"Get to our chamber!" he said harshly, pushing her away. He watched her hesitation as she looked between him and Christopher, who regained his feet. In the end she chose the only option he would accept, turning obediently she left the courtyard.
"Halvor!" Garrick bellowed turning away. "Lock them all up. I'll deal with them when I have rested."
He wanted to chase after his departing wife, but he knew how weak that would appear. Instead he opted to meet with Marcus in the hall, and while he drank ale he learned of the happenings of all his people while he had been away. He expected to hear of the search, disobedience of his men without his iron fist to rule them, but it was the iron fist of his wife he heard about. Marcus told of her banning the whores and putting them all to work as servants, and Alena's part in teaching them how to protect themselves. When one of those women brought him a trencher of food, out of habit he pushed it away. Yet, as he spoke with Marcus, the aroma began to make his mouth water, and his stomach rumble from its hunger.
"The food has improved as well," Marcus said with a smile, when Garrick's surprise was evident at the first taste.
"This is superb," he said, not being able to control himself from shoveling the delicious food into his mouth.
"There are a number of things improved around here. You have a lady worthy of her title.”
"The prisoners are secure," Halvor said, taking a seat across the table from Garrick.
"I think Halvor would agree," Marcus said, as his eyes darted around the room. Garrick knew the man was looking for Alena. If he were not in the same situation he would admonish him for it.
"Agree to what?" Halvor asked, smiling at the woman who brought him a mug of ale and trencher of food.
"That he has a miraculous bride. She has made some fine improvements to this keep," Marcus said, his voice changing when his roving eyes halted. Garrick followed his gaze to Alena, sitting astride a bench as she spoke to Devlin, her legs clad in the attire of a soldier. The boy Garrick and Marcus first met when joining Damien's forces was gone, and now he was a handsome young man, Marcus's scowl told him plainly he had taken exception to that and the closeness of Devlin and Alena. Alena’s emir had given Devlin to her as a companion, which was how they were able to come up with the plan that ultimately saved them all.
Garrick's eyes collided with Marcus's when he redirected his attention.
"Have you bedded her yet?' Marcus asked with a scowl. It was uncanny how in tune with each other they were. Garrick knew the question only came because Marcus did not want him to question his own relationship with Alena.
"Have you bedded Lena?" he asked with great enjoyment. He did not like Marcus questioning him. After all he had once sought the advice of his woman, and would have liked his second's take on the matter, but not now that he made a mess of the advice he received.
"It would be of no consequence one way or the other," Marcus replied smoothly. "But you my lord are a lord. You are used to certain habits."
"Do you question my judgment?" Garrick demanded, slamming his hand down on the table.
"Have I ever questioned your judgment," Marcus asked calmly, in the face of Garrick’s fury.
"Garrick," Alena said, as she slid into the chair next to Marcus. An entire army could enter the hall and Marcus would never know, because all his attention was directed at the woman beside him. Despite her manly attire, her feminine grace was not diminished, perhaps even accentuated. "Are you trying to frighten him again?"
"To protect our sanity I think it best we tend to that which we spoke," Garrick said, rising and giving Alena a scowl.
~ ~ ~ ~
"What were you men thinking? You have taken an oath to Garrick. He is my husband," Ryann admonished, as she dabbed one of her guard’s wounds her husband had inflicted.
"We thought it for the best my lady," the youngest, Jamie, said stepping forward.
"It was foolish and entirely against my wishes. I have taken my vows before God, and you have taken yours before Garrick."
"Will Lord Garrick kill us?" Michael asked with a wince, as she applied the last of the medicine to his cut cheek.
"What you did was an attack against him. No matter that you did so to protect me. He feels it is his right, and his duty to keep his position."
"If we are to die so be it," Jamie said bravely.
"Do not give up hope. I will try to get Garrick to relent."
"How do you plan to do that wife?" The voice behind her was the unmistakable voice of her furious husband.
She spun quickly, a smile crossing her face when she laid eyes on him. "By talking rationally to you, so you might see their side."
Her response seemed to take him off balance. He hesitated before responding, "Do you think that is all it will take to change my mind about spilling the blood of these traitors?"
"If it does not, then I will plead for their lives," she said, advancing on him despite his angry scowl, and the cold glare of his eyes.
"I do not wish to hear my wife plead for the lives of these swine."
She reached him, reached a hand to rest it on his hard chest, his breathing was rapid, mirroring his fury. He looked down upon her, his face unyielding. Rising on tiptoe she put her face next to his. "Then I will remove my clothes and make the request of you again."
His eyebrows snapped together. He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her from the prisoner's chamber. All the way to their bed chamber he hurried. She knew she should feel terror, but she had waited too long for this moment. Oblivious to her nearly running step beside him to keep up with his long strides, he did not slow all the way until he shoved her behind their tapestry and followed her inside. As soon as he stepped through the doorway, she spun around to face him.
She studied his angry face and her already broad smile grew wider, which seemed to add more confusion.
"What is your game wife?"
She began removing her belt that accentuated her tiny waist, "I would think that is obvious to you my husband."
He stood rigid, watching her as she slowly took each stitch of her clothing off to stand boldly before him.
"Will you turn to whoring for those men?" he asked, in the deadly voice that hid the rage.
"I don't care about those men right now husband," she said, taking a bold step toward him. "I do, but it is only for you that I want to whore myself out."
His face showed concern the closer she came to him. He did not move a muscle, as she walked all the way up to stand within arm’s length of him. She reached a hand out to touch his chest, with lightning speed he grabbed her wrist and held it, staring down at her, studying her.
"These actions do not seem like you."
Ryann chuckled because he found himself not in control at the moment, and he could not wrap his head around it. "What do you really know of me?"
His grip was firm, it could snap her wrist with the slightest effort on his part. Looking up at him, at his emotionless eyes, she felt excitement despite herself. Her heart pounded against her ribs, she knew he would not hurt her, but the fact that he could excited her. The knowledge that he was on her side and would vanquish all her demons, made her bold.
"I don't want to wait any longer husband," she said, stepping forward until her body was pressed against his.
"Why do you do this?" he asked, still holding her wrist away from him, suspended awkwardly over her shoulder. He no longer had his inscrutable look, now his face was full of weariness. It looked as if the Fenton Bastard might bolt from sheer fear.
"Why should I not? You are my husband." She tried pulling her wrist free, but he remained unyielding.
"Because I am the Fenton Bastard."
"You are Lord Garrick of Fenton. My husband." She stretched up toward him. "Relax," she whispered. "I won't bite."
Slowly as if he thought it was not a good decision, he released her wrist. "Why are you not afraid?"
"Do you want me to be afraid?"
He shook his head and "no" whispered from between
his lips.
"My lord," came the call from outside the chamber.
"Yes, Harold," Garrick replied, not taking his eyes off Ryann.
"There is news. Lord Damien requests you in the hall."
"I'll be there," he responded. Then her husband was closed off from her, and a cold stranger was staring down at her. She wanted to scream at him not to leave, but she knew it would do no good. She had a sinking feeling this was something she must get used to, competing with the battlefields and the responsibilities one such as he would have.
~ ~ ~ ~
Along the long, cold corridors Garrick stalked toward the hall. The anger that came from him was a palpable thing. He was a lion denied the glory of his prey and he was still hungry, but with the interruption he was no longer hungry for the flesh of his wife, but blood. Apprehension filled his chest. He knew Damien would not have disturbed him if it was news that could wait. The only news that could not wait was always the bad news, and he dreaded what it was.
Despite the hour the hall was empty save for the handful of trusted knights gathered near the hearth.
"What news?" Garrick demanded, as soon as his foot landed on the stone of the hall floor. There was still a part of him that hoped this wasn't news that would pull him from his home and the new bride who awaited him upstairs.
"It is Stroud," Halvor said from his crouched position, where he was poking at the flames that raged.
"What of the swine?" Garrick asked, moving closer.
"I have men watching him," Damien replied. This surprised Garrick, after all Stroud was not Damien's enemy, they had served at court together, and as far as Garrick knew, had gotten along well enough. "They have returned with news he will be leaving with the King soon."
The man was escaping. With all that had been occurring, Garrick had not given up his desire to shed the man's blood, but he assumed he would remain in England so that revenge could still be his. "What has he done to you?" Garrick asked the seated man.
Drawing in a breath that sounded as if he were exasperated at a small child, Damien rose from his chair to look slightly down upon Garrick's smaller frame. "He has taken from you, and you Lord Garrick, I owe my life to."
"You owe me nothing," Garrick said, turning away to put a step between them. Many people owed him, those who he gave homes to in place of their service owed him fealty, but this man was his own man, and there was nothing that bound them together.
"If not my life then my friendship," Damien replied, when Garrick turned back to face him.
Friendship? He was learning a number of things since meeting his wife, the softer, kinder side to life. Perhaps accepting friendships was one of those things he must learn to accept, and stop questioning. After all, he trusted these men gathered more than any. He looked to each of them, and for the first time he acknowledged their faces as those of friends. They had to be friends, for they were gathered here this evening to speak to Garrick of his enemy.
"When does he leave?" Garrick asked.
“It is only a matter of days."
He had only days to seek the man out and end his life, or that right would be out of his reach. Stroud might be lucky enough to return, but it could take years, and Garrick was not a patient man.
"I will leave at dawn," Garrick said, with a nod toward Halvor. Just reunited with his sisters Garrick could see his distaste for leaving them so quickly, but his reservations were fleeting across his features as he stood to his full, impressive height.
"I will inform the men."
Garrick turned away quickly. There was only one thing he wanted to accomplish before leaving, and she was awaiting him in their chamber, and he took a step that way.
"I will have my army ready too," Damien said, stopping Garrick in his tracks and making him swing around.
Garrick did not need Damien or his men, but he guessed it was what a friend would do, so he merely nodded and headed for the steps.
Chapter 15
"Wife?"
Garrick's voice made Ryann jump, his steps had been silent as he entered their chamber. She sat by the hearth, a robe wrapped securely around her to help chaise away the chill, despite the blazing fire. She stood from the chair and turned to face him.
She detected something on his face, but she could not discern exactly what.
"Husband," she said, greeting him with a smile.
"I must leave on the morrow."
She studied him, waiting for an explanation, but he only stood his ground, watching her.
"May I know why you are choosing to leave?"
Quick strides carried him to her, but he stopped an arm's length away. "It is not a choice I have."
"Then why are you leaving me?"
"I go to kill Stroud." She stared up at him, a chill racing down her spine because there was no emotion to accompany such a statement.
"Can you not choose to just let it be?"
His nostrils flared as he studied her. Finally, he said, "No."
"Why can you not?"
"Because he hurt you, and in the time I have known you, I have grown fond of you."
She smiled at him, because by his hesitation, she knew fond was not the correct word to describe the feelings he wanted to relay to her, but for a man such as Garrick, it was a monumental declaration.
"I have no doubt he will take you again if given the chance, especially if he learns of my feelings for you. This will weaken me, and put me at his mercy." He paused, studying her. "When we have children, he will be a threat to them. What if he does the same to our daughter, or comes after our son?"
"So far there is no way we will have children."
"I have come to change that this night."
Ryann could only stare at him. This was it, the time she had been anticipating and dreading, and it all rushed in on her until she stood before Garrick trembling. Garrick cleared his throat, shifted his weight from one foot to another, but made no move toward her.
"Are you nervous husband?" Ryann asked, watching his uncertainty and drawing strength from it.
"I am a warrior," he declared, the muscle along his jaw twitched. Was he agitated at her?
"A very handsome warrior," she said with a smile, as she advanced to rest her hand on his broad chest. He grunted, not responding, only stared down at her, studying her.
"A warrior who will give me many sons and daughters," she stated. Feeling emboldened, she rose up on tiptoe and placed a gentle kiss upon his lips.
The one act unleashed the lion within him. Within a flash his one hand was buried in her golden hair, the other gripped her chin, holding her still for the onslaught of his lips. His attack was brutal, as he met the softness of hers, with the strength of his. There was no warning as his teeth took her lower lip and bit enough to make her gasp. His tongue dove in, as the one hand left her chin to wrap tightly around her waist, locking her to his length. She felt every hard muscle pressing in on her, holding her, overpowering her. His fingers no longer entwined in her hair, but held her head, his palm pressing against the back of her scalp, refusing to let her move away from him. His grip was iron, and despite herself, she let out a whimper.
"Nothing will stop me this time," Garrick said, as he left her lips to suckle his way to her ear, then made his way down her neck.
Sensations were exploding within Ryann, clambering for recognition, but gaining no foot hold as one was swept aside for another, again and again, until she felt faint, her knees weak. As if sensing her dilemma, Garrick swept her up into his strong arms, as if her weight was nothing. She thrilled that compared to the strength of her husband, it was not. He carried her to their bed, but instead of releasing her, he climbed onto it with his knees, and shuffled to the middle where he laid her. As his lips, tongue and teeth worked gasps and moans from her as he moved across her collarbone, his hand was working on the rope tying the robe securely about her waist. Freeing it, he pulled the cloth aside, then sat back on his heels staring down at her.
The loss of his heat,
of his passion, was a gut wrenching thing, and she wanted to cry out her protest of it.
"You are beautiful wife," he said, trailing his knuckles almost reverently from her collarbone, down between her breasts, to flatten his hand on the softness of her stomach.
"I fear you have kept me waiting long enough," she said with a smile. She felt ready to beg him to touch her more, but her statement made it unnecessary.
A grim smile crossed his lips, and placing one hand on her thigh, he used it to open her legs, but his obsidian eyes held hers. "Hold on my dear, this will get rough."
A thrill as strong as a bolt of lightning shot from her toes all the way to her core. The on large, unyielding palm was pressed flat against her chest, pinning her to the mattress as his head swooped between her legs, his free hand was like a vice on her thigh, holding it to keep her legs open to him, and she knew tomorrow she would have bruises on the sensitive flesh there.
His tongue was the gentlest of caresses on the most private of places, a contrast to the strength of his hand holding her down. Involuntarily her hips bucked upward, coming against his head. She felt his teeth graze the sensitive nub, and made her gasp slamming back down upon the mattress. Again his tongue gently stroked upward to swirl gently where his teeth had just been. She threw her head back, her breath seized in her throat. Her fingers dug into the cover she laid upon, gripping it in her hand, her knuckles turning white.
His tongue continued relentlessly until her breath came in pants and she felt as if she would come undone.
"Please Garrick." Ryann had wondered when the time came if her nightmares would overwhelm her, but each time her husband touched her, she had not thoughts of any other man. Only Garrick and the wonderful sensations he made her feel. What the other men had done was as different as night and day. Though this night, she knew, would not completely banish the visions within her head, she had no fear, and only the waves of pleasure filled her mind, and pushed thought of anyone else's touch to the farthest recesses of her mind.
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