The Bride and the Brute (2 page)

His father had married his mother for her lands; not an uncommon union, but one empty of affection or devotion... or love. His father had married for fields of wheat, rolling hills, and cattle pastures. There had been no love between his parents. And Reese had seen the terrible consequences of that.

All his life he heard pieces of the servants’ gossip, whisperings of his mother’s infidelity.

He hadn’t believed it. Didn’t want to believe it. Any of it.

But when he was eight years old he witnessed something that forever left a scar on his heart.

He had been walking through the castle’s halls when he saw his mother in a dark alcove,
laughing quietly. He heard the whispering of a man’s low voice coming from the darkness and
assumed it was his father. He started to run toward them, to tell them about the grand adventure
he had exploring the guards’ barracks, but then stopped abruptly as he saw his mother step from
the alcove. She adjusted her dress, her hand resting casually on the chest of a man, a man who
was not his father.

Reese’s jaw and fists clenched at the bitter memory. The pain had long since receded, but the anger was still fresh in his mind. After that, stories circulated throughout the castle of her liaison with a baron. Rumor had it there had been a wandering gypsy amongst her numerous lovers as well.

He had been too ashamed to mention any of this to his father. But his father eventually discovered his mother’s treachery.
Reese had been eleven years old when he had awoken to
shouts and screams. He had raced from his room to find his mother, half-dressed, standing in
the middle of the hallway. His father faced another man, a man clad only in leggings, their
laces untied.
Reese shook his head, remembering the disgust in his father’s eyes as he turned to look at his wife.
Then, his father turned his back on her and challenged the man to a duel.

Reese remembered feeling a surge of pride for his father as he confronted the bastard who had bedded his wife under his very nose.

But his pride was very short-lived.
His father died the next day on the field of honor. An
honorless man.

Their mother had tried to raise Reese and his sister, Nicole, but she was not very good at it.

Reese wanted nothing to do with her anyway, and he and Nicole ended up looking after each other. Their mother died in childbirth eight months after their father’s death, leaving them a brother to raise as well as themselves.

At the age of twelve, Reese had become lord of the castle.

He had planned to take his time and find a woman he could love, a woman who could love him, a woman he was destined to marry. Not this.

As he stormed down the hallway, servants paused in their tasks to glance in his direction and shake their heads. Reese greeted their sympathetic looks with a guttural growl. He paused only long enough to snarl at one of the servants, “Have James sent to me.”

He entered his den, slamming the door shut on prying eyes. He prowled the room for a moment, thinking of his sister. He slapped his palms on the ledge of the window, looking out over the darkening skies toward Lord Cullen’s lands. So help Cullen if Nicole was not returned safely. He would storm Cullen’s castle himself and find his sister.

Reese shook his head in disgust. Forced into marriage.

A loveless marriage. The thought made him sick. But he would not risk the life of his sister. Not for all the threats on the earth. Cullen had repeatedly petitioned him to marry his daughter, Jayce. After three refusals, Reese had put the matter out of his mind. A mistake he realized only too late.

Nicole vanished from the castle grounds a few days after his final refusal.

A missive arrived shortly after Nicole’s disappearance, announcing that Lord Cullen would have Reese marry his daughter, or the health of Nicole would be at stake.

Why would a father do that to his daughter? Reese didn’t know, and he didn’t care. The deed was done. Nicole was his primary worry.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door. Reese granted entrance, and a slim, elderly man entered the room. His haughty demeanor gave him the aura of nobility instead of the head castle servant he was. He wore a stylish sleeveless doublet of grayish purple and a white shirt beneath that. His leggings were black, and his leather shoes curled at the toes.

“James,” Reese ordered the man, “have Rogue saddled. I’m riding out to the borders to see if I can see my sister coming.”

“I suppose you’ll sleep out there, too?” James wondered in a disdainful, sarcastic voice.

Reese would take that arrogance only from James. The man had been with him since he was a child. He respected James. And liked him immensely. “If I knew the road they were taking.”

“If you don’t mind my saying, sir,” James said.

“That never stopped you before, why should it now?”

James’s eyebrow rose slightly. “Your wife awaits you in your chambers.”

Reese’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t have a wife.”

James bowed contemptuously. “As you wish, m’lord,” he answered stiffly, and departed the room.

As soon as Nicole is home safely, I will right this entire fiasco, Reese vowed silently. He picked up the note he had begun earlier and scanned the words, nodding in satisfaction.

Chapter Three

Jayce changed into a simple gown of blue velvet and sat on the bed for a long time, wondering if Lord Reese would return. She tried to put her rebellious hair into a horned headdress, but without help she couldn’t get the dark strands beneath the metal. So, she settled for a braid wrapped about her head. She wondered if she was supposed to wait for Reese in the room.

So much for a happy marriage, she thought. He hated her. It was apparent her husband didn’t wish to have anything to do with her. But why had he chosen her then? Why had he picked her to marry? She glanced around the room. It was dark; if it weren’t for the candle burning on a table, she would not be able to see a thing. She picked the candle up and moved through the unfamiliar chambers.

Servants had arrived earlier to tidy up the room, making the bed, changing the water in the basin.

Jayce stared at the immaculate bed piled with warm furs and blankets. Thick red velvet curtains hung from the ceiling over it. She touched one of the curtains reverently, as if it would reveal the many secrets of her new husband if she coaxed it gently enough.

Lightning shot through the sky, making her jump. She dropped the candle and it hit the floor, rolling across its wooden surface. Ever since she was a child, storms had terrified her.

Jayce’s mother had died amidst a horrendous thunderstorm.
She remembered kneeling at her
mother’s bedside, holding her cold, clammy hand while deafening claps of thunder attacked her
ears and white-hot flashes of lightning assaulted her eyes. She remembered crying out for her
mother and for the first time in her life not hearing her answer.

The large crack of thunder boomed in her ears, echoing in the room. Jayce glanced around the blackness, her eyes wide, her hands clutching at her elbows. Her father had stayed with her through storms such as these, but now he was gone.

Wind swirled in from the open window, billowing the red curtains around her like fingers stretching, reaching to grab her. She stepped away from the curtain and smacked her head on one of the bedposts.

The searching wind found the candlelight and extinguished it, plummeting the room into a terrifying darkness. For a moment, Jayce couldn’t move, could barely get her breath. The blackness clawed at her heart, threatening to drag her down into its bottomless abyss.

The wind continued to whip through the room. The curtains of velvet, now gloved fingers of doom, encircled Jayce’s flailing arms, her ankles. She fought her invisible foe, the feeling of entrapment embroiling her senses. She jerked free of its hold, pulling so hard she banged into the table, knocking it over. Glass shattered and she stepped away, blindly, until her back hit the cold stone wall.

Two bolts of lightning ripped jagged holes in the sky, bringing with them twin blasts of thunder.

Fear gripped her heart in a taloned fist, and Jayce slowly sank to the floor. She encircled her knees, rocking slightly back and forth. She whispered soothing words to herself, words her father had murmured to her.

She was terrified. Confused. She buried her face in the dress at her knees.

Abandoned.

Chapter Four

When Reese returned from the border patrols, he was soaked through to his skin and his mood was darker than when he had left. He had found no sign of Nicole, no indication that her return was imminent.

He returned to his chambers, candelabra in his hand. Outside, a distant grumble of thunder faded quickly into silence. The damn storm was finally abating after raging for hours.

As he moved into the room, his foot skidded on a candle lying in the middle of the floor, throwing Reese backward. He almost fell, but caught his balance with a flail of his arm. He cursed. He’d have to speak to his servants about being so sloppy. He moved to the bed, but before he could partake of its luxurious comfort, his booted foot sloshed in a pool of water. His gaze slid to the window. A soft breeze rippled the now soggy curtains of his bed. He moved to the window and pulled the shutters closed, cursing the servants again. Then, he turned to the bed, this time managing to set his bottom on it. He sighed and reached out to place the candelabra on the table…

… and nearly dropped it when its base did not encounter the nightstand that should have been there.

“God’s blood!” he murmured. “What now?” He rose to his feet and took a step toward the empty space where the table had once stood. His foot crunched on something, and he paused, realizing it was broken glass beneath his boot sole. His foggy, tired mind instantly came alive.

His hand moved for the hilt of his sword.

The image of the woman he had left alone in his bedchamber rose in his mind. Jayce. Even if she was only a Harrington in name, she was still a Harrington. Had someone dared to attack her? It would be an unforgivable insult if something had happened to her.

The bed was unslept in, the covers unmoved. He shifted his gaze to the closed window, then the broken glass. Had there been a struggle? His eyes frantically searched the darkness. Had she left the room? Forcibly?

“Jayce?” he called.

Silence answered him.

He took a step deeper into the darkness and the candlelight washed over the hem of a blue dress tucked away in a far corner of his room. Reese lurched forward, his fist clenched tight around the base of the candelabra, until the candlelight encircled Jayce in its glow. She sat slumped at the bottom of the wall, her head slouched-over on her shoulder, her arms limp at her sides.

Rage engulfed him. Has someone dared to harm her? he wondered incredulously as he knelt at her side. Without taking his eyes from her, he set the candelabra down on the floor. A stray strand of brown hair fell over her cheek, its darkness contrasting sharply against her pale skin.

Then, something tickled the inside of his stomach. Something he had never felt before and refused to acknowledge. He reached out and touched her hand. It was like ice. He engulfed her small fingers with his large hand, trying to warm them. Her fingers twitched, then curved around his, and he knew she was alive.

He scooped her into his arms, and she stirred, tossing her head, calling, “Father?” Reese gently placed her in his bed, noticing how the large bed made her appear tinier than she was. He pulled away from her, but her arms reached out, encircling his neck. Reese froze, unsure of what to do. He could pry her arms from his neck. He could settle next to this stranger and hold her.

Or he could search her body for wounds.

“The storm,” she whimpered.

Reese felt her body tremble. A flash of lightning lit the night sky as if summoned by her words. He leaned close to her to duck beneath her arms. When his cheek brushed hers, he was startled to find the moisture there.

Guilt twisted his gut. Had he caused her this anguish? He ripped free of her hold, telling himself it didn’t matter. She was not his concern.

Her head fell back against the pillows, her cold hands leaving a path of ice along his cheek and neck. Instinctively, his hands skimmed her body, searching for wounds. But it wasn’t wounds he found. It was a shapely, strong figure. His hands fluttered over her slender neck, down her curvy sides, across her flat stomach and down her slender legs. Searching for blood, he told himself. In the dark, he could not see if she was hurt. His fingers moved back up over her legs. They were so smooth and sleek. He wondered what they looked like.

Reese had to jerk himself from her, pulling his hands away from her body as if she had suddenly burst into flames. His own body responded instantly to touching her. Disgusted at his primeval response, he told himself it was nothing but the wanting of a woman. He could sate his desires on a willing servant wench later. Reese pulled the cover up over her body, concealing it beneath the fur, hiding it from his hungry gaze.

Jayce groaned and tossed her head, and he shifted his eyes to her face. He could see the moisture on her cheeks as her tears glistened in the candlelight. He stepped closer and pressed a palm against her skin, fearing she was feverish. Her skin was cool against his hand. At his touch, she seemed to quiet and settle into the bed. Reese couldn’t help cupping her gentle chin and stroking her cheek with his thumb.

Her eyes fluttered and opened slightly, revealing a teasing glimpse of her deep blue orbs. In the candlelight, he was amazed at how startlingly blue they were, deeper than the richest sapphire he had ever seen. He thought he heard her sigh before she closed them again. The flickering light from the candelabra gave her cheeks a healthy glow, the vibrancy of life. Where before her skin had been so cold and pale, it seemed his touch had roused the vigor inside her.