Strangclyf Secret (6 page)

He crossed his arms over
his chest and narrowed his eyes. “Tell me what you have
written.”

Accustomed to such
commands from her father, Barwolf lowered the missive onto the desk
and read, “My loyal Aurick, Hadwyn murdered my father and took
Strangclyf. I sought protection from Bernon and I am no more. Do
not enter the gorge unless my colors have been replaced with black
and gold. Godspeed, Your little lamb.”

Irritation crossed
Bernon’s face. “Why do you sign the message thusly? You are mine,
not his.”

“
He has called me ‘my
little lamb’ ever since I was little. If I sign this way, he shall
know ‘tis from me.”

His gaze raked over her.
“The size of little must be a matter of opinion.” She bowed her
head and tried to keep her hand from trembling. He sighed. “You
will mark out the
your
and sign it just ‘little lamb.’”

Barwolf dipped the quill
into the inkpot and crossed out the word
your
.

Glancing up, she saw her
husband gazing out the window at the night sky with hands clasped
behind his back. He looked like the master of the world, someone
she could depend upon to keep Strangclyf guarded and the children
protected. He had claimed her as his in front of the king after her
terrible spectacle too. She had been so nervous that once she
started telling him her flaws, she hadn’t been able to stop. He
hadn’t even instructed her as she expected. He said she wasn’t
inferior instead. Why, she would claim him too.

Before he could turn back,
she quickly jotted his name above the crossed out word, sanded the
change, and rolled the missive. “’Tis done.”

~ * ~

Bernon took the scroll to
a messenger who waited outside the office. After closing the door,
he walked back across the room and stared down at his bride who was
rubbing the left side of her head. After a moment, she gasped,
quickly stood, bowed her head, and clasped her hands in front of
her.

He frowned, remembering
Geno’s words about her cousin striking her. “Does your ear pain
you?”

She gave him a tiny
nod.

Had Hadwyn done anything
else to her that made her this fearful? “You told Geno that your
cousin touched only your neck, arm, and head. How did you get the
bruise on your leg?”

“
I fell against the tiller
in the boat on the way here,” she replied shyly and her cheeks
burned that he should have viewed so much of her.

“
And no one touched you
anywhere else?”

She shook her
head.

He sighed. “Do you think
you can restrain yourself during our meal with King
William?”

She raised an anxious gaze
to his. “You cannot eat at the same table with me.”

His brows snapped
together. “Why not?”

“
The sight of me during a
meal causes food to settle sour in the male belly.”

“
Do you seek to
deliberately rile my anger?”

“
Nay, milord.”

“
Then you will cease
insulting yourself.”

“
I apologize if I blundered
again and upset you. ‘Twas only said to spare you
distress.”

She once again assumed her
submissive pose and Bernon studied her. How could she possibly
believe all the disparaging things she said about herself? He
didn’t want a wife lacking in pride and spirit. His wife should be
a dignified woman, a reflection of himself.

Moving behind the writing
table, he sat in the chair and pulled her around, so she stood
between his legs facing him. He unclasped her hands and held one in
each of his on either side of her. “I wish to look at my bride’s
face.”

She raised her head. He
captured her shame-filled gaze with his. “Your height is just
right. Your woman’s body is supposed to curve and be soft. Even
though ‘tis short, your hair curls in a nice fashion and goes well
with your face. You do not have the eyes of a jaded tart. You could
not have murdered your brother while still in your mother’s womb.
My arm has been tended. I may not have wanted a wife, but if you
had been born male, then you would be the wrong gender for me. You
are not hideous. If you truly carry out even half of the duties you
claim, then you are not inferior. If you wish to please me, then
you will cease claiming all these alleged flaws. I will let you
know if you have any. I do not intend to love you, because ‘twould
be a weakness and make me ineffective as a warrior. I would rather
you did not fall in love with me, because you would turn into a
clinging nuisance. I will ponder this matter of a new name for you
and inform you when I decide.”

She sucked in a breath and
stared at him awestruck. “You mean you will give me a woman’s
name?”

“
Aye.” He nodded once.
“When I think of one that suits you.”

A deep dimple appeared on
the right side of Barwolf’s chin as a radiant grin flashed across
her face, lighting her eyes to a dazzling spring-meadow green. She
gazed at him as if he had just granted her heart’s desire, and
honest to God, her smile made him feel warm all over.

Her dimple fascinated him
and drew his gaze toward her rosy lips. She may be small but she
was definitely all woman. How would she taste and how would her
lips feel yielding under his? Well, she belonged to him. He might
as well find out. “We will kiss now, so put your arms around my
neck.”

He leaned toward her. She
pulled back, her smile faded and her brow puckered. “Bernon, I
promise I want to please you, so I beg you, do not be angry with
me.”

“
Are you refusing
me?”

“
I would never refuse you
anything,” she said solemnly, peeking at him from beneath her
lashes.

“
Then why do you
stall?”

A rosy hue swept over her
cheeks and she looked at his chin. “I never kissed anyone on the
mouth before I gave you the title, and I do not know how to kiss
well.”

Now why did he feel
pleased by her confession? And how could she possibly call that
wispy graze she had given his lips a kiss? “You are not supposed to
know. ‘Tis my duty to teach you.”

She relaxed. “’Tis a
relief to hear that. This has been a great worry for
me.”

Bernon placed her hands on
his shoulders, slipped his arms around her, and pulled her against
him. Her eyes widened and she went rigid.

“
Relax.”

“
I cannot. Something is
wrong with me.” A hysterical note raised her pitch.

“
Are you stalling
again?”

“
Nay.” She clutched at his
shoulders and raised distraught eyes. “I think I am getting
sick.”

He frowned. “What is
wrong?”

She gulped and then spoke
in a rapid breathless voice. “My heart is pounding, my stomach is
fluttering, my bosoms feel tingly, and ‘tis getting hard to
breath.”

Good God Almighty! She is
serious.
“You are not sick. Your woman’s
body is excited because it likes touching mine.”

“
It does?” she
wondered.

He nodded.

“
My body must like yours an
awful lot.”

“
You will cease speaking
now.”

She promptly clenched her
jaw, bowed her head, and knocked his chin with her forehead. Bernon
rolled his eyes, took hold of her chin between his forefinger and
thumb, and lowered his mouth onto hers.

Her delicate body was so
rigid in his arms, he feared she might snap in twain, and rapid
puffs of air blasted against his cheek from her nose. He massaged
her back, trying to release some of her tension, but she tasted so
fine. He couldn’t resist parting his lips and stroking his tongue
across hers. She jerked back with a gasp and gazed at him through
shocked eyes.

“
Open your mouth for me.”
He gripped the base of her skull, recaptured her mouth, and sucked
on her lower lip. Then he swept his tongue inside, brushing the
roof and the walls of her mouth. She tasted like fresh spring
honey. His other hand caressed down her back. He cupped her
derriere and massaged fine supple flesh.

She came alive in his
arms. An erotic quaver surged through her. Whimpering through her
nose, she slid one arm over his shoulder and twined her fingers
through the short silky hairs at the nape of his neck.

Her other hand tugged on
his shoulder and he realized she was trying to climb onto his lap.
He lifted her bottom, and she placed her knees on the seat,
straddling his thighs then began sucking on his tongue. Molten
desire surged through him from the eagerness of her untutored
response.

A pounding on the door
intruded upon his senses. He reluctantly broke off the kiss.
Barwolf sagged against him, panting. He gritted his teeth,
struggling with lust. He was going to thoroughly enjoy introducing
his innocent bride to the carnal pleasures of life. At least this
was a pleasant surprise.

Standing up, he lowered
her until her feet touched the ground. She leaned against him for
support. The knocking on the door continued. “Cease the pounding
and give us a moment.”

The noise stopped. At a
tug on his tunic, he glanced down. Barwolf gazed up at him with
glistening eyes. “Why the tears?”

“
Something truly is wrong
with me, Bernon.” She placed a delicate hand to her forehead. “I am
lightheaded and feverish, and I feel wet someplace where I
shouldn’t.”

Bernon grinned. “You
please me after all.”

“
You are pleased because I
am sick?” she squeaked, clearly upset.

“
Nay. I am pleased because
your body likes mine a lot.” Bernon kissed her forehead, set her
back from him, and walked across the room. A smile still quirked
his lips as he opened the door.

Geno burst into the
chamber and looked from Barwolf’s reddened complexion and
kiss-swollen lips to Bernon. A smug grin spread across Geno’s face.
“Ah, my friend, and did I not tell you?”

“
Aye, Geno, you did, and
you are intruding.”

“
Then ‘tis good I am here.
This is no place for her first time, and not five minutes ago I
heard William’s stomach rumble.”

Bernon sighed.
“Come,
ma belle.
Our king is waiting.”

~ * ~

As the evening meal
progressed, Barwolf drank every drop of wine poured into her
goblet. She glared at Lady Lucretia, who sat at Geno’s side across
from her and Bernon at the king’s table. Some lady! That tawdry
tart hadn’t quit casting her lustful blue eyes at Bernon since the
meal started. She was flapping those teats of hers too.

‘
Twould be interesting to
see what the witch would look like without all that red hair. Aye.
‘Twould feel good to shave her head bald—might even manage a few
nicks in her scalp along the way. Barwolf narrowed her gaze and
clenched her jaw at the strumpet’s latest lid flutter then moved
closer to Bernon on the high-backed bench they shared. That
no-good, udder-swinging, lid-fluttering harpy didn’t know who she
was challenging.

Bernon wasn’t really a
mean bear after all. He was nice on the inside and just took some
getting used to. Everything was going to work out, and he was going
to give her a woman’s name.
And
he was hers. That no-good harpy had best stay
away from him, because she wouldn’t allow the strumpet to spoil her
first night with Bernon.

~ * ~

A delicate hand settled on
Bernon’s thigh and he glanced down at the top of his bride’s head.
She had plastered her small frame so intimately against his that he
wondered if she was actually trying to seduce him and not so naïve
after all. Nay. She kissed like an innocent. She also hadn’t eaten
a bite from their trencher and was well into her fifth goblet of
wine. “Come, wife. Eat some food.”

Barwolf raised a hand to
her ear and turned her face up to his. “I’m sorry, milord. Did you
address me?”

His throat seemed to fill.
She had the clearest eyes he had ever seen. Could her heart be as
honest and pure as her gaze? He leaned over and spoke into her good
right ear so she could hear his words over the din in the hall.
“You need to eat some food.”

“
I cannot right now,” she
said, wrapping an arm around her middle. “I’m still full from
eating this morning after going without for three days. I’m also so
nervous that I’m afraid I will…toss up if I eat
anything.”

“’
Twould please me if you
would take at least a few bites, else all that wine will go to your
head.”

“’
Twould truly please you?”
she asked skeptically, eyeing their trencher.

His lips quirked at the
grimace that crossed her face. She had no notion how to dissemble.
What a refreshing trait in a woman. “Aye. ‘Twould please me a
lot.”

“
I’ll try,” she whispered.
“But ‘tis my most hated dish.”

Barwolf set down her
goblet and reached a dainty hand toward their trencher. Bernon
grabbed her wrist, halting her as Lady Lucretia sniggered. Barwolf
raised questioning eyes to his.