Warlord

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 that she was finally settling in or if it was because she had taken Bronson’s seed and there was a child growing inside 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 bare and ready for him, but honestly she enjoyed the fact that 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 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 went 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 her.

Bronson was a man hated by many, had enemies who 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 who hated them. She would be a naïve fool to think 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 prompted.

He shook his head, and the dim lighting in the corridor showed 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 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 who calls this land home can live happily, lass.”