“I’m glad you are considering it, m’lord,” she said, assuming he was. “I promise to never speak ill of you to the child. I will tell him all the battle tales I hear of you, even the embellished ones. I will tell him you are a great hero. I know you have reasons to doubt my word, but truly, it can be trusted. Just ask anyone. I’m an honorable woman.”
The torchlight flickered over the span of their silence. Her lashes dipped to hide eyes that drowned in aspirations of victory. Brant couldn’t move. What could he say to her? Where did he start? Why did she hate him so much and wish to be rid of him?
She dared a step forward and reached out a tentative hand for him to shake in agreement. Brant eyed her hand before turning back to her eager expression. Throwing back his head, he laughed, unable to help himself. The sound echoed off the walls, loud and hard and crude even to his own ears. But what else could he do?
Her expression iced over at the sound. When he started to settle, his eyes tearing with merriment, she jerked her suspended hand away. Giving her a devilish grin, he was pleased when she stared at his mouth. He couldn’t stop himself from licking his lips. She gasped, again turning her eyes away.
“It will not work, this plan. What if you are not pregnant after one time?” With deliberate slowness, Brant let his gaze caress her. A blush stained her cheeks and he knew she didn’t understand his attentions. And, in not understanding, she had no defenses to fight them. He placed one palm on the wall and the other on the edge of the loom.
“Would you deny the facts? Is there to be no honesty in you to me, yet I am expected to speak only in truths? At least Stuart is man enough to tell me the truth about the marriage bed. That it only needs be done once and not the numerous times most husbands would have their wives believe.” She closed her eyes briefly and softened her tone. “I will not tell the man secret to anyone. I will let you lie and say you had your fill of me. Tell your men I demanded too much of your attentions and you grew tired of me, for surely I’m not pleasing to your temperament. It’s all right. You can get me with child that one time. Though I do request you drug me if you have the knowledge to do so. I would prefer to not remember it.”
Brant laughed again. The woman was actually asking him to take her while she was lethargic. The thought of bedding a lifeless maiden gave him little pleasure. “It’s not the truth your cousin speaks, lady wife.”
“Stuart would not lie to me. He cares for me. He is my only family.”
“Nay, I am now your only family.” Brant moved his hand to gently cup her face, forcing himself to be patient. For a brief, tempting moment, he thought about taking her there in the sewing chamber, willing or no, as was his right. His body urged him to do so, painfully aware of all he denied it. Trying to ignore the insistence of his straining arousal, he took a deep breath. She tried to push his hand away, but he caught her wrist and forced it to the wall by her head. “Nay, I will touch you when and where I want. The sooner you learn to accept my handling, the better it will be for you. Of that I can promise.”
Della’s ire only hid the shameful tears that welled inside. Desire made its way into her and she hated the betrayal of her body. She couldn’t believe Stuart would lie to her about the marriage bed. It was the one truth to which she had clung. Stuart had told her the marriage bed would not be pleasant, reluctantly confirming her worst childhood fears. He had no reason to lie.
Brant could never guess the pain she felt at his sexual promises. Why couldn’t he leave her be? She didn’t want to feel anything for him, didn’t want the confusion of his nearness. Her eyes met his entrancing blue ones and her limbs tingled with the heat of his nearness.
“Why do you lie to me?” she whispered.
“Are you so misled, Della, that you think a man can control how a woman gets with child? Lovemaking is not an exact art. Oft times it takes many wonderful attempts to beget an heir and more so is done for pleasure with no thought of begetting heirs.” Brant’s words washed over her numbed brain and she was entranced by the movements of his lips. She jolted as his finger made a simmering trail down her arm to her wrist. “So you see, I cannot leave immediately after bedding you to travel the world thrice in comfort.”
She didn’t resist as he lifted her hand above her head to join her wrists together. All traces of anger seemed to fade from him to be replaced by something she didn’t recognize. Her breasts swelled and her nipples hardened against the thin material of her dress, the peaks reaching out to him in deprivation. Heat worked its way over her and she tried unsuccessfully not to look at him.
The sewing chamber darkened as the torch on the wall sputtered. Light danced along his strong face. Relentless, his gaze pierced into her. She smelled the fresh scent of mint on his breath as he leaned closer.
“I have seen much of the world, Della, and it is tiresome to me. I long for a home to live in and a warm bed to go to each night. I’m weary of fighting and of wars. And when I have children, I wish to see them grow and play. I wish for peace, for I have seen much of death.”
“Mayhap, you could reside at Blackwell. We could have it rebuilt any way you wished.” The words were a last defense. His nearness confused her, until she ached to touch him. She would have if he hadn’t trapped her arms over her head. “There is no reason why we must reside together. Blackwell is close enough that you could see your child when you wanted. All you will have to do is send for him and he will come to you. There will be no reason for you to see me, except, mayhap, once a year to go over the accounting of the land. You could keep a mistress there to warm your bed. I would not mind it. I would not care if people gossiped. It could work.”
“Perchance, I should give you a small demonstration of how cold your misguided view is, lady wife. Mayhap then you will not be so eager to be rid of me.” His breath whispered softly against her mouth as he looked at her breasts. The mounds ached to have his lips against them once more. Her breathing deepened, rivaling the beat of her heart. He adjusted his hold, pulling her arms higher. The gesture forced her more vulnerably forward and he groaned in approval.
Beginning at her captured wrist, he lightly caressed her through the thin material of her long tunic dress. She sighed and trembled, giving little resistance. He ran an uneven trail down the limb, under the curve of her elbow, over the pit of her arm, and down the side of her slim waist.
Leaning her head back against the wall, she bit her lips to suppress a moan. The heat of his gentle hand moved over the sensitive curve of her breast in a teasing press. She didn’t think to fight him as he stirred the lustful fire inside her. The wave of pleasure she felt, as his breath fell hot against her throat, frightened her.
“Methinks my touch does not repulse you as much as you would like.” Brant leaned close to her ear, but the words hardly registered. “You might have to lie with a man a hundred times before you carry his babe or only a dozen. When you finally do, there is no certain way to make sure it is a boy. You might have to carry several before you beget a male. That would mean even more time in the marriage bed. What think you of that, Ice Princess?”
“That is not possible.” She could barely focus on what he said, or the responses she gave. An intense ache formed between her thighs and her hips begged her to lean more fully into him. He was all around her, yet he scarcely touched her. Closing her eyes, she offered him her mouth. “Stuart would not lie to me.”
“Yea, he would. If he thought doing so would get him this keep and my title.” Brant let his lips brush the side of her cheek. Della panted. Her breast pressed fully into his palm and he grabbed the soft mound of flesh, giving her the caress she unwittingly sought. He rubbed hard against her nipple until it slipped out of the top of her gown. She’d been so entranced by him that she hadn’t felt him loosen the dress laces. Massaging the exposed bud with the tip of his finger until it was erect, he caused a soft moan to escape her.
“Nay, I cannot believe it. Stuart would not lie to me. He is not like you.” Della tried desperately to remember w
hy she must fight him, why she must hate him. She moved her head away. Like a faint beacon in the back of her mind, she recalled his unreasonable anger and deliberately said the only thing she could think of to protect herself. “Do you forget why you are here, m’lord? Do you still think I played you false?”
The words would anger him, but that anger was the only way she could drive him away from her. It took him a moment to understand what she asked, but the second he did, he stiffened and dropped her wrists. With a flick of his finger, he covered her nipple with her gown.
Della sensed an acute pain at his withdrawal and slowly moved her arms back down to her sides. Her sex was moist under her skirt and she wondered if she started her woman’s time a sennight early. It would be unusual if she did.
That would explain the mysterious sensations in my body, she reasoned, needing to make sense of all she felt.
“Explain yourself. What were you doing here with Quinn, if not playing me false?” Brant’s accusing gaze shot sparks of fire.
Della suddenly grew very tired of his assault on her character. His dizzying caresses left her weak and vulnerable and she didn’t have the strength to keep fighting him. Defiant, she lifted her chin. “You are an unscrupulous man and you are overly jealous in nature. It’s a wonder you let me out of your sight for more than a moment. Mayhap you should chain me to the bed by my leg, lest I try to go to the garderobes alone.” She pushed violently past him and took several strides across the floor. Kneeling, she picked up the tunic Quinn had dropped in his haste to escape her husband’s wrath. She was angrier at the betrayal she felt in her body than at him, but she blamed him anyway.
Damned pagan curse!
“Do not turn your back on me,” Brant ordered. “You will leave when I say you can.”
Della stood and turned, her mouth open in disbelief. “You lout. For your information, you are more to Quinn’s taste in bed partner than I am. As for your mistrust of my virtue…” Brant pointed his finger in warning. Della raised her arm and launched the long tunic at his head. “Here! It was to be a surprise—a gift for helping me with my father’s funeral.” He caught it against his stomach. “But it would seem you are not deserving of the consideration. I should let you walk about the manor dressed as a pauper. As to the others I made you, I will have them burned immediately. I would never give them to you now. Go to Blackwell Manor and live there. Go anywhere, just leave here.”
“Della,” Brant interjected.
“Nay, I don’t wish to hear another word from you!” Tears brimmed her eyes and pain poured from her heart. “I’m tired of being your wife. I hate you, I hate your friends, and I hate your heritage. I hate how I feel when you touch me. I hate everything about you. You repulse me, lord husband, and I wish to be rid of you always.”
Della sniffed back any tears that might have fallen. Brant didn’t move. Without another word, she spun on her heels and ran from the chamber.
Brant watched her go, at a loss for words. He shook with the force of his longing and could still smell the sweet scent of her neck, could still feel the ache caused by the innocent brush of her cheek. He wanted her and his member had been raised to the point of explosion. It had required all of his control not seize hold of her and take her on the floor like a rutting boar. But all desire had left his body at the blatant exclamation of her hatred for him.
The sound of her footfalls echoed farther away until disappearing altogether. When he could no longer hear her, he turned his stare to the black long tunic she had made for him. The fabric of the tunic was gripped in his palms and he could feel the fine quality of the linen.
During times of war, a knight had little use for finery, so he had never bothered to order it made. The tunic gift was perhaps the finest he’d ever owned. The stitching was small and precise and that she had made it especially for him he had no doubt, for the size was perfect and not many men would fill such a garment.
He felt like a fool as he ran his finger over the fine gold embroidery. Glancing near where she’d been working, he found five other finished tunics in a pile. Brant’s pride in the garments welled in his throat. None were as fine as the black one he held, but all were of excellent quality. And all had been made for him. No one had ever taken such care in a gift for him before, let alone six gifts.
Gingerly, he picked up the tunics and laid them over his arm. Perusing them as he walked, he shook his head in shame. He had ruined his wife’s surprise.
Chapter Seven
The main hall smelled of lye as the maids hauled buckets of hot, soapy water from the kitchen’s hearth to the bare stone of the hall floor. Several maids scoured the stone with coarse brushes made of animal fur, whereas others carted what was left of the dirty straw rushes to the bailey yard. The worst of the straw was taken out to a controlled fire Della had lit in a large outdoor pit. The rest of it would be stored as winter bedding for the animals.
Thoughtfully, Della waved an older servant to her. The plump woman walked with the ease of a girl half her age. Della ordered her to have the maids continue up the stairwell with their brushes. It had been months since the manor had been given a good cleaning and now was as good a time as any to do so. As an afterthought, she also ordered the tapestries shaken and the walls underneath scrubbed. The maid frowned at the order, not wanting to be the one to relay it to the already tiring servants.
Della stretched her hands over her head with a yawn. She watched in quiet satisfaction at the progress she had already made. After the failed encounter with Brant, she’d purposely not sought him out, choosing instead to have the maids begin cleaning the hall. The horrible chore had to be done and she refused to put it off another day. It would be too smelly in the keep if she continued to let the spilled wedding feast rot in the rushes.
Della hadn’t seen Brant since his earlier tirade in the sewing chamber and was secretly glad for it. Although, she did look for him every time she helped cart a load of straw to the bailey. She hated to admit that she didn’t trust herself around him. Until she found a way to counteract the pagan love spell he had woven over her senses, she would have to stay away from him. Or at least away from his magnetic touch.
“Riders are coming!” Rab’s childish voice cracked as he ran into the great hall. Della glanced up and wiped her hands on her apron. The lad smiled boyishly when he saw her and waved to get her attention. “M’lady, riders are coming!”
“Rab, calm yourself and try to breathe.” Della turned to the excitable child. Catching the eye of a nearby servant, she motioned to the bailey yard with a wave of her hand. “Cart that to the pit.”
Rab bounced as he waited for Della to turn back to him. She gave a few more orders before giving her full attention to the boy.
“Now, what is it?” Della inquired of the noisy lad. Rab playfully bounded closer. Della reached out and rumpled his hair while pulling him to her waist with a hug.
“Riders, m’lady.” Rab looked at his feet, tolerating her affection. Then, drawing away from her, he announced, “They are coming up to the main gate from the south. They are about a half of an hour ride from here.”
Della furrowed her brows in concern. Who would be visiting the manor now? Had they not just gotten rid of a bunch of guests?
“Have you told Lord Blackwell?”
“Nay, m’lady.” Rab gave her a guilty look. “I’m frightened of him.”
Della tried not to smile at the boy’s earnest answer. She felt relief that the lad still came to her. She’d feared that in locking herself away to grieve, the people’s judgment of her authority might have wavered. Impishly, she could not help but encourage the lad’s observations. “Yea, he is frightening, is he not?”
Rab chuckled. Della hid her guilty pleasure at the taunt.
“Shall we go tell him together?” She ignored the fact she’d been telling herself all day that she was not going to seek Brant out. “I believe he’s in the exercise yard with the men. Mayhap they will let you watch.”
Rab no
dded.
“Keep working,” Della ordered the maids, who’d stopped to watch them with interest. She moved her hand to the back of the lad’s head and led him out the arch of the side door. When they were away from the listening ears of the servants, Della said, “I’m sorry that we have not had time for our lessons, Rab.”
“Yea, m’lady.” Rab gave a halfhearted smile. Della knew the boy was fond of her. Since she had taken an interest in him, none of the other children in the keep seemed to tease him as much. “I’m sorry about yer sire. We all knew you were abovestairs mourning fer the ealdorman. I would have visited you, but Isa caught me and said it was not fitting fer me to do so.”
Della nodded as an unsuspected wave of grief overcame her at the boy’s candid confession. Blinking fast so no one would see her tears, she sniffed and nodded.
“I want to see you tonight in the usual place after dinner. I hope you have practiced what I taught you last time. If you are going to be a clerk here, you need to know how to read.” Della smiled fondly at Rab’s overgrown hair. “And you are in need of a haircut.”
“Nay, I do not want to be a clerk,” Rab grumbled. The boy picked a stick off the ground and wielded it like a sword. “I want to grow me hair out like Lord Blackwell and his men. So I can be a warrior!”
“My hair,” corrected Della. She gave him a stern look as she struggled not to smile. “And surely, Rab, you don’t want to be a knight. You’d have to carry a sword and mayhap you would have a horse.”
“Nay, a war steed!”
Della gave him a wry look as she thought about it. Nodding, she consented, “Yea, a war steed.”
“I would have me own battalion of knights to command!” The boy’s green eyes lit up with delight as he imagined his grand future as a noble knight. “And I—”
Lord of Fire, Lady of Ice Page 10
