by Beth Mikell
Brenna met Darrius’s gaze and she found him watching her.
“Yes, I would like that very much,” he stated, looking to his king.
King Henry appeared thoughtful. “You will need a suitable wife, of course.”
****
Darrius paled, ready to object to any bride other than Brenna, but the king continued, “Lady Brenna’s second request to me was for you both to marry. You both have my blessing by the way.”
Stunned beyond words, Darrius could only stare at Brenna. He was not sure when heaven fell into his lap, but he would thank God and King Henry for making this woman his.
“Your Majesty, may I make one last suggestion?” Brenna asked.
The king laughed with a hearty, deep rumble. “Please, for I cannot deny you,” he said in good humor.
“I would like Dorling Castle to be no more.” Surprise lit the king’s face. “If you allow, from this day forward, it shall be called Blackstone Castle.”
King Henry leaned forward in his chair, looking directly into her eyes. “My lady, you are indeed a treasure and delight. I do not know many men who would exhibited such fortitude without mixing words. I will grant your request, if you will allow one of my own.” The king looked between Darrius and Brenna. “Shall we adjourn to the chapel? I want to attend your marriage ceremony straight away,” he announced, coming to his feet, eyeing the couple with amiable favor in his expression.
Brenna rose to her feet, moving to Darrius’s side and they clasped hands, showing reverence to their king: he bowed and she curtsied.
“We would have no greater honor, Your Majesty.” Darrius turned to his bride who was about to become his true wife. Good fortune was not enough. It was as if Heaven’s gates opened.
****
The ceremony of Lord Darrius of Blackstone and Lady Brenna of Carthmore was performed with much decorum befitting the highly regarded couple under the watchful eyes of King Henry. Though the king made his departure soon after the ceremony, he had imparted gifts for the couple he recently obtained while in the borderlands: fifty yards of linen, fifty pounds of almonds and raisins, and a basket of figs—because they were the king’s favorite. He also had bestowed a golden ring to symbolize his happiness at the union with an additional request for many sons.
Brenna and Darrius strode hand in hand into the great hall of Carthmore surrounded by the knights of the Imperial Arm.
Dugan the Bloodsword stepped before the couple, bowing. “My lord and lady, congratulations. May you be truly happy and blessed,” he offered with a smile. “If you allow, I would like to return to Blackstone Castle at once. I would like the opportunity to share my news with my betrothed.”
Darrius smiled, offering his hand to his knight. “Congratulations to you and Lady Linnea as well. Not only for your impending marriage, but for becoming Lord of Carthmore. I pray much happiness to you and Lady Linnea. The king made an excellent match.” He knew who made the joining, glancing at his wife with a proud smile.
“The king was most generous,” Dugan replied, turning to Brenna. “My lady, it was your kindness and I thank you. I shall never forget it.”
She smiled up at her soon-to-be brother. “My sister is very lucky indeed, Dugan. I will be honored to call you brother. Now, go. You do not want to keep your bride waiting!” she exclaimed with a lyrical laugh, watching as Dugan smiled one last time before exiting.
His excitement echoed through the hall. There was something fast returning Carthmore Keep: happiness.
Darrius pulled his bride into his waiting arms, bending closer to her ear. “Can we go celebrate our good fortune, my lady wife? I am in dire need of you,” he whispered suggestively, his warm breath caressing over the turn of her ear.
Brenna looked up into his eyes, the tip of her tongue smoothing temptingly over her bottom lip with invitation. “After you, dear husband.”
With their hands still linked together, they walked up to her previous bedchamber at Carthmore, stealing kisses along the way. As they entered the room, Darrius pulled Brenna into his arms, breathing deeply of her lavender scent. Should he ever find himself lost, he knew Brenna would find him again, but he did not plan to allow his wife out of his sight for a long, long while. Even though he had pressing business for the king in regards to the growing concern of the Gray Legion, he planned to enjoy unrestrained love found only with Brenna.
Darrius pulled back, looking deep in her eyes, so amazed that she was now his wife as God ordained and King Henry blessed. She was the beloved of his heart. A woman of strength, wisdom, and sweetness.
His.
Brenna’s braid was entwined with pearls, falling over one shoulder to her waist over the light blue of her gown. The green pools of her eyes reflected all her love. “Married at last, warrior,” she said with a soft smile. “I predict a more enjoyable wedding night.”
He smirked, his eyes dancing with amusement. “I should think so, but God, Brenna, never remind me of our previous wedding night. I shudder under its disgrace.” His face sobered, closing his eyes against the memory.
She caressed a hand over his bearded cheek until he opened his eyes. “I think you more than compensated for that, my love. Let us build new memories.”
“Brenna,” he began, tilting her head back with his hand. “Did I fail to mention how proud I am of you? I think you captivated the king—especially with your ideas for Dugan and Blackstone Castle. You were amazing. Thank you, but I am not the least surprised. Your kindness would give no less.”
She gave a small laugh. “What about you, warrior? Were you captivated?”
Darrius chuckled, leaning forward to brush his lips over hers. “Entirely. You have only to walk in the room and I am a captive audience, not to mention ready for all possibilities,” he whispered against her lips. “Would you like to see how much?”
Humor lit Brenna’s eyes ready to comply, but her expression faded.
He sensed the change, concern filling his eyes. “What is it?”
She hesitated a moment, then said, “Darrius, this may not be the right time, but there is something troubling my mind. I need to say it before we begin our life. I do not want there to be any regrets.”
His jaw ticked. “Tell me.”
Brenna drew a deep breath. “Colin.”
Darrius exhaled his own measure of worry on the topic and hugged Brenna closer. “I have thought much of this,” he said softly. “Had Colin come to me before releasing Gunther and taking you hostage, I would have been more inclined to hear his words, or at least beat the hell out of him for daring to believe such lies about me.” Darrius shook his head. “He placed you and Linnea in danger. He sacrificed Ian who was as close as a brother to us all. Colin’s actions were inexcusable and I cannot forgive him. Not now, not ever.”
With a sad smile, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Aside from the circumstances at hand, he is still your brother,” she began when Darrius looked to protest, she rushed on, “There may come a day when you two need each other. At least leave yourself open to the possibility.”
Darrius considered his wife’s words carefully, weighing the truth, knowing her words came from her love and kind heart, but he was not hopeful for a future result. “For you, little dove, I will consider anything, but I truly cannot make a promise regarding Colin right now. His betrayal is still too raw and too deep.”
“It is all I ask, Darrius.”
He grabbed her about the waist, pulling her higher up his chest, twirling her around and around. Brenna squealed in surprise and he laughed with pure joy at the sound of her happiness. Then, he stopped, allowing her to slowly slide down the front of his body. He loved the feel of her warmth.
“Shall we get back to celebrating, little dove?” he asked. “I want to wrap myself in forever with you.... with our children... in our home. I love you, Brenna.”
Tears stung her eyes. “Darrius... I love you too,” she breathed softly as his mouth touched hers.
Tenderly, his lips brush
ed a sweet fire as familiar as sunshine. Her sensual taste sank into him. The touch of her tongue slipped over his—never enough—never satisfying—leaving him wanting more. He pulled back to look at the flushed face of his wife and slowly she opened her eyes to look up into his. A smile touched her lush lips. She was breathtaking in his eyes. Who could have possibly told him the first day he met her that she would become his life’s blood.
If God and King Henry had required penitence for the dangers she endured, he would, even now, sacrifice his soul for Brenna’s happiness without a shadow of regret. Quite simply, the Imperial Arm could never be more a warrior, more a protector, or more a man without Brenna’s light beside him guiding the way.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
A slow, salacious smiled curved his lips and he ran his hand over the flatness of her stomach, but he did not answer her directly. “What do you say we work on the king’s suggestion for some children, little dove?” he asked huskily.
Brenna turned in his arms and pulled him toward the bed. “Only if I get to ride you first, my love,” she whispered, her eyes were alight with desire and playfulness.
With a sharp intake of breath, Darrius’s face darkened. “Are you trying to kill me, Brenna?” His arousal strained against his breeches at her mischievous words.
“Rebelliously, of course,” she said softly with a wink.
His pupils expanded with desire, scooping her up over his shoulder. He loved her shout of laughter.
“Darrius!”
He chuckled, popping her easily upon the bed, throwing himself down next to her body. He lifted a hand to caress her flushed face, his heart in his eyes. “Now, my lady wife, let us work on your rebellion...” His voice dropped to a silky hum.
Her gaze warmed. “Do you think that’s possible?”
He raised both eyebrows. “I never said I doubted my skills.” He smiled as she giggled, his grin fading into an expression of heat. “For a start, we will peel you out of your clothes.” He smoothed his lips across hers. “Then we’ll go from there…”
****
Blackstone Castle - Two weeks later
Brenna and Darrius waited at Carthmore Keep until Simon was well enough to travel, leaving for the newly christened Blackstone Castle. The new Lady of Blackstone could not think of returning one day sooner without the knight who helped saved her life and became as important as a brother.
The newly named keep buzzed with excitement. The people were ready to embrace their new lord and lady with much enthusiasm. No man, woman, or child could contain their smiles of joy or the pleasure of the festive celebration in welcoming Darrius and Brenna home.
Lord Dugan and Lady Linnea of Carthmore sat beside each other at the long table, having been wed earlier that afternoon. Sweet smiles and gentle touches were unmistakable within the couple’s happiness. They waited until Darrius and Brenna returned from Carthmore before marrying, but they were indeed anxious to leave for their new home.
As Darrius entered the great hall, his faithful keep greeted him. Everyone expressed congratulatory praise and thanksgiving to their new lord. He was surrounded by his Imperial Elite and a plentiful feast was laid out before him with exquisite wonder. The sound of minstrels and musicians, horns, and lutes filled Blackstone with entertainment.
With an easy smile upon his lips, Darrius sat down in the middle of the high table, facing his faithful people.
Only one important person was missing.
The Lord of Blackstone shoved abruptly to his feet, and the hall went still. The Imperial Arm drew his sword. “Where is Brenna?” Fear clogged his throat and each man of the Imperial Elite came to attention. They were ready, alert, and awaiting orders.
The immediate dangers were stamped out, but Brenna’s absence uncurled a protectiveness within him. It was not in her nature to miss the first day back at their home.
Nyle of McLeod rounded the corner of the hall and paused. A hint of a sly smile played on the healer’s lips, but he continued up to his lord. He bowed. “My lord, Lady Brenna requests your presence in your solar.”
Darrius sheathed his sword. “Is she ill, Nyle?” His heart sank. He knew Brenna felt exhausted these last few days, but he thought it was due to everything she had been through and the long travel back to Blackstone Castle.
Nyle smiled. “For certain, my lord, Lady Brenna is in excellent health.” He chuckled slightly. “Go to her, cousin.”
Darrius all but ran out of the hall, bounding up the stairs two at a time in a panicked rush to the lord’s solar. Apprehension filled his chest at the thought of Brenna languishing in sickness after everything they had been through.
As he swung the door open, he stopped. Darrius found his new wife abed in only a dressing gown, her braided sable-brown hair falling down one shoulder. “My lady, I was fearfully worried when you did not appear for the evening meal. I was prepared to take to the countryside to look for you,” he said wryly, but his relief was evident in his softening features.
Brenna’s green eye glittered with amusement, and she grinned. “Aye, I can imagine. You probably even drew your sword.” Amusement lit her voice.
He shut the door and his lips drew into a flat line, but his deep, blue eyes reflected his mirth. “Indeed, my lady wife, I would ask you not make light of it.” Though in truth, his heart still pounded in his chest. He was not sure if he would ever recover from Brenna’s kidnapping to the danger she endured.
She smiled. “Come to me, warrior.” She held up a hand to him.
With a few easy strides, he sat next to her on the bed, his hands coming up to her face, testing for fever. All traces of his panic turned into a worried concern. “For certain, little dove, are you all right?” He leaned forward to place each of his hands beside her hips, staring into her beautiful eyes.
Brenna reached up to caress his face. “I have a surprise for you.” She reached down and opened her dressing gown, exposing her naked body. She picked up his left hand, kissing his palm, and then laid it against the smooth skin of her stomach.
Darrius looked down at his hand on his wife’s body, then back to her. Realization hit him square in the stomach. “Brenna? Truly?” His happiness erupted like fire.
She nodded. “Our child, Darrius.”
He closed his eyes in sweet pleasure, only to open them again to look at the amazing woman who held his heart. Shifting, he leaned down and kissed her stomach—the haven where their child rested.
“God… I am humbled,” he whispered, resting his head against her, his hands sliding up to cup her hips. “Whose love are you?”
A shiver ran over her. “Yours. Always yours.” Brenna’s hands sank into his hair.
His lips moved over her skin, growing urgent. Darrius’s tongue circled her skin, kissing every inch of flesh he could taste until his mouth met hers. He moved one hand up to cup her breast, softly flicking her delicate nipple between his fingers, watching her change from happiness to desire within a space of a breath.
“I love you, Brenna,” he whispered, his lips brushing over hers.
She opened her mouth, her teeth coming down lightly on his bottom lip. “We have some more celebrating to do, my love,” she rasped.
“There is nowhere else I would rather be,” he said, his mouth taking hers with sweet need.
Epilogue
The middle of Hell.
Colin pushed his horse beyond its limits, hooves beating hard and fast. Slick lather ran over the fine hair of his mount. He was headed nowhere. Hour after hell bent hour, he traveled with pain unraveling his heart in pursuit of nothing.
He drew his horse to a stop, dismounting. He sank to his knees. Primal rage ripped through his chest and heart, tearing out his throat. He roared his pain into the night sky. Tears coursed down his face as he pounded the earth with his gauntleted fists.
He was dishonored. He was degraded and abased beyond redemption. Somehow, along the way he traded his sanity, his brother, and his dignity for a shameful
vendetta. He had demeaned his character until he was emptiness revered.
Hate drove Colin from such an early age. After Lord Robert dismissed Colin’s mother and himself from Dorling, anger ruled him. Then he released Gunther, Phoebe’s actual murderer. He could have simply killed Gunther and been free of all this!
He would have his life back, even his brother. Darrius was so far removed it would take a miracle to gain his trust again. Quite frankly, he felt he deserved everything he had received from Darrius. What had he said that was not true?
Had he not released Gunther? Had he not allowed Ian to die? Had he not endangered Lady Brenna and Linnea? Had he not feasted upon revenge as sweetly as a whore’s tart?
Should hell open to take him, he would welcome the pit with open arms.
“Dear God, what have I done?”
The End of Book 1
The Atonement
Knights of the Imperial Elite - II
Beth Mikell
Prologue
Seven years ago - The Highlands of Scotland
Fourteen-year-old Ryrie McCabe of the clan McLeod shucked her new harp out across the open field, uncaring where it landed. She took off running without a care or a destination. Her gown rode up her legs, and her breath heaved in her chest, burning through her lungs with every pump of blood.
“God’s teeth!” she fumed.
She hated Colin the Loyal.
So what if he was her brother Darrius’s friend and seven years older than her? What did she care that he had kissed her in the shadows of the great hall by mistake, then turned his back on her when he realized his error? What did she care that he was sinfully handsome and smelled like a real man and not a whore’s leftover?
She cared.
Ryrie collapsed on the ground with a great sob, her inky black hair fanning out on the grassy earth in a tangled mass. Her violet eyes seethed with unadulterated anger, flushing her cheeks rosy pink. She thought back over the last few days that began her torment.
