The Barbarian's Pet

by Loki Renard

  “What will we do when we find them? What will become of them?”

  “They will all be transported to my capital,” Griffen said, swinging himself up into the saddle behind her. “If I have to move heaven and earth to have you, I will do it. Bringing your village to my castle is the smallest of matters.”

  “You would do that for me?”

  “I would do more than that for you,” he said, pulling her close, his hips riding against her rear with the motion of the horse. His body was a comfort, his strength a promise. All would be well. She did not know how all could be well, but she knew it would be.

  So began a long day’s ride. At times Sariah thought she spotted something, but it always turned out to be a deer or a herd of wild goats, not the villagers she was so worried for. The emotional toll of high and low began to wear her down, but she took her strength from Griffen, whose steady command kept all contained.

  “That has to be them,” Sariah said suddenly, just as she had said dozens of times before. “It’s them. Isn’t it? It’s the bandits. They’re there!”

  Griffen called a halt, and for the first time, agreed with her assessment. “I think so,” he said. “But if we can see them, they can see us, which means we will not have the element of surprise. Sariah, I will put you off here with Rafe. You will wait here with him and I will take my warriors and ride ahead. Wait until you hear word before approaching. I do not want you to witness battle again.”

  “No!” Sariah refused immediately. “Take me with you.”

  “I will not,” Griffen growled. “This is not a matter for discussion. I will lash you to a tree if necessary.”

  “My king,” Rafe suggested. “Let her ride with me. I will ensure her safety, and she will not be far from her loved ones either.”

  The compromise did not please either Griffen or Sariah entirely, but they agreed to it. Time was of the essence, and bickering over how to approach the situation would do nobody any good.

  “I remember a time my orders were law,” Griffen growled as Sariah slid from his horse over to Rafe’s.

  “That was before you met me,” Sariah said with raised chin.

  “I will deal with your insolence later, pet,” Griffen said, his eyes flashing warning at her. “To arms, men!”

  Sariah could do nothing but watch as Griffen and his men charged toward the encampment, swords drawn ready to do battle for her village and family. Rafe refused to move his own steed forward until they had a significant lead, and then he moved at no more than a trot.

  “Faster,” Sariah implored him. “Anything could be happening!”

  “I know that very well,” Rafe replied. “Let Griffen do what must be done. You do not need to see this, Sariah.”

  “Move, Rafe!” She nudged him and his horse to try to gather speed.

  “I do not take orders from you, Sariah,” Rafe reminded her as he reined his mount in. “Griffen left you in my care, and unless you want to be punished, you need to be patient.”

  “You have no authority to punish me,” Sariah flung back over her shoulder. “I have more authority to punish you. When I have the king’s ear again, I will ensure he knows of your treachery.”

  “I’m following orders, Sariah,” Rafe insisted. “And you should too. Be patient.”

  “Patient!”

  Sariah could not be patient. There was no point in patience. Patience was for the weak, the slow, and those who lacked will. She began to slide off Rafe’s horse, and would have been successful but for the squire catching her by a big scruff of hair at the back of her neck. She yowled furiously and cursed his name, but he held firm.

  “I can’t let you off this horse,” he said. “Settle down. Griffen will send word when he is ready for us.”

  “Griffen will send word to the bits of you that are left if you don’t let me go this instant,” Sariah snarled back. “Let go of my hair.”

  “Stay on the horse,” Rafe insisted.

  “Fine,” Sariah agreed. “I’ll stay on the horse if you let go of my hair.”

  Rafe let go of her hair. Sariah turned around and pushed him off the horse.

  * * *

  While Sariah bickered with his squire at a safe distance, Griffen rode in to the small camp, sword drawn, hooves thundering beneath him. There was no doubt as to who the barbarians were and what they had done. Although he had not mentioned it to Sariah for fear of frightening her, he knew exactly why a group of barbarians would take a group of elderly people. The altar surrounded by burning brush confirmed his suspicions. Some barbarians could be subdued to the useful and the good, others clung to old notions and heinous practices like human sacrifice. Fortunately, they seemed to have arrived in time to save the villagers, who were blindfolded and bound together near the fire, awaiting a fate worse than simple death.

  Griffen did not have to utter a single command. Following his lead, the barbarian king’s men swept in on those who had disturbed his rule like avenging angels, blades flashing in swift execution of those who had unleashed violence on innocent citizens.

  It was not a battle, it was over too quickly for that. With the first few men cut down, the others soon fled. Those who preyed on the weak and elderly did not have the mettle for doing battle with true warriors.

  “Hunt them down and take them prisoner,” Griffen ordered as their figures dwindled toward the distance. “We will see how they like being captive and marched across the landscape. The rest of you free these prisoners.”

  Obeying his orders without question, his men swiftly released the confused and frightened villagers from their bonds. Griffen dismounted and walked among the villagers, searching for the woman who mattered most.

  “Which one of you is the mother of Sariah?”

  A woman of advanced years raised her hand. “That is I,” she said in trembling tones. “Please, do you know what became of my daughter?”

  “She is safe,” Griffen reassured the woman, still handsome in spite of her years. He could see echoes of his love’s eyes in the wrinkled visage of the frightened old lady, a beauty and a strength that carried them both through trying times. “I have come on her bidding.”

  “My Sariah commands a king?” The old woman’s eyes twinkled.

  “In more ways than I could have imagined,” Griffen admitted. “Bring water and food for these people,” he called out. “They need nourishment.”

  “You are a kind king,” Sariah’s mother said after she had drunk a little and eaten a little more. “A strong man. We owe you everything. If there is anything we humble people can do…”

  “I would have your daughter’s hand in marriage,” Griffen said swiftly, asking for the one thing only she could give.

  “Marriage.” Sariah’s mother nodded. “If she wills it. She is not mine to give away. She has always been a strong and willful spirit. I cannot give her hand, not even to a king…”

  “Mother!” Sariah burst suddenly through the grasses and wrapped her arms around the old woman. She was sweating profusely from what must have been a very long run, her cheeks ruddy, her legs covered in mud, her hair loose about her face. She was as beautiful as she was misbehaved, and she did not care in the slightest, more concerned with her mother’s condition than obeying his orders.

  “I’m sorry,” Rafe said as he arrived a moment later, also out of breath. “She tricked me into getting off my horse and then spooked it and ran this way, she…”

  Griffen held up his hand. “All is well, Rafe,” he reassured his squire. “It is safe now. You held her back as long as anyone could be expected to hold back one of nature’s most impetuous and disobedient forces.”

  “I will not apologize,” Sariah said, her arms wrapped around her mother’s shoulders. “You should have let me be here. I will not be kept from my family. I will not be shielded from danger. I will not…”

  “Sariah!” Her mother said sharply. “That is no way to speak to your future husband.”

&nb
sp; “My future what?” Sariah’s eyes widened as she looked between her mother and Griffen. “What is happening?”

  “I was asking your mother for her permission to marry you,” Griffen explained. “I was hoping for a more romantic proposal, but you have rather preempted that. So much for candles under the stars, or a gentle moment under the canopy of my castle. I suppose this, like all things with you, must be done in the heat of passion and on the spur of the moment.”

  “Go talk to him,” Sariah’s mother said to her daughter. “This is not a conversation for old ears.”

  Griffen agreed, drawing Sariah away from the crowd of villagers to a more private spot a few dozen feet from the now conquered camp.

  “Escaping my squire, defying my authority, speaking out of turn.” He shook his head as he listed her crimes.

  “You wish to marry me?” Sariah ignored her trespasses in order to get to the heart of the conversation. “You wish to make me your queen?”

  “I wish to take you over my knee and thrash your sweet bottom until you think twice about throwing yourself into dangerous situations against my orders,” Griffen growled, his hand on her chin to direct her eyes at his face. “Once I have your family safely aboard a carriage bound for my castle, I will do just that—and then yes, I will marry you, Sariah.”

  The look on her beautiful face was somewhere between confusion, happiness, and rebellion. The rebellion was no doubt related to the punishment her deserving bottom would soon be sustaining, but the confusion was something that needed to be addressed.

  “I am just a peasant,” she said. “You are a king.”

  “I cannot imagine a better queen,” Griffen replied. “Mine is a kingdom of those who once were wild. A shepherd girl is the perfect mate for a barbarian king, do you not think?”

  “But…” Sariah’s fingers went to the collar at her neck.

  “Do not worry, sweet pet,” Griffen reassured her. “You will still be mine. You will have a crown and a title, but you will always be my pet. Nothing changes between us.”

  Sariah thought about that, her beauty becoming more radiant as she allowed herself to understand the full force of his love. A little spark of mischief still danced in her eyes however and he could sense there was some jest waiting to trip out over her impudent tongue.

  “Griffen…” she said teasingly as his hands roamed over her back and bottom, stroking her curves.

  “Yes, pet?”

  “If I misbehave before the wedding, will I be required to pull the wedding carriage?”

  He raised a brow at her. “That is a dangerous jest, Sariah. I may decide to make good on it.” His expression softened as he gave way to laughter and kissed her thoroughly, taking complete and total ownership of her as she melted against him.

  As he held Sariah tenderly in his arms, Griffen was filled with a happiness he had not imagined possible. With her he was not just a king, or merely a barbarian. He was the one who held the leash that kept her from going astray. He was the one who plied the lash she so hated and yet so adored. And she was the one who had taken his solitude and shattered it into a thousand pieces, laid siege to the walls of his heart, and shown him that all he needed was one fierce, reckless, proud little pet who he would likely never tame, but relish the attempt every day as long as they both lived.

  The End

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  More Stormy Night Books by Loki Renard

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  When Mary de Vere’s closest companion Martin de Stafford—whom she secretly loves—is stolen from her by his long-promised marriage to another woman, eighteen-year-old Mary believes things can get no worse… until an assassin’s blade takes her father’s life. The laws of the land place her under the authority of her heartless uncle, but even as her world falls apart around her, Mary vows to one day reclaim her rights and her title.

  Years later, Martin, now the Sheriff of Staffordshire and a widower since illness claimed his wife, encounters his childhood friend in the unlikeliest of places: a convent. Though Mary plays the part of a simple woman who dreams of becoming a nun, Martin is far from convinced. He knows the feisty girl far too well to believe that she aspires to a life of service in the church, and in any case, he has another future to offer her—a future as his wife.

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  After she is kidnapped by her father’s enemies and sold to the barbarian chief Rikiar, Princess Aisling finds that life as a barbarian’s bride is quite different than the one to which she was previously accustomed. To her dismay, the once pampered princess soon learns that the barbarian chief is not to be trifled with and any disobedience will earn her a sound spanking on her bare bottom.

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er days are certainly less boring than when she was cooped up behind castle walls, and since her warrior husband’s fierce lovemaking is beyond anything the virgin princess ever imagined, her nights are far more exciting as well. Though much is expected of her—she must both satisfy Rikiar’s voracious appetites in the bedroom and train to wield a sword—Aisling perseveres and before long she feels a strength growing in her heart which makes her proud.

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