by Renee Rose
He turned, just as she looked over and caught his gaze. He closed his eyes to block her out, stumbling forward, finding his way up the steps to the solarium. The soft patter of her feet running behind him barely registered above the rushing sound in his ears.
He drew in deep breaths to calm himself. What a fool he had been. He thought she just needed taming. Here he had been forcing himself on a woman who found him repulsive. A damn fool.
“Barrett.” She caught his arm when he reached the door.
He pushed forward, resisting the urge to fling her off. He tried to shut the door in her face, but she flung herself forward. He closed his eyes and turned away.
“Barrett—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” he said dully, keeping his back to her. He picked up her harp and her few items of clothing and strode to the door, placing them outside it. “I will not keep an unwilling woman. Our marriage is not consummated; you are free to go.”
“No,” she cried. “You’ve misunderstood. I am not unwilling.”
“I thought you did not like men. But now I see it is only me you do not care for.”
“That is not true!” Tears streamed down her lovely face. “I cannot explain now, but I hope that by tomorrow you will understand that I only ever cared for you.”
He looked away, disgusted. “Get out,” he said. “You are no wife of mine.”
Weeping, Daisy left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
He picked up the ewer and smashed it against the wall, shattering the crockery into dozens of pieces.
* * *
Daisy left her harp and things and ran down the steps, her vision blurred with tears. What had she done? If she lived past this night, her life would mean nothing. She had just ended her marriage, the only good thing that had happened in her life, in favor of revenge.
Would it be worth it? Would her sisters thank her for their justice?
She ran out of the castle and through the bailey, straight through the gates. She wore no cloak, and the wind whipped at her face with a satisfying bite. She ran into the forest, not stopping until her side contracted and she doubled over to catch her breath.
She should just keep walking. Walk until she froze to death. At least that way, she would die with a clean soul and spare Barrett the pain of ever seeing her again. But no, better to die avenging her sisters. Otherwise Barrett would never know why she’d betrayed him. The priest would tell him when it was all over.
She didn’t even dare think of the possibility of exacting revenge and living. How could she go on with a blackened soul? Nor did she dare think about what would become of her if Barrett never believed she loved him. She walked until her hands and feet were numb and her teeth chattered.
No. The priest had been right. Justice was best served by God, not her. And she refused to die without making sure Sir Barrett knew what he meant to her. She turned back. She needed to find the old priest again, to confess it all. He’d spoken wisely; he would know what she should do.
Darkness had fallen by the time she returned. She walked through the bailey, straight to the chapel, skipping supper. The old priest was not there, but the hearth was still warm and she sat beside it until the feeling returned to her hands and feet like shards of glass piercing her skin. Her stomach growled but she ignored it.
An odd sense of peace came over her after the emotional tumult of the day. She would not commit murder. Somehow she would get Sir Barrett to forgive her. It was not too late to put her world to rights again.
She heard the sound of the door open and her spirits lifted. The old priest would advise her.
“There you are, woman,” a deep voice said. The terrible deep voice that had haunted her nightmares.
She jumped to her feet in dismay. “Sir Wolfhart. Forgive me. I’ve had a change of heart,” she said, her blood racing through her veins. “I cannot keep my tryst with you.”
He walked forward, a terrifying leer on his face. “Of course you can. You are here, I am here.” He reached out and grabbed her head, bringing his mouth down on hers and forcing his tongue in her mouth as she screamed.
She fought him, but he knocked her down to the floor with the back of his hand across her face. Pain exploded in her cheek and her vision went black. When it cleared, Wolfhart had straddled her thrashing hips and was ripping her bodice open to expose her breasts.
“No,” she screamed, shoving uselessly at his chest. Remembering the knife, she bent her leg up to grasp the dagger from her boot, but her fingers did not quite reach.
He pulled his manhood out from his leggings and she screamed as loud as her voice would screech. Wolfhart struck her across the mouth, splitting her lip.
“What’s going on here?” The voice of the old priest reached her ears. “Get off her.”
“Get out of here, old man,” Wolfhart snarled. “Adam! Siman!”
Her relief at Father Albert’s arrival turned to dread when she realized Wolfhart had just called in his two henchmen, who would surely kill the old man if he interfered. She fought even harder as she heard the two men enter.
The clang of the church bell split the air. The resourceful priest must be pulling the cord to alert the castle. She prayed they would not kill him for it.
She contorted, twisted her hips to the side and stretching her fingers toward her boot. If only she could reach the dagger…
Wolfhart yanked her skirts up, tearing the fabric in his haste.
No. She would not allow him to rape her a second time. She would die first. She screamed again, the furious cry going on and on until his fingers closed around her throat, cutting off her air. The sound of men’s shouts and the clash of steel came from the doorway. Still strangled for breath, she caught the handle of her dagger as her vision began to grow dim.
She lifted the dagger, but before she could bring her hand down, Wolfhart flew off her as someone attacked him.
Sir Barrett.
Stars danced before her eyes as she struggled for breath. Blood filled her mouth and her head swam. She curled up on her side and saw Sir Barrett fighting with both Wolfhart and one of his men. The other lay dead in the doorway. She tried to stand up, but could not catch her breath or strength.
Prince Erik and other knights had arrived, but Sir Barrett did not seem to need any help. His sword flashed out, first to the right and then the left as he went after both men at once. He moved his huge frame with great speed, shifting and swinging, somehow herding his two foes together, backing them against the wall. He ducked as Wolfhart’s sword swung for his neck and lunged forward. His sword stabbed through Wolfhart’s chest, withdrew it and beheaded the other man in less than a breath’s time.
She opened her mouth to scream again, but only a croak came out. The bodies of Wolfhart and his man had hardly fallen when Barrett appeared at her side, scooping her into his arms and cradling her against his chest.
Tears stung her eyes at the evidence that he still cared.
“You see, Lady Daisy,” the priest proclaimed, loud enough for all to hear. “God delivered justice for your sisters’ deaths, without any blood upon your hands, or the hands of your husband, who acted in self-defense.”
Barrett turned his eyes on her in surprise, but said nothing, stepping over the bodies to carry her past the prince, Penrod, and all the others, straight upstairs to his chamber. Her things still sat outside the door, a reminder of their horrible quarrel. He pushed through the door and laid her gently on the bed as if she were made of glass and might break.
“Barrett—”
“Shh,” he hushed, soaking a piece of linen in the washbasin and coming to her side. He dabbed at her split and swollen lip, cleaning the blood from her face. She searched his expression, but he showed no indication of his feelings. Did he understand now that she had been seeking vengeance, not sex? Had he forgiven her?
She caught his hand and pulled it to her lips. “Make me yours,” she croaked. “Please. I need you. Please take me.”
&nbs
p; Still, his face showed nothing. He blinked down at her for a long time, unmoving. Then he slowly began to remove his clothing.
She pushed up on her elbows, tugging her torn dress down. Sir Barrett helped her when she reached her waist, pulling as she lifted her hips, his dark eyes locked on hers. She shivered and he froze.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said, the first time he’d spoken to her since their terrible ending that afternoon.
“I need you. Inside me. Please, Bear.”
He studied her, then nodded and returned to removing his clothing. He shucked his tunic and undershirt, the bulging muscles of his chest rippling with his movements.
She swallowed, remembering the swiftness and power in those muscles—the way he had just defeated three men at once to rescue her. She started to flinch reflexively when he removed his leggings, but made herself look upon his manhood. Barrett would never force her, never harm her with it.
He crawled over her and she lay back, trembling. He nudged her thighs open and settled between them, his stiffened shaft prodding her sex. He cradled her head in his hands and gazed down. For the first time, she saw emotion on his face—pain. He stroked the hair back from her face and lightly brushed her throbbing cheek, his expression darkening.
“Please, Barrett,” she begged, trying to distract him from her bruises.
He lowered his head to one of her breasts, sucking the nipple into his mouth until she felt an answering tug between her legs. He flicked the other nipple, making her gasp. He kissed down her stomach and bent her knees up toward her shoulders, spreading and lifting her sex. Lowering his head, he licked into it, running the tip of his tongue along her folds, then swirling it over the most sensitive place. She grasped his head, trying not to kick him as he sent shocking sensations rippling down her legs. He licked until she moaned and whined and then he withdrew and lifted both ankles in the air.
* * *
The position raised Daisy’s bottom and pushed her delicate quim forward and open. Barrett raised his hand and brought it down, right across the middle, catching both cheeks and her sweet little sex.
“Oh!” she cried, squeezing her cheeks together and lifting her bottom higher.
He began to spank in earnest, striking every area of her exposed bottom, thighs, and sex with each well-aimed slap.
“I’m sorry, Barrett,” Daisy gasped, her little bottom bobbing and dancing under his hand, trying to escape the punishing slaps.
He paused and rubbed her reddened cheeks. “So am I, Daisy,” he said gruffly. “I knew you were mine, I should have trusted that.”
“So you’re not angry?” she asked.
“Oh, I am angry,” he said honestly, resuming spanking whilst she gasped and twisted. “I’m angry that you didn’t confide in me and let me help you. I’m angry you told Father Albert and not me.” He knew that was stupid, but he resented that the old priest had been privy to her dilemma while he had been in the dark. He stopped spanking. “And I’d like to kill that monster all over again now that I understand what he did to you and your sisters.”
“Barrett…” she whispered, her eyes pleading.
He parted her legs, wrapped them around his waist, and lifted her torso up so he held her like a child, cupping her heated bottom in his hands.
She did not seem to require the comforting he thought she needed. She bit his ear, kissing along his jaw. “Please, Barrett, I need you to make me wholly yours. Punish me as you wish, but please take me tonight.”
Dear God. His urge to protect her after what she’d been through warred with answering her needs. If it had been up to him, he would have tucked her in bed and held her all night, leaving discipline and sex for later, when she had recovered. But she seemed to crave this. Maybe they both did.
He lowered her to the floor, turned her to face the bed, and pushed her torso over. “I’m going to spank you, little one.” He tucked a pillow under her chest to keep her bruised cheekbone from touching the bed and stroked her back. He drew a breath, remembering the pain of believing she had betrayed him. He picked up his riding crop and tapped her bottom with it. “Never, ever offer yourself to another man, not for any reason,” he said gruffly. He did not wait for her to answer before he whipped the crop through the air, catching her smartly across both cheeks.
“Oh,” she gasped and stood on her tiptoes, hugging the pillow to her chest. “I won’t, Barrett, I promise,” she cried when she’d recovered her breath.
“Do not keep secrets from me,” he said, swinging the crop again, landing another stripe just below the first one.
“Ah… I won’t keep secrets,” she said in a strangled voice.
He struck her again, changing up the pattern of speaking before swinging. “You will not endanger yourself or try to protect me.” He whipped her two more times. “I protect you,” he said emphatically.
She reached her hand behind her, not to cover, but opening and closing her fingers as if she wanted him to grasp it. The gesture completely broke him. He clasped her little palm, dropping the crop and rubbing her hot arse with his other hand. His fingers strayed between her legs and he found her quim dewy with moisture.
Should he take her from behind? He didn’t want to evoke any part of the position she’d just been in with Wolfhart. He nested his hips against hers, his erection sliding between her legs. He shivered at the feel of her nectar when he brushed along her beckoning sex. He squeezed her hand and bent it behind her back, pressing it there as he rubbed the head of his cock at her slick entrance.
She shifted on her feet, but did not move away.
He applied a little more pressure, paying attention for any fear or panic from Daisy. She held perfectly still, seeming to wait. “I’m going to make you mine, Daisy,” he said, speaking to distract her from any discomfort. “You’ve always been mine, but tonight I will be sure you know it with every fiber of your being.”
“Yes,” she breathed.
He pushed more insistently, advancing an inch, then another. “I will take you in every way possible. I will teach you to find pleasure in every act, every form of lovemaking.” He eased all the way into her tight channel and remained there, giving her time to accommodate to his size.
“Barrett,” she gasped.
He rubbed her back. “Daisy?”
“I’m all right. Go on. Please.”
He chuckled and withdrew an inch, pushing back into her firmly.
“Oh…” she moaned.
“Do you like that, little one? It feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, sir,” she whimpered. “More.”
“More,” he repeated, satisfied. He stroked in and out of her, slowly, caressing her quim with his cock, relishing the feel of her hot, wet tissue enveloping him. “You feel so good,” he rumbled, beginning to lose his careful control.
“Yes, Barrett, more,” she cried.
He picked up speed, pumping in and out of her as her channel grew more and more slick. He released her hand and gripped her elbows to plow in with more power, thrusting up on each in-stroke.
“Yes…” she whispered. “Please….”
He forgot gentle, thrusting with his full desire, showing her all the passion he’d held back since the day he first took her to his bed. “Daisy, yes,” he ground out through clenched teeth, his climax roaring down his cock and exploding into her.
She cried out, her muscles tightening around his manhood as she shuddered and squeezed with her own beautiful release.
He remained inside her, closing his eyes and enjoying every last pulse and twitch. Easing out, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bed, settling with her cradled like a baby in his lap.
“Sweet Daisy,” he murmured.
* * *
Daisy snuggled against her husband’s strong body, enveloped in his affection and love. Consummating their marriage had been so much easier than she imagined. She had found only pleasure, no pain; only Barrett, not her demons from the past. She had thought sh
e could never give herself to a man. She had thought she would hate a man who tried to take from her, yet her husband demanded all and she gave it gladly.
She wanted him to take and use every part of her. She wanted to learn to please him. Barrett gave her a sense of security she hadn’t had since before her family’s death. Like she belonged somewhere, was safe and most important, loved.
“Little wife?” Barrett said, putting a finger under her chin to lift it from his shoulder.
“Yes, sir?”
He smiled, as if he liked the submissiveness of her answer. He studied her face without speaking for a moment. “Would you ever…” he broke off, looking uncertain.
She sat up, giving him her full attention.
“Would you—” He stopped and shook his head. “Daisy, how do you like living here, in this castle?”
She furrowed her brow. “Everyone has been kind to me. Is that what you mean?”
He looked frustrated with himself. “No, what I mean is… do you require a fine castle? Would you ever consider a smaller abode? One that belonged to us?” He looked at her with apprehension, as if he cared very much about her answer.
“I do not require anything but you, Bear,” she said softly. “Why? What are you thinking?”
He drew a breath. “I know not if Erik would allow it, but I have enough silver to buy us a plot to build a house and work the land. It wouldn’t be Hohenzollern or Rothburg, but it would be our own. I think some of my mercenary soldiers would come with us to work it and we could—”
“Yes,” she interrupted. “You were meant to be king of your own castle. I would love to make a home with you.”
“It wouldn’t be fancy. You might have to…”
“Work?” she asked, smiling. “I don’t mind. Would I have any help with the women’s work?”
“Yes,” he said quickly. “At least, I hope so. I think we could support six or eight servants if we’re quite careful.”
“And what of Erik? You require his permission?”
He looked troubled. “Aye. I owe him my loyalty. He has given me a place of honor in his life and his castle and I pledged my sword to him as a knight.”