The dogs brayed, telling their masters that they'd found his wife's scent. Hudson urged his mount faster. Racing a plow horse over dark terrain with nothing more than starlight to lead the way was ludicrous. He seemed to be dealing in lots of ludicrous things lately.
Was there another lover? The thought had him digging his heels into his horse's sides. That was simply not an option. All he knew was something of his had been taken, and he intended to get it back.
Screw honor. He should've chained her to his bed and screwed her instead.
***
Lake opened her eyes to the absolute blackness of the cave, her heart pounding in her chest. Nothing moved, nothing sounded in the night, but she knew what had woken her. She should've taken the chance and made her way to Portal City on her own. She'd gambled. She'd lost. And now Hudson had come for her.
"I was worried," said a voice from somewhere in the dark. "Worried, when you didn't make it home."
Was that Hudson? The voice didn't sound quite like what she knew of her husband. She hadn't known him long, but he seemed to be more of a charmer, at least he had the night outside his barn. Even when the Elders had been gouging him with the "bride price" Hudson had never lost his cool. Even after she had tried to kill him and he'd tackled her to the ground, he hadn't given over to rage.
But now his voice sounded thick, raw, like a wild animal caught in a trap.
Lake inched her hand toward her sword. She knew he could handle an axe, but maybe if she caught him by surprise.
"I wouldn't if I was you," he said.
She should've known it was useless.
"I let you live the first time you tried to kill me. Don't think I'll be as accommodating the second."
This was accommodating?
The dark had disorientated Lake, and she couldn't pinpoint where Hudson was, or Grey Owl, for that matter. "What have you done with the old man?"
"Your concern is touching. Light the fire, and you'll find out. There are matches by the pit."
Lake fumbled in the dark, but finally got a small fire going. The flames threw gruesome images against the cave walls, barely providing enough light to bank the dark, but Lake could make out the two men across from her.
Grey Owl stood with his hands bound behind his back. Hudson was behind him, his axe blade steady at the old man's throat.
"I have one question," Hudson said, his smile more of a sneer, his hair more tussled than usual. Where his eyes had earlier reminded her of changing maple leaves at autumn, they were now straight black, and held nothing but the promise of winter.
"My question to you, dear wife, is since I paid all of my life savings for your blood and bride price..."
She could run. He looked fast, but she was quick.
"Entailed half my farm, and not to mention lost a full day's work chasing after you..."
She studied her husband's face. Would he release his captive and chase her? Or would he play it safe and secure the old man before coming after her? Could she really leave Grey Owl at the mercy of a mad man?
"My question is this," he growled. "Should I have you stand there and watch as I slit your lover from stem to stern. Or should I kill you both and be done with it?"
Chapter Five
No, Hudson, please listen." Lake rose up both her hands. Apparently, even for a person as damned as she, there were only so many sins one could carry.
So this was the punishment God intended for her. To have Vonn alive, but for her to never be able to get to him.
"Damn you, gal," Grey Owl spat out. "Damn you to the ancient Christians' hell. I should've never trusted you."
Hudson laughed, the fire contorting his handsome features into something not. "She lied to you also, old man? Well, you aren't the first man to meet your end because of a pretty little woman. I dare say I'll be right behind you, once the Elders find out she's not carrying my brat."
He'd gone mad if the cruel press of his mouth was any warning, but Lake had to try anyway. "Hudson, he's not my lover. That is not what this is about."
"At least now, the gal is telling the truth," Grey Owl said. "I asked her if she had a husband who would be coming after her. She even showed me her back. What kinda fool man doesn't Mark his woman?"
"A fool who trusted too much," Hudson replied.
They were at an impasse. Would Hudson believe her? Her past behavior didn't speak well for her.
Hudson stared at her, his face contorted in disgust. "I'll find out regardless, but if you tell me the truth it will go easier on you. Are you still a virgin?"
Lake was glad for the low lighting to hide the blush she knew was there. She nodded.
"Why did you run away? If he's not your lover, then what is he to you? And why meet him in secret?"
That question was a lot harder to answer. What did she give away, and what did she keep back? Could Hudson be trusted? Who did he follow? The Way? Or did he sympathize with the Rebellion?
"To tell you puts people's lives in jeopardy," she said.
"To not tell me puts your own life in jeopardy?" Hudson countered.
Lake straightened her shoulders. Hard choices seemed to be her specialty. "As you know, I am a Rebel sympathizer. This man was taking time-sensitive information back to the Rebellion."
"What information?"
Grey Owl gave her a look. It wasn't hard to read the message in his eyes. "I can't tell you."
Hudson didn't even flinch. His axe pressed deeper against Grey Owl's throat. Blood seeped from under the blade.
"Please," Lake stepped forward. "Please, ask me anything else. I'll tell you the truth."
"Were you going with him? Did you even plan to come back to me?"
Lake swallowed. "Yes…and no." The truth at times was so simple.
A muscle in Hudson's jaw flexed, his knuckles bleached white as he tightened his grip on his weapon. Lake closed her eyes and turned away. She couldn't watch another execution.
"Did you even think what your absence would mean to me and my men? Did you even consider what your actions would do to them? Are their lives less valuable or is it only you who gets to decide who's worth saving and who's not?"
Lake looked back to her husband. No, she hadn't thought of his men. An unwed man couldn't hold land, but she hadn't thought of what would happen to all his laborers if the Elders took his farm. Nevertheless, it wouldn't have changed a damn thing.
"It's not what you think. I…have a brother. The Rebels have him at their camp. I need to go to him. He's the only family I have left."
If Hudson was surprised at her reason for betraying him, he didn't show it, though some of the black bled from his eyes, showing a bit more warmth. "This information that is so important, that was worth more than me and all of my men's lives put together, who has it?"
"I do," Lake said.
Hudson looked from Grey Owl and then back to her. Grey Owl bobbed his head. "Then it's simple. My wife comes back with me, and if the Rebels truly want the information then they'll bring your brother to my farm. Her brother for the information."
Grey Owl grunted. "I can't do that. We need what she has right away. Tell her to give me the formula now, and I'll send her brother to you."
A different sort of panic set within Lake, but she didn't have time to protest.
"Does no one know how to negotiate?" Hudson asked. "My part in this bargain is that I am letting you live, old man. Take that and be grateful. If the formula is really that imperative to the Rebellion, then you will follow my demands."
Hudson looked at her. "Lake, my men are at the bottom of the mountain, waiting for my signal. Tell Saul and Locke to come up."
Lake walked over to the edge of the cliff, so glad she hadn't tried to escape. Of course, he'd brought his men with him. At some point she really needed to stop underestimating her husband.
***
Hudson sat Lake in front of him astride his horse. His men had tied up the old man in the cave so it would take at least a few hours before he could
get free. No use in having one cranky old Rebel coming after them. Dawn had painted the desert in typical form. Pinks and purples bled across the sky with light and shadow dancing their early morning tango. As colored seeped back into the world the night of no sleep started to catch up with him. He hadn't slept in close to twenty-four hours, his wife, probably even less.
At first Lake sat rigid in the saddle, not allowing her back to touch his front. At one point she even shifted so her behind wouldn't bump against him. Like he'd allow that. With one arm he pulled her back tight toward him. She squirmed until he whispered in her ear, "Stop fighting me or I'll tie you up and make you walk behind me."
His threat worked wonders. She stopped struggling, and within a few minutes exhaustion kicked in. She fell fast asleep, her head lolling on his chest. He considered himself a man of honor, but he wasn't above taking advantage of his wife's unawareness. He splayed his hand over her belly and let his thumb caress the underside of her breast. Lake moaned in her sleep. He smiled.
The old man had been right about one thing, Hudson needed to have sex with his wife and get his Mark on her tonight. Having a wife without the protection of his name on her body was asking for trouble. The Elder at the auction had said he'd send the Marker out to his farm in three days' time. As it was they were cutting it close. He needed to have his wife thoroughly bedded, and if Lake was telling the truth, her maidenhead sheets hidden. He couldn't have very well gotten his virgin wife pregnant.
He looked down at Lake. Her full lips were slightly parted. The opening of her shirt had dipped low, revealing the top swell of her breasts. He tugged at her shirt. The gap widened, showing a wide band she had used to bind herself. He cursed, and then groaned, wondering how much more he could take. He hadn't been this perpetually hard since he'd been a youth.
The horse picked up pace as soon as they crossed over into his property. If he wouldn't have looked an even bigger fool, he would've kicked his horse into a trot. The fields of yellow and green passed in a blur, at least they did to Hudson, since he could barely take his eyes off the soft jiggle of her breasts. Then, not able to help himself, he cupped one of the tempting globes and allowed his thumb to flick over her nipple. It tightened in response, puckering under the cloth. He did it again. Lake arched into his touch, and then Hudson didn't care how it looked. He kicked his mare into a trot and to hell with what his men thought.
Hudson knew as soon as he got home and saw the strange horse tied up out front, his time had run out. If he'd had just one extra hour, hell fifteen more minutes, he would've had Lake bedded and this whole marriage would've been legit. As it was now, he was going have to lie.
"Lake," he gently nudged his wife. "Time to wake up. The Marker is here."
Lake snapped to, her blue eyes wide and alert. He liked a readiness to act in a man. He guessed he also liked it in a woman.
"Already?" she said.
He could tell by the trepidation in her voice that she was nervous. He didn't blame her. He was nervous himself. The Marking was a big moment in a man's life; he supposed in a woman's also. But most men only had one shot to get the ritual right. Women tended to marry at least a few times over the course of their lives, outliving their husbands. By the time a woman reached old age it wasn't unusual for her to be marked up to her shoulder blades. One name crossed off after another.
But for Lake this was her first time, his as well.
"Do you know what to expect? During the Marking, I mean?" He had his hand lightly resting on her stomach and could feel the short pants of breath. He wished he could ease her fear, but there was nothing he could do. Having his name tattooed on her back was the best protection he could offer her. It marked her as his, let other men know she was taken, and if any harm came to her the full power of his name would come crashing down on their heads like a judgment from hell.
"My mother told me a little," she whispered.
Hudson nodded. It was to be expected. "Tell me all you know."
"She said that there was pain, but if I married the right man, there could be pleasure also. She told me to trust my husband and that there was nothing to be ashamed of." Gone was the confident warrior he had bargained with in the cave. In her place was a woman shy and unsure.
At the very least he could give her his assurance. "Your mother was a wise woman. I promise I'll take care of you the best I can."
And he meant it. The Markers had a reputation of being cruel. He'd heard horror stories of them going beyond mere tattoos by branding with knives and fire, but he saw no need to tell Lake any of the rumors. He'd never allow anyone to hurt her. Well, not any more than necessary.
Hudson dismounted and then helped Lake down. He pretended to get something from his saddle bag, but instead whispered in her ear. With an Elder in his home, one could never be too careful.
"Remember, we've slept together, and you're already with child, so no virginal blushes. If they even suspect that I've lied to prevent the execution, I'll lose everything, including my life."
Lake's expression, stony and flat, was impossible to read. He knew now it was how she coped, but he couldn't help a flare of anger at her indifference. He stomped the emotion down. This was no time for pride. Too much was riding on this. "Grey Owl is bringing your brother here. If you are loyal to me and be my wife in truth, I'll take your brother in as my own." He lifted her chin so she could see he meant what he said. "I'm a good man, Lake. I keep my promises. I can give you a good life if you just trust me and give me a chance. Will you trust me?"
She tried, but couldn't hold the dead look in her eyes. Slowly it gave way to something else, dare he guess…hope?
"Take care of Vonn, and I'll do whatever you ask."
He knew what she meant. Her brother was the last family she had left, and she'd do anything to secure his safety. But he was just a man. A man who'd ridden with his wife's soft bottom bouncing against his groin for hours. So he took her statement in the only way he wanted to—a willingness to match the erotic images in his head.
Chapter Six
Lake followed Hudson into his home, glad her legs could still carry her weight. In prison she'd faced much worse. She'd borne up under the torture, the darkness, and the rats like a good Rebel should. But now, now she was afraid.
I can give you a good life if you would just trust me. Isn't that what Hudson had said? Trust him. When was the last time she fully trusted anyone? Not her father, not even Grey Owl. She knew when she'd joined the Cause she would be fighting alone. She just hadn't realized how lonely it would be.
Hudson had asked her to be his wife in truth. Would it really be so bad to be protected, have someone fight by her side? Lake shook her head. No, Hudson had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with the Rebellion. And yet, he'd lied to the Elders, saved her life, and was willing to take Vonn in despite her being a Rebel. Maybe, but this was also the man who was having his name tattooed on to her back. Damn the rituals of The Way.
The Marking was more than just a sign of ownership. It was nothing short of barbaric. Lake had heard the rumors. Women talked. Some said the Marking was painful, some said it was the best pleasure they'd ever had, but they all agreed with one thing: A woman was naked and in the most intimate of positions in front of two men.
Maybe her Marker would be old. Maybe he'd be deaf and blind. Lake mentally shook her head. No. No. She didn't want a blind man doing her tattoo.
In the end, she didn't have to worry.
The house was dim compared to the outside. Her eyes took a moment to adjust. The dark coolness was a reprieve from the bright, hot of the desert sun. Inside, the furnishings were simple oak with a few skins draped across for comfort. The mismatched stone flooring was a luxury compared to the dirt of her old home. The one now a pile of cold ashes.
Near the back of the room where the shadows dominated the light, sat a man behind a long wooden table. He couldn't have been more than forty years old. With his black hair and eyes, the cruel slant of his mouth matched h
is features. His fingers, long, thin and stained with ink, were folded in a shape of a steeple under his chin.
The man stood as she and Hudson approached. Though not as tall as Hudson, the man's shoulders were wider—making Lake feel like a child in a room full of adults. Hudson quickly made the introductions. The man didn't divulge his name.
"Are these from you?" Hudson gestured toward the bottles of wine on his table.
The Marker shook his head. "They were outside when I got here. I brought them in when I came inside."
Hudson nodded. "A gift from a neighboring farm for my nuptials. I'll take it to my men for the celebratory toast."
"I've set up everything in the bedroom," the Marker said. "I've only one question. Did you want to use your generator for the Marking, or not? My preference is the traditional hand-poking, but sometimes it's harder to keep the woman still for such long sessions."
A heartbeat pulsed in her throat. Of course, the Marker wanted to go the traditional route. Hand-poking was excruciatingly painful and slow. She'd seen men like him before. His kind lurked in dark prison cells, feasted on men's screams, got pleasure from other's pain.
Lake waited on Hudson. There was nothing she could do. Strictly speaking, the use of electricity went against the principals of The Way, but many of the laws had become lax over the last few years. Even her father had a portable generator he'd used for the winters, the one she'd used to power her computer. Nonetheless, it was a risk. By admitting to owning a generator, a person admitted to having dealings with the Rebels.
"The generator," Hudson said. "She's carrying my child. I want to keep her stress to a minimum."
If there was a flash of disappointment in the Marker's eyes, it was gone in a hard nod and a swish of robes as he turned and headed toward the bedroom.
Lake had never been so grateful for a lie in her life.
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