Branded by a Warrior

by Andrea Thorne

  She observed him with worried eyes as he walked over to his wardrobe unlacing his bracers and tossed them on the table. With his back to her, she stood utterly confused. She watched him pull off his linen shirt and toss it on the ground, reminding herself she had yelled at him on their ride this afternoon, and she also had coolly dismissed him afterward in the stable.

  Unaccustomed to this type of reaction from him, she assumed it was punishment for the way she treated him today. Silently walking across the room, she ran her hands around his waist and squeezed him from behind, placing her cheek against his muscular back. Accepting she had hurt his feelings today, she felt guilty as she hugged him from behind. Almost immediately she felt him tense at her touch, she removed her hands like she had touched hot irons and took a step back, “What is wrong with you Broderick?” her voice stern and accusing.

  Before her Broderick slowly turned and pulled a letter from his waist, handing it to her his eyes were cold and barren, devoid of any emotion. “Getting love letters so soon Elisabeth? Is that why you do not want to carry my children? This came for you today, shall we read it together and see what your lover has to say?” The anger and resentment were clear in his voice, his entire body radiated danger as he spoke. She had never heard him be so cruel. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she scanned his eyes. What had happened?

  “I cannae believe you Broderick,” plucking the letter from his hands, she flipped it over to see the seal had not been broken yet. Addressed to her in a script she was familiar with she she stood before Broderick and broke the seal. She quick looked up at his angered face one last time before she read the missive. He appeared to already believe her guilty.

  Clenching her jaw she lowered her eyes and red the familiar handwriting, her heart sank as she read line after line from Kincaid. Her skin prickled as she attempted to contain her emotions. With each line, it had gotten worse.

  Broderick watched his Elisabeth read the letter before him, he hadn’t opened it yet, he wanted to watch her read it in front of him and try to deny it. He watched as tears pooled in her green eyes as she read line after line, her face lost all color as she looked up at him. The letter fell from her trembling hands as she looked into his eyes and then bolted from the room, slamming the door behind her. Was she so guilty she wouldn’t even try to deny it? Was she fleeing this very moment into Kincaid’s arms?

  Closing his eyes he attempted to regain control of his temper, his blood was boiling. His fists clenched at his sides he heard her solar door slam moments later as he stood there. Opening his eyes quickly he looked down at the letter she had dropped on the ground. So many things had gone wrong today, he had never felt such volatile feelings in his life. The possibility that Elisabeth was playing him for a fool, just like Fiona had done turned his world upside down. His head and heart were battling a familiar war once again.

  Bending down he picked up the letter; taking a deep breath he mentally prepared himself to read a letter that could incriminate the woman he loved. Standing up he opened the parchment and began to read.

  Elisabeth,

  So quickly you forget your family’s blood still stains the grounds of your home while you whore away with MacMillan swine. You will soon learn you should have heeded my warnings; I do not deal lightly with disobedience. Hundreds died because of you, you Elisabeth…. You murdered your family. You murdered your clan by your selfish actions. So easily they could have been saved if you had only become my wife.

  You ran to the arms of a man who has been waiting years to claim Drummond land, so easily you give away what should have been mine. You will pay Elisabeth. How many more lives have to perish before your pride falls? Perhaps I’ll make an example out of that sweet little blonde girl you have befriended? Isobel, isn’t that her name? I wonder if she would scream as loudly as your mother did when I murdered her.

  Oh yes, I am watching you Elisabeth. I hope you enjoyed your training today, for soon I will be coming for you.

  Maybe this time innocent people will not have to die because of you.

  Your future husband,

  Kincaid.

  “Fuck,” letting the letter fall to the floor.

  God he was such a fool, so quickly did he believe she was guilty of conspiracy, so quickly he had tossed aside his trust and love and accused her of such vile deeds erroneously. Running out his door he saw the solar door was thrown wide, running over he saw her fur and weapons were gone, she was gone.

  Swinging back into his room he threw on a clean shirt and grabbed his fur and sword, his dogs were already following her scent as he ran down the stairs. Running down the stairs he laced his braces as he watched his dogs seek her out. Conn and Isla took a turn down the nearest corridor and stopped directly before Isobel’s door, the door was slightly ajar. Watching his dogs nudge the door open, he saw Elisabeth fully armed, his fur over her shoulders kneeling before Isobel’s bed, weeping at the beside of the sleeping youngling.

  Seeing his beautiful little niece safe, his eyes ran over his wife whose heart he had just broke. Walking in, he knelt beside Elisabeth and tilted her jaw so she would look at him, tears rolled down her face as she hesitantly looked into his eyes.

  Shaking her head and whispering, “No more Broderick, no more will die for me. I will not let him touch her, I will surrender myself before that ever happens!”

  “You will never be his my love. I will die first. I am so sorry Elisabeth; I don’t understand my reactions myself. I am ashamed of my accusations,” lifting her up gently in his arms, he walked out of Isobel’s room kicking the door shut softly behind him.

  Sitting her on her feet he grabbed her hand and nodded for her to follow him. Walking through the candlelit corridors, Broderick clasped Elisabeth’s trembling hand and led her to the kitchens, their dogs at their heels.

  Letting go of her hand he walked around the kitchen and selected a few items before grabbing a bottle of fresh mead out of the cabinet, looking back he saw her watching him as she rubbed the lingering tears off her face.

  “What are you doing Broderick?” she asked as he walked back towards her.

  “You and I are going to have a picnic in one of my most favorite places, we are going to disappear for the night… and I am going to spend all night begging forgiveness,” he handed her the bottle of mead as he nodded for her to follow him.

  Elisabeth was at her breaking point, the stress of vows of revenge, vows of marriage and children, and the chilling letter from Kincaid had her on edge. Having Broderick assume she was conspiring against him broke her heart. She needed her husband to trust her, to have faith in her despite whatever may happen. She yearned for that. Following him down the darkened corridor her head spun with what to say. She knew she had to open up to him about her fears; she had to accept it would take time for him to trust her. Her mother had taught her well, she knew she couldn’t force it; she had to show Broderick how to trust. No matter how many times he broke her heart, she refused to give up on him. She would prove it to him; she would withstand the heartbreak for him.

  Walking beside Broderick she saw Conn and Isla jot out in front of them, leading the way, the wolfhounds trotted in the direction of the north tower. She had remembered Old Rhona never gave her a tour of this tower, thinking back it was as if there as a line she wouldn’t cross. Looking up at her husband she gave him a questioning glance. This was the one spot of the castle she had yet to venture, it was locked at all times.

  Feeling Elisabeth’s eyes on him, he looked down at his warrior wife. She was fully armed for battle; truly magnificent in her glory. His black sable fur was draped around her soft shoulders. “The north tower is only assessable to myself, I have the lone key. The tower is my sanctuary from the duties of being laird here. My grandfather built the this tower for this purpose only; it has been this way for generations.”

  Down the hall she could see the massive stone archway that connected the castle to the north tower, walking next to Broderick she chose to rema
in silent. He was allowing her in his most solitary personal space he had, for a man who had a hard time trusting her, the significance was not lost on her.

  “Did your father bring your mother up here?” she asked quietly as they arrived to the stairs that curled up the large tower.

  Nodding with a grin, “Yes, she was his rock. They were hardly apart, theirs was a love match as well.” Sliding the key into the solid oak door, he pushed it open, “Grab a candle off the wall Lis,” he requested as he held the door open for her. Plucking the nearest large wax candle off the wall, she walked through the threshold as the hounds dashed upstairs without waiting for light.

  With his arms full of food for them, he motioned for her to go ahead of him, “Go ahead love, light the torches along the way, they’ll be on your left side.”

  Climbing the century old stone stairs, she lifted the candle high to illuminate her way, Broderick following closely behind her. She could feel his eyes on her; desire ripped through her as she swayed her hips a little bit more at she climbed the stairs.

  Lighting the torches that lined the stairs, slowly light spread through the tower lighting her way to the grand room.

  Entering the dark room she couldn’t see far, from behind her Broderick swiped the candle out of her hand as he leaned down and whispered into her ear, “Ye make it hard for a man to want to have a conversation with a fine arse like that Elisabeth,” walking past her he systematically lit the various candelabras around the two story room.

  As each flame was lit, the room came alive before her eyes. Standing still she watched Broderick walk around the vast space, the room was at the top of the tower, it was a completely open space. The high arched ceiling seemed to reach the sky; she had never seen anything like it. Windows lined the circular tower room, currently covered with skins to block out the bitter cold winter.

  The high stonewalls were covered with beautiful tapestries, some centuries old. A large desk sat in the corner with a high-backed chair. Across the great room Elisabeth saw Broderick kneel before the massive hearth to start a fire. The room was awfully cold, crossing her arms and wrapping the sable fur snuggly around her shoulders she continued to look around the private room in awe.

  As soon as her husband had finished casting the entire room in candlelight he walked over to the fire and stoked the glowing coals into flames. Watching Broderick something caught her eye. The light reflected off the wall across the room, gathering her full attention. Hanging in a beautiful display across the vast wall were hundreds of weapons. Sitting the bottle of mead on the table she walked towards the wall in awe, maces and swords, dirks and daggers, ancient weapons collected over hundreds of years were artfully hung on the wall. She had never seen anything to interesting and intriguing in her life. There were some weapons that dated back to ancient times.

  Standing before the giant wall she cast her eyes over the selection before her, there were weapons she had never seen before, nor had any idea how they were used. Before her she spied a magnificent claymore with a jeweled hilt, reaching up to touch the intricately detailed sword she heard Broderick behind her.

  “That was my great grandfather’s sword, all the weapons you see before you are a collection started hundreds of years ago by his grandfather, impressive isn’t it?” he asked as he stood up and joined his wife before the wall of deadly weapons. Seeing her retract her hand from the claymore’s handle, “Go ahead Elisabeth, pick it up, tis a heavy beast and nearly as tall as you my love,” giving her permission he nudged her shoulder playfully as he turned and walked over to retrieve the bottle of mead.

  Reaching out she placed her hand on the elegant claymore and lifted it off the wall; the weight of the long sword was indeed substantial. Grasping the heavy sword with both of her hands she lifted it into the air as she eyed the beautiful blade. The quality of work was outstanding. With the fire now roaring and candles around the room, she was able to see the room in all its magnificence, lowering the blade she turned around to see Broderick opening the bottle of mead and taking a drink right from the bottle. Since she had been poisoned he demanded to taste everything before she did, shaking her head at his protectiveness, she couldn’t help but grin.

  Watching him, her heart easily melted, catching his eye, she saw him wink at her. Bottle in hand he walked slowly over to her, his dark hair fell gloriously to his shoulders. The muscles in his arms flexed as he gripped the bottle and eyed her with desire in his green eyes.

  Joining her at the wall, he handed her the bottle and held out his hand for his grandfather’s ceremonial claymore. Taking the bottle from Broderick she handed over the heavy sword in exchange. Watching him twist the large claymore in his hand easily, she took a drink from the bottle she asked, “Why don’t you use this as your bedroom Broderick? This room is five times the size and suits you perfectly.”

  Setting the claymore back upon the notches on the wall Broderick explained, “This tower is the closest to the front gate, under attack it would be the first to take fire. My grandfather wanted his family in the farthest tower from the drawbridge to give them more time and a safer position if ever the walls were breeched,” reaching up he plucked a ruby hilted shortsword down and held it out for her to see, “This belonged to my grandmother, she too knew how to wield a sword. My grandfather made it for her, just as I made yours.”

  Snapping her head up to look back into his eyes, “You made my weapons?”

  Nodding, he handed the ruby sword to her and took the bottle back out of her small hands and took another bracing swig, “Aye, my queen will only have the best.”

  Looking up at him in utter amazement, she asked, “Why did you tell me that you had made them for me?”

  Shrugging, he simply smiled, “Come to the center of the room Elisabeth, I want to show you a few things you didn’t learn today during drills.”

  Intrigued, she placed the ruby sword back in its resting place upon the wall and followed her brooding warrior into the center of the vast room. The room was large enough for them to practice swords, the center of the room was free of any supports, and the high arched ceilings towered above their heads. There was room for many men to practice simultaneously the room was gigantic.

  Turning back towards her, Broderick motioned for her to stop so there was a space between them, “There are hand signals we use during battle when we cannot speak, I’m sure you and Duncan had signals, correct?” he asked.

  Nodding in agreement, “Of course,” she replied watching Broderick a few meters away, the fire glowing behind him. Unbuckling the chain on her fur, she slowly removed it; tossing it on the leather chair she refocused her eyes upon her husband.

  “I want you to learn our signals as if your life depended on it Elisabeth. We have many calls and signs that are essential when riding with the MacMillan warriors, you need to know all of them,” his tone was of utmost seriousness; his presence commanded her attention as he spoke.

  The teachings of her mother flickered in her brain, grinning she bartered, “For every sign I learn, you must tell me one thing about yourself that I do not know, or answer one of my questions.”

  Crossing his arms his eyes came alive, “and will my wife answer my questions and share her past?”

  Smirking at his quick intellect she nodded in agreement, “Aye, I’ll even let you start. You may ask me a question, or allow me to share something about my past that you don’t know,” bowing slightly to her brooding husband, “shall we begin?”

  Elisabeth had known the key to fully understanding Broderick would mean diving into his past. Knowing his past would help her understand why he reacted the way he did. Without a doubt in her heart, she knew he loved her. She knew he trusted her very much, but his past still haunted him, causing him to react as he did tonight.

  Today had been taxing on her, with the morning filled with training with the MacMillan warriors, then the emotional upheaval of Broderick mentioning a child and the chaos that had ensued inside her. Her long horseback ride with B
roderick and her emotional breakdown while locked inside her solar. The letter from Kincaid had been her true breaking point, something she still needed to discuss with Broderick. The gross accuracy of him knowing her movements within Broderick’s castle scared her. She knew Broderick hadn’t forgotten about that, the threat upon Isobel was indeed something they would discuss, later.

  Clearing his throat, “I assume you know the universal stop and go signals, both basic and usually used by all,” motioning with his right fist each of the signs. His voice softened as he talked to her.

  Standing before Broderick, “Aye,” she agreed, repeating each signal flawlessly, as they were universal. Smiling at her husband she asked, “Would you like to ask a question, or have me share something?”

  Without hesitation he questioned, “You told me that you won a bet with your father allowing you to choose your husband, what was the bet?”

  Smiling to herself, she knew this evening would be entertaining to say the least. Broderick obviously had a barrage of questions, happy to be finally having these conversations she replied, “My parents tried for years to get me to marry a man of their choosing, after training with Duncan I grew increasing irritated with the idea of marrying. I challenged my father to an archery contest, if he could produce any man or woman who could out shoot me I’d allow him to pick my husband, if I won, he would allow me to marry at my own will,” smirking at Broderick as she watched him take in the scene in his head, “I have never been beaten, ever.”

  “That sounds like a challenge my love,” crossing his arms he watched his beautiful wife before him. Trying to focus on the duty at hand he got back to business, “My men and I use an assortment of calls when riding or hunting, or getting ready to lay siege. The owl is to announce your position to other MacMillan warriors in the woods,” quietly he mimicked the owl call he and his men used frequently. “The next is the distress signal, something goes wrong or there is danger or you are in need of help, we use the fox call,” again, he mimicked the majestic fox call before her as she watched and soaked it all in. “Lastly is our attack signal, the call we make to unleash hell upon our enemies, the wolf, our men all knows these calls by heart, I want you to master everyone of them Elisabeth, for me.”