The Warlord Claims His Bride

by Jenika Snow

  “But ye are okay, Da? I mean ye donna need anything?”

  “Nay, sweetheart. I have everything I need right under this roof and four walls. In fact Lawson is sending his lad over tae help with the animals during the day.” He smiled and stood to grab them something to drink.

  “I am glad tae hear that, Da, because I worry about ye out here all alone.”

  He scoffed. “No’ worries, lass. I have tended to fields, farms, and myself for longer than ye have been alive.” He grinned over at her. “Yer husband is treating ye well?” He handed her a mug of mead she knew he had made earlier in the year. The scent of honey filled her nose, but she didn’t drink it right away.

  “Aye, everything is well. Bronson is verra gentle and caring. Surprisingly.”

  Her father smiled. “Aye, I could tell that under his tough exterior he would be a gentleman. A man like that must have many different layers.”

  They stayed silent for a moment, and she couldn’t help but smile. “He is quite a male, Da.” She felt her cheeks heat once more, and she twisted her fingers together. “He wants babes right away.” She glanced at her father, and saw him grin. She knew he wanted grandbabies as well, had wanted them a while ago.

  “It will be one fine day when there are wee ones running around the farm.”

  She glanced down, feeling her smile fade as she thought about that. “And what if I canna have babes, Da?” She looked at him again. “What if I am like—”

  He held up his hand to stop her from continuing. “Yer mother wanted many children, but the gods didn’t bless us with a brood. But that donna mean ye canna have many, Genevieve.”

  She nodded, knowing he was right, but still worrying.

  “It’s early, lass, and many things can happen. Donna worry.”

  “Ye’re right, Da.”

  He reached out and took hold of her hand. “Ye go back tae the manor and clean up.” He patted her hand and smiled. “I have a lot of work to finish anyway.”

  “Da, why don’t ye come tae the manor and live with us?”

  He shook his head. “Child, ye know I canna do that. I love this farm, love that I have memories here that will last me a lifetime.”

  She knew her father would say no … for the second time. But she had needed to ask him again, to at least put it out there that if he chose to he didn’t need to work so hard to survive. What was the point of having a status like she had if she couldn’t share it with others? She had already started bringing food to the villagers, and although most everyone fended for themselves, and were surviving, she wanted to be able to help them so things weren’t so hard. She had known these villagers her whole life, and this was the least she could do now that she had the means to help.

  “Lass, go on back tae the manor, clean up, and spend time with yer new husband and not an old man.” He smiled and started chuckling. They both stood at the same time, and after she gave her father a hug and headed out of his cottage, she made her way back toward the estate. Her life had certainly changed in such a short amount of time, but she was enjoying every minute of it.

  ****

  Bronson sat beside his men at the meeting table. The map spread out on the center of the scarred wood showed them the land that belonged to Clan Lyon.

  “Bronson, Dawson McCarrick is gathering his men as we speak, thinking tae take back the land he thinks is his,” Dian, one of many strong men in Bronson’s clan, said from right beside him.

  Bronson did not say anything for several seconds. All of his men were like brothers to him, and had stuck with him from the very beginning. They were not men of wealth or status, but then again when his father had lost their land to the savages that rampaged, raped, and killed, Bronson had been nothing more than the once heir to the Lyon wealth.

  The McCarrick Clan were the Scots that had taken over the first part of Bronson’s land after his father had been slain, and the first he had defeated when he had decided now was the time to reclaim what was rightfully his. That battle had been the most grueling and bloody fights in all of the battles Bronson had been in. And when he had been victorious it had been all the sweeter. But Dawson McCarrick had not been involved with the fight since he was in another territory. Bronson had known Dawson wouldn’t have given up that easily, and it looked as though Dawson waited until Bronson had defeated all of his enemies before coming back at him full force.

  “He thinks tae take back what is no’ his,” Landon said from the other side of Bronson.

  “He can think what he wants. No one will take what is ours ever again.” Bronson stood, braced his hands on the table, and stared down at the map. There was a mighty roar, and his men started pounding their hands on the table in acknowledgment. “We worked too hard for a bastard tae try and come back with swords raised. We will show him what it means tae lose tae Clan Lyon again, and this time I will bring my sword down upon Dawson’s neck.” Another mighty roar filled the meeting room, and he felt it deep in his bones. He continued to look at the map and reached out to run his fingers over the outline of the Gaelina Mountains that separated Clan Lyon territory and the Clandestelle Kingdom.

  “The scouts that we have stationed on the edge of the territory said they saw McCarrick and his men over the Angelin Pass. Their fire burned brightly, and so they ventured forth, and saw his army being gathered.”

  “How close did they get?” Bronson asked Cal. He turned his head and stared at the blond haired, blue eyed warrior. Cal had a nasty scar that moved from the top of his hairline down to his chin. He was lucky he still had his eye after that wound.

  “No’ close. They would have been spotted, but they overheard two of McCarrick’s men bullshitting aboot taking over the marsh.”

  Bronson curled his hands into fists and clenched his jaw. He had only been wed for a full moon’s time, and already shite was happening to where he couldn’t even enjoy being with his bride. Even faced with this impending battle, all he could think about was Genevieve. “Fooking hell,” he gritted out. He straightened and ran a hand over his face. “More shite because these fooking arseholes canna understand that they stole this land from us in the first place.” He slammed his fist on the table hard enough that their mugs tipped over. “I will ruin them and make McCarrick wish he had buried himself under a rock.” He glanced at the six men that sat around the table with him. Cal, Landon, Dian, Ky, Earc, Osgar. These were the six men that he trusted more than anything else. He had hundreds, thousands more that stood and fought beside him, many of whom had joined his side and rallied with him for the greater good. They were all family, all fighting for the same cause, and that cause was making sure their land was kept for them.

  “Bronson, how should we proceed?” Cal asked.

  He didn’t respond right away, and instead stared at the map, contemplated, plotted, and thought about how he wanted to have this go down. “We need tae surprise them, tae attack when they donna see us coming.” He ran his gaze over the land where McCarrick was said to be. “We leave the night after next, once the sun has gone down.” He looked at his men once more, saw their hard but fierce and commanding, expressions. “Aye?”

  “Aye,” they all said in unison. A fierce battle would commence, and he wouldn’t stop swinging his sword until bodies littered the ground at his feet, and his kilt was soaking with the blood of his enemies.

  Chapter Seven

  Genevieve closed her eyes and breathed out. The bath water steamed around her, smelling of flowers, and softening her flesh. The sound of Mattina laying out her gown had Genevieve opening her eyes and staring at the young woman. “Do ye miss yer home, Mattina?”

  The handmaiden looked at her with this ever-present blank expression on her face. “Pardon, milady?”

  Genevieve sat up straighter and smiled. “I was only told that ye came from a neighboring village, but nothing else really.” She didn’t mention that Mattina didn’t seem to like to converse. “Ye seem happy, and so I just assumed life back home may no’ have been the best?”


  Mattina walked over to her and handed Genevieve a cloth to wash herself with.

  “Sit, speak with me,” Genevieve said and smiled once again. She knew servants were not to speak so boldly or openly with their charges, so perhaps that was why her handmaiden didn’t care to talk? But Genevieve also didn’t know anything about being a lady. She had only had this title for a small amount of time, and at heart she was no different from Mattina. The other woman sat on the stool beside the basin of water Genevieve was in. It took her a moment to speak, but she didn’t press Mattina. If the woman wanted to share, Genevieve was more than willing to listen.

  “No, my life back home was no’ the best, but we made do with what we had.” Mattina looked at her, but there was no emotion on her face. “I was forced tae leave the man I loved behind.”

  “Oh, Mattina, I am verra sorry. Maybe we can call for him, and he can work at the manor?” Genevieve didn’t even know if that was something she could promise, but she was a lady now, Bronson Lyon’s wife. That had to mean she had some leverage and power of her own, right?

  Mattina shook her head. “It isn’t that, milady. The man I loved was called tae battle before I left.” This hard, angry look covered Mattina’s face before she quickly put on a neutral expression. She turned and stared right at Genevieve. “This world is no’ meant for the lowly like myself. We canna even have the one thing that we crave the most … tae be with the man we love.” Mattina stood and went over to the small table. “I’ll leave ye, milady, tae finish.” Mattina looked over her shoulder. “Unless ye need me?” There was this strange tone in her voice, one that spoke of distance and even hatred.

  Genevieve shook her head. “No, I’m okay. Thank you.”

  Mattina nodded and led herself out.

  Genevieve slipped out of the bathwater and covered herself with the cloth Mattina had left for her. The small enclosure was warm and foggy from her bath. Once she was dried she dressed in a gown, and even after this time of being Bronson’s wife and staying in luxury, she could never get used to these things. She was used to the rags that she worked in, of the bath that was never smelling of flowers, and was only lukewarm, if she was lucky enough to get to it in time. And she certainly didn’t have people helping. Having servants was not something Genevieve cared much about, but she supposed it was no different from Genevieve working out in the fields, and helping her father. Work was work, and they had to do what kept them alive.

  She took the brush off the table and started running it through her dark red hair. She hadn’t seen Bronson all day, but she knew he had been preoccupied with his men. She was not privy to what they discussed, but she didn’t want to know anything that had to do with battles, which she assumed was what they were speaking of. So, she busied herself with learning the layout of the manor, or working in the small garden on the back of the property that had gotten overgrown, and visiting the village. She saw Bronson during the evenings. He would slip in bed with her, take her like he was starving for her touch, and then wrap his big body around hers. He’d then speak quietly and gently to her in Gaelic until she fell asleep. She had never felt as well loved, cherished, and protected as she did in his arms.

  It was late, and she excused Mattina for the evening. She should just go to sleep, but a warm glass of milk sounded heavenly. Her stomach had been queasy off and on, and she didn’t know if it was the fact she was finally settling in, or if it was because she had taken Bronson’s seed and there was a child growing inside of her. She turned and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her dark red hair was curling at the ends, and in a short time it would be a wild mess of waves around her head. She glanced at the closed door and then looked back at her reflection. She unlaced the ties at her waist, pushed away the layers of her gown, and stared at her nude body. She wore no undergarments because she knew Bronson preferred her to be bared and ready for him, but honestly she enjoyed the fact it pleased her husband to know she obeyed him. He wasn’t a bad man and didn’t mistreat her. But he certainly liked pleasures that were foreign to her, but ones she found most pleasing.

  Her breasts seemed fuller and her nipples darker, but perhaps that was the low candles that were placed around the room and giving bad lighting? She cupped her breasts, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with touching herself. The sensitivity in the mounds startled her. She lowered her gaze to her belly, and although she didn’t see any change in the size, she rubbed her hands over her flesh regardless. This feeling inside of her intensified as she realized she hadn’t bled yet this month, and that she should have done so already. Could she be carrying Bronson’s son? The thought thrilled and frightened her. Her belly did a little flip as she laced the gown up again, and she turned and headed out of the bathing chamber. Genevieve headed toward the back hallway that would lead her to the kitchen. She turned down another hallway, but the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She glanced behind her shoulder, feeling like she was being watched. A gasp left her at the dark, huge shadows that covered the stone wall, but before she could react she saw Bronson move around the corner. A sigh of relief left her, and although she knew she was safe in this manor, there would always be a fear inside of her. Bronson was a man hated by many, had enemies that lurked in the corners, and they would love to get to him through her. She knew about that even when she lived on the farm. Princesses, kings and queens, and other high standing individuals had lost their lives and loved ones because of others that hated them. She would be a naive fool to think that she was exempt from any of that.

  “Ah, I’ve found ye, lass.” Bronson’s deep voice filled her, but there was something different about it. “I have been looking for ye, wanting tae be with ye like a madman.”

  She pressed her back against the wall when he stepped in front of her. He smelled of mead, and the honey that laced his breath had her pulse increasing. “Ye are drunk?” she said.

  He shook his head, and the dim lighting in the corridor showed that he gazed down at her lips. “Nay, love, but I wish I was for the news I have tae tell you.”

  Her stomach flipped. “What is wrong?”

  He cupped her neck with each of his hands and smoothed his thumbs along her flesh. “Nothing that ye should worry yer pretty mind aboot, but it does mean I have tae leave tomorrow after sunset.”

  “Leave?” There was a hitch in her voice. “But we just wed.” The thought of him leaving was so sudden, so pronounced, that she felt a sick sensation in the pit of her stomach.

  “I know, lass, and if I could stay I would, in a heartbeat.” He lifted his gaze back to her face and stared at her for a suspended moment. “But I must leave in order tae protect ye and this manor, and tae make sure that all know that this is Lyon territory. All must kno’ that if they go up against Clan Lyon they will perish.” He slid his hand up her neck and cupped her cheek. “I need tae do this so we can live peacefully, so everyone that calls this land home can live happily, lass.”

  She smiled at the sincerity in his voice. She didn’t miss the darkness that laced his words either. Bronson had a hard side to him that, and even though he was gentle with her, it still came through.

  “Ye plan to go to battle?” Her pulse picked up, because even if this marriage had not been one that was built on love, she had found herself falling for her scarred warlord. The very thought of him injured on the field, or gods forbid not coming back at all, frightened her.

  “Aye, love, but I donna plan on leaving ye a widow.” This fierceness came into his voice, and she couldn’t help but believe every word he said.

  “Good, because I donna want tae be a widow, and I donna want my child tae be fatherless.”

  There was a moment where he didn’t speak, didn’t move, and then this brilliant smile covered his face. “A wee one, lass?” Emotion clogged her throat. “Well, I have not bled, and I have noticed changes, but I have no’ had the healer examine me.” There was a moment of silence between them. “But I feel like there is a little babe inside of me, Bronson.” Sh
e stared into his eyes. “Yer little babe.”

  “My Genevieve.” He leaned in and kissed her hard, possessively, and full of this powerful emotion.

  “I donna know for sure, but I wanted ye tae know ... just in case.” She added the last part on a breath, and although she couldn’t even think about losing him so soon after being his bride, it was a reality she needed to accept.

  “Love, I am no’ going anywhere.” He gripped her cheeks in his hands and looked right into her eyes. She knew he was this man that never failed and won his battles, but sometimes the gods didn’t look upon someone favorably so many times.

  But she just nodded and smiled, because showing her weakness wouldn’t help anyone in this situation. Before she knew what was happening Bronson had her hand in his and was leading her down the corridor. He made several turns, and her bare feet were making this soft padding noise across the frigidly cold stone floor. Finally he stopped in a corridor that was with only one candle, pressed her against the wall once more, and took her mouth in a kiss.

  She felt Bronson’s large hands flex and release on her hips, and Genevieve knew that this coupling would be fast, furious, and so heated that it would be like she had disconnected from her body. The fire running through her body could not be ignored. He kissed a path along her collarbone, and she realized he liked that part of her body. He moved his hands down her body and rested them right over her belly.

  “If there isn’t a wee one in yer belly yet, I’m going tae make sure I put one in there tonight, lass,” he said against her neck, kissing and licking her flesh until gooseflesh popped out along her arms. “I’m going tae fill ye with my seed until it slides down yer thighs, Genevieve.”

  She breathed out heavily. Only with Bronson had she heard such blatant sexual words spoken to her, and although she would have been highly offended by them, hearing them come from Bronson made her wet and so ready to take him into her body.