Hannah did not answer.
She headed to the woods out of instinct. It was where she would go when her father let loose his temper, which had been far too often. She shook the disturbing memories away as she kept her gait steady. There was a briskness to the spring air that brought a smile to Hannah’s face and a glow to her cheeks. It felt good to leave the darkness and solitude of the keep even though two other people occupied it besides herself. There was simply no life to the place.
“I told you not to go into the woods alone.”
Hannah turned, surprised to see Slain not far behind her. He truly tempted the eye and not only his features but the strength of his stance, his broad shoulders drawn back, a slight lift to his chin and the way his muscles strained against his shirtsleeves.
“Why?” she asked before she could stop herself.
He raised his brow as he came to a stop in front of her. “You question me?”
She had forgotten her place as her father had often reminded her. “Forgive me, I thought a walk would, at least, keep me from being idle.”
“It is not safe for you to walk alone in the woods.”
“Then walk with me,” she said, hoping he would accept, hoping he might tell her exactly what he expected in return for allowing her to remain in the safety of his clan.
Slain was about to refuse when he found himself saying, “No more than a brief walk.” She smiled and he felt himself stir. It annoyed him that her smile could have such a stimulating effect on him.
Hannah snatched up a small stick as they walked, her smile growing. “This was an ample sword when I was a wee bairn. I would fight the fiercest of creatures with it and always emerge victorious.”
“I insisted on a real sword from the time I could grasp one firm,” Slain said surprised at himself for sharing it with her. He rarely, if ever, shared anything about himself.
“That was brave of you, since this,” —she raised the thin stick and waved it— “did little to help me.” She tossed it aside, thinking how unprepared she had been for real monsters.
“What of a brother or did he agree with your father?”
Another question she could answer honestly. “I have no brothers or sisters and I was a disappointment to my father.”
“A disobedient daughter could prove a problem, though a courageous daughter brings great pride.”
Was he defending her?
“I would prefer courageous over obedient.”
Hannah reached out as if it was the most natural thing to do and hooked her arm around his as they continued to walk. “I would imagine your daughter would be more courageous than most other women.”
“I will make sure she is,” Slain said surprised she had taken hold of his arm, yet enjoying the feel of it wrapped snugly around his.
“Then you hope for children?”
It was one thing he wanted most… a family. He once had hoped for a wife who would love him the way his mother had loved his father—unconditionally. She had known his faults, but they had not mattered to her. He could see the love in her eyes and in his father’s eyes each time they looked at each other. It never dimmed or faltered. It had shined like a beacon ever strong.
It was not meant to be for him.
“A marriage is being arranged.”
She stopped abruptly, dropping her arm off his. “I have heard no such news.”
“I have not made it known yet.”
For a moment, she stood speechless. “Then what do you want from me?”
Slain stepped close to her, took hold of her face and brought his lips down on hers.
Chapter 9
Shocked, Hannah grew rigid at Slain’s touch. She had never known a man’s lips on hers and she was not sure what to expect. Never would she have expected such warmth, tenderness, and pure pleasure from a man referred to as the savage.
His lips coaxed hers with gentle kisses and slight nibbles into responding and she did with eagerness, pressing her lips against his as if she could not get enough of him and a vague tingling began to spread throughout her body. His tongue faintly brushed between her lips and her mouth dropped open ever so slightly with a soft sigh, and his tongue slipped in.
His kiss suddenly engulfed her and she shivered at the intensity of the pleasure it brought her, that vague tingle turning to sparks that ignited intimate parts of her body. Her limbs weakened and his arm was quick to go around her waist and steady her against him, which seemed to heat her body even more.
Slain held her close, much too close. A kiss. A simple kiss was all he intended, but when his lips touched hers, everything changed, and even more so when she responded so innocently. It was as if she had never been kissed before and that thought not only fired his blood but aroused him.
He warned himself to end it, not let it go any further, but he found the taste of her too intoxicating. One taste was not enough; he wanted more. Much more.
He eased his lips away from hers, though kept his arm tucked around her. “Think on what you are willing to surrender.” He stepped away from her, his hand going to take hold of her arm when she appeared unsteady on her feet. “We return to the keep.”
Hannah went along with him, keeping silent the whole way until they grew nearer to the keep. She stopped suddenly.
Slain stopped as well, his hand still firm on her arm.
“I think I will go to the healer and have her look at my arm.”
Slain’s first impulse was to say no, though he kept hold of his tongue. Why he should not want her to go see the healer made as much sense as to why he wanted her to remain there in the keep with him. It was wiser to put distance between them with how aroused he felt.
He had given her until tomorrow to make a decision and he would keep his word.
“Go see Neata and then return here. Do not dawdle,” he ordered.
Hannah did not think before she spoke, but then she felt frustrated and annoyed. “What is wrong with dawdling at times? Must everything be rushed? Can one not simply linger and enjoy?”
“When I give you permission,” Slain snapped, his own annoyance surfacing, which he should have expected since he had left them both unsatisfied. “Go and do not linger.” He shook his head annoyed even more that his tongue had been so snappish, and annoyed that if he lingered any longer with her, he would do more than kiss her.
Hannah turned away in a huff, glad for his retreat. At the moment, she did not care to be in his company, though the more forceful steps she took the more she realized that was not true. She sighed and slowed her gait. The problem was that she had not wanted to leave his side. She had enjoyed their kiss and would have preferred talking to him, asking him why he wanted intimacy with her when a marriage was being arranged for him. Though, it was a question best suited for her to answer. Which would be far worse for her, remaining here, a kept woman to the savage, under his protection or… she shook her head.
Death.
She would be left far too vulnerable if she left here. There would be no place she could go that would offer the protection that the savage could. Besides, while Slain could intimidate at times, there was a kindness to him that he did not want anyone to see. Which seemed at odds with what he was demanding of her in exchange for her remaining here.
He was a bit of a mystery surrounded by secrets, which Hannah intended to unwrap and reveal.
She walked through the village, most nodding to her now, accepting that she was here to stay, no doubt thanks to Blair and Wilona’s wagging tongues. But what would happen when they found out that her position at the keep had changed? Would they still nod and call out greetings to her or turn their heads? But what would it matter? She at least would survive.
Neata waved when she saw Hannah approach and stepped out of her garden where she had been busy working.
Hannah smiled and returned the wave.
“You have finally come for a visit,” Neata said, resting the hoe she held against the side of the cottage.
“A visit an
d to have you look at my arm.”
Neata grinned. “I was going to suggest that. Come in and we will enjoy a nice chamomile brew, then I will look at your arm.”
Do not dawdle.
Hannah chased the words from her head and followed Neata into the cottage.
They talked of various things and Hannah was grateful Neata did not probe. She accepted the answers Hannah gave and questioned no more beyond them.
“I remember how Slain’s mum beamed with joy when I handed her squalling, wee son to her,” Neata said with a wide smile.
“You delivered Slain?”
“I did and I hope to deliver all his bairns. He wants a slew of them, though he admits it to no one. He cannot hide from me how much he misses his family and the way it used to be here, especially at the keep. The door to the Great Hall was always open to those in need. No one went hungry or unattended. Leala, his mum, made sure of it. It will be nice when Slain weds and his wife restores life to the keep.”
Neata spoke as if she knew of the marriage that was being arranged for Slain, but her next words confirmed the opposite.
“I hope Slain weds soon and she loves him with all the strength and courage that his parents had for each other. Then they would both be well loved, for Slain would surrender his heart and soul to the woman he loves.”
Hannah felt a strange catch to her heart. To be loved that way would be remarkable, and the strange catch to her heart turned to heavy sadness. She would never know such incredible love.
“I knew such a love,” Neata said with a smile and a tear in her one eye. “I lost my Peter far too soon after we wed and never found another like him. But the memories he left me with comfort me and keep me warm on cold winter nights.” She brushed a tear away. “Now let us see to that arm, though you must be honest with me in how you truly suffered such an injury. You have my word I will tell no one.”
Hannah hesitated, though only a moment. She could tell the healer without revealing certain information that had nothing to do with the torture.
It did not take long for Neata to reach a conclusion. “The healer who tended you was wise and thanks to her exceptional care your arm has healed better than I would have expected. Though, that healer was also right in telling you that your arm may never fully heal properly. It may continue to pain you and grow weak at times.”
“I can manage that,” Hannah said. “I could have been left far worse off.”
“There are not many healers as skilled as the one who treated you. What is her name?”
Hannah remained silent.
“It was Espy, Cyra’s granddaughter, was it not?” Neata asked, realizing Hannah had no intention of answering her.
Hannah smiled, but would say nothing, having given her word to Espy.
“Both Cyra and Espy are exceptional healers, though I believe Espy more so since her father had been a physician and had taught her all he knew. Espy is fortunate to have the knowledge of the old and the new ways, and you were fortunate to have had her tend you.”
A rumble of thunder caught both their attention and Neata went to the door to look out. “The sky darkens. A storm will arrive soon.”
Hannah slipped on her cloak and joined Neata at the open door. “I enjoyed our visit and will come again.”
“I would like that, and I hope to be the one who delivers your first born, after you find and wed a man who loves you.”
The two women hugged and Hannah hurried off, thunder following her and the sadness returning to poke at her heart. She would never know such a love and the thought seemed to crush her spirit.
People were hurrying to take cover in their cottages from the impending storm and Hannah quickened her own pace, the wind suddenly whipping at her. She lowered her head to avoid the lashing wind and lifted it only now and then to make certain she remained on the path to the keep.
The wind grew stronger, whipping more violently. It would be a harsh storm that soon descended on them. Hannah raised her head once more and scrunched her eyes to make sure of what she was seeing.
It was the creature who had saved her from falling into the thickets headed her way, his cloak billowing out behind him and from his sides like raven wings, almost as if the wind was too frightened to lash at him as it did her. Only this time she could see his face… Slain.
His mouth was pursed tight and his dark eyes wore a scowl that was focused directly on her.
He was coming for her; she had dawdled far too long.
Hannah braced herself for a tongue-lashing and was more than surprised when he raised his arm, the edge of his cloak in his hand, making it seem as if he spread his wing and he wrapped it around her as he turned and came alongside her, protecting her from the lashing wind.
He guided them both to the keep without a word being spoken, but then words would have been hard to hear with the relentless wind. The first drop of rain splattered the ground as they reached the door of the keep. He eased her through the door before him and shut it firmly behind him, then turned and glared at her.
“Forgive me, I lingered too long,” Hannah said before he could reprimand her.
“Did you not see the storm approaching?” He reached out and slipped off her cloak and divested himself of his own. With a firm hand to her lower back, he eased her toward the large fireplace that was burning more brightly than usual.
“I was inside visiting with Neata,” Hannah said and realizing her hands were chilled rubbed them together.
“Sit by the fire and warm yourself. The storm brings a chill with it.” He took her arm gently and eased her down on a bench. “Helice!” he shouted, after turning, his strong voice echoing throughout the Great Hall and no doubt the entire keep itself.
Helice appeared soon after.
“A hot brew,” Slain ordered and the woman nodded and hurried off.
Slain sat beside her. “What did Neata say?”
She smiled softly and purposely looked in his eyes and was not surprised to see concern there. Again she was reminded that he was not so much the savage most believed.
“She agreed with the healer who tended me. My arm may never heal properly. The pain may continue as well as the weakness. But I feel fortunate, since it could have been much worse.”
“You will take care not to abuse it with senseless tasks,” he ordered.
“What tasks would they be?” she asked pointedly, hoping he would define what he expected from her. He stared at her and he looked about to move closer, looked about to kiss her. She did not move away, for fool that she was, she wanted him to kiss her.
“Whatever I command,” he said and stood abruptly, not trusting himself to remain next to her. “Tomorrow I will summon you and you will give me your answer.” Quick strides had him leaving the Great Hall, passing Helice on the way.
Helice placed two tankards on the table, snatching one up after placing the pitcher there. “You had your chance,” she warned and walked off.
Tears brimmed in Hannah’s eyes, though she refused to let them fall. She raised her chin and stared after the woman, whispering softly, “You are wrong. I never had a chance.”
Hannah was summoned to Slain’s solar before the morning meal. She was glad since she had barely slept and her stomach had not stopped churning, thinking of how her fate had been sealed long before she arrived here.
Helice had shaken her head when she had delivered the summons and reminded her yet again as she had done last night. “You had your chance.”
Hannah knocked on the solar door and Slain’s deep, sharp voice bid her to enter.
He stood with his back braced against the desk, his arms crossed over his chest. He spoke not a word. He simply waited for her answer.
Before she lost her courage, Hannah rushed to say, “I will do what I must to remain here under your protection.”
“You will do whatever I command? I have your word on it?”
He was giving her another chance to leave or escape as Helice had warned. Her next words woul
d seal her fate and she spoke them with what courage she had left. “Aye, whatever you command. You have my word.”
Slain walked toward her with hasty strides and startled her when he went past her to the door and opened it.
Helice entered and behind her followed a man dressed in the plain brown robe of a cleric. The short, thin man appeared frightened as if he wished to be anyplace but here. Helice avoided looking at her as they both stepped to the side, remaining silent.
Slain returned to Hannah and with no smile and an icy tone said, “Today, Hannah, you become my wife.”
Chapter 10
Hannah stared at the cleric as he spoke, not truly hearing his words. Her mind was busy trying to comprehend what was taking place. Slain stood beside her as the cleric joined them as husband and wife.
She told herself to stop the ceremony, it could not be. It could never be, but her voice failed her. She had also given her word that she would do whatever he commanded in exchange for protection. Never, though, would she have thought he would choose to wed her. She had been the marriage that was being arranged. He had planned it all along.
Why though? Why wed her?
It was a question that gave her an uneasy feeling, though nowhere near the troubling concern it gave her at what would happen when her father discovered who she had wed.
“Hannah.”
Her name spilled so softly from Slain’s lips that she was not sure she heard it, though she turned to him with a gentle ‘aye’ falling from her lips. It took a moment for her to realize that she had just agreed to accept Slain as her husband.
Speak up. Speak up. Stop this farce. She silently warned herself, but again her voice failed her. A sudden thought came to her then. Would this marriage be valid if her father did not agree to it?
No one of importance. That was who he thought he wed. But why would he want to wed a peasant?
“The document must be sealed,” Slain said and stepped away from her, the cleric joining him at the desk to make their union official, and consummation would be the final sealing of their vows.
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