Sold Into Marriage (2 page)

“All right, Meadow. I’m giving you the last five strokes now.” He shifted closer to her and pressed more firmly on her lower back, as if anticipating her struggle. His masculine scent enthralled her senses, drawing her into his presence. There was something about him that she found safe and comforting, something about him that made her want to snuggle into his arms and hide her face in his chest.

“I’m ready,” she said through a choked sob. “Pl-please just get it over with, sir.” She sniffled and hated that she sounded so pathetic in front of him. She should be pounding her fists against him and cursing his name, not bending over and allowing him to whip her with his sword belt.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five
. The last strokes fell, just as hard as the first ones, though most of them hit her lower bottom, where her thighs curved into her buttocks. She hissed through the pain and rose up on her toes, though she remained bent over the stool—the firm hand he kept pressed to her lower back wouldn’t have allowed her to stand up no matter how hard she tried.

He tossed his sword belt on his bedroll. Meadow started to rise up, but he stilled her with a deep noise in his throat.

She froze and blinked hard. Terror filled her. He was going to rape her, going to have his way with her now that her punishment was over. Her heart raced. How stupid she’d been to fall into this odd false security around him. Just because he hadn’t verbally assaulted her or raised his voice in anger didn’t mean he wasn’t a bad man.

“Please, no.” She tried to will herself to fight him, but the fear of what he intended paralyzed her. Her legs felt wobbly and she didn’t think she could fight, let alone walk out of the tent and back home. “Please, I-I’m a vi-virgin. You mustn’t. Please don’t touch me.”

“Relax, Meadow. I’m not going to touch you. Don’t be afraid.” He drew her skirts down, fixing her dress back into place. “Can you stand up?”

Relief flooded her, and she turned her head to look at him. Their eyes met and all the drunken voices outside the tent faded. She inhaled deeply and began to stand up, but her knees buckled and she started to slip to the ground.

Commander Varron moved fast and scooped her up into his arms. He carried her to his bedroll, pushed his sword belt aside, and placed her atop the fur coverings. She sat up and scooted against the wall of the tent.

“Shh. I promised not to touch you or harm you, lass, and I intend to keep that promise. You need to sit down for a moment, though. I thought the bed would be more comfortable than the stool.”

She stared into the depths of his dark eyes, thanking God that Commander Varron was an honorable man. Some of the commanders who had come through the two different villages she’d lived in during the tax collection seasons hadn’t been so honorable. She thought of the year one had ordered two barns set on fire, all because the villagers who owned them didn’t have the owed tax money.

This was Commander Varron’s first year going through Monnaka, and she wondered what he’d done to be given the task of collecting taxes from the villages outside the capital city. It wasn’t a glamorous job for a soldier, and the villagers always whispered that King Baltus punished those under his command who had displeased him by sentencing them to collect taxes, rather than patrol and defend the lands of the capital city.

“Here, drink this.” He passed her a mug of mead.

She accepted the beverage and took a few sips. The drink calmed her nerves, and ever so gradually her strength returned. Her legs no longer felt weak, and she had stopped shaking. The fear that Varron intended to rape her had been an acute shock to her system, and the proceeding relief had been just as acute. She felt thoroughly exhausted, as if she’d spent the day running through the forest, and her bottom ached from the strapping. Each time she shifted on the bedroll she was reminded of her punishment, causing a hot flush to suffuse her face.

“Are you all right, lass?” Concern reflected in Varron’s dark eyes.

She liked this man much more than she should. She opened her mouth to answer, and her voice became stuck in her throat. Finally, she managed, “Why are you being so nice to me? I was going to steal from you, after all. Remember?”

He smiled, revealing a dimple on his right cheek. Lord, he was handsome. She shouldn’t be admiring him so much, but she found she couldn’t resist. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with short, dark wavy hair that was graying around the sides of his head. He looked distinguished and worldly, and God help her, but she wanted to know more about him. Did he have a wife in the capital city? Or was there a lass awaiting his return, counting the days until they could be together again?

“Meadow, I sense you are good girl, you simply acted foolishly by entering the camp. I have no reason to treat you unkindly. Tell me, will your family be able to make it by without the chickens?”

She nodded. “Aye, we have a lot of chickens. I had a very bad day today, and I confess I completely lost my temper when I witnessed your soldiers carrying those two chickens away.” Part of her wondered if she had wanted to get caught. Entering the encampment had indeed been reckless and dangerous. What purpose getting caught would serve her, though, she didn’t know. Perhaps just the sake of open rebellion, an outlet for anger that she couldn’t possibly direct at her stepfather without increasing her risk of being cast onto the streets.

“Well, Meadow, I hope tomorrow is a better day for you.” That gorgeous dimple of his showed again, and his eyes twinkled with kindness. “Come, I will escort you back to your home.”

Meadow placed her now empty mug on the ground and shook her head. “That’s not necessary, Commander Varron. I can walk home by myself.”

He rose up and offered her his hand. She accepted it, and when their hands touched an unexpected shock zapped through her. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and at the same time an unfamiliar tingling warmth rushed through her insides.

“I won’t hear of you walking home alone. No more arguing. I want to see you home safe, lass.”

Varron couldn’t get the girl out of his mind. He stood behind the large table that had been set up for the tax collection in the village square, his thoughts on Meadow, the beautiful lass who had snuck into his tent last night. The beautiful lass he had taken his sword belt to, no less.

His cock hardened each time he recalled the image of her bent over the stool with her skirts raised to reveal her pale arse cheeks as she awaited punishment. She had accepted the strapping bravely, despite never having even been spanked before. He wondered about that, wondered why she hadn’t endured discipline before. Had her parents let her run wild? Or was she just normally well-behaved, save for her slip last night?

It didn’t matter. He would probably never see the girl again. Most of the villagers filing up to pay their taxes were male heads of household. A few wives accompanied their husbands, but that was it. She’d told him she wasn’t married, and it was unlikely that she’d accompany her father today.

The sun warmed his back as it rose higher in the clear sky, and the coldness of the night slowly left him. He’d tossed and turned most of the night, unable to sleep because thoughts of Meadow wouldn’t leave him alone. He stared at the assembled villagers, wondering which man in line was her father.

He turned to consult with one of his soldiers, ordering the man to take the monies collected thus far to a tent in the encampment, with the assistance of two guards. When he returned his focus to the line, his breath left him at the sight of Meadow standing next to a shabbily dressed man. The man had a sneer on his face, and when the line moved, he grasped her arm and violently urged her forward. He said something to Meadow that made her lower her head.

Rage filled Varron as he watched the interaction play out between the sweet lass and the man he assumed was her father. The line moved forward again and another villager handed a small bag of coins to the soldiers seated at the table. It felt like time slowed as Varron waited for Meadow and her father to reach the front. He tried to catch her eye, but she didn’t look up once.

Why did he care so much about the young lady? He tried to pinpoint the reason he wanted to hold her, the reason he wanted to steal her away from her father and carry her to safety. As he watched her and observed her father sneering at her and grasping her arm much too hard for Varron’s liking, his spirits sank at the realization that the girl didn’t have a very good home life. Why wasn’t she married yet? Most girls were married with at least two children by the time they reached one and twenty. He studied her, not looking away as he waited for her to reach the table.

When, finally, her father thrust her forward as they reached the front, she lifted her gaze and looked directly at him. Her pretty blue eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped open for a moment, before she closed it quickly and pressed her lips into a firm line.

The soldier collecting the taxes spoke to the lass’s father, inquiring his name and how much property he owned. Her father, who introduced himself as Herbert Lansing, was dirt-covered and stank of alcohol, and he clutched Meadow’s upper arm especially hard while he stood staring at the soldier.

Varron’s hands curled into fists; he wanted nothing more than to knock the man to the ground.

“Times have been rough this year, and I do not have the taxes I owe,” Mr. Lansing said, a mocking smile on his face. “But I bring you my daughter. Surely, she must be worth more than the money I owe.”

Meadow gasped and tried to escape his hold, and Varron rounded the table and approached them.

“You tricked me!” she shrieked. “I’m not your daughter, anyway. I’m your stepdaughter. And my mother would have never agreed to this.”

“You became my responsibility when I married your mother, God rest her soul,” Mr. Lansing said, giving her a shake. “Now shut up, you stupid girl. It’s your fault I don’t have the taxes. You’re an extra bloody mouth to feed.”

She lifted her chin, oblivious to Varron’s approach. “It’s your fault you don’t have the tax money, you drunken fool. You spend everything in the tavern, on mead and gambling.”

“Let the girl go,” Varron thundered, his voice full of command.

Mr. Lansing eyed Varron warily and released Meadow’s arm. She took two steps back and bumped into Varron, then she spun around and stared up at him, her gaze questioning. “Is this legal? Can he really do this?”

Commander Varron suddenly hated this assignment even more than he already had. Damn and blast, he didn’t want to answer Meadow, because she wasn’t going to like his answer. Hell, he didn’t like the answer.

He inclined his head and spoke in a low voice so only she could hear. “Legally, your stepfather can offer any healthy and able bodied member of his household into the capital city’s service, in exchange for ten years of paid taxes.”

She inhaled a quick breath and her lower lip quivered. “Will I be freed after those ten years are up?”

He felt the weight of her predicament upon his own shoulders as he stared into her eyes. “No, Meadow, I’m afraid not.”

“I see.” She squared her shoulders, appearing to summon her strength. She looked adorably brave, and his heart ached harder for her.

Christ, he wanted to press her against his chest and smooth his hands through her dark locks. He wanted to place soft kisses on each freckle that dotted her nose and cheeks. He wanted to tell her that she wouldn’t be considered a slave under the crown for the rest of her life, that she would be free to marry and have a family, that she would be free to be her own person. But he couldn’t lie to her. All the freedoms she’d known and all her dreams for the future were about to be destroyed, and he hated himself for his part in it, even if he was just following the law of the crown.

Then a thought struck him, a sudden and ridiculous thought at that, considering he barely knew the girl.

Buy her from her stepfather. Pay her family’s tax debt and keep her for yourself.

He gazed down at her unblinkingly as the idea formed in his head, whispering intently to his conscious, as well as a darker part of him that wanted to possess the lass. When he had imagined finally taking a wife, he’d never imagined
buying
a wife.

He felt his nostrils flaring as his blood heated and his muscles tensed. He pictured her naked beneath him, her silken locks spread out upon a pillow as she panted under him, parting her legs as she accepted him into her body.

Make her your wife.

Did he dare? He admired her spirit, admired how despite her fear she stood tall and kept her chin lifted, as if daring him to actually let her stepfather go through with the deed of handing her over to the capital city.

He had the funds to purchase her. The purse he always carried in his pocket suddenly felt heavier, and he shifted and brushed his hand against it, wondering how she would react to his next words.

Varron looked at Mr. Lansing. “I will pay you fifteen tax seasons worth for your stepdaughter.”

A gasp went up amongst the villagers who were gathered around, and an abrupt silence soon blanketed the village square.

Mr. Lansing smiled, revealing crooked yellow teeth. “Fifteen tax seasons, you say?” He scratched his bulging stomach and laughed. “That’s a mighty fine offer. Had I known I could get so much for the lass, I would have sold her into marriage long ago.”

“What are you doing?” Meadow whispered, looking horrified. She took a step back from Varron.

“I cannot change the laws of this land, sweet lass. But I can work around them. It’s legal for me to pay a bride price for you, and then it’s perfectly legal for your stepfather to use that money to pay his taxes.”

Another step back. She held up her hands as if to ward him off. “Surely you cannot mean to marry me, sir. We-we don’t know one another.” She glanced from side to side, obviously aware that everyone in the square was straining to hear their conversation. “This is madness.”

“Would you prefer to be a slave in the capital city? To be worked to the bone every day for the rest of your existence? It would be a difficult life, Meadow.” He paused and closed the space between them, then reached for her hands. She didn’t pull away from him, and he rubbed his thumbs across the pulse points on her wrists, brushing his roughened flesh over her softness as he wondered if she was this soft all over. “I’ll not force you into marriage, lass. But it’s the only alternative to being owned by the crown. You must decide, and quickly. Do you, or do you not, agree to become my wife?”

*****

Meadow could scarcely breathe. She stared up into Commander Varron’s serious gaze. He had just proposed marriage to her, in front of at least a hundred witnesses, and her throat had closed up so tight she couldn’t manage to utter a single word. She parted her lips and inhaled slowly, her mind spinning and her heart racing faster by the second.

She heard her stepfather speaking behind her, but she couldn’t discern his words. His voice faded into the background, and the rest of the world faded too. She felt like she was standing alone with Varron. For a few moments there was no one else. Just them.

Though this wasn’t her first time meeting him, she still considered him a stranger. She reminded herself of that fact as she tried to make her decision. She’d always been afraid of marriage, fearing a husband might turn out to be cruel like her stepfather. She didn’t want to live the rest of her days being constantly berated and made to feel worthless, so she’d pushed all her potential suitors away over the last few years, worrying whatever husband she was matched with might go beyond verbal tirades and take his anger out on her with his fists. She’d seen such a fate befall other women in the village.

“Meadow, I would be a fair husband to you.” Varron glanced beyond her and glared at her stepfather. “I promise your life with me would be better than it’s been with that vile man.” He lowered his mouth to her ear and spoke in a hushed whisper. “Are you hesitating because of the strapping? You needn’t fear me, lass. Aye, I will not hesitate to punish you should you disobey me or show me disrespect, but I will not beat you. A strapping, like the one you received in the tent, is the absolute worst you could expect.”

She pulled back slightly and met his dark, handsome gaze. She made her decision in that moment, when the kindness she glimpsed in his eyes convinced her to trust him. It wasn’t unheard of for a husband to discipline his wife now and then, and it wasn’t his sword belt that she feared. What she feared most was falling hard for him only to discover he had a cruel side, a side she couldn’t live with.

Please God, let him be this patient and kind to me, always. Please God, let this be the right decision.

“All right,” she said, happy her voice wasn’t wavering. “I accept your offer. I-I’ll marry you.”

A pleased smile crossed Varron’s face.

*****

Varron squeezed Meadow’s hands before releasing her to retrieve his purse from his pocket. He didn’t bother counting the coins. He knew he had more than enough to cover fifteen years of her stepfather’s taxes. He tossed the bag of coins at Herbert Lansing, and the drunkard fumbled to catch it.

“It is done.” He nodded at his soldiers. “Carry on and keep an eye on things until I return.”

“Aye, commander,” one of the soldiers at the table replied, his widened eyes betraying his absolute surprise over Varron’s actions.

Well, Varron hadn’t awoken today with plans to take a wife; he was just as surprised as the soldier. But he couldn’t allow Meadow to be sold into slavery, nor could he have allowed her to return to the care of her stepfather, even if that would’ve been an option.

The memory of her would’ve haunted him for the rest of his life. Besides, if he returned to the capital city with a wife on his arm, Lady Emerald, the king’s cousin, would have no choice but to stop making advances on him. He detested the spoiled lady and suspected she was the reason for his orders to travel the countryside collecting the annual taxes. He’d recently told her he wasn’t interested in her, and it was no secret that the jilted lady had the king’s ear.

He guided Meadow away from the crowd and toward the encampment. As she tucked her hair behind her ears in a nervous manner and glanced at him shyly, he reminded himself that he would’ve paid her bride price even if it wasn’t for the convenience of escaping Lady Emerald’s attentions.

He’d always believed in working hard and making his own way in the world. He had never believed in luck, or even in fate. But as he watched Meadow walking beside him, her dark blue skirts flaring out under a brief gust of wind, he pondered the possibility that this was indeed fate. He’d needed a wife, and she had obviously needed to escape her horrible stepfather. Now they had each other.

In all his life, Varron had never entertained such romantic thoughts. He smiled to himself and gave his head a shake. This beautiful lass had him thoroughly captivated. Self-consciously, he hoped she found him likeable enough. He hoped she hadn’t simply accepted his offer because marriage to him seemed like the better option over a lifetime of slavery. He found himself hoping she’d also said
yes
because she was as drawn to him as he was drawn to her.

She hesitated when he opened the flap of his tent.