath him, ready to fight again. He pressed down on her harder. “You will need more strength than this to fight me. There will be no more talk on the matter. Now cease your struggles. I can allow you to walk freely about this chamber or I can easily strap you back down to the bed.” He read the hurt of his words in her wide amber eyes and ignored the pull of it. . Her soft curves were starting to stir something inside him and he knew he needed to get out of the room quickly. He felt her stiffen in anger and returned her gaze of fury with one of his own.

  Sorrow and anger seized her heart and Alexa embraced it. Her life was over. He was wrong, hell had already arrived.

  Hell had come the day he’d arrived and now it held its fiery gates of purgatory wide open to her. She licked her lips and replied with as much menace in her tone as she could muster and told him, “You do best to tie me. For to let me be, I promise you, Norman, if I get a knife in my hands, I will finish what I started.”

  The last thing she wanted was to be tied again, but she would die before she let him know that. Alexa refused to give him one ounce of satisfaction. The hope that she’d not known up till now that she held, was crushed. Engulfing fire now in its place. She had hoped for a difference, hell she had no idea what she’d expected, but it hadn’t been this. Murder and something else sprung up in his stormy green eyes, turning them almost emerald as he glared at her. She cared not.

  The silence stretched long between them. His breath as ragged and breathless as hers washed over her face as he stared down at her. She swallowed the lump of fear lodged in her throat. He would kill her now, Alexa was sure of it. Those full lips pulled into a thin line and he dipped his head and pressed them against her ear. His breath was hot against her and made her body, the betrayer that it was, shudder.

  “Your wish is granted.”

  His whiskered cheek slid across her skin and she shivered as he took her mouth. Alexa resisted. He did not care and continued to kiss her forcefully. Alexa tried to turn away, but he held her there until she opened her mouth. She tried to bite his tongue as he slid himself in. She fought it as best as she could and just as his kiss started to soften and draw a response from her, he raised his golden head, flipped again and had her arms tied once more above her head. Alexa fumed.

  Her eyes followed him as he moved off her and stood. The smile of triumph on his face cut her deep. But, the feeling was short-lived. Then it was her turn to smile in triumph. As his eyes had raked over her length slowly, when they met hers again, she could see the visible rage that shook his body. And she knew why.

  It was passion she saw there in his green eyes as he held her gaze. Without a word, that dark scowl back in place, he turned and quit the chamber. Alexa screamed and pummeled the bed with her feet. She vowed that she was going to hate him forever. Being married to this man would be the death of him or her.

  FIVE

  Being married to her was going to be the death of her or him, Rourke thought as he rode his horse, Black, hard and fast up the steep rock and grassy incline on the other side of the Barnett burial ground. Goran rode silently at his side, too silently. Which Rourke welcomed, for he was in no mood for his close friend’s tongue as he was still too riled to do aught but ride to cool his temperament and clear his head of the hellion lying back there in bed.

  Goran had followed when he’d stormed out and Rourke had known he was there at his back, but had said nothing. It was simply Goran’s way.

  Rourke’s breath was as hard as Black’s when he slowed and eased the great warhorse into an easy canter to cool down along the flat surface of the hill. Rourke’s gaze swept back down over the moderate sized courtyard of Barnett manor and the small village surrounding it.

  He had a great view from this vantage point and could see the tops of trees and scarcely the top of o
ther neighboring manors leagues away. A prime location for his needs. A castle would do fine right here, but instead of the quickly earthen structures; his would be mostly of stone to stave off fires. The way his king had instructed his own to be built.

  “Have you told her yet?”

  Goran’s voice cut through his thoughts. Rourke shook his head in reply. Goran said no more.

  Rourke knew of what it was his friend spoke. His thoughts went back to that night William had added all this to his already vast fiefdom. Estates near Wales had been his first award for his service and loyalty with William bestowing the title Lord of Westlan upon him. After securing the northern tier and taking that last ride into Scotland with William a few months past to meet with the Scottish King Malcolm III, he along with several other loyal vassals were given even more holdings on that dark, cold and rainy night.

  The night the treaty of Abernethy had been signed.

  The Scottish king had given refuge to many fleeing nobles of the north who had rebelled against William and had raided the North one too many times. A semblance of peace had finally been reached for now at least, Rourke let out a sigh. Then upon their return, William had broached the subject of the vast acres of Barnett lands. He had not only awarded Barnett to him, but a bride with it.

  That, Rourke grunted, he could have done without and he rubbed absently at the deep ache forming in his chest.

  The manor was hidden deeply amongst a forest of trees all around high on a hill. He and Goran now sat on the open spot of lush green where he would begin to forge his legacy, a Norman castle.

  He had more than enough to call his own now. Serving William on the battlefield and surviving it all had rewarded him handsomely.

  However, that odd sensation he’d been feeling over the past several months niggled again at his gut. Weary and nigh sick of all the battles, he was ready to settle down. But, a wife had not been part of his dream this time.

  His dream of a family and son had died back on that day long ago with Jacqueline.

  He could easily enough get his get on any wench and be mother and father to it. That had been his plan. He’d been a bastard and despised what it meant growing up. He would not wish the early hardships he’d endured upon his son. With all he held before Barnett he’d enough to see any child of his loins well cared for. Now that plan had gone to rot.

  His wife believed him to be a landless bastard and that acquiring her lands made him whole.

  God’s blood!

  Until the hellion submitted he would share no information with her. He would still have his son from the hellion whether she liked it or not.

  The feisty she devil was ready to kill him He winced as the ache ballooned inside his chest. He was the master here and he would bend her to his will. Not the other way around.

  With that thought, Rourke let out a painful breath and dismounted, taking his axe from the side of the saddle. Goran watched him walk away from a patch of rowan trees to two great oaks spaced far apart and hacked with two hearty swings of the sharp axe into the thick base of each.

  Chest heaving with exertion, he lowered the heavy weapon to his side and wiped the blade with an oiled cloth before fastening the axe back to the saddle. The handle of it fit like a second skin. It had been made special for him as had his sword by his long dead blacksmith. A man that had seen many seasons, and who had been more of a father to him than the bastard that had sired him. Rourke’s lips turned down as his eyes narrowed on his namesake. He hated the weapon as much as he could not part with it.

  “The workers will start to build here. Come, Goran, 'tis time to sit with Barnett’s seneschal and see to the way of this manor. But, first, I want to visit with this talented blacksmith we keep hearing about. ” Rourke said as his breath evened out.

  “Aye.” Goran said no more as they descended the green and rocky hill. His friend and lord had been in a foul mood since he’d come below stairs. Goran had known not to ask about the wedding night just by the fierce look Rourke had on his face. He smiled as he watched him, their pace slower now as they neared the manor. His friend had finally met his match in the skinny hellion. Goran had barely been able to contain his laughter when Rourke had told him how he’d gotten that cut to his throat. Feisty spirit, that’s what his friend needed. Someone to get under his thick skin. Someone to tell him no. Goran’s grin broadened when Rourke suddenly turned to blister him with a dark knowing look and a raised brow. Aye, Goran believed his lady had just done that.

  If her fight as she was tossed up and carried about through the manor the first day was any indication, the magnificent Dark Axe was in for a long battle of a different sort that Goran had a feeling this time he would not come out the victor.

  SIX

  Alexa woke to the sound of someone moving about the room. She had cried herself to sleep after that Norman swine had left her. She opened her heavy and swollen lids to see what had caused the noise.

  The sun had gone down. Dusk was setting its orange and plum blanket over the manor, yet still cast some light into the room. Long tapers were lit on the table on the other side of the window and Alexa found the red-haired maid standing near it holding a platter of food.

  Why was the girl she bringing her food? Where was Camm?

  Alexa was taken aback at the look in the maid’s eyes and an icy chill shot down her spine. The girl wished her harm, she could feel it. Anger replaced her moment of surprise. It was time for her to put the maid in her place. “What is your name, girl?”

  The petite buxom maid set the platter of food and drink on the table before she faced her again. Her lips curled up at the corners and Alexa cursed her husband and her restraints.

  “My name is Lina, my lady.”

  Alexa opened her mouth, but a noise at the chamber door caused them both to look there.

  He was in the door. He came into the room, his gaze fixed on the startled maid. He’d made a sound for once, Alexa thought. Lina turned to look back at the bed and Alexa quickly shut her eyes, feigning sleep as her anger coiled around her.

  “My lord, I just brought up my lady’s tray.” The girl sounded like she had just come from a hard run.

  “Where is my wife’s maid?” Rourke’s question made Alexa’s brows draw together. His tone held a hint of suspicion. Or did she want to think it did?

  “She…She had to help cook with some other chore I knew naught of, so she asked me to bring my lady’s tray up in her stead. ‘Tis alright is it not, my lord?”

  Rourke’s reply was curt. “Aye, ‘Tis fine.”

  An uncomfortable quiet filled the room, then Alexa heard it.

  “I miss you, my lord.”

  The maid’s sultry hush caused Alexa to stiffen. Something inside her stomach twisted and the spark of anger blossomed fully. She fought to remain still and keep her eyes shut.

  “Lina, ‘tis neither the time nor place. Now, please, that is all for this eve.” His response was even more abrupt.

  Alexa heard the chamber door close. She let out the angry breath she held and opened her eyes.

  She was so angry over the feelings flowing through her that she could put no name to and let out the breath she’d been holding and opened her eyes. Only to inhale sharply again.

  The devil stood right next to the bed staring down at her. He had not left with the maid. His cold gaze told her he knew that she did not sleep.

  “You have to do better than that to fake being asleep, hellion. I could see your body stiffen from the door,” he declared with that fierce scowl on his face and she wanted to slap him.

  Alexa turned her head away. She did not wish to speak with him, let alone look at him. She was still fighting mad from their earlier encounter and wanted to use that anger to fuel her hatred for the Norman. Rather she tell herself that than believe it had anything to do with the intimate exchange he’d had with Lina. But, it was not as easy as she thought.

  “Your meal is here. I see you did not eat much from the noonday platter. You will ne
ed to eat more to build strength so that you will be able to bear my child without issue. A healthy weight is needed to succor a babe.”

  She shot him a look of naked disgust as her eyes watched him reach up near her head. With a few quick movements, he undid the ropes, releasing her hands, but kept them in his grasp.

  She would not talk to him nor would she give him the satisfaction of knowing that his treatment of her and his words bothered her in the slightest.

  She looked at him with indifference. However, his soft curse told her that her act bothered him. His mouth drew down in a grimace and he looked tired, Alexa noted and cursed herself immediately for taking note. What did she care if the brute looked like he was ready to topple over?

  Rourke noted her expression of contrived indifference and fought back a curse. He could read her every thought, but he was too tired to fight with her this eve.

  “Are you going to behave?” His tone brusque.

  Alexa bit back her own oath as a tremor shot through her body from the hard look shooting from those tired bright green eyes, causing her to pause a long moment. Obviously, a moment too long for the bastard tightened his hold on the rope and tugged hard. She struggled not to fall at his feet and narrowed her gaze on him.

  Through gritted teeth, she replied tersely, “Aye.” Telling herself she spoke only because her arms hurt and she needed relief from the ache.

  He shrugged, a bored look upon his face and he let her go and moved to the table that held their food. Alexa’s legs were weak and she rubbed her wrists under the bit of room allotted between the thick rope and her skin. They were beginning to chafe and felt tender around the red ring.

  “Come. Eat.” Rourke, now seated at the table, reached out for a sweet meat, his eyes for once, to Alexa’s relief not on her. She walked to the bench and sat down.

  There were two silver platters. One filled with breads, cheeses, meats and the other a trencher of stew, fruits and nuts on the side. There were two trays. She chose the stew and after two bites of it, she stopped eating.