Dark Warrior (Warrior 2)

The three women shared tears and promises to always be friends, and of course Reena refused to believe that something could not be done to save Mary.

“I will continue my search,” Reena said.

“She is not happy unless she is searching and getting herself into trouble,” Brigid said teasingly.

“Mary!”

The three women jumped and turned to see Decimus marching into the great hall, his clothing wet from the heavy rain.

“We talk,” he said and directed her to follow him with a wave of his hand.

She hurried after him, noticing the strength of his strides and the rigid way in which he carried himself. He was a man with strong beliefs, and he expected all to follow him.

She had spent precious time attempting to find a way not to wed him. Now it was necessary to find out more about the man who was to be her husband. She would need to know him well if she was to protect herself from harm.

He took her to his bedchamber. She hesitated at the door, it being not at all proper for her to be there. His scathing look warned of punishment if she did not obey, and she reluctantly entered the room.

“Sit,” he ordered, pointing to the lone chair by the table.

He stood near the fireplace warming his hands.

He was richly dressed. His tunic was the color of deep red wine and was trimmed with gold and as usual he wore his rings. A gold cross on a heavy gold, chain hung around his neck. He certainly did not mind adorning himself.

“You are well this morning?” he asked after she had sat.

“I feel much better this morning. Thank you for asking.”

He rubbed his hands together, they looked strong though his fingers were narrow, and she could not help but wonder how many people those very hands had hurt.

“I want you to rest today. I will instruct the servants to tend to you.”

“It is not necessary. I am fine and I prefer to do for myself.”

He glared at her. “This is why I wished to talk. I will make your duties as my wife clear, and then you will know how to behave.”

“As you say.” She had the feeling that she would repeat those words often.

He began with, “You will not speak unless I give you permission.”

He droned on, detailing every step of her life with him. He would control her every movement, her every breath, her every thought. There would be no reason for her to think for herself, he would do it for her.

“After all,” he said. “Women are inferior to men.”

She remained quiet listening like a dutiful, inferior woman, while silently swearing that she would teach him otherwise. She would learn his faults and use them to her advantage.

It was evident that his first fault was arrogance and that certainly did not serve anyone well.

He walked closer to her and stared as though he looked through her, and she shifted uncomfortably in the chair. Did he see something? Did he sense something? His dark eyes made her uneasy and she looked away.

“Are you prepared to do your wifely duties, Mary?” he asked roughly.

She had not anticipated that question. Making love was not a duty, and she was grateful she had learned that with Michael. When two people loved it was a beautiful joining of two hearts and souls.

She did not know if he expected an answer. She had none for him. How could she, when the thought of being intimate with him turned her stomach.

“I expect you to do your duty.”

She stared at him, not understanding what he wanted from her.

“It is every wife’s duty.”

Her look became more confused.

He lifted her chin with one finger. “We will wed and you will give me a son.”Chapter 26Mary was grateful for the knock on the door that interrupted them and allowed her to seek solace in her bedchamber, while Decimus saw to an urgent matter with his men.

She sat on the bed giving thought to his words. The idea that she would bear Decimus’s children horrified her. Was that why she had not given the idea thought before? And what of Michael?

She placed a tender hand to her belly. What if she already carried his child? She had not even considered the possibility, or had she not wanted to? It would be a joy to have Michael’s child. But to have Decimus raise the babe?

A heavy sigh had her throwing herself back on the bed. How could she let Michael’s worst enemy raise his child? If there was a child. If not, she had nothing to worry about.

But what if she was with child? A child conceived from the love she shared with Michael . . .

“A foolish thought,” she admonished herself. Having Michael’s child now would not be fair to Michael or the child.