Strangclyf Secret (2 page)

Londontown, England,
March, 1067

Bernon strode down the
corridor of the rambling residence William occupied in Londontown
between skirmishes with the Saxon Resistance. His glower sent
servants scurrying from his path. In his black mood, he ignored the
stinging flesh wound in his left upper arm by focusing his fury on
the gripping need to find the recreant who had injured him. Not on
a battlefield like an honorable man, but from behind and safely
hidden. King William’s suggestion that the culprit might be part of
the resistance fell apart, considering the king wasn’t the target.
Honest to God, someone wanted him dead, and he intended to ferret
out the dastard before another attempt.

As he approached his
chamber, he deepened his scowl. Balen, his brother, and Damon, a
young lanky soldier who served in his ranks, stood guard outside
the room and had the audacity to move in front of the door at his
approach.

“
I am in no mood to talk,
Brother,” he clipped out, knowing how daunting he appeared at the
moment. “Stand aside and seek me out later.”

Balen’s Adam’s apple
bobbed, but he didn’t budge. “I am not here to talk, Bernon.” He
cleared his throat and tugged at the collar of his forest-green
tunic. “Well truly, I did come by earlier to talk, but that is not
why I am here now.” Bernon raised an irritated brow, and Balen
nudged his friend. “Tell him why we’re here, Damon.”

“
We are, ah...we are
guarding the door.” Damon’s wary pale-blue eyes glanced over
Bernon’s shoulder, looking for nonexistent help, and he cleared his
throat. “No one...that is we are not to let anyone enter or leave
without Geno’s approval.”

Bernon narrowed his eyes
to slits. “And do Geno’s orders supersede mine?”

“
Well, ah...liege, I
guess...I mean...” Damon sputtered then glared at Balen.

“
Stand aside,” Bernon
ordered in a voice that chilled the corridor.

Balen stood his ground as
Damon moved away. “Bernon, there is something you should know
before you go into your chamber.”

“
Spit it out, Balen. You
can see I am in no mood for delays or riddles.”

Balen took a deep breath
and looked his brother in the eyes. “Your bride is within and ‘tis
the first time she has slept in nearly three days.”

Bernon wiped all
expression from his face as he reached for the door. He had been
waiting for William to dismiss him, so he could claim Strangclyf
and his bride. The Saxon Resistance had delayed his discharge from
service. Why had the woman not stayed at home under her father’s
protection?

Balen placed a restraining
hand on his arm. “Just remember she is not our mother, Bernon. She
is a scared and gentle young woman in a strange city, married to a
man whom she has never met and has heard terrible tales
about.”

“
Remove your hand, Balen,”
Bernon said, without so much as a blink giving away his
thoughts.

Balen released his grip
and stepped aside.

Bernon entered the
chamber, closed the door, and silently moved to the bedside. The
faint essence of lavender and roses grazed him as he stared down at
the woman about to ruin his well-ordered existence.

This bride of his slept on
her side, facing away from him with the covers pulled over her
face. Spun-gold curls peeked over the linens. He reached out a hand
and ran his fingers through the short locks, finding them as silky
as the mane she sent him the past summer.

“
Nay!” The muffled cry came
from under the covers, and her head jerked away from his touch,
snuggling deeper under the covers.

Bernon snapped his brows
together in a fierce frown. The woman should know better than to
deny him. He reached for the covers, but they were suddenly tossed
aside as his bride fought some sleeping enemy.

“
Nay, Hadwyn! You will not
do this! I belong to Bernon!” One of his under tunics threatened to
swallow her petite form as she continued her struggles, fighting
the garment as much as her sleep-induced foe.

His eyes widened. God help
him! William had married him to a babe! Her thrashing soon bunched
the material around her hips. Bernon saw a massive bruise on the
back of one shapely thigh just before she flipped onto her back. He
hissed out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding. Thank
the Almighty, her legs looked mature, and she had hair at the
juncture between them. Not too young—just very small.

“
He does not want me, does
he, Geno?” she asked in a pathetic sleepy voice, still enthralled
by her unhappy slumber.

Bernon studied her pale
strained features, taking in the long golden lashes, short pert
nose, tremulous rosy lips, and small pointed chin. Her features
seemed to fit together well enough. At least she wasn’t an eyesore.
His gaze fell upon mottled bruises around her neck, and his blood
boiled. Had he been a volcano, he would have been spewing. He may
not want her, but she was his and nobody marked his
property.

Emerald eyes popped open
and fastened on him. She looked like a terrified fairy. A gorgeous
terrified fairy.

The muscles in her throat
constricted and she whispered in a hushed frightened voice, “Are
you
him?”

“
I am.”

“
Zut!
When did I die?” She sat up and
raked her fingers through her hair, glancing wildly
about.

Bernon frowned at the
curse. “You will not use—”

“
Oh Lord!” she exclaimed,
cutting him off. “I did not please my husband, did I? And he killed
me. Now I have to spend all eternity in hell with you.” She turned
an anxious gaze upon him. “I was truly hoping we would never
meet.”

What kind of game was she
playing? He cocked his head and considered her through narrowed
eyes. “Are you daft?”

“
Nay. I am valuable, rare,
and precious.” Her hands twisted in the sheets. “Are you going to
start my eternal torture now or make me worry about when you will
strike?”

If fear could kill, he
wouldn’t have to worry about having a wife long. He had never seen
anyone so craven in his life. “You are not dead.”

“
Am I not?” she asked, a
surprised tone in her voice. He shook his head.

“
Then why do you come to me
on earth?” She gasped then narrowed her eyes. “Why, you no-good
demon, You must think you will get my consent.” She scrunched her
face in what he assumed must be her version of a scowl. “I’ll not
let you take my soul.”

Bernon closed his eyes and
counted to ten. The woman lacked wit and could not even summon an
expression to scare a mouse. “I do not want your soul.”

“
Well,
why
not?
” she asked in a disgruntled tone of
voice and balled her hands into dainty fists. “What is wrong with
me that even the devil doesn’t want my soul?”

Bernon folded his arms
across his chest and studied her curiously. His enemies upon
occasion may have referred him to as Satan Incarnate, but he didn’t
expect such a comparison from a bride he had never met. Was she
trying to rouse his ire to test him? “Now you insult me. What makes
you think I am the devil?”

“
Because
only Lucifer could be so handsome in such a dark way, and you just
said you were
him.”
She waved an arm indicating his entire body then peered up,
giving him a look that told him she wasn’t impressed. “How can you
expect to steal souls if you cannot remember what lies you use? Is
your memory short?”

He wiped a hand over his
face conveying his exasperation. This had to be the most ridiculous
conversation he had ever had. “I am not Lucifer.”

“
Well if you are not
Lucifer, then who are you and wher—” She broke off and slapped a
hand over her mouth. Then she peeked up at him through her lashes.
“Are you Bernon?”

He nodded once,
compressing his lips into a thin line.

“
I have displeased you,
have I not?” she asked. All color receded from her honeyed
complexion. “I was having a nightmare and...”

God’s bones, now she
looked like she was going to cry. “How old are you?”

She glanced away and
combed her short locks with her fingers in a nervous gesture. “I
will be eight and ten at the beginning of June.”

She might be close to
eight and ten, but she had the wits of a four-year-old. At a knock
on the door, he made a curt perusal of her half-naked form. “Cover
yourself.”

Bernon crossed the chamber
and yanked open the door. Geno hurried inside without waiting for
an invitation. He glanced toward the bed then turned toward Bernon
and broke into a pleased smile. “I had hoped to be on hand to make
the introductions, but you beat me to it, my friend. Is she not
exquisite?”

“
Who marked her?” Bernon
asked.

“
Her
cousin killed her father and took Strangclyf. The swine planned to
give
your
bride
to Orlege of Strathmore, so she fled to you for protection. Was
that not an excellent decision on her part?”

“
Give me the name,” Bernon
demanded.

“
Her cousin is Hadwyn,”
Geno replied.

Bernon favored Geno with
an impatient growl. “I meant hers.”

“
You will have to ask
her.”

Damn the amusement in
Geno’s eyes! His friend better remember there was such a thing as
vengeance. Bernon walked back to the bedside and scowled down at
her. “By what name are you called?”

“
Strangclyf,” she answered,
evading his gaze amidst many gulps.

“
Before your father died?”
he asked through clenched teeth and nudged up her chin, so he could
look in her eyes.

“
I was called milady or
Bernon’s bride.”

Bernon fisted his hands to
keep from adding to the bruises around her neck. “You will tell me
the name your sire gave you.”

A rosy blush started at
her neck and swept upward to her hairline. “I would truly rather
not, milord. You may call me any name you wish.”

“’
Tis all right, little
wolf,” Geno said kindly and gave Bernon his stay-calm look. “Bernon
will not laugh or think poorly of you because of your father’s
choice. Tell him your name.”

“
Barwolf,” she whispered,
clearly mortified.

God’s teeth, first she
called him the devil and now she deceived him. The muscles corded
in Bernon’s neck. “I do not tolerate lies—”

“
She tells the truth, my
friend. Her father wanted a son and never bothered picking another
name when he didn’t get one.” Geno lowered his voice so only Bernon
could hear. “He told her he would give her a woman’s name if she
ever proved herself worthy.”

“
I truly hate when people
speak of me as if I am not present when I am,” she muttered. “Here
I performed a noble geste by coming here to get you, so you could
save Strangclyf from Hadwyn. Well, if you do not want me, then you
can have the marriage annulled. I’ll probably not be any better as
a wife than I was as a daughter anyway. Now will you let me return
to my slumber? I am truly exhausted.”

Bernon looked down at her
strained features. All he needed was a pouter. Nay, she appeared
genuinely sad and tired, not manipulative. What was he to make of
her? “Do not tempt me, Barwolf,” he said gruffly. “If I could get
Strangclyf without you, then I would gladly accept your
offer.”

“
You can.” She looked him
directly in the eyes for the first time since learning his identity
as if she hoped her answer pleased him and he was struck by the
clearness in her emerald eyes.

This should be
interesting.
He raised an inquisitive
brow.

“’
Tis my duty to pass
Strangclyf on to you, and ‘tis your duty to protect me. To my
knowledge there is no requirement that says you must keep me after
the title and secret are transferred. I could go live at the abbey
and you would not have to worry about my safety there.

Bernon hooded his eyes.
What was the little imp up to and just how would King William react
to her suggestion? Was it possible? Wait a moment! Why in perdition
did she seem so eager to have him refuse her? Both she and
Strangclyf were his. And he kept what belonged to him. His tiny
bride had better learn right now to accept her lot.

Geno glared at him and
turned to Barwolf. “King William would never allow such a thing,
little wolf, and Bernon has yet to learn the benefits a wife can
provide in running a holding the size of Strangclyf.”

Bernon released an
exaggerated sigh and wiped a hand over his face. “Ah, Geno, could
you not allow me—”

“
Your arm!” Barwolf cried,
leaping up on her knees at the edge of the bed.

He glanced at his nuisance
injury. “There is no need—”

“
Aye, there is. Strangclyf
cannot lose you. Do you not know that you are the bear we have been
waiting for?” She grabbed his arm and pulled off the makeshift
bandage. Gently prodding the sore flesh, she inspected the wound
through the rent in his sleeve. “You should have told me as soon as
you arrived, so I could tend you. Who did this?”