He gave a nod to Marcus who immediately stood, crossed over to Christopher, and released him from the shackles. The man stiffly rose to his feet and moved toward Ryann and the dais.
“You will come no further,” Garrick’s steel voice stated.
“He goes where I go,” Ryann replied.
~ ~ ~ ~
Ryann was frozen in fear as she was yanked off the bench, Garrick’s face was blank as he moved quickly toward the guard, dragging her behind him. When he stopped, he pulled her so she was positioned nearly between them, facing her future husband. Like a coward she refused to meet his gaze, staring at his powerful chest. He stood patiently until her eyes slowly raised the length of him to meet his black orbs. The smile that twisted his lips upward didn’t take any of the coldness out of his dark eyes. With lightning speed he reached out and seized Christopher by the throat. He spun so quickly no one had time to react to Garrick’s next move, which placed him directly in front of Ryann, and a knife to her guard’s throat. Garrick had his free arm twisted around Christopher’s arm, and any movement either pressed the blade against his skin, or sent fire shooting through his shoulder, as his arm was pulled nearly from its socket by the deadly man standing behind him.
“Your guard can’t go where you go if he is dead Countess.”
“Please!” Ryann began, but fear for Christopher seized her tongue and she could only stare at Garrick in horror.
“Is that another demand?”
“No,” she gulped out.
“No Lord Fenton,” he corrected. She saw on his face that he was amused, and that made her blood run cold that he would toy with her in such a manner.
“No Lord Fenton.”
“What price would you pay for your guard’s life?”
She studied his face, but saw no quarter there, no answers, no life beyond the death that was on his face.
“Anything,” her voice cracked with terror.
Garrick seemed to consider this for a moment. “You will wed me, obey me, and give me heirs. In return, your guard can live and remain by your side, if he declares allegiance to me.”
“I will my lord.”
He turned his attention to Christopher, his eyes cold, his voice even colder. “I plan to bed her, whether she’s willing or not.” Garrick lowered his voice, but not enough that Ryann didn’t hear, and his intense gaze made coldness settle in her stomach.
“I cannot allow you to hurt her.”
“And I cannot allow you to get in the way of all my plans,” Garrick said, his voice rising. “If you do not declare your allegiance now, you will die here.”
“Christopher, you must,” Ryann ordered her guard, her eyes locked to the man she saw would easily kill any man or woman who stood in his way.
“I declare my allegiance to you Lord Fenton,” Christopher said, and suddenly Garrick released him, shoving him away, and at the same time reaching out to grab Ryann. Her heart seized in her throat when he crushed her to him. She could feel every hard, lean muscle, as his one arm held her around her waist. His free hand came up, his fingers digging into her hair, pulling her head back. His brown eyes locked with hers and he stood staring at her for what seemed the longest time, as her heart hammered in her chest. She saw something flash in his eyes, for just the briefest of moments there was something there other than death, then he dropped his head to hers and claimed her lips with his own. It was a brutal attack, one that made her feel like fleeing, but fear kept her rooted to the spot. His tongue came out and licked teasingly at her lips, making her eyes fly open.
Garrick didn’t watch her, his cold stare was directed behind her, to Christopher she did not doubt. She felt his hand splay across her back, the tips of his fingers bit into her lower back as they pressed into her, pulling her body closer still. Every thought in her head fled and her knees grew weak when his eyes were suddenly back on hers. She saw a smirk, although she got the feeling it was more a smile on the face of a man who never smiled, cross his face before his hand travelled down to cup her ass, and in doing so swayed his hips into hers so she felt his desire. Then that same splayed hand travelled upward, she felt the heat of it through her clothes, up her side, all the way up to linger just beside her breast. His lips left her, but lingered threateningly a breath away, as he watched her.
He raised his eyes to stare at Christopher a moment before his hand clamped to her breast, his finger tips rough and demanding, making her grimace. She looked up at him, the horror sitting in on her that this was a display for her guard alone, his brown eyes cold, terrifying, as they challenged Christopher. Would he kill her to prove his point? No, he couldn’t kill her, she reasoned, but he could beat her, kill Christopher, or any of her other people.
After that first moment of pain, Garrick’s grip eased on her, no longer bruising, but so boldly there, no doubt claiming his property. His eyes came back to hers at the same time his head lowered and took her lips again, gently this time, his tongue feather light on her lips. The hand at her breast fell away to go back around her waist, pulling her closer, his hand tightening in her hair, tilting her head back, making her mouth come open to gasp against the pain, but his tongue invaded and her senses reeled. Her knees weakened and it was only Garrick’s strong grip that kept her on her feet. He was so gentle, softly playing with her tongue, sucking gently on her lips. She was lost in her surprise that this man had any gentleness in him, she felt his heart beating against her chest, it thundered in her ears, and she placed a hand on his chest to feel it under her palm. His chest, so broad, so strong was so warm, she curled her fist into the fabric of his shirt. Slowly he withdrew from her mouth, his head raising as he watched her intently, and she felt herself flush. His hand slipped from around her waist, and lastly he untwined his hand from her hair, his fingers stroking as he pulled his hand free, and both hands came up to take hers that still gripped him. His knights yelled and called out lewdly to their leader some good naturedly, others perhaps not. Pulling away, he led her back to the dais, and pushed her gently onto the bench.
She felt as if she were in a daze as he slid onto it. His legs slid against hers as he settled in. She would have pulled hers away, if his hand did not spread across her thigh, gripping it to keep her contact with him. Once she was still, he pulled his hand away, and proceeded to eat. She managed a few bites before her stomach lurched and twisted. He sat the wine before her, and his eyes studied her as she took two long drinks, before offering it back to Garrick. He shook his head, tisking he put his hand on the skin, pushing it back toward her. She stared at him, his eyes reaching in, and for a brief moment she feared he would seize her soul, but then he looked away, over the hall, his hall, his people, and his face was blank.
After she lost count of the drinks she took of the wine, Garrick bid Christopher return her to her own chambers. As she crossed over the threshold Christopher closed the door quietly behind her, and she stood looking around her familiar surroundings. Garrick’s things were added to hers. His armor lay piled on the chair by the hearth, his sword on top. She crossed the floor and paused beside it, staring down at it. It wasn’t covered in blood, but was newly cleaned and polished. Reaching a shaky hand out, she picked up the heavy sword and pulled it gently from its sheath. She stared at it, turning it over in her hands. This sword that drew so much blood was pristine, the edges newly sharpened like a razor. A knock came on the door and without thinking, she bade the knocker enter. Servants flowed in, baring a tub and steaming buckets of water. It didn’t take long for the tub to be filled and they all left, save for one. The woman was tall and willowy, quite beautiful, at least at one time. Her hair was so blond it was nearly white, attesting to the fairness of her skin before it was blistered by the sun.
“Lord Fenton bade me assist you.”
“I have my own maid. If you would let my guard know, he will have her sent for.”
A horrified look crossed her face, followed by stark fear. “But The Bastard has told me. He will punish me if I do not.”
>
Ryann stared at this woman quaking in fear and she began to shake. “What has he done to you?”
“I come from Marlet. He and his men,” she suddenly grew quiet and even paler. She shook her head, as if to get rid of the nightmares. “His man Marcus keeps a witch, and the Bastard commands an army of monsters.”
“He is to be my husband.”
“May he show mercy to you then miss,” she said, with all sincerity. Then she smiled, finding optimism to offer, “It will be okay. We can bear it, whatever comes, we will be able to bare it. Come, your water is getting cold. I should not tell you these things. The Bastard may not like me telling you these things.”
“Don’t worry,” Ryann said, putting a reassuring hand on her arm. “I won’t let him know.” She unfastened the kirtle at her waist and added, “What is your name?”
“Una, my lady,” she said, offering a curtsy.
“Please do not call him that again.”
It took but a moment for her to figure out it was “The Bastard,” to which she referred. “Yes my lady,”
Once settled in the tub, her hair washed and trailing in the water, she lay back, letting the kinks of the last few days flow out of her. “Tell me more of this witch.” She did not believe in witches, but any conversation was better than leaving her to her own imaginings.
“She was a real beauty, that one. Taller than me, hair as black as a raven’s wing. They say she was an emir’s witch and the Bas… Lord Fenton, stole her away and gave her to Marcus when he tired of her.”
“Where is she now?”
“Still with Marcus.”
What kind of life was she facing she wondered, as she considered the men she was now surrounded by. The door slamming into the wall of her chamber made her jump, and a short shriek escaped the servant, before she abruptly cut it off and shrank away from the intruder.
Long powerful strides carried Garrick toward the hearth, where she huddled in the tub. His eyes never strayed toward her, for she would feel them, but kept them on his armor, his face etched in granite. He picked up his sword, and studied it before propping it in the floor against the chair leg, before his eyes fell on her. He knew she moved it. He stared at her for the longest moment, hiding behind the edge of the tub. His eyes left her and went to the girl, “Leave us,” he commanded, and all Ryann heard was the rush of feet as the woman fled.
Garrick advanced to stand over her, his eyes glued to hers. Then he turned his head toward the door, his face still unreadable, but she heard the threat behind the order he gave to Christopher to shut the door. Her eyes refused to leave Garrick, she heard her guard enter the room slowly, pause as he took the door in hand, pausing again before he moved to close it. The sound of the door closing was like a final death toll. Garrick didn’t move for the longest moment and all that could be heard in the chamber was their breathing. Then he turned and his eyes were on her, and lingered only on her face for the briefest of moments before travelling down her body, as she curled her knees up to her breasts.
She began to speak, but he stopped her with a soft “shhh,” whispering past his lips. He knelt before her, his face only inches from hers. His hand rested on the edge of the tub, inches from her breast she concealed beneath her own hand. It seemed as if his presence made the warmth leave the water, and she forced herself not to shiver. His eyes were so cold, so blank and her mind screamed at him to show her a soul, to show her some kind of life, so she would know he was human, and not some kind of deadly messenger.
“I must go.”
She stared at him, his closeness made it hard to breath, made it hard to do anything but feel his power. “Why?” she managed to ask him, through a throat that was suddenly dry.
“Stroud has attacked Lenox. I have to go take back what is mine.” She swallowed against the shock that she feared for this man that would be her husband. Was this the last time she would look into the bottomless pits? Was there more to this man than the demon people saw? With the joy that he would not return, came the fear he would die. Garrick did not hurt her, handled her roughly, but did not hurt her. If he was the evil man everyone thought him to be, there would be death wherever he went. None of her people were hurt, and the only reason they were not was because he would not allow it.
“How long will you be gone?”
He shrugged and reached his hand out to stroke her wet hair, his eyes following his hand. “A fortnight or more. I am leaving some of my men, they will not harm you as long as you remember you are mine,” his voice grew quietly menacing, and she felt the coldness race up her spine. “You no longer run these lands but Arealee.”
“But he’s my own man.”
“Yes, and quite competent at his job too. But he answers to me, not to you. I would hate for you to put him into a position that might be seen as betrayal.” His eyes were back on her and she could only nod. To betray a lord, especially this one, was death.
His eyes went back to the hand that stroked her hair. Suddenly he caught a handful of it, forcing her head back slightly making her gasp. His eyes came back to her face, and he stared at her for several heartbeats of time. Then his mouth came down on hers, demanding she give up her defenses. His tongue flicked at her closed lips once, when she did not surrender, a tightening of his hand brought another gasp, parting her lips, and his tongue invaded, claiming her, toying with her tongue. Then it retreated and he suckled gently on her lower lip, before invading more cautiously this time, teasing her, before a sigh escaped her and she advanced with it. It was immediately seized as he sucked it into his own mouth, a groan escaped her, forced from her core as her body became suddenly hot, and her mind not her own. His lips left her and his eyes went to the hand that was still gripping her hair. Relaxing his fist, he slipped his hand out of her hair, sparing a moment to stroke her wet locks before standing. Moving away, he gave her his back and went to his armor.
“Get out and cover yourself. I require your assistance.” The blood rushed from her body and she shakily rose to her feet. She reached from one of the cloths laid out for her, pulling it around herself, she stepped out. He spared a glance at her, his eyes lingering for a moment, then turned back to his armor.
“What do you need me to do?” she asked, moving to him, feeling quite vulnerable next to him. He directed her in the donning of his armor, and when he turned to her, his helm in his arm, she drew in a shaky breath. It might be possible to forget who this man was, if she didn’t ponder too much on the darkness within him. But standing before her, his armor making him immortal, his face dark with stubble adding to the menacing figure before her, she shivered.
He saw, and in a flash his hand snaked out, grabbing her roughly by the chin held her face, as he brought his down to hers. “If you are not here when I return, you will regret it Countess. Do you understand me?”
She nodded as much as his grip allowed. “Christopher and the rest of your guard are going with me. I’m leaving men to protect you.”
“You’re leaving your men?” she asked, and she heard the fear in her own voice.
“Yes,” he replied. “They listen to my orders, and my orders are to hold this keep and guarantee the safety of all that reside here. They will do nothing else as long as you stay put. Do not provoke them.” He gripped a little harder, making her eyes lock with his so close. “Do you understand what I’m telling you? If all remains as I leave it, all will be well. Do not give my men any decisions to make. Do not provoke them.”
Again she nodded, and he released her. He dismissed her and swept from the room. Just as quickly as he came into her life, he was gone.
He left Marcus in charge, and like Garrick, he ruled with an iron fist. Punishments for the men were harsh and swift. He was lenient with her people, so she accepted what she had to.
She saw to the welfare of the people and her daily presence among them within and without the walls of the keep, reassured them, and gave them reason to continue with their lives. Daley became her shadow, and she knew he feared
for her among Garrick’s men. Ryann missed Christopher, and the presence of the men Garrick left behind made her nervous, but she could almost forget what they all waited on. Each day they waited on Garrick to return, a part of an army suspended, a bride to be on hold.
Chapter 3
They came out of nowhere, dozens of them. They swarmed around Ryann, her five guards and Daley. Daley moved toward her, but he was pulled from his saddle before making it. One of their attackers grabbed her horse’s bridle, then dragged her from the saddle. She hit the ground hard, tried rolling to her feet, but the man was on top of her, grabbing her by the hair and dragging her up. She struggled with him, not a very valiant effort considering she was held at arm’s length.
“Hold,” an authoritative voice called, and all around her fell quiet. She stopped her struggles, saw that all her guards lay dead, and her knees went weak. One of the men stood before Daley who held a dagger futilely before him, a sword ready to be driven into the young man’s chest.
“Countess Ryann, so nice of you to join us,” the man commanding them said, before directing his attention to the boy.
“What fascinating eyes you have,” the man said, admiration clear. “Take them both.”
Daley put up a fight, inciting Ryann too as well, but both were short lived. She watched the boy trussed up as pain shot through her head, and darkness blanketed her.
When she became aware of her surroundings it was as she was being pulled from the back of a horse none to gently. A hood was pulled over her head, but she was able to hear Daley threatening the men who dragged him up the steps ahead of her. The place they were taken into felt darkly menacing. She was carried between two men, one at her feet and one at her shoulders. Once inside the structure she was dropped unceremoniously onto the stone floor.
“Easy with her,” Daley said, and she could hear that he struggled with the men.
Ryann sat up, but a big hand came out and clamped on her shoulder, making her remain seated on the floor. Once she settled back down, the hood was yanked from her head. They were in a giant hall, the cobwebs and crumbling walls was testimony this place was abandoned long ago. The man giving the orders had his attention riveted to Daley. He was a tall man, but rather small, and she was startled to realize it was only because she compared him to Garrick. He was actually quite a handsome man, but the way he watched the boy made her uneasy.
Angie Arms - Flame Series 03 Page 4
