Hunted: A Claiming Novella (The Claiming) (18 page)

“Why don’t you two go on and leave
early,” Penelope suggested. She picked up book she’d started recently and
thumbed a page, pretending to read.

Phoebe looked at the door anxious to
leave. She probably had plans, Penelope figured. “I don’t know. He said to wait
here until he came back. He was pretty strict with us about it.”

“That, and since you plan to let him
claim you, I don’t want to cross him,” Priscilla added. “Not if he’s going to
soon be part of the family.”

Penelope was surprised. She hadn’t
thought of it at all, since the incident. The Claiming Ceremony for her was
canceled. She could still marry Ryon in the traditional sense, but neither of
them had discussed it. Nothing much had been discussed since the accident.

“I promise, he won’t be mad at you. If
anything, he might be a tad cross with me. Nothing too awful, I promise. I’ll
just sit here and read anyway.”

Her sisters didn’t look convinced. They
watched her with hard, measuring eyes much as Ryon had done earlier. Then, they
shrugged.

“You’re a grown woman and I trust your
decision. Besides, you look perfectly fine to me. Especially now that you’ve
been moving around,” Phoebe said.

Priscilla looked less likely to budge.
“I don’t know, Phoebe. Maybe we should stay…”

Penelope decided to throw icing on the
cake. “I’ll tell him I forced you to leave by throwing a screaming fit. How’s
that? I’ll be good. I just want to walk around some by myself.” She crossed her
index and middle fingers in the promise position and held them up. “See?”

Priscilla cracked a smile. “Fine, fine.
I’m leaving. I have things to do anyway.”

“Ditto; but Pen, I don’t have to leave,”
Phoebe said. “I don’t mind staying a few more hours until Ryon gets back. Are
you sure you don’t want the company?”

Penelope grinned like a prized
cat—everything was falling into place. “I’m certain. I love you gals. Thanks
for coming, now leave.”

Her sisters didn’t take offense, but
gave shared hugs and kisses before departing.

Penelope saw the sun nearly gone from
the sky. He’d be back soon. Time to put her plan into motion—and claim her
husband like she wanted.

*  *  *

Ryon returned home late that evening.

Penelope waited for him like an
assassin—only she had no death wish for him—at all. She did wish for something
else. Something carnal, and perhaps a little hot. She hadn’t gotten to
experience her claiming like she should have. If that day hadn’t been
interrupted, she would have been in the arms of Ryon that night, claimed in
every way possible by him. Well, she was done waiting. Tired and anxious. She
wanted him, and tonight she was going to have him. Whether he knew it or not.

Penelope waited at the back of the
house, sniffing a dandelion she’d plucked.

He stomped through the house, calling
her name, then her sisters’ names. Hearing no response, his
bootsteps
boomed up the stairs, then shouted into her empty bedroom. He cursed.

She laughed.

But the fear in his voice took her by
surprise. She wasn’t trying to make him mad. She wanted him…supple, not tense.
Quickly she turned toward the house and shouted back, “Out here, Ryon!”

Ah, yes. Ryon. His real name was no
longer a challenge for her to say. In fact, she could do so with a cheeky grin
and without so much as a lick of hesitation.

He charged outside, the door slamming
against the house in his wake. She nearly took a step back at the sight of him.
She hadn’t expected this. He was quite…livid.

His fists hung in monstrous fists at his
sides, teeth were clenched tightly, brow furrowed in a vicious
V
.

“Sorry,” she said automatically.

“Sorry for what exactly?” he asked,
coming closer.

Charging
closer,
more like. She feared he might run her over.

“Sorry for doing exactly what I told you
not to do? Sorry for letting your sisters leave early? Or sorry for lying to
me? Or maybe you’re sorry that you came outside alone? Which is it, Pen,
because I’m very, very curious?”

He stopped a hairsbreadth away from her.
She rocked backward on the soles of her feet as the gush of wind he brought
with him pushed her.

She stuttered, mostly from nerves. “I-I
didn’t want t-to lie to you, and I’m s-sorry. But I wanted something else even
more.” The corners of her mouth pulled up as her eyes softened.

His own expression changed to match
hers. Apparently she had him at a loss for words. He made a gruff, noncommittal
noise in response.

They were so close all she had to do was
lean forward and they touched—so she did. Chest to chest, his heat warmed her,
made her wish she could snuggle completely against him. Maybe she could.
Tonight. Because she had a plan.

“So, does that mean you’re going to lie
every time you want something?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Not at all. This
appears to be an unusual case, don’t you agree? You refused to let me out of my
bedroom, after all. I was going stir crazy. I think you could be a touch more
understanding, Ryon. No offense, but I think you’d do a rather poor job of
staying in bed for a whole three days too.”

His eyebrow twitched. “I would listen to
the doctor’s orders.”

She scoffed in laughter. “Perhaps you’d
try, but would you succeed? You’re so active now, I can’t help but think you’d
find yourself out here in my shoes too.”

Her eyes sparkled with victory in sight.

But then he added, “I wouldn’t lie about
it.”

Her mouth opened to protest, but he cut
her off.

“And I wouldn’t come outside where I
know my defenses are weaker.”

“I’m sorry. You’re absolutely correct. I
shouldn’t be out here alone. But…” Her mouth slammed shut, eyes dipped into a
glare. “I want you.”

Ryon blinked. She’d taken him by
surprise—again. “Excuse me…what?”

Chest to chest, she stood up on her toes
until she could kiss his chin. His delectable, square chin with a speckling of
crisp beard growing in. “I said, I want you.” Her voice was husky and warm.
Their eyes locked, then roamed each other’s faces studying every nuance.

“You took your bandage off,” he
remarked. The statement sent her off-kilter.

“Y-yes, I did. I wanted you to see for
yourself that it’s nothing but a row of stitches. We can be careful and…make
love.” It came out nearly as a whisper.

He cupped her cheek and his head
lowered. Her eyes closed, chin tipped up to await his kiss. And when it came,
his mouth pressing against hers, she sighed into him. He caught her, wrapping
his arms around her in a tight embrace.

Soon, it wasn’t enough. She wanted to
taste him, to fuse their mouth together and feel his naked strength pressed
against her body. But, then he ended the kiss, far too early for her liking.

“What is it?” she asked.

She could see it in his eyes—he was
going to tell her no. Panicking, she pressed her hips into his and found his
erection: strong and hard. Stifling a groan, he grabbed hold of her hips,
whether to pull her closer or not she didn’t know. He bit his lip and fought
for calm.

“The doctor said not to do
anything
remotely
vigorous until after three days. That’s not until after tomorrow, Pen. I’m
sorry. You don’t know how badly I want to make love to you, but we have to wait
until your neck is healed.”

Penelope straightened, thoroughly
flustered at his denial and a touch upset at his refusal. “You’re telling me
no?”

Sensing he was entering dangerous
territory, he paused to consider. “I suppose what I’m saying is…
not yet.
”

A wild noise bent out of frustration
tore from her throat as she pushed away from him and marched inside, head
poised high. She turned at the last minute to tell him in a calm, even voice.
“You can sleep on the couch.”

“Pen, you don’t—”

She slammed the door before he could
finish. At the sound of his vicious curse, she grinned from ear to ear.

“I’m still marrying you, Pen!” he
shouted.

“And I’m still accepting,” she whispered
back.

Chapter 17

Five
Days Later

“…forever.”

As the last word rang from Penelope
Ward’s joyous face, a feeling of deep contentedness filled her. True happiness
was at last in her life, and his name was Ryon. The only man who could
challenge her to be a better person. He held her cheek cupped in his palm as he
gazed deep into her eyes before the crowd at their wedding.

A smile crinkled the corner of his eyes.
“I’ll love you forever,” he repeated.

Lyle Hargrowe, King of Tarlè, nodded
approvingly from his throne, and the crowd cheered wildly at the final
pronouncement of marriage between Ryon Amadeus Ward and Penelope Farris
Ward—husband and wife. They didn’t get there through the Claiming Law as
expected, but they did it themselves the olden way.

White flecks of paper confetti danced in
the air, tossed up by the crowd, swirling with the wind gusts in beautiful
patterns. A piece landed on Ryon’s head, one pale dot on his dark head of hair.
Standing on her toes, Penelope pressed her lips to the heat of her husband’s
mouth—yes, her
husband
—and plucked the paper from his hair.

“There, that’s better.”

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you
look?” His expression was serious. A blush stole over her at his compliment.

“Ryon—” she hedged, biting her lip. She
didn’t know what to do when he said such things. It made her feel silly and
wonderful all at the same time.

He studied her reaction, then seemed to
come to some conclusion. “Let’s get out of here.”

Her stomach dipped. She knew that look.
He wanted her. This was hardly time.

“But…right now? We can’t. We have to
stay for the party. It’s a celebration for us!”

They looked around at the arena packed
with those who’d come to witness the ceremony. Their Claiming Ceremony had
caused quite the stir after the Avagarians’ attack. Many had come to see them
married properly since he hadn’t gotten the chance to claim her.

His shoulder lifted in a shrug. He did
that often, she noticed. Just one of the many small details she loved learning
about him.

“We’ll come back after we’ve finished.”
He was already tugging on her hand, slipping her through the crowd of peering
onlookers.

“Everyone will know.” Surely, they
wouldn’t have enough time to perform to their equal potential if they went
running off now.

“They are going to know anyway.”

Maybe she didn’t feel
that
reluctant.

She was married to Ryon Amadeus Ward,
the General of the Tarlèan Army and hero to the people. And, more importantly,
to the man she loved.

Since the attack on her by Lysse, she’d
become a bit of a celebrity herself. People waved and smiled at her wherever
she went; they talked about how brave she was. Penelope didn’t think she was
brave. She saved that term for heroes like Ryon who did real work. Penelope had
found herself in an uncomfortable position, and she’d had to battle to get out
of it. Luckily, she had the help of Ryon, King Lyle, and the guards. Without
them, she’d be dead.

“I think I can sneak us out the back
through the balcony, then maybe find someplace quiet,” Ryon was saying,
distracted.

She tried to get his attention, to stop
him from pulling her away. But he was too lost in his own thoughts to hear her.
Penelope wasn’t distracted and noticed when the king stood, obviously seeing
them trying to make an escape.

King Lyle stopped before them, halting
their escape.

Ryon did not look pleased. “Do you
mind?”

“It’s your wedding celebration. You
can’t leave, no matter how eager you are to consummate, friend. First we eat,
then we dance, then we toast and drink. We eat some more, dance some more, and
then, finally, when the night is late and everyone tipsy, you may take your
leave. That is the tradition. After the attack, everyone could use a little
celebration. Besides, we have to make up for the fact that Penelope never got
to be properly claimed. Everyone was really hoping to see your fisticuffs with
the duke.”

Penelope squeezed Ryon’s hand. “I think
that sounds like an amazing time. I would love to stay and celebrate.”

Ryon looked down at her. Maybe it was
seeing that she meant what she said but he nodded, even though it looked like
it pained him to do so. “Fine, let’s eat.”

“And dance,” she piped in.

He grimaced.