Always Mine (27 page)

“Do you not have the courage to punish her?” She licked her lips as her gaze traveled down his body, looking for the effects her exposed womanhood would have on his shaft.

“Church law allows you a stout rod as thick as your thumbs.

I will hold her if you think she will fight you.” Her nipples hardened. One hand moved to play over her breasts while the other caressed her mons.

He shuddered in distaste, for Asceline took pleasure in other people’s misfortune. He silently watched his leman prepare herself for him. It was a game she often used when he was in a temper.

He did not speak, and he did not remove his clothing. Instead, he tossed her over his shoulder, turned and landed her face first on her bed. He raised his hand high and gave her a hard, stinging slap on her buttocks. She yelped and scrambled to the head of the bed.

“That is for enjoyin’ the humiliation my wife must endure this night. Ye will stay here, in this room, or be on yer way back to Normandy with a goat herder for escort come the morn.” He stalked from the room and slammed the door.

He found his room empty, and it suited him. He gathered clean clothing and went to the bathing room, mindful that he might smell of Asceline. She had doused herself with her favorite essence of jacinth, made in Normandy especially for her. Where before he had found it enticing, now it brought naught but distaste. He much preferred the teasing fragrance of heather when Brianna walked past.

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Two large wooden tubs and several buckets of heated water stood warming by the fireplace. He filled a tub and scrubbed as he would after a battle.

Dressed in fresh clothing, he checked his chamber and knew Brianna had seen the rock and defied him, for her scent lingered. When he barged into Meghan’s room, she thrust her chin forward and narrowed her eyes at him. He crossed his arms and stared at her. And waited.

“Well, man, dinna stand there like some great beastie.”

“Where is she?”

Meghan shrugged. His gaze swept the room and came to rest on the large chest against the wall. He threw open the top, expecting to find his wee wife within. When she was not, his steps carried him to the bed. He tossed back the covers.

Finding only pillows, he scooped aside a tapestry to check the window seat. With a disgusted grunt, he left the room.

Damron crossed to his mother’s solar where she and three of the castle widows were stitching a tapestry.

“Brianna is not within, Damron.” His mother’s voice was cold. He knew she was angry at what she called his “unbend-ing attitude” toward his wife.

His hands fisted. The longer it took him to find Brianna, the more his temper simmered. “I am sorry, Mother, but I must check.”

Lady Phillipa rose to her full height and delivered a stinging slap to his cheek. “Question my word again, and I will take that great sword from the wall below stairs and beat you with the flat of it.”

For a moment, Damron felt like a foolish lad who had raised his mother’s ire. He fought to keep from shuffling his feet like an embarrassed youth, bowed stiffly and apologized.

He had deserved her temper. His cheek still smarting, he left there and went to his grandfather’s room. The Old One sat

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high in his bed, where he and Dudley, his friend and manser-vant, were playing chess.

“Granda, have ye seen Brianna since we supped?”

“The wee one is missing? God’s bones! You checked the battlements above?”

“Brianna thinks to defy me yet again and has hidden herself from me. The lass
will
learn to heed my directions. I willna have an unruly Saxon to wife.”

Guardian bounded up at the mention of his mistress’ name.

His tongue lolled, and his tail wagged in circles so fast it created a draft.

“Find Brianna, Guardian,” Damron ordered, and the hound’s eyes lit. Damron’s jaw clenched. His search would soon be over.

They left the room and headed for the battlements, where Guardian raced out the door and searched over the rooftop.

He came back thumping his tail, delighted with the new game they played. The wolf streaked down the hallway to stop at Damron’s door, then ran across to Meghan’s before he turned to the corner stairwell. Damron followed to the bottom of the keep.

“Lucifer’s arse, Guardian, not my track but Brianna’s,” he grumbled. Guardian raced past the door to the bathing room and stopped at the storage room door. When Damron patted his head and thumped him on the side, he looked up and wagged his tail happily.

Damron stalked into the dim room and hooded his eyes.

His gaze swept over everything stored there, and he grunted on spotting an opening between the bales of flour.

“Brianna, I know where ye are hidin’. Dinna make me come after ye. Believe me, wife, ye dinna want to anger me further.” His voice was as soft and caressing as velvet.

“I wasn’t hiding,” Brianna said as her head popped up above the sacks. She squared her shoulders and frowned at

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him. “I was checking the flour for weevils and didn’t hear you come in.”

When he quirked a brow at her, she tilted her nose in the air and boldly met his gaze. Her nostrils started to twitch and she sneezed, took a deep breath and sneezed again, then near rubbed her nose from her face.

She stood and lifted her skirts just enough to free her knees so she could scramble across the tops of the bales. She looked much like a reluctant ant crawling toward the waiting tongue of a lizard. When she came to the last bale, Guardian stood on his hind legs and placed wet, sloppy kisses on her face.

“Huh. Go back to your master, Guardian.” She scowled at the wolf.

The beast whimpered, flattened his ears to his head and looked at her with sad eyes. He put his tail between his legs and lowered his head, dislodging flour from his heavy ruff.

He made several loud, snuffling noises, then sneezed and rubbed his muzzle against Damron’s leg.

Brianna pulled her clothing about her and took the short jump to the floor. Her tunic caught on the wire tie binding a bale of wheat and exposed her bare legs up to her creamy thighs. Blushing, she jerked the material loose. She did not meet Damron’s gaze, but stared at his arms crossed over his chest.

“Come.” He held out his hand.

She drew back and shook her head. “I’m not through checking the flour and wheat. Did you notice the flour float-ing around? The sacks must have loose seams. If I don’t mark them, we’ll likely do without bread this winter.”

He rolled his eyes at her, reached out a hand and grasped her chin to force her to look at him.

“Have it yer way, Brianna, but ye will come when I command. Come easily or with force. ’Tis yer choice.” His calloused hand slid through her flour-coated hair to rest on

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her nape. From the tension in her neck and shoulders, he knew she wanted to yell at him as he guided her up the stairway and past the great hall.

When they chanced meeting anyone, she nodded and greeted them with a cheery voice. He smiled with the air of a man enjoying the feel of his wife’s slender neck.

At their bedchamber door, Damron slammed it shut with his foot.

“Eleven!”

Brianna’s eyes widened. “Like he . . .” she started, before he clamped his hand over her lips.

“Dinna think to quibble. I have no doubt ye saw the rock on the pillow. I told ye to prepare when that occurred. Not only did ye not do so, ye dared defy me by hidin’.”

“Prepare? How do I prepare myself to be punished like some hound that stole meat from your plate?” She shouted,

“Don’t dare. Try it and I’ll not forgive you.”

“I willna ask forgiveness. I demand honor and obedience from my wife, and
I will have it!
” Before she could move, he grasped her tunic’s hem and whipped it up over her head, then yanked it off her flailing arms. The smock was a bit more trouble, for she grabbed hold of it and tried to tug it back from him.

His heart pounded at the sight of her. Her hair was in wild disarray, and her beautiful body was bare to her creamy thighs. Pink ribbons held white stockings above her knees, adding to the erotic picture. He tore his gaze away to study the bundle of clothing puddled at her feet. He spied the drying cloth sewn to the back of her smock.

“Did ye think me a fool? That I did not know Meghan padded herself? I wouldna shame my cousin by barin’ her body to my hand. Nay!” He held up his hand, letting Brianna know his wife was another matter. “Dinna say it. I warned ye from the first day not to defy me.”

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Damron sat on the edge of the bed and eyed her. And waited. Brianna’s chin lifted. She stared defiantly at him and crossed her arms over her breasts, shielding them from his gaze. His eyebrows arched. His mouth set in even grimmer lines.

When he grabbed her waist, she shrieked. He bent her across his spread legs. She became a spitting tigress, clawing and trying to bite him.

He anchored her firmly, pulling her tight against his body.

His left hand held her waist. His groin stirred to the erotic sight. He groaned and fought himself not to nuzzle his face against the creamy skin of her bottom and place nibbling kisses there.

A bitter taste filled his mouth. He did not want to strike her. Why had she challenged him after he had warned her?

Every warrior at Blackthorn waited to see if he could control his wee wife. Not a one of them would respect him if he did not. He had been unable to curb Genevieve, and he had vowed never again to let a woman make a fool of him. He clamped his teeth together.

“One!” His right hand came up. And wavered. “Yield to me, Brianna. Vow obedience and I will pardon ye.” He stilled, waiting to see if she would agree. His hopes sank. He could not let her win this constant battle of wills. Life in the Highlands was harsh and dangerous. If a woman was to be kept safe, she had to obey the men in her family without question.

“Let go of me, you obnoxious, overbearing Neanderthal!”

she yelled. Struggling wildly, she freed an arm and raked her nails down his hard thigh.

He tightened his hold, looked down at her lovely arse and shook his head. His raised hand clenched, then stretched flat again as he steeled himself to smack her tempting flesh.

“Oaf! Blasted lummox. Hit me, and I’ll slam a brick on

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your fat skull the first chance I get.” She tried to thrust herself up from his lap.

His hand was halfway down to her creamy cheeks, but it bounced back up. Again. He began to wonder if his elbow was a tightly coiled spring.

“You wouldna dare.” He flipped her over on his lap and scowled down at her angry face. Never had he had trouble disciplining Meghan. But then, even as a young lass, his cousin had been much bigger than Brianna. And he had known she was well-padded, and he couldna hurt her.

Brianna glared daggers at him. “Ha! Try it and you’ll be damned sorry. I’ll not be treated like an unruly child.” She grabbed the braids at his temples and used them for leverage to hoist herself up.

“Ow! Lucifer’s hairy back! Are ye tryin’ to snatch me bald?” Damron grabbed the sides of his head and rubbed.

“I will if you keep acting like you’re my father and I’m three years old,” she shouted.

Brianna hurtled out of his arms and grabbed her tunic off the floor. Her face burned with embarrassment. She had never been so humiliated in her whole life. No. In both lives.

For God’s sake! She was naked, her private parts exposed to his eyes and hands. The more she had struggled the harder his sex had become. Had it gotten any more rigid, it would have bruised her side.

“Then agree to heed me and dinna ever again cause me to treat ye as such.” Damron bounded up to come nose to nose with her.

“Ha! Who died and made you king?” The idea that he demanded unquestioning obedience to his dictates stoked her anger into maddened foolhardiness.

She fisted her right hand and whacked him on the nose. On seeing the astonished look on his face, and the bright red

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drops starting to dribble toward his lips, she brushed her hands together like she had finished an accomplishment.

He grabbed his nose and stared at her, undecided. She glared daggers at him. A soft rap at the door and Mereck’s voice sent him swiftly to unlatch it.

Mereck raised an eyebrow, seeing the blood coming from Damron’s nose. “Come,” he said and jerked his head toward the stairwell. Neither spoke until they came out into the bailey.

“Well, brother,” Damron began, “why did ye come for me?”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Mereck’s fist smashed into Damron’s chin. He hit the ground with a thud. Mereck followed to kneel on his shoulders.

“You have insulted a proud woman.” Mereck, normally a man of few words, took a deep breath. “Have you not learned the strength of her will? Her dignity?”

Mereck was right in his judgment. Damron did not fight against his half brother, nor did he tell him he had not punished Brianna as he had promised. Were his men to learn of it, they would look on it as a flaw in Damron’s ability to command respect from all at Blackthorn.

When he did not answer, Mereck continued, “Brianna expects honor from others. Once she calmed down, she would have come out on her own. But you hunted her like a forest creature. She is angered at Guardian, for he broke faith by leading you to her hiding place.”

“He is right, Damron. She isna a woman to bend easily to your will.” Connor stood over the two sprawled on the ground. “Did I not tell you she had the temper of a Mereck? She is as proud as any man.”

“Surely Damron realizes by now that he made the wrong decision on how to deal with Brianna.” Bleddyn appeared where before no one had stood. “She will not forgive you for allowing anyone to know you meant to correct her like a

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child. It offended her dignity. Come. I have taken leave to order Angel and Thunder saddled. We must talk.”

Their horses’ hooves pounded like crashing thunder as they crossed the drawbridge. Once they stopped to talk, Bleddyn did not tell Damron all of it, only that Brianna was not as other women, and should she become unhappy enough, she would become but a mere shadow of herself.