Always Mine (31 page)

She jumped back, feeling like a lecherous peeping Tom, uh, Tomasina.

When the supplies she requested were brought to the door, she heaved a sigh of relief. Once she had them spread on the table, she inspected each wound, repaired his stitches and applied clean dressings. Her hands roved over his smooth, warm chest muscles, down across the hard slab of his belly and even further to

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prowl over his long, powerful legs. As she washed away the smeared blood on his sex, she told herself she searched for any missed injury. When she realized she was touching and admiring his sexy body far more than was necessary, she pulled the covers up to his chin and slid into bed beside him. She didn’t trust her hands not to start straying again, so she pressed her cheek to his forehead to be sure he had no more than the normal amount of fever after such an ordeal.

She inhaled his scent, that scent that forever made her heart trip, for her soul had remembered it throughout centuries.

Earlier, bitterness had gleamed in Damron’s eyes and showed in the grim set of his lips. If he had no feelings for her, why had she been sent here?

With her hands behind her head, she stared up at the bed canopy. What had happened between Damron and Genevieve that caused the woman to give him such a vicious wound?

Was it something he had done, and she had defended herself?

Or did she attack him in a jealous rage? Had this distrust, this unwillingness to let another woman close to him, caused the marriage between him and the early Brianna to end in tragedy?

Well past sunrise the next morning, Brianna woke to find Damron had drawn the bed draperies. It was dark and deli-ciously warm, but not from his body next to her. She stretched and knew he was not in the room, or she would have felt his presence.

“Good day, milady,” Mari said as she opened the drapes, a cheerful look on her face. “The master said to have a warm bath waitin’ when ye stirred.”

“Um, that sounds heavenly.” Brianna swung her legs over the side of the bed and groaned when she stood on the cold floor. Though she was in good shape, every muscle in her

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body squawked. Lugging Damron around on the bed had taxed her strength to the limit. She sighed, relaxing in the hot water.

Mari bustled about picking up discarded clothing and putting it away. Her eyes near bugged out of her head when she saw the blood-stained sheets.

She clucked and shook her head in sympathy. “Me mither told me to lay all quietlike, with me arms at me sides and me eyes closed. She claimed ’twould make me marital duties easier. Mither said a man doesna like ye to see his rod all shriveled like. Ye must wait till it be full grown with heat, for it do look right hapless afore it gets excited.”

Brianna covered her face with the soapy cloth, hiding her grin.

Mari pursed her lips and added, “Whimper and beg that such a massive weapon will surely kill ye, but dinna scorn that part of him that holds a large share of his brain.”

“A large share? Huh. I think it’s
all
housed there.” Brianna huffed and rolled her eyes at Mari.

“Aye. To be sure some do.” Mari stooped and gathered the soiled linens in her arms. “After the master be done, sigh that he is a most powerful man. It wudna hurt to say he has a won-drous pintle.” She giggled and made a face over her shoulder as she left the room.

Brianna finished dressing, and secured her hair with two braids at her temples tied in back with a bright yellow ribbon.

Hearing a distant crash, she startled. Thunder? Did a storm approach? But the room was bright with sunlight.

Fear flew through her that someone attacked the castle. She stumbled over her feet as she ran and peered out into the courtyard. Men looked up at the floor above her and scratched their heads. She rushed from the room and up the corner stairwell.

Shrill shrieks and curses led her to Asceline’s room. The door

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was thrown wide as if someone had left hastily. Brianna stopped and stared at the room.

The leman’s bed had collapsed in the middle, folding the pallet into a giant sandwich, trapping Asceline inside. Her hands scrabbled like frantic crabs trying to reach the frame at the head, and her feet were high and thrashing against the raised foot of the bedding.

Whoever had lain with her there had slithered out like a worm, for half the sheet trailed across the floor. Brianna shrugged and studied the leman’s predicament. Damron burst into the room, with Connor and Mereck arriving seconds later. Half a dozen people gathered behind them. Meghan peered over a man’s shoulder and, seeing Asceline’s dilemma, her eyes sparkled. On hearing her throaty laughter, Asceline shrieked even louder.

“Hush yer blarsted screechin’, woman,” Damron bellowed.

He shoved a lock of windblown hair out of his eyes and stared at the bed like it had become a monster that had decided to gobble up the hysterical woman.

Brianna’s heart sank. Had he been on the stairway behind her, or had he been much closer but timed his arrival after hers? She jerked around and left the room. She would not ask him.

Damron and Mereck freed Asceline, and when Damron spied the cut ropes, he raised a questioning brow at his brother. Mereck’s lips twitched, but neither man spoke.

Damron knew his thoughts on keeping a leman while one had a wife. He decided his brother was wiser than he.

When they finally returned to the dusty bailey, Damron grinned at Mereck. “What do ye think happened?”

“Hm. No doubt Brianna had help from Meghan to weaken the bed,” Mereck said and chuckled, then his face became serious.

“Aye. Though this is one mischief I dinna intend to lecture about.” Damron frowned and rubbed his jaw. “Asceline

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has taken a new lover. She tries to convince Brianna that I still visit her.”

“’Tis a shame the man freed himself afore we got there.

How long do you think Asceline has lured another to her bed?” Mereck met Damron’s gaze and quirked a brow.

“I kept her well sated until I brought Brianna here. Only these past weeks has she been actin’ like a bitch in heat.” Damron huffed in disgust, then turned when guards atop the barbican called out that Eric MacLaren approached. He was the first to answer the summons to gather for Damron’s wedding.

In the next days, Brianna busied herself helping Lady Phillipa prepare for their expected guests. When she joined Damron in bed, she was so tired it didn’t take as much of her will to close her mind to her body’s response to his drugging kisses, and his warm flesh pressed to hers when they slept.

If she didn’t allow herself to want him, maybe she could protect her heart.

As the sun started to lower two days later, Damron entered while Brianna lounged in her bath. He sent Mari for more water, then lifted Brianna from the tub, wrapped a warmed cloth around her and stood her before him. He took his time drying her with exquisite tenderness. When the housemaids arrived with his own water, he put Brianna’s robe around her and belted it.

“Come, wife, I would have ye tend my bath. I wish to please someone special this night.”

Brianna’s temper flashed. So he wanted to please Asceline, did he? “One moment, husband. I’ll wash your hair with one of Bleddyn’s special soaps.” She went to her chest, drew forth two small vats and held them close to her body as she went to his back. When she reached for his head, his hand shot up to inspect what she proposed to use. It had a heady scent of san-

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dalwood, herbs and juniper. He released her and she spread it over his back and chest. She took her time lathering his black hair and scrubbing his scalp before massaging his neck and shoulders. His wounds were healing nicely, and her fingers were especially gentle around them.

She grasped his head and nudged it forward so she could rinse it, then rubbed it with a towel before again running her fingers through the hair at his nape. After she finished bathing him, he dried himself while she dressed with all speed. She peered at him from the corner of her eyes, and began to regret what she had done.

Damron donned a soft white shirt, wrapped his plaid and buckled it around his waist with his heavy ceremonial belt and sword. He wore white stockings and black leather shoes and, when he was done, he looked so handsome her heart jumped a beat.

“Sit, my lord, so I may comb and braid your hair.” He looked surprised at her solicitude, but he smiled and thanked her.

When he brought his wedding gift from his chest and buckled it around her hips, unease quivered down her spine.

No sooner had they descended the stairs than Brianna wished she could haul him back to their room and fix what she had done, even if it made him so angry he punished her. She grabbed his arm, opened her mouth to urge him to return upstairs with her, but the bagpipes called a merry greeting from the barbican.

It was too late.

“’Tis a Sassenach greetin’ they play,” Damron said, smiling down at her.

On hearing the word for someone across the borders, she would have dashed forward, but he kept a tight grip on her elbow.

“Walk beside me, lady wife.” His green eyes flashed, and his smile disappeared. “Ye need not display such eagerness.

All will think ye unhappy in our union.”

As her gaze scanned the approaching riders, she could hardly

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control her excitement. Seeing men dressed in the Morgan tartans, she craned her neck and tried to see the people behind them.

Finally, she spied whom they escorted. Aunt Maud and Uncle Simon rode at their center, and between them rode a woman clothed in white garments and a wimple.

“Alana!” Breaking from Damron’s grasp, Brianna hurtled down the steps, her arms outstretched. The abbess was beautiful. The white cloth wound around her head, framing her face, was drawn in folds beneath her chin, flowing down across her back. Her eyes were the same deep brown as Brianna’s and, by the color of her eyebrows, so would be her hair.

Her eyes held inner peace and love.

Bleddyn put his arm across Brianna’s shoulders, keeping her from harm’s way as the laughing party dismounted. She waited anxiously until Alana, Aunt Maud and Uncle Simon reached them. She flung herself into her sister’s arms, crying and laughing, until her aunt and uncle demanded attention.

She turned to them with the same exuberance. When she finally caught her breath, her gaze scanned the people around them, looking for Elise and Galan.

“’Tis sorry I am Elise and Lady Cecelia could not join us.”

Baron Ridley patted her shoulder. “They have traveled with Sir Galan to Normandy. I sent him to purchase an Arabian stallion and mares for breeding. Elise is happily buying cloths and spices. They will be sorely disappointed when they return to find they have missed this visit.”

“Now, my lovely, we will join the others,” Damron said and smiled down at her. “We wished you to have this private time with your family, and they waited within.” He put Brianna’s hand on his wrist and led them all into the hall where his family stood by the fireplace.

After all the introductions had been made, she again hugged her sister. “Alana, I have longed to see you.”

“You have changed much, my little one.” She held Brianna at

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arm’s length to study her face and form. Bleddyn stood close.

“No longer are you the unruly lass who must be watched like a hawk.” When Damron snorted, she glanced up. “I have come to see you take your wedding vows afore God and man.”

“She will need support to stand when my lord is finished with her. Unruly? He should whip her more often.” Asceline’s triumphant laugh poured from her throat as she pointed to Damron’s head. “Have you joined the savage Welsh with their wild paints, my dear lord?”

Damron stiffened. He stood as still as a standing stone.

Bleddyn broke the silence. “Lord Damron has allowed his wife to stripe his hair in our fashion. It is a great honor he does me. I thank him for it.” He bowed deeply toward Damron.

“Indeed, I would always honor you and your people thus, my lord. I have much respect for your customs.” Damron’s eyes flashed fire at Brianna. She recognized the anger in his soft voice and knew he would retaliate.

He did, when he whirled from her and took Asceline’s elbow to escort her to the table. Brianna felt as if he had slapped her in front of everyone. When he had said he wished to please someone, why hadn’t she kept her temper under control? What she had feared—that he would favor Asceline—she had brought about.

The evening meal progressed with Alana and the Ridleys answering Brianna’s many questions. As trays of sweets were placed on the table, Alana turned to Brianna.

“Please, love, sing for me? It seems forever since I have heard your and Bleddyn’s voices together.” She clasped her hands in delight.

“Yes, my loving wife. Do sing for us.” Damron crossed his arms over his chest and sprawled his legs out in front of him.

Hearing his sarcasm, Brianna hesitated. Bleddyn helped her rise and whispered, “You will sing for Alana, my little one. She does not have the joy of being with us and will soon

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return to her abbey. Let not your vow stop you from giving her comfort.”

He sat on a stool, his bodhran on his lap. When the sounds and rhythm of the beat filled Brianna, husky warbles started low in her throat. The volume of her voice increased until it lifted high in an ancient Celtic song.

Damron listened to a song of such passion and wildness that his heart beat in rhythm to the bodhran. Delight shone in Alana’s eyes and wide, happy smile. She held her hands tightly clasped at her chest as if in prayer. The tune ended and they began another. Damron’s head jerked when Mereck joined them. His eyes widened in surprise, and he leaned forward when his brother took Brianna’s hand and they danced gracefully, uninhibitedly, as they continued to sing. The dance ended and their voices picked up with the next beat.

Too soon, night fell. Brianna turned to Bleddyn with questions in her thoughts. She wished she could be content with her life like Alana, but then her sister knew she was much loved by Bleddyn. Would her father have vowed to found an abbey with Alana as the abbess had he known one day Bleddyn, the Welsh boy he loved like a son, would so dearly cherish her? And, had he known the healthy heir he prayed for was but another daughter, would her father have made that vow?