The Bride and the Brute
A Medieval Romance Novella
By Laurel O’Donnell
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2011 by Laurel O’Donnell
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The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Apart from well-known historical figures, any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Table of Contents
The Bride and the Brute
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Thank You from the Author
Laurel O’Donnell Book List
Reviews
Cover Gallery
About the Author
The Angel and the Prince Bonus Preview
Champion of the Heart Bonus Preview
The Lady and the Falconer Bonus Preview
Midnight Shadow Bonus Preview
A Knight of Honor Bonus Preview
Chapter One
England, 1392
The stone statues in the chapel towered high above Jayce Cullen’s head, their cold, chiseled arms outstretched in welcome, their sculptured eyes empty of emotion as they stared at her. But even though the ghostly white men and women were hewn from lifeless rock, Jayce felt more warmth emanating from them than from her future husband. She cast a quick, sideways glance at Lord Reese Harrington. He was tall, taller than her father by six inches. His broad shoulders were four of her hand’s breadth wide, tapering to a slim waist. His thighs were hidden by his black tunic, and his legs were concealed by black hose. Standing near the white statues, his black clothing made him appear like some dark angel. He was dressed more as if he were in mourning than celebrating marriage to his wife.
Wife. The term rocked her body with anxiety. Lord Reese Harrington’s wife. Jayce studied his strong profile, the downward turn of his brooding lips, the slight flaring of his nostrils, his narrowed blue eyes. It should have warmed Jayce’s heart that he had chosen her. But it did not. Something was wrong. He had shown her no more than polite disdain when they had met moments before. As a matter of fact, he had only inclined his head slightly at her in a mockery of a greeting before whirling and preceding her through the chapel doors. Not quite the greeting Jayce had hoped for. What was it she had hoped for? Did she want him to kiss her hand? To smile, perhaps?
Yes! She had wanted to know the man she was marrying was more than the wealthy, powerful, womanizing lord she had heard about. She wanted reassurance that once he came to her bed, there would be no others. She wanted reassurance that her life with him would be a happy one. She dropped her gaze to her clasped hands. That had not happened.
Wealthy. Powerful. Womanizing. That wasn’t all she had heard about Lord Reese. The final piece of gossip that had reached her ears was the most troubling. She had heard he swore off marriage, vowing never to be troubled with a wife. She wondered what had changed his mind. When her father had joyously come to her with Lord Reese’s acceptance of his marriage proposal and told her he was giving his blessing to the union, well, she couldn’t say much. And now, standing before the eyes of God, she could say even less.
Why had he chosen her?
“Get on with it!” Reese rumbled at the chaplain, his voice thundering through the chapel like an angry curse.
Startled, it was all Jayce could do not to jump and flee down the aisle. She turned and cast her father a wary gaze. He sat in the first pew, the only man other than the chaplain and Reese in the chapel. She saw her father’s clenched jaw relax, then he gave her his most reassuring smile.
“Yes, yes,” the chaplain stuttered. He dabbed the top of his head with a cloth he held clutched in a trembling hand. “Well, then, I pronounce you man and wife.”
Jayce started to turn a cheerful smile on Reese, but he seized her wrist, storming down the aisle. She had to run to keep up with him. He flung the doors of the chapel open with an angry shove and moved into the inner ward.
Jayce barely had time to notice the peasants halting their work to glance at them. A man just outside the blacksmith’s shop stopped his hammering to raise his eyes, his tool frozen in mid-strike. He shook his head and continued with his work. An alewife glanced out the window of the brewery, ignoring the amber liquid that had just splashed all over her arm. A small child scampered out of Reese’s path, her large brown eyes wide with fear. For a fleeting instant, Jayce wondered why anyone was working at all; wasn’t it a holiday when the lord married? But embarrassment welled up inside her, forcing the thought aside.
Reese pulled her into the great hall and up a set of spiraling stairs. “Where are we going?” she managed to choke out.
Reese didn’t reply. He kicked open a door, and it banged loudly as it slapped against the wall. He all but hurled her into the dark room. The little bit of sunshine shining into the room through its only window illuminated only a corner of it. Jayce gasped at the sight of a four-poster bed with an enormous mattress filling its wide frame. Rich, blood-red velvet curtains hung from the top, draping down the sides, cloaking the bed’s heart in deeply shadowed mystery. It was a magnificent bed, the biggest she had ever seen.
She whirled to Reese to find him undoing the belt around his waist. Horrified, she looked around nervously, searching the room’s dark shadows as if they could somehow hide her. She knew it was his right to take her, but she had hoped they could get to know each other. She had hoped he would give her time. Now, she knew he would give her nothing.
“Lord Reese...” she ventured, her voice sounding strangely hoarse in her own throat. “Perhaps we could---” Her voice died completely, strangled into silence, as he lifted his eyes to her.
The belt dropped from his fingers to fall to the floor.
Jayce’s heart hammered her chest; she couldn’t get enough air. A flash of light caught her eye and her gaze locked on his right hand. She saw what she hadn’t seen before. A small dagger glimmered in the shaft of sunlight. Reese approached her and she backed away quickly. What was he doing? Was he going to kill her? She held her hands out before her as if to ward him off, but she knew the thought of fighting him was absurd. If he wanted her dead, who was there to offer any kind of resistance? She was no match against his strength.
The backs of her knees slammed into the bed frame, and she fell over onto the mattress. She quickly propped herself on her elbows, waiting for him to come forward and take what was now rightfully his. For a moment, she saw nothing but a wall of dark shadows before
her. Her mouth was dry; her hands were moist and slick. Then, he emerged from the darkness like a ghost, stepping into the sunlight, the black shadows sliding from his shoulders as if he were shedding a dark cloak. For a moment, she thought she saw satisfaction in his blue eyes, but then grim resolve filled his face. He stretched his left arm out over her, his hand in a fist. Jayce cringed back, pushing herself into the mattress. Was he going to strike her?
He held the dagger out over her.
Or was he really going to kill her? A scream welled up in her throat.
Reese pushed the sleeve of his tunic up over his elbow, baring his strong forearm. Then, he pressed the tip of the blade to his skin, slicing a small line down his arm.
Jayce half rose, crying out, “Don’t!” But the blood trickled over his arm and dripped down onto the sheets beside her face. She lifted her astonished gaze from the dark red blood to meet his steely blue eyes. For a long moment, they locked gazes, hers filled with questions, his resolve.
He set the dagger down on a table beside the bed.
Jayce rose off the bed, grabbing a towel from the same table, and turned, reaching out to his arm. Reese snatched the towel free from her grip as if her touch would be unbearable. He hurled the towel into the dark shadows of the far corner.
Shocked and confused, Jayce watched Reese roll his sleeve down to cover his cut. He stepped past her to the bed and ripped the sheets from the mattress. He was angry with her for something. But what had she done? They hadn’t exchanged two words! Without a second look at her, he marched to the door, yanking it open.
Her father stood in the open doorway, turning surprised eyes to Reese. Reese shoved the stained sheets into her father’s arms.
Jayce felt the heat suffuse her cheeks and for a moment had to look away. Her father was making sure the marriage had been consummated. She should say something. She should tell her father the truth. She lifted her eyes in time to see the look of surprise fade from her father’s blue eyes to be replaced by suspicion. His jaw tightened, and he snapped his eyes to lock with his daughter’s. “Jayce?” her father queried.
She should tell him Reese chose to shed his own blood instead of her virgin’s blood. She should tell her father the truth. But then she felt Reese’s hot stare on her. The impact of his gaze sent shivers down the length of her body. He was her husband. Her loyalty was to him now. “Yes, Father,” she lied.
Her father’s fist seemed to relax in the sheet, and he whirled, taking it with him. “It is done,” he proclaimed, and marched down the hall.
Jayce watched him go, sadness creeping into her spirit, putting a cloud of melancholy over what should have been the most joyous day of her life. Her father had left her in a strange castle. He had abandoned her to a man she didn’t know. And he hadn’t even said good-bye.
Jayce tried to lift her chin as she turned her back on her father, but her head felt heavy and it was a struggle just to get her chin away from her neck. She knew she had to be strong to face her future. She wasn’t a child anymore. She had been raised to be lady of a castle, to marry a man of her father’s choosing. She was prepared for this.
As she turned from her previous life to face her new life, she locked eyes with a set of angry blue ones. What she wasn’t prepared for was her husband.
He seized her wrist, hauling her back into the bedroom, and slammed the door shut.
Chapter Two
Reese faced Jayce’s startled expression with a heart of stone. It wasn’t that she was ugly. He had seen far, far less pleasant faces to gaze upon. It wasn’t her tiny body. Her shape was indeed quite curvy and could very well make the stoutest of men desire to protect and shelter her.
It was that she was a liar. He shook her slender wrist. His anger was fierce, his emotion lashing the air around them like a storm wind. “Why did you lie to your father?” he demanded. He squeezed her wrist tightly as he gazed into her innocent blue eyes. Innocent. He scowled at the thought. She was anything but. No innocent could lie that easily, could make her false expressions so believable.
He could see confusion and apprehension in those large sapphire eyes. But no fear. Reese scowled. No fear? he thought. Men greater than she have trembled before my wrath.
She parted her lips and they moved. It was a moment before he realized she was speaking. “You are my husband,” she said simply.
Husband. The word sent tremors of horror and anger up his spine. He tossed her arm aside and whirled, moving for the door.
“Wait!” Her voice sounded desperate.
He halted, straightening his shoulders.
“I-- Have I done something to displease you?” she asked.
Reese whirled on her, his fists clenched tight, his eyes wide in absolute disbelief. “Displease me?” he echoed, hotly. “Yes! You married me!” With that, he stormed from the room, leaving her completely alone.
He didn’t care if she fled the castle. He didn’t care if he never saw her again. This entire marriage was a farce. He didn’t care for the woman. He didn’t love her. And he had vowed long ago he would not marry unless he loved the girl.
His father had married his mother for her lands; not an uncommon union, but one empty of affection or devotion... or love. His father had married for fields of wheat, rolling hills, and cattle pastures. There had been no love between his parents. And Reese had seen the terrible consequences of that.
All his life he heard pieces of the servants’ gossip, whisperings of his mother’s infidelity. He hadn’t believed it. Didn’t want to believe it. Any of it.
But when he was eight years old he witnessed something that forever left a scar on his heart.
He had been walking through the castle’s halls when he saw his mother in a dark alcove, laughing quietly. He heard the whispering of a man’s low voice coming from the darkness and assumed it was his father. He started to run toward them, to tell them about the grand adventure he had exploring the guards’ barracks, but then stopped abruptly as he saw his mother step from the alcove. She adjusted her dress, her hand resting casually on the chest of a man, a man who was not his father.
Reese’s jaw and fists clenched at the bitter memory. The pain had long since receded, but the anger was still fresh in his mind. After that, stories circulated throughout the castle of her liaison with a baron. Rumor had it there had been a wandering gypsy amongst her numerous lovers as well.
He had been too ashamed to mention any of this to his father. But his father eventually discovered his mother’s treachery. Reese had been eleven years old when he had awoken to shouts and screams. He had raced from his room to find his mother, half-dressed, standing in the middle of the hallway. His father faced another man, a man clad only in leggings, their laces untied. Reese shook his head, remembering the disgust in his father’s eyes as he turned to look at his wife. Then, his father turned his back on her and challenged the man to a duel. Reese remembered feeling a surge of pride for his father as he confronted the bastard who had bedded his wife under his very nose.
But his pride was very short-lived. His father died the next day on the field of honor. An honorless man.
Their mother had tried to raise Reese and his sister, Nicole, but she was not very good at it. Reese wanted nothing to do with her anyway, and he and Nicole ended up looking after each other. Their mother died in childbirth eight months after their father’s death, leaving them a brother to raise as well as themselves.
At the age of twelve, Reese had become lord of the castle.
He had planned to take his time and find a woman he could love, a woman who could love him, a woman he was destined to marry. Not this.
As he stormed down the hallway, servants paused in their tasks to glance in his direction and shake their heads. Reese greeted their sympathetic looks with a guttural growl. He paused only long enough to snarl at one of the servants, “Have James sent to me.”
He entered his den, slamming the door shut on prying eyes. He prowled the room for a moment, thinking of his si
ster. He slapped his palms on the ledge of the window, looking out over the darkening skies toward Lord Cullen’s lands. So help Cullen if Nicole was not returned safely. He would storm Cullen’s castle himself and find his sister.
Reese shook his head in disgust. Forced into marriage.
A loveless marriage. The thought made him sick. But he would not risk the life of his sister. Not for all the threats on the earth. Cullen had repeatedly petitioned him to marry his daughter, Jayce. After three refusals, Reese had put the matter out of his mind. A mistake he realized only too late.
Nicole vanished from the castle grounds a few days after his final refusal.
A missive arrived shortly after Nicole’s disappearance, announcing that Lord Cullen would have Reese marry his daughter, or the health of Nicole would be at stake.
Why would a father do that to his daughter? Reese didn’t know, and he didn’t care. The deed was done. Nicole was his primary worry.
Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door. Reese granted entrance, and a slim, elderly man entered the room. His haughty demeanor gave him the aura of nobility instead of the head castle servant he was. He wore a stylish sleeveless doublet of grayish purple and a white shirt beneath that. His leggings were black, and his leather shoes curled at the toes.
“James,” Reese ordered the man, “have Rogue saddled. I’m riding out to the borders to see if I can see my sister coming.”
“I suppose you’ll sleep out there, too?” James wondered in a disdainful, sarcastic voice.
Reese would take that arrogance only from James. The man had been with him since he was a child. He respected James. And liked him immensely. “If I knew the road they were taking.”
“If you don’t mind my saying, sir,” James said.
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