Always Mine (35 page)

He didn’t move, but waited, patient. She shuddered and nodded. He began to move slowly, testing her pain. When she no longer seemed in distress, his movements became more urgent. Her legs wrapped around him, and her hips rose to seat him firmly. Finally, she writhed, moaned and thrust against him, demanding all of him. He drove her relentlessly until she stiffened. She arched her back, panting.

A cry burst from her with such an explosion of passion he clamped his mouth to hers to catch it. Wave after wave, her hot core rippled and clenched him. He lunged deeper, faster, surging against her womb until he reached his own release.

His head reared back. A great roar burst from his lips as he filled her with his seed.

Damron rested his face against her neck, his gasps tickling her ear. He stayed within her until their breathing calmed, then lifted himself to her side. He cuddled her in his arms and crooned endearments in French, German and Spanish. Brianna knew they were endearments, for she recognized his whispered Spanish.

“Mi alma, mi tormento.
” My soul, my torment.

Damron stroked her hair and soothed her until she slept.

He worried he had not been tender at the end, though she had not cried out in pain. Finally the candles guttered out, and he closed his eyes and slept.

Brianna heard Damron ease the door shut behind him shortly after dawn. She stretched and grimaced. Remembering

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her heated response to his lovemaking, she blushed. Though sex with Gordon had been satisfying, never had she felt the consuming passion that Damron called forth in her.

When she went down to the hall, she tried to disguise her sore body with slow movements. The men grinned and teased Damron, saying if he did not go more gently, she would ne’er be able to sit for her meals.

Below the lord’s dais, servants cleared away the spilled pitchers of ale and wine, and stored the trestle tables in their wall niches so they would have room to present the men to Damron for their fealty oath. Damron stood, his grandfather by his side.

Mereck kneeled on the cold stones, placed his hands between Damron’s, and gazed up at him.

“I vow, on my honor, to be faithful to ye as our Laird of Blackthorn. I will perform all acts and services due ye, and ne’er do ye harm.” Mereck’s voice rang out loud and clear.

After Damron bid his half brother rise, he clasped him around the shoulders. Connor came next. Then Lord Douglas called up one man at a time. Each knelt before Damron and vowed fealty. Damron in turn promised to protect them and their lands with his army should they ever be in need. The ceremony was finally completed, and the men ate and drank themselves into a stupor.

Damron and Brianna tended guests by day, and made love throughout the night. Their visitors slowly left, reluctant to leave Blackthorn’s generous hospitality. The Ridleys and Alana lingered, for their journey had been long. Brianna gloried in being with the women, who smiled at her and showered her with hugs and kisses. She blossomed, but as the weeks passed, she began to tire easily.

He continued to make sensuous, gentle love each night and

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coaxed her to rest after the noon meals. Sometimes she spied a sweet smile curling his stern lips. She guarded her heart and soul as best she could, fearful she would be taken away as swiftly as she had been brought here.

Damron wanted to savor each night, even though they had a lifetime ahead. He knew she did not give him her all, but he was too proud to ask her reasons.

He did not believe himself unreasonable in wanting her soul to belong only to him, but he did not think he should give as completely to her. It was a wife’s duty to love her lord, to give him heirs and to cleave only unto him.

Brianna had finally accepted her role as his wife. He wanted nothing to upset her. One day late in the morning, Damron searched out Brianna.

“Simon complains that Gawky spoils for an outing and needs exercise. Mayhap we can gather yer family and ride out to hunt this night’s meal?”

Brianna’s eyes lit with pleasure. “That would be fun.

Meghan can bring Simple. Alana doesn’t believe the stories we’ve told her about the little hunter.”

When they all went below, stable boys had their horses waiting at the foot of the stairway, but Sweetpea wasn’t there.

“I’ve missed ye all morn, love. Come, I would have ye sit across my lap, so I can have ye in my arms.” When she blushed, he chuckled and lifted her to sit across his thighs.

She smiled up at him, a fragile trust budding in her eyes. His heart lurched. Thankfully, Guardian barked at the horses to follow him. Brianna laughed at the wolf ’s antics.

As they rode through the forest path, Damron spoke.

“Brianna, I wanted us to be gone from Blackthorn for a while. I have moved Asceline to another holding.” She stiffened against him and started to speak. “Nay, wife. She will

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bide there only until we can spare the men to see her safely to Normandy. We will speak no more of her,” he said, his voice stern.

She was tense for a time, until Simple’s attempts to copy Gawky’s graceful landings with his prey brought forth her laughter. From then on, the day was peaceful.

Brianna, Alana and Meghan spent many hours together.

Though Meghan would rather be whipped at a stake than sew, she would wait patiently while the sisters mended Damron’s clothing. Brianna’s favorite days were when the three women and Bleddyn went into the woods to gather herbs not grown in the castle gardens. Damron didn’t object to their forays, for Bleddyn’s formidable presence and Meghan’s, who had earned her reputation as the Warrior Woman of Blackthorn, were more than adequate to protect the two women.

On the day Alana and the Ridleys were to return home, Brianna forced a cheerful smile. They broke their fast with hot fruit scones, clotted cream, fresh churned butter, cheese, cold meats and sweet ale. All in the household went down to the bailey. After Meghan said her farewells, she raced to the top of the gatehouse to play a
Ceol mor,
to salute the departing guests.

Her family rode through the gatehouse and out over the drawbridge with their escorts. Brianna insisted on going to stand beside Meghan to watch as they crossed the open field to the forest road beyond. She didn’t move until they disappeared into the dew-washed trees.

Damron watched Brianna learning her duties as The Morgan’s wife under his mother’s guidance. Brianna rose with the bells of matins as deep night lightened to beckoning dawn.

No duty seemed too menial for her. She worked from the sun’s rise to its setting, studying how their clothing was made,

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from shearing the sheep, to weaving the wool, to watching the seamstresses stitch clothing for the villagers. She inspected the dairy, the bakers’ ovens, the cow byre where they milked the cows, the kitchens, the brewery and the chandler’s.

The sleeping chambers smelled fresh as a spring garden, for when she visited the chandler’s, she took them small vials of lavender, rose and heather essences to add to the candles. She even saw to having heavier bags made to hold the flour, and supervised cleaning the storage room from ceiling to floor.

Damron welcomed each sunset, for Brianna was ever more re-ceptive to his nightly advances. Still, he was not fully satisfied.

From the lingering glimpse of fear in her eyes, he knew she with-held something from him.

Brianna woke one morning when the sun was high, for Damron had been particularly insatiable through the night.

Noting the late hour, she jerked upright. Her head spun. Her hands flew to cover her mouth. Mari rushed to hold a basin beneath her chin.

“Ye should eat the bread first.” She washed Brianna’s face, then gave her a hunk of warm bread. “Just ye lie there, lovie, and nibble away. Ye will see yer stomach settle.”

Brianna took a mouthful and started to chew. Suddenly, she went still. She gasped, and nearly choked. When she looked at her hand and stared at her fingers, mentally counting, Mari smothered a giggle.

“Good God Almighty,” Brianna whispered. She took a deep breath and yelled, “Nathaniel!” He did not surprise her when he immediately entered her room. She looked at him and then at Mari. “All right, dammit, how long has everyone known I’m pregnant? That’s why you’ve been treating me with kid gloves, telling me to eat bread before I rise, drink milk and take a daily nap.”

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“Pregnant?” Mari gasped, her eyes bright with worry.

“What malady be this? I thought ye were breedin’?”

“It’s the same as breeding, Mari,” Brianna said quietly. She dropped her head into her hands and groaned pitiably.

“Nathaniel, what am I going to do?” Tears welled in her eyes.

Bleddyn wrapped her in a sheet, took her into his arms and sat on the bed’s edge. He rocked her as his hands glided over her hair, soothing her.

“Fetch your laird, Mari.” He nodded, satisfied, when she hurried away. He studied Brianna’s face. “Did you not suspect, when your time of the moon has not appeared since the night you lost your innocence?”

She shook her head. “I’ve been so caught up in all that’s happened these past two months, I forgot to count the days.

And don’t forget, there’s no such thing as a calendar here.”

She stared up at him as icy fear twisted her insides. She gulped. “Nathaniel, what will I do? In my time as Lydia, I lost two babies before their term. I’ve tried to keep my soul intact, or I’d never survive if I left Damron. What if I went while I’m pregnant, or after the child is born? I couldn’t bear it.” Brianna sobbed and clutched her arms around Bleddyn’s neck.

She had fallen deeply in love with Damron.

Damron stormed into the chamber, his face grim.

“Leave me, wife? Do ye make plans to leave?”

Chapter 21

“Do ye so hate the thought of my bairn in yer belly? I have been waitin’ for ye to tell me ye were breedin’ and thought ye would be happy. Ye are always holdin’ and kissin’ the wee bairns whenever they are about.” Damron’s tone was harsh, his body stiff. Brianna sobbed all the harder. He took her from Bleddyn’s arms, and the Welshman left.

“Ye did not weep so even after I shamed ye afore all of Blackthorn when I threatened to thrash ye.” Her tears unmanned him.

After all the hardships he had dealt her, she wept over carrying his bairn. Fear squeezed icy hands around his heart. “Did ye not tell me for ye planned to leave, carryin’ my bairn and heir?”

“I v-vowed to be with you unto d-death, and I wouldn’t break it by any will of my own. I d-didn’t tell you because it n-never dawned on me I was carrying!”

His pent-up breath whooshed from his chest, ruffling her hair. An idea struck. He loosened her fingers from his neck and studied her, shaking his head.

“Little wife, did ye not know how bairns are made?” He yanked up the hem of his shirt and wiped her face and nose, being as tender as if she was a youngling. “Ye argued about

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ploughing yer belly and planting my seed, and I thought ye knew why yer time of the moon had not come.”

He cuddled her against him, kissed her forehead and coaxed her to relax. “Did ye not notice yer body’s soft signs?” Moving his hand up beneath the sheet, he cupped her left breast. “See how much fuller yer beautiful breasts have become?” He felt down her waist and over her slightly rounded belly. “Have ye not felt this tiny burden when ye bathe? I thought ye waited for a special time to tell me. I had forgotten yer innocence from livin’ with the Sisters at Saint Anne’s.”

“I’ve been so caught up in learning my duties as the laird’s wife, I thought I was late from being busy and worrying over missing Alana. Even when I couldn’t keep my meals down, I owed it to eating food different from what I am used to.”

Truly, she did not lie to him. She had known her time was late, but she thought her system had been shocked by all that happened since she awoke in the field with Damron and Connor looming over her.

The sickness, she had thought, was caused by food that hadn’t been refrigerated, and the tiredness from worry, and even her body changes had all seemed normal. She thought she was filling out from eating the extra bread, scones, cheese and milk they had coaxed on her.

Heaven help her. All the signs of pregnancy were there.

“Now that ye know, why are ye so heartsick? Is it knowin’ ’tis my bairn and not Sir Galan’s ye carry? Do ye still pine for him?”

His heart squeezed near dry while he awaited her answer.

“Oh, Damron. I don’t love Sir Galan. Never would I wish him in your place.” She buried her face against his neck and whispered, “I’ll love your bairn with all my heart.”

Tears flowed freely down her face, soaking his shirt. He was truly puzzled until another thought struck him.

“Ye are afeared of the birthin’?” His eyes flew wide, for the

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thought also haunted his mind. “Bleddyn has told me he will be with ye, and he is well prepared.”

Her head popped up from his neck. She stared at him, her mouth agape.

“He has gathered special herbs and met with midwives. He is sure ye and the babe will thrive. Did ye not note Alana promised to return in five months’ time? ’Twas so she can be with ye for yer last month.” He struggled to hide a smile when she tugged the sheet up tight to her chin and gaped at him.

“Well, for God’s sake. Did everyone in this whole blasted country know I’m pregnant except me?” Her tears stopped, and her face was red with indignation.

He shook his head, as solemn as a priest. “Nay. Not everyone. Most of the women, the couples with bairns of their own, and mayhap the older pages and fostered children,” he teased.

When a look of horror crossed her face, he laughed.

Brianna scrambled from his lap, grabbed the trailing sheet in her fists and stormed over to her bedside table, muttering the whole way. She tore off a large chunk of bread and jammed it in her mouth. He knew she smothered her curses so he could not hear them. She swallowed several times before she got the mouthful down, then huffed and disappeared behind the privacy screen.