Warrior's Revenge
Page 8
Brigham flexed his hands. Open. Closed. Fisted and unfurled. The repetitive movement did naught to calm him. Damn it to hell and back. He felt the sudden need to pound on someone. All because his vixen had been hurt. “Have you recalled your men from Garard Keep?”
“Nay, not yet.” Eamon met Brigham’s intent gaze. “I want to keep them in place until I see what Lord Cedric does first.”
“Good. Keep them there for the time being,” Brigham said, nodding in approval. “Tell me what you know of the uncle.”
“He is Lord of Garard Keep, and with it owns a small amount of land that is neither fertile nor prosperous. Aurora’s properties, however, are a different matter,” Eamon said. “Although a small demise, Marquise Manor is located on an excellent tract of land and pulls a goodly profit…or at least it did until her uncle took control. All those gains have no doubt gone to fill Lord Cedric’s empty coffers.”
Brigham sat back in his chair, churning the facts over in his mind. “Anything else?”
“Aye, Aurora claims her uncle is a cunning sort. The only thing I can state with any amount of certainty is that he’s a liar. I do not find much to recommend in the man.”
“A liar and a woman beater,” Camden said, a hard edge in his voice. “He probably slithers on his belly as well.”
Brigham snorted. “We will know soon enough, I think. Until then, Aurora goes nowhere without a guard to protect her.”
Both men glanced at him in surprise.
Raising a blond brow, Eamon threw him a perplexed look. “She is already under my protection, Brigham, so...”
“Why do you care?” Camden said, finishing his friend’s sentence.
Brigham glared at his vassals as he rose from his chair. “’Tis none of your bloody concern.”
His growl effectively ended all speculation. Good thing too. He didn’t want either of his friends looking too hard at his motives. Or the compulsion that drove it. Both would laugh at him…tease him without mercy about his obsession with the redheaded vixen who’d bested him. So aye. The less they knew the better.
For him. And his peace of mind.
Crossing the room to one of his travel chests, Brigham pulled out clean hose and a dark tunic. He must get dressed...and quickly. The supper bell would ring soon. Which meant Aurora would be in the great hall. Off a sudden, he needed to see to her—to ensure she was undamaged by their encounter in the stable. He knew his own strength. She wasn’t hurt. At least, not physically. But after hearing of her uncle’s treatment, he yearned to soothe her. Aye, well that, and start the seduction he’d just spent the last hour planning. His mouth curved. Hmm, without a doubt. ’Twas time for the amend-making to begin.
EPISODE THREE
CHAPTER NINE
Ogres and Warlords: One and the Same
The noise in the great hall was almost overpowering. To be expected, Aurora supposed, when such a large group congregated in one area. The chamber, alive with color and light, glowed as wedding guests filtered in to await the dinner hour. Dressed in finery, most stood scattered about the chamber chatting with neighbors while others strolled, adding a wayward comment here or there as they passed.
It was not the crowd, however, that held Aurora’s attention, but the three men who stood in front of the hearth, claiming it as their territory. ’Twas almost as though an invisible line had been drawn around them. An imaginary command post of some kind. One not even the bravest soul seemed inclined to breech. Little wonder, camped as they were about the fire. A slathering pack of ogres would have been easier to approach.
She sighed, thankful the doorway beneath the main staircase concealed her position. So far, she’d gone unnoticed. Safe. Sound. Close but outside the activity of the human hive buzzing a few feet away. She adored the back staircase for that very reason. ’Twas like having a secret passageway all to herself. Sneaky sure, but useful all the same. Particularly since she now stood alone—without reinforcements or moral support—after leaving Quinlyn in the kitchen giving last minute instructions to the servants.
Aurora frowned. Mayhap she should turn back and rejoin her friend. ’Twould be safer that way. Better for her peace of mind too. Why? One word…or rather, name…summed it all up. Brigham. Taking a deep breath, she stared at him from the shadows. The sudden urge to run in the opposite direction made her feet twitch.
God save her, but she didn’t want to go into the great hall alone.
Stupid, she knew. Any other day, she would’ve entered the room without hesitation. But after her encounter with Brigham in the stable, her confidence—not to mention her backside—had taken quite a beating. Now she wasn’t sure she could face him. What would he do? Would he gloat? Lord his victory over her? Make her feel uncomfortable, mayhap even inferior?
She didn’t know. Couldn’t begin to read his thoughts, never mind guess his next move. A pity really. Particularly since she was making herself sick about it, imagining all the ways he would humiliate her in a room packed full of people. Aurora blew out a long breath, trying to fortify her courage. She was strong, able…tough enough to take whatever nonsense the brute doled out in an effort to soothe his wounded pride.
Aurora nodded. ’Twas a sound strategy. One that did not, however, necessitate entering a crowded hall alone. Which meant the plan had just changed. No sense giving Brigham a clear shot at her. Safety came in numbers, so…aye. She would wait for Quinlyn, even if it wasn’t the most courageous thing to do. But honestly, she couldn’t take much more. Not from him. Not today. Mayhap not ever. Besides, little harm would be done by waiting. A few moments alone would allow her to sort through and solidify the best plan of action. Aurora knew she needed one. Despite what Quinlyn said, she didn’t share her friend’s opinion.
Brigham would never leave her alone.
She huffed. Drat the man, anyway. How was she to enjoy herself when—
A shiver slithered down her spine, interrupting her train of thought. Aurora glanced over her shoulder. She recognized the unpleasant prickle. Knew the sensation well. Had lived with it under her uncle’s roof every day for a year.
Someone was watching her.
Holding her breath, she waited, body tense, senses throbbing, and searched for the threat. The shadow of a man separated from the gloom. Her muscles tensed, preparing her to flee, but…no need. The silhouette retreated, moving toward the kitchen. A servant, most likely. Aurora exhaled, chastening herself for overreacting. She was being ridiculous, looking for trouble where none existed. But after her narrow miss with the timber beams, she rode a fine edge, instincts on overload.
Safe. She reminded herself again. Accidents happened all the time, and worksites were the best place for them.
Rubbing the nape of her neck, Aurora returned her attention to the man monopolizing her thoughts. Her gaze found him without trouble. She sighed against her will, the sight of him making her heart pick up a beat. And then another. She pursed her lips and sent a flurry of instructions to her body, telling it to stop reacting with such wanton disregard for her wishes. Uncooperative, it refused to listen. Little wonder. The man was gorgeous. She huffed, the sound one of self-disgust. So much for the theory she was no longer attracted to him. The beast had spanked her, and yet here she stood, salivating.
“What are you doing, Rory?”
Aurora jumped, her hand flying over her heart as Quinlyn came up behind her. “God’s teeth, you scared me. What were you thinking to sneak up on me like that?”
“Uh, that I wanted to enter the great hall?”
“Oh.”
Stopping alongside her, Quinlyn frowned. “What are you doing out here?”
“Hiding,” Aurora said, admitting the truth before she could stop herself. Quinlyn treated her to a dubious look, prompting her to explain. “I was waiting for you. I have no wish to go in there alone, not with him there.”
“Oh, him,” Quinlyn said, smiling.
“Aye, him. And you would not think it so funny were you in my place.”
“I know. And ’tis only because I love you that I will try.” And she would, even if it killed her. She refused to be responsible for ruining her friend’s special day. The imp in her, however, couldn’t resist teasing Quinlyn just a little. “Although you would do well to stay out of the way.”
“Of what?”
“The blood spatter.”
Quinlyn grinned. “Yours or his?”
“His, of course,” she said, wrinkling her noise, a slow smile curving her lips.
“That’s better. Truth be told, I almost feel sorry for him.”
Shaking her head at her friend’s warped sense of humor, Aurora linked arms with her and allowed herself to be dragged into the hall. Quinlyn was right. She wouldn’t be able to avoid him the entire time he was here. The sooner she got the awkward meeting over with, the sooner she could enjoy herself.
Which wouldn’t be difficult, considering the many activities and entertainments planned in the coming days. Unable to contain her excitement, Aurora hopped mid-stride. It had been far too long since she’d danced, seen jesters, tumblers, and troubadours, eaten sweet cakes, and clapped along with the musicians. And honestly? She looked forward to doing them all, even if it meant being civil to Brigham.
All three men turned away from the fireplace as she and Quinlyn approached. Warmth in his gaze, Eamon reached out. A quick tug, and he tucked Quinlyn beneath his arm. With her snug against him, the Lord of Alvars shared a smile with his soon-to-be wife. “Brigham, Camden, meet my betrothed Lady Quinlyn and her good friend, Lady Aurora.”
Aurora executed a perfect curtsy. Ignoring Brigham, she turned to the man standing next to him. Physique packed with lean muscle, the green-eyed warrior was leaner of frame and stood just an inch or two shy of Brigham’s towering height. She quelled the urge to shake her head. ’Twas unprecedented. Three men, all well over six feet tall. There must be something in the water. Either that or a good fairy had touched the trio with the gift of height and good fortune.
More’s the pity.
A little bad luck might do Brigham some good. Take him down a peg. Drop kick him into better behavior…or something equally as well-deserved.
“Lady Aurora, at last we meet,” Camden murmured, a teasing lilt in his unusual accent. A hint of Scotland, mayhap? “’Tis a pleasure. Particularly since I have heard so much about you this day.”
Heat prickled, washing over her cheeks. Oh nay. He didn’t mean…couldn’t be talking about…
Her focus snapped back to Brigham. A hint of tenderness in his dark eyes, his mouth curved. Aurora saw the gentleness—felt his concern in the way her looked at her—and yet humiliation blazed to life anyway. How dare he? The moment in the stables had been private, a reckoning between two people, not meant for mass consumption. A terrible ache tightened her throat, making her heart pump and her chest hurt.
“You told them?” she whispered, voice wavering, shame in each syllable. Flinching as though she’d been slapped, she broke eye contact and turned to stare unseeing into the hall. “How could you…why would you…”
“Aurora. Little heart, ’tis not what you think,” Brigham said, shooting a hard look in Camden’s direction as he stepped toward her. Aurora stiffened and retreated. He refused to allow it. With a quick move, he reached out. His heat touched her an instant before his hand closed around hers. “I said naught. I swear it.”
His confession should have helped. It didn’t. So much hurt. Too much betrayal. A life of not knowing who to trust had taken its toll. Now Aurora didn’t know where to turn…or if she could believe a word Brigham said.
Uninterested in Brigham’s admission, Quinlyn targeted his friend. “Camden, you are—”
“To take your seat at the table,” Eamon said, jumping into the fray.
“A jackass.”
Eamon frowned at his betrothed. “Quinlyn.”
The warning in his tone didn’t quell her best friend. Determined to defend her, Quinlyn raised her hand, pointed her finger at Camden, opened her mouth and…
Squeaked in outrage as Eamon picked her up.
“Eamon.” His name came out on a growl. The fury in Quinlyn’s eyes conveyed the rest of the message. “Put me down at once.”
“Behave, love, and I will,” Eamon said, manhandling his beloved toward the dais. Glancing over his shoulder, he eyed the idiot who’d put his foot in his mouth. “Come on, Cam.”
Camden hesitated. His gaze steady on her, he took a deep breath. “My lady, I did not mean to…that is to say, I am sorry if I offended you in any way.”
Aurora tried to answer. She opened her mouth to accept his apology, but…
Nothing came out.
“Go on, Cam,” Brigham said, tilting his head in the direction of the table. “I will sort it out.”
With a nod, Camden turned on his heel and strode toward the dais across the room.
The only one who didn’t move was Brigham. The annoying oaf. He irritated her just like a bad case of poison oak. Now all she wanted to do was scratch…his eyes out. Not that she could. At least, not at the moment. Why? The brute had commandeered her hand. And like it or not, she couldn’t hammer him—or get away—without it.
Grumbling something obscene under her breath, she yanked on her hand. His grip firmed. She tugged again. He retaliated by entwining his fingers with hers. God give her strength…and a club. Aye, she absolutely needed a club. A big one with spikes on the end to bash him with. Maybe then, he’d get the message, the one she screamed without saying a word. Anyone else would’ve heeded the warning. But oh no, not Brigham. He pushed her closer to the edge instead, caressing the center of her palm, playing with her fingers, driving her daft with his touch. Goose bumps snaked up her arm, and she forgot all about her humiliation and glared at him.
Brigham’s lips twitched. “Have you no greeting for me, Aurora?”
Arrogant beast. A greeting, indeed. Aye, well, she would like to give him something. A greeting, however, wasn’t it.
“Nay. And stop that,” she said, trying, without success, to snatch her hand away from his. Again.
Much to her dismay, he held firm and tugged her closer. Off balance, she put her free hand out to stop her forward progress. He shifted left. Her palm met the center of his chest and slid, leaving her no room to maneuver. The devil in his eyes, he pulled again. Between one breath and the next, she guessed his game. Clever, clever…oh so clever. Blatant manipulation. The perfect strategy. If she kept fighting, he would continue to reel her in until she ended up plastered against him.
“Are you sure, little heart?”
The man was a menace, pure and simple. “Good eve, my lord.”
“Aye, and to you, my lady.” Aurora scowled at him. He smiled back, delighted by her show of temper. “That was not so difficult, was it?”
She tore her gaze from his. A necessary precaution. He was too charming by half, and if she allowed it, Aurora knew he would manipulate her without mercy. And she would have no one to blame but herself. “Everyone is staring, my lord. We should take our seats.”
“In a moment. I want to ask you something first.” Brigham dipped his chin, bringing his head even with hers.
His clean, woody scent enveloped her. Her senses hummed, and unable to stop herself, she drew him in. God, he smelled good. Mint and man combined with the lush scent of the woodlands, reminding her of home. The association disrupted her equilibrium and sent heat spiraling across her lower abdomen. As need spiraled deep, she teetered a precarious moment, wanting to give in, trying to hide her reaction even as she prayed Brigham didn’t notice.
She cleared her throat to disguise her reaction. “Your question, my lord?”
“Did I hurt you today?”
Aurora blinked. What? Good
God. Of all the things she expected him to ask, that hadn’t been one of them. The man changed like the weather. Why couldn’t he pick a way of behaving and stick to it? One minute he acted like an unfeeling ogre, the next concerned. It made so little sense she floundered. Which, in turn, killed her ability to formulate an answer.
Watching her closely, he raised a brow. “Well?”
The firmness of his tone propelled her out of the depths of speechlessness. Indignation rushed through the breech, taking up the charge as she realized he wanted to know about the spanking. “Aye, of course you hurt me. Was that not your intention, my lord?”
“My intention was to chasten and make you understand the foolishness of your actions,” he said, his concern evident for her to see. “Not mark you, Aurora,”
A wave of relief swelled inside her. She wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe he wasn’t the unfeeling brute she liked to call him. And that mayhap…just mayhap…he really hadn’t intended to hurt her. The thought sparked another. As the two slammed together, she shook her head. God’s teeth, what was wrong with her? Was she so starved for affection she would seek it from anyone…even him? Aurora bit down on a curse. No way in hell. Brigham didn’t deserve any leeway. Or a head start.
He would not gain her forgiveness so easily.
Leveling her chin, she looked him in the eye. “Aye well, regardless of your intentions, I will wear the bruises on the morrow.”
“Is that so?”
“It is.”
“I don’t believe you.” His eyes narrowed a fraction. “Do I strip you bare to find the truth?”
Shock hit her with a closed fist. She gasped in outrage. “You would not dare.”
“Aye, I would,” Brigham murmured, a wicked grin curving his too-beautiful mouth. “And with a great deal of pleasure, I assure you. However, I ask only if it is needful.”
Aurora stared at him, the need to best him warring with self-preservation. She should probably back down…call the retreat and head for the hills. Especially since she knew Brigham would do it. Would no doubt see little wrong with dragging her—kicking and screaming—out of the hall to accomplish the task. The realization knocked the stuffing out of her. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. Retreat was definitely the safer option.