The Warrior's Winter Bride

by Denise Lynn

  ‘I didn’t throw you off Dunstan, I sent you home to your parents. And, no, you didn’t try to tell me then.’

  ‘Yes, I did. You cut me off.’

  ‘Ah, when you said “but” before I walked out of the bedchamber?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And we both know you are so meek and mild that you never would have thought to scream at me through the door, or follow after me or tried a little harder to tell me.’

  She’d give him that much. Perhaps she could have tried harder. ‘Would it have made a difference?’

  ‘To your staying on Dunstan? No.’

  ‘Then what difference does it make?’

  ‘I deserved to know.’

  Isabella closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She opened them and leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table. ‘Richard, what is this about?’

  ‘I need to decide what to do about my child.’

  ‘Your child?’ Shocked and dismayed, she leaned back in the chair. ‘Your child?’

  ‘Yes, my child. The heir to Dunstan.’

  ‘This is our child, not yours.’

  ‘You are the granddaughter of a king. Your future is secure. The child’s future is Dunstan and it needs to be raised knowing what his or her place is in this world.’

  ‘I am the child’s mother.’ She leaned forward again. ‘And your wife.’

  ‘Isabella, you deserve more than I could ever give you.’

  So that’s what this was about? He thought her above him? This needed to be put to rest now.

  ‘Don’t you see? Your father can secure you a husband who will be able to provide you with everything I can’t. But I will not permit my child to be a part of that agreement.’

  She watched him closely and asked, ‘So it bothers you not if I wed another as long as you possess the baby?’

  He hesitated slightly before saying, ‘You need do what you must for your future.’

  Isabella’s heart leapt. There, there it was, she nearly swooned with relief. She easily ignored his words, they were meaningless. His hesitation and that brief shimmer deep behind his sapphire gaze told her everything she needed to know.

  The question now was if he would ever permit himself a long enough moment of weakness to realise it. She had to take the risk no matter how much pain it might cause to him, or her.

  Isabella rose. ‘Perhaps you are right. I do need to see to my future, since it is plain you care not.’

  She clasped her hands before her so she would do nothing foolish like reach out to him and walked purposely towards the doorway.

  Something behind her fell heavily to the floor. ‘Isabella, please understand.’

  Without turning around, she said, ‘Oh, I fully understand, Richard, once you sated your thirst for revenge you had no room left in your heart for me. You made that clear.’

  ‘No. You are wrong.’ The heavy sadness in his tone nearly caused her to turn around, but she stayed in place, waiting for him to say what they both needed to hear.

  ‘When I stared down at Glenforde’s dead body I felt no satisfaction. None of the relief I’d expected came from his death. I realised in that moment that revenge no longer filled my heart, it was too full of you to permit something as vile as vengeance any room.’

  She gripped the beam of the doorway, to keep from turning around and throwing herself in his arms too soon. ‘Yet you sent me away.’

  ‘I ruin everyone I touch. I couldn’t let that befall you, too. Not at my hands.’

  ‘Self-pity does not suit you.’ She needed more than his explanations and self-accusations, they would not suffice. She wanted his apology for the hell he’d put her through. She turned around to continue her confrontation, only to gasp at the sight before her.

  ‘Richard?’

  The sound of something heavy hitting the floor a few moments ago had been him. He was on his knees, on the cold hard deck, staring at her. His eyes glimmered, creases cut across his forehead and the tick in his cheek beat rapidly. ‘Isabella, I am sorry. So sorry for all I have done to you. I never should have used you in such a manner. Please, tell me you understand that I need to make up for the wrongs I have committed against you. I only care about what is best for you.’

  He hadn’t said ‘I love you,’ but he had apologised and she was certain that one day his heart would prod him to say the words she’d waited a lifetime to hear. For now, it was enough that her heart melted at the honesty of his reply.

  But she groaned at his misplaced reasoning and walked back to him. ‘Richard, the only thing that is best for me is you. That is all I need, all I’ll ever want. Do my needs not matter to you? Do you think another husband will make me not long for the lust I feel at your touch? Do you think he will appreciate me desiring another in our marriage bed? Do you truly believe that a huge keep, filled with servants, men and gold will begin to make up for the love I hold for those at Dunstan?’

  He wrapped his arms around her. Resting his head against her belly, he whispered, ‘I may never be able to give you all your parents can.’

  ‘Oh, you mean like their lectures on how I should comport myself, what I should or shouldn’t do? Trust me, my love, you excel at that. Or did you mean the keep? Warehaven is under my mother’s command, not mine. Now that I’ve had a taste of it, I would rather have command of my own abode, thank you very much. Or were you referring to my father’s temper tantrums?’ She threaded her hands through his hair and held him tightly to her. ‘Yours are so much more enjoyable.’

  ‘Does this mean you will forgive me? Will you come home?’

  ‘Richard, I would like to see anyone stop me.’

  The sound of boots hitting the deck outside the cabin and the jingle of amour prompted her to add, ‘I believe we have company.’

  Richard rose and gathered her into his arms. ‘I care not.’

  ‘You had better care, young man.’

  Isabella laughed at her father’s growl. ‘Father, I’d like you to meet my husband, Richard of Dunstan.’ She turned to Richard. ‘This grousing warrior is my father, Randall FitzHenry of Warehaven.’

  Her father glared from one of them to the other. Finally, he asked, ‘Ah, so this is the knave who despoiled my daughter and left her dishonoured?’

  Richard bowed his head. ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘What have you to say for yourself?’

  Richard squeezed her fingers, and raised his head. ‘I would do it all over again, sir, without a second thought.’

  Her father tried his best to look angry. When that didn’t work, he tried to look shocked, which only made Isabella lean her head against Richard’s arm. ‘Give him but a moment, he’ll settle on one or the other.’

  Finally her father motioned Richard to join him. ‘Come along, it seems we need to revise that farce of a marriage contract you drew up and find a real priest.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Isabella stared out of the window of her chamber at the rising sun. Richard had spent the last two days ensconced with her father, working out the details of their marriage contract. They’d start early in the morning and end late in the evening.

  Her parents had assigned him to a chamber at the other side of the keep with orders not to even consider visiting this one.

  She had barely got the chance to see him, let alone talk to him.

  The ceremony was slated for today. Since there were so many here from Dunstan to attend the wedding, her mother had decided to use the church in the village instead of the family’s private chapel in the keep. Richard, Conal and the others would gather outside the church soon, if they weren’t already there.

  She’d been thrilled to discover that Marguerite, Hattie, some of the maids and others from Dunstan had made the journey to Warehaven. It pleased her to know Richard had
been confident enough of her love for him that he’d come prepared for another wedding.

  And she’d been delighted to learn that once they returned to Dunstan another marriage would take place. Marguerite was finally going to make an honest man out of Conal—at least that had been his explanation. Isabella was happy that they’d decided to wait until her return before exchanging their vows.

  ‘Looking for someone?’ her mother asked from the doorway.

  ‘Is Father Bartholomew ready?’

  ‘I’m sure he is.’ She draped her cloak over a bench. ‘Come, let’s get you dressed.’

  Her mother helped her into her gown, then drew her into an embrace. ‘I will miss you so.’

  ‘Mother, I will be closer at Dunstan than Jared is at Montreau.’

  ‘It is different with you. You are my daughter, Isabella.’

  ‘You are planning to come to me at the end of summer, aren’t you?’

  ‘Child, I wouldn’t miss this birthing for anything in the world.’

  Whether it was having Richard so close and not being able to talk to him these last couple of days, or carrying a child, or once again leaving Warehaven, or just the simple fact it was again her wedding day, Isabella burst into tears. ‘Mama, I am so scared.’

  Her mother laughed softly. ‘I would be concerned if you weren’t.’ She stood back and smoothed one of Isabella’s braids. ‘You are strong and healthy. Richard will be there. Your father and I will be there. All will be well, Isabella, I promise you.’

  She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I just... I don’t know. I just feel so...weepy.’

  ‘I hadn’t noticed.’ Her mother chucked her under the chin. ‘Dry your eyes. Don’t let your father, or husband, think I’ve been tormenting you.’

  Isabella laughed. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Good. I need to make sure your father is ready before I leave for the church. He will meet you below.’

  Isabella smoothed the skirt of her green-silk gown. She, Marguerite, Hattie and her mother had worked tirelessly to turn the length of silk into a gown for her and a tunic for Richard. They’d trimmed both garments with slivers of blue ribbon.

  Slipping on her grandmother’s torque, the best piece of jewellery she owned, she took one last look around her chamber and smiled. It would be the last time she’d have to sleep alone.

  Isabella met her father at the foot of the steps. He took her hand. ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘Yes.’ She was more than ready.

  ‘Your mother has already left for the church.’

  ‘Then we should join her.’

  He led her out to the courtyard and a waiting horse. ‘Do we really have to do this?’ she asked.

  ‘Your mother and I were wed in rush with very little ceremony. We weren’t present when your brother wed Lea. So, yes, Isabella, we are doing this as properly as we can in the time allowed.’

  With the assistance of her father and a guard, she mounted the ribbon-bedecked horse without further argument.

  On foot, her father took the reins and led the way to the village church. There, he helped her down, led her to the door of the church, placing her at Richard’s left side and stood between them, stepping back only after assuring Father Bartholomew that there was no reason they should not be wed and that he was freely giving her to Richard.

  This time, when she said her vows, nobody had to force her hand, or say the words for her.

  Richard handed the priest their two gold bands, which Father Bartholomew blessed and handed back.

  He slipped the ring on to her finger, saying, ‘With this ring, I thee wed.’

  His hands were steady, his voice strong, while her hands shook visibly as she slid the band on to his finger and her voice was little more than a hushed whisper, when she repeated, ‘With this ring, I thee wed.’

  And when they knelt inside at the altar for the priest’s blessing it was all she could do not to cry. She wondered if she would always be this weepy. Or if, eventually, she would regain control of her emotions.

  A nudge from Richard drew her out of her musings, reminding her where they were.

  When the ceremony ended, and they left the church, she noticed that all of Richard’s men had green-and-blue silk ribbons tied around their arm.

  She glanced at him, realising that she hadn’t seen his ribbon because it was made of the same fabric as his tunic.

  She reached over and touched the ragged scraps of fabric. ‘And where did you find the scraps?’

  ‘I have my ways.’ He shrugged. ‘I can’t tell you all of my secrets, Wife.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Fine. Keep your secrets, then.’

  * * *

  Later, after the meal, Isabella slowly walked around the perimeter of the Great Hall. Between those from Warehaven and Dunstan, the hall was crowded. Much to her mother’s delight—and her dismay as the walls seemed to close around her.

  ‘Come.’ Richard hooked his arm through hers. ‘We’re going upstairs.’

  She slipped her arm free. ‘No. Our friends and people are here from Dunstan. We’ll stay.’

  ‘Isabella, I can see that you’re ill. Besides, your mother just ordered me to take you from the hall. Who am I to disobey a direct order?’

  ‘I can manage on my own.’

  ‘I never said you couldn’t. But I’ve no wish to let you sneak off without me.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to sneak off.’

  He leaned close and whispered against her ear, ‘Ah, but I was. See, perhaps you weren’t aware, but this is my wedding night and I’ve every intention of wickedly seducing my bride if she’ll let me.’

  She laughed softly at his teasing. ‘Oh? And what exactly did you plan to do?’

  ‘Well, first I thought I’d kiss her senseless until her toes curled and she needed to hold on tightly to keep from falling.’

  Isabella shivered. ‘And then?’

  He put his arms around her, pulling her into his embrace and started backing her slowly towards the stairs. ‘Then I planned to remove her stockings. One at a time so I could slowly trail my hands over her shapely legs. Stopping only to kiss her ankles, then her knees and her luscious thighs.’

  ‘Mmm, that sounds wickedly lovely—and then?’

  ‘I’d loosen the ties of her gown and slide my hands ever so slowly up her body, feeling the warmth of her flesh all the while pushing her clothing up until I could pull it over her head.’

  ‘Oh, my. Then she’d be naked.’ Isabella’s heart raced at the images his words created in her mind.

  ‘Yes, she would. She’d be naked, hot and needy. Better still, she’d be completely and totally at my mercy.’

  Breathless, she asked, ‘And then what would you do with her?’

  ‘I would stroke and taste her most intimate flesh until she repeatedly cried out my name in wild abandonment. I would make certain she begged until she could withstand no more.’

  Isabella thought she’d faint with need right then and there. But she wasn’t yet willing to cry surrender. ‘And then?’

  In a deep, husky whisper he answered, ‘And then, that very moment before I claimed her as my own, I would tell her that I have finally found the one thing that I thought would for ever elude me, the one thing that makes me complete.’

  ‘And what might that be?’

  ‘Love, Isabella. I would tell her how very much I loved her and how I couldn’t imagine ever living without her at my side.’

  Knowing that everything she’d ever wanted, ever desired, ever dreamed of, was now within her reach, Isabella looked up at him.

  His shimmering brilliant blue eyes met hers without wavering.

  She placed a hand against his cheek and whispered back, ‘And she would vow to hold your heart gently an
d for ever close.’

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from WISH UPON A SNOWFLAKE.

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  Chapter One

  Generva Marsh gave the kitchen a final sweep and sighed in resignation. It was not her job to be keeping her own house. Mrs Jordan, the housekeeper, would disapprove of her meddling. But Mrs Jordan was above stairs, transfixed by the wailing and lamentations coming from Gwendolyn’s bedroom. Generva had been more than happy to abdicate that role. The girl had cried nonstop since Sunday, and the sound preyed upon her nerves.

  Perhaps it was unmotherly to admit such a lack of sympathy for one’s only daughter. Perhaps the ladylike response to the chaos surrounding them was to have a fit of vapours. She should shut herself up in a bedchamber, as Gwen was doing, and turn the whole house upside down. But it was still a damned nuisance. It might be mortifying when one’s gentleman proved himself to be no gentleman at all. But when it happened before the wedding and not after, it was cause for celebration and not tears. It would have been far worse had they married.

  Perhaps it was her own, dear, John who had given Generva such an annoyingly sensible attitude. When one was the widow of a ship’s captain, one learned to sail on through adversity and live each day prepared for the worst. When she had lost him, she had cried for a day as if her heart would break. Then she had looked at her two children and dried her tears so she could wipe theirs.