World of de Wolfe Pack: The Duke's Fiery Bride (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Hildie McQueen

  Rage surged and Gavin clenched the tankard. “Father has only been dead a few weeks.”

  A sigh escaped Alasdair and his brows lowered. “I miss my brother dearly. If anything, I expected him to live the longest. I understand you mourn Gavin. However, your duties as Lord and titled Duke of Selkirk come first. You must produce an heir with haste.”

  In essence, whether he loved the woman he married or not mattered little. What was important was to marry and to produce a male child. The woman would have to be prepared to have a second child in short order if the first was not a male child. Gavin scanned the room. Not seeing anything, his mind clouded. “When did you plan to tell me all this?”

  “The true reason for this gathering. The reason every family brings lasses from near and far is because word has been spread. You will be choosing a wife soon.”

  Now he understood the reference by Beatrice to it being his “coming out party.”

  “Uncle. You should have told me upon my arrival. Why all the secrecy?”

  Finally, Alasdair looked to his brother. “He will be cross upon learning I’ve told you all this. We know you. You are so much like him. Like your father. You will not be forced into anything. Your father requested we help you marry as soon as he passed. He also told us you would resist it.”

  Alasdair lifted a shoulder. “I can’t keep secrets.”

  “My father planned this?”

  “No. The gathering was my idea. Oh look.” The red-haired guard entered and looked around the room until finding Mullen’s wife. The woman fidgeted, refusing to make eye contact. Mullen jumped to his feet and rushed to where the guard stood.

  “Now, it’s about to get interesting,” Alasdair exclaimed.

  Gavin searched out Beatrice’s brother. The large male remained at the guards’ table. He stood and made his way to intercede between the guard and Mullen.

  The night was about to become interesting, indeed.

  ***

  “No. I don’t believe you.” Beatrice collapsed into the cushions of the chair she sat upon. “He asked for us to be married?”

  Her mother practically floated across the floor. “Aye, he did. Most formally. He had Oscar present his request to your father.”

  Of course, her mother failed to see that neither she nor Beatrice were included in the decision. “I don’t want to marry him. I’ll have to live far away.”

  “It's not that far,” her father grumbled and frowned at her. “The Lord has requested we return tomorrow for the exchange of vows.”

  “Tomorrow!” Beatrice jumped to her feet. “No. I refuse.” She looked to Oscar for help, her spirits boosted when he came to stand beside her.

  “Why can’t we ask for a fortnight?” her brother interceded. “Beatrice needs time to grow used to the idea. I can take her to his castle when the time is right.”

  “She will marry and be bedded tomorrow and that is final. The Lord already questions our fealty. This will prove our loyalty to him and ensure your mother and I have a place to grow old without fear of being sent away on a whim.” Her father refused to listen to anything more. Instead, he pointed at them both. “Oscar, you can travel with your sister to Hardigg Castle. Vow loyalty and join His Grace’s guard if you wish. But the marriage will happen.”

  This time, it was her mother who looked stricken. One hand over her mouth, her wide eyes looked to her husband. “Both...both my children...are to leave?”

  “Enough.” Although the command was quiet, there was no room for argument.

  Beatrice’s father left the room, her mother tagging behind, no doubt, to try to talk their father out of sending Oscar away. Although Beatrice was close to her mother, Oscar was definitely the favorite.

  Unable to stop herself, Beatrice stood and threw the nearest thing, a cup, across the room. “This is ridiculous. Why would the man decide to marry me of all people? There were so many willing lasses throwing themselves at him.”

  The kiss. It had to be. Why had she been so foolish as to walk out in the garden with him? Obviously, after the effects of it, he’d not been thinking clearly. She looked to Oscar, who remained quiet, his eyes on the fire in the hearth. “Is there a possibility he’ll change his mind by tomorrow?”

  “No.”

  Her brother was not helping by brooding. She stalked over to him and punched his shoulder. “Are you going to Hardigg Castle? You don’t have to.”

  His light brown eyes lifted to her and in them, she saw vulnerability. Something she’d rarely seen in her strong, brave brother. “I was to be lead guard here. At Hardigg Castle, I will have to prove myself again.”

  “There is no question about it then,” Beatrice said. “You will remain here. However, you must help me find a way out of marrying that...that rogue.”

  In a very uncharacteristic way, Oscar stood and enveloped her in his arms. He kissed the top of her head and chuckled. “Dear sister, the man is so taken by you that I will have to say there isn’t a way to convince him to change his mind. If I had to pick a husband for you, it would be someone who will come to love you and will treat you well. I do believe Gavin Mereworth is that man.”

  To keep him from seeing her tears, she pushed her face into the rough fabric of his tunic. He was right, of course. Not about Gavin being the man for her, but that, in a case like this, it was not a horrible scenario. Admittedly, she was past the age to marry and had put her father off long enough.

  “I will stop being a ninny then and prepare my things.” After wiping her nose on his tunic, Beatrice stepped away and smiled up at her brother. He looked down on his clothing with a horrified expression. “Oh, don’t act so annoyed. I’m sure you’ve had much worse spewed upon you.”

  When he chuckled and nodded, she went to her chambers to prepare.

  “Everything is packed for you lass.” Her maid opened a large truck that was filled with her clothes. “There is another smaller one there.” The older woman pointed to the wall.

  “I don’t suppose you’re coming with me?”

  The older woman shook her head. “My husband and I will remain here. However, your mother has requested I send Grisilda with you,” she replied, referring to her daughter who annoyed Beatrice. Grisilda had a screechy voice and was much too prying.

  “Oh.” She could not think of anything good to say about it, so Beatrice let out a breath. “Thank you for everything.”

  “I bid you farewell lass. May you be blessed with many young.”

  The woman shuffled away, sniffing and wiping her eyes, as Beatrice stood dumbfounded. Why would anyone think a bunch of smelly children would be considered a blessing? She huffed and sat at her dressing table to unbraid her long hair.

  The next day came with bright sunshine, gay bird song and a cheerful smile from her mother as she peered down at Beatrice. “Time to rise, my beautiful child. It’s your wedding day.”

  That her parents had very little time to plan her nuptials didn’t seem to bother them at all. They were probably too excited to be rid of their hellion daughter to grumble about it. Good thing the timing was short otherwise a parade from the village would have been organized.

  Beatrice attempted to bat her mother away. “Your cheerfulness hurts my eyes. I am not in the mood to rise early today.”

  “Nonsense.” The blankets were pulled away and her mother proceeded to pull her by the arms to sit. “Several village women will be arriving shortly. It is fortunate that Rose has a new gown she just made for Ina. Something good comes out of the misfortune of her intended leaving with the woman from the traveling peddler caravan. Of course, the poor girl wants nothing to do with the dress...”

  As her mother continued rattling off the story of the gown, Beatrice managed to drink a cup of tea and trudge across the room to sit at her dressing table.

  Within moments, as if by magic, she was surrounded by her mother’s friends. They tugged at her hair, pinched her cheeks, dabbed her with powders and stuck flowers in her hair.

  Two women wh
o acted as if they carried God’s very own sandals brought the gown in. Their faces reverent, they presented the gown to a roomful of accolades.

  Rose beamed as she turned to Beatrice. “It’s meant to be. The beautiful shades of autumn leaves are the perfect complement to your eyes, hair and complexion.”

  Since when had Rose become poetic? Beatrice pushed a flower at her temple out of the way to study the gown.

  It was hideous.

  To be fair, she’d never liked the color red. Her hair, complexion and eyes would not be brought out by the shade of crimson. Well, perhaps her eyes would, if she were honest. Perhaps a tear or two had been shed the night before after she’d gone to bed and her eyes felt very irritated at the moment. At least the neckline would keep her from accidentally spilling, unlike the dress from the night before.

  At Rose expectant expression, Beatrice imitated the other women’s initial reaction by gasping. “It’s stunning. Thank you.”

  Beatrice was guided to stand and step into the gown, which was pulled up. Finally, the fastenings were tightened until she wondered how long it would be before passing out would be the only option.

  “You look beautiful, dear.” Her mother’s face appeared behind her as Beatrice studied her reflection. The woman in the glass did not resemble her in the least. She had been painted, tugged and tucked. They’d changed her to look more like a gypsy than a bride. However, she had to admit the look was rather entertaining.

  Hopefully, Gavin would be appalled and change his mind. She bit her bottom lip. No, it would embarrass her family. It was time to be mature and accept her fate. She was to become the Lady of Selkirk, married to Lord Gavin Mereworth, Duke of Selkirk.

  “I hope he is a strong man who will be able to keep you in line,” her mother mumbled with brows drawn. “I pray for him.”

  There were whispers of agreement and Beatrice gave her mother a flat look. Eyes hooded, she let out a breath. “Women should not be tamed by men, but rather accepted and given freedoms to be themselves.”

  Rose patted her arm. “Some women need to be tamed, dear. You cannot hope to continue in your wild ways. You will be a lady. Someone who, at all times must maintain decorum so as not to embarrass her husband.”

  Why did the woman have to go and make the day worse? If ever there was a reason for Gavin not to marry her that was it. As soon as they arrived at the keep, she would inform him of the huge mistake he was about to make.

  Chapter Six

  “Swear you now, on this sacred blade, that there is no reason known to you that this union should not proceed,” The clergy said.

  “I do swear”...” Gavin spoke the words without hesitation and was glad his voice held steady and strong. He was a duke, after all, and no matter what the circumstances of the rushed wedding, it was necessary his men present not question his stance.

  Only Sinclair had dared question him on why the sudden marriage. He’d simply stated he wanted the wench and as she was from a family in good standing, it made perfect sense to marry her and not have the continued pestering to marry. Although his brother continued to suspect his uncles had something to do with it, he’d agreed that the feisty lass would, indeed, keep Gavin’s attention.

  His bride stood pale before him and he hated it. Although Beatrice kept her chin high, it trembled just enough for him to notice upon speaking her vows. Her eyes constantly searched his face as if he held the answer to why she suddenly found herself being married off to a total stranger.

  Women, of course, had no say in whom they married. Not those of station anyway. Beatrice should have been prepared for eventually marrying someone of her father’s choosing. That, however, did not make Gavin feel better. Most marriages did not happen for at least a fortnight, banns posted and all such nonsense. The time of betrothal would at least allow the bride to become accustomed to the idea of whom she’d be tied to for the rest of her life.

  In this case, however, she’d only one night.

  Their hands were brought together and the clergyman wrapped a red satin ribbon around them. The color matched her dress. He’d been alarmed at first seeing her, thinking she was someone else and that a cruel trick had been played upon him. It wasn’t until she’d come closer that he’d realized someone had stained her cheeks and lips. The pout, already alluring, was even more so now that it was the color of ripe berries.

  Truth be told, the part of the ceremony he looked forward to the most was taking her body. Gavin had no doubt she’d enjoy bedsport, for she’d been quite eager the night before in the garden.

  Although he’d insisted earlier there would be no witnesses at the bedding, his uncle, John, had disagreed and insisted there be at least two witnesses. The more proof the better he’d said to keep the Duke of Aldorf from arguing the marriage not to be valid.

  What was next? An artist’s depiction of the act?

  His uncle John now stood beside him, pride gleaming as the exchange was finally completed. “Your father would be proud of your choice of a bride,” the Lord stated, his gaze falling on Beatrice. “I do warn you, she is rather...unruly at times. However, she is quite a beauty.”

  The celebration meal was smaller than the night before, yet many townspeople remained an additional day to benefit from the second meal.

  It was like a repeat of the night before, with almost everyone sitting in the same seats. The big difference was that now she sat next to Gavin at the high board. Beatrice sent a pointed look to the table where the glaring women continued to well...glare at her. She pictured shooting them between the eyes with her arrows and that helped ease her annoyance. Only a bit.

  Gavin kept leaning to her and whispering in her ear. Each comment about how beautiful she looked and how eager he was to be alone with her made her stomach do strange things.

  Too rattled to eat, she drank the sweetened mead and asked for a refill. One of the women suggested that if she drank enough, she would enjoy the bedding more.

  Beatrice leaned back to peer down at Gavin’s crotch. Elizabeth had said when a man was ready to mount a woman it would grow full and noticeable. The larger the bulge, the more it would hurt.

  From what she gathered, it didn’t seem too alarming. Then again, the dimness from the table made it hard to see.

  She pulled her fork to the edge of the table, allowed it to fall and immediately bent at the waist to pick it up.

  “I can get it.” Gavin turned in his chair.

  “No need, it’s right here.” She bent down and took a closer look. Her eyes rounded. There was a pronounced bulge between his legs.

  When she straightened, she banged her head against the table and several people turned to look just as a flower fell from her hair and plopped onto her plate. “I dropped my fork,” she explained to no one in particular.

  Gavin leaned into her ear. “In a few moments, you will be mine. Afterwards, you won’t be so nervous around me.”

  A croak escaped and she picked up her glass, signaling the nearest maid for more drink.

  “Come, dear.” Her mother appeared out of nowhere and pulled Beatrice’s shoulders. “It’s time.”

  “But the music has barely begun and I need mead,” Beatrice protested. “I hoped to dance.”

  “There is no time.”

  It didn’t make any sense, from what she’d learned. The man speared the woman and once that was done, it was over. Horses and goats took, perhaps, a few seconds. So she imagined Gavin would take as long. Once that was done, it would be much too early to sleep.

  “Mother,” Beatrice hissed as she was led away from Gavin, who’d squeezed her hand. “Why the hurry?”

  “It’s your wedding night, dearest.” The explanation was unnecessary. If anyone knew it was the night of her wedding, it was definitely she. “Your husband is eager to join with you.”

  Fortunately, the bedding preparation was not as elaborate as earlier. This time, her dress was removed, her hair brushed out and everyone had some sort of advice. From reciting poetry to
keeping her eyes on the ceiling, each woman seemed to have a different take on what would happen once Gavin claimed her. Beatrice tugged a young maid’s hand. The maid kept rolling her eyes at the running commentary. “Have you been with a man?”

  The maid gave her a jaunty grin. “Aye, Milady.”

  “What is it like?”

  “Honestly, Beatrice. She wouldn’t know.” Her mother attempted to intercede but Beatrice hushed her with a glare. “Would you all please leave?”

  Finally, the women left, each giving her and the maid worried glances.

  “What is your name?” Beatrice was anxious to hear what the girl would say, but decided to be a bit less obvious.

  “Nora, Milady.”

  “Tell me.” She sat up on the bed where the women had laid her with hair spread across the pillow. Now the effect was ruined, she imagined. No matter. As soon as Nora let them in, they’d return and push her back into the rather awkward and embarrassing position.

  “My Neil is most wonderful, Milady. He takes me in such ways that send me to cry out with passion. First, he places his hand between my legs and moves his fingers round and round while he kisses me and prepares me for his hardened...”

  “Enough.” Beatrice’s mother rushed in and moved to Nora. “That will be all. See that the men are made aware Beatrice is ready.”

  Once again, Beatrice was pushed back and the other women appeared. The discussion centered on who would witness the joining. It had been decided other than the Lord and the clergyman, her mother and Lady Mereworth would be in attendance.

  There was a commotion at the door and the witnesses proceeded in. Her mother’s friends dashed out and the room became quiet.

  Beatrice refused to look at the gathered group. Instead, she lay still and kept her gaze on the ceiling, noting there was a very industrious spider in residence by the size of the webs that clung.