by Brenna Lyons
But, Pauwel was his problem now. Gawen had never seen the young warrior train this vigorously before, and his control seemed strained.
“Explain,” Gawen requested as cordially as he could.
Pauwel shrugged then shivered in the release of his Blutjagd. “I don’t want them to get cocky. After all, if they take me, they will think themselves capable of taking an elder. Even I only defeated an injured one, a weakened one. Why must we make so much of this, Gawen?”
The master trainer sighed. “They need hope. They need to believe that we can win this. If we can kill them, we have a chance.”
Pauwel nodded his agreement and turned his face to a thick stand of trees. “I just don’t like deceiving them,” he admitted. “I can’t be sure that I would have defeated Resten alone. If Veriel hadn’t—”
“Do not speak his name to me,” Gawen growled out, cutting him off.
Pauwel shook his head sadly.
The older man sighed. “Things are going well with Regana?” he asked quietly.
“Very well,” he replied simply.
He eyed the younger man suspiciously. Pauwel’s jaw was set tightly and his muscles bunched beneath the sleeves of his tunic.
“Pauwel, you do not have to do this.”
“Yes, I do.” He said it quietly, calmly.
“If you find yourself printing on a woman, save your sanity and return my sister to my care. There will be no dishonor for you. We will simply explain the burn, that it was all a mistake,” he finished.
“It will never come to that,” Pauwel asserted. “Even if it drives me mad, I will never send Regana away.”
“You must. If it comes to that, send her away and save your soul.”
“It will not come to that,” he decided. He met Gawen’s eyes, looking determined and angry. “I’m for home,” he announced. “I think the others have had enough of my arm today. Besides that, what would they think of me if I did not run to my bride at my first opportunity?”
“Keep my offer in mind.”
Pauwel glared at him as he swept past.
Gawen watched him stalk away. How did he let himself get talked into this? Pauwel was skirting the edges of madness now, all because Gawen had not been strong enough to find a way to save Regana that did not involve risking the young warrior.
* * * *
Pauwel forced his hands to unfist as he left Gawen far behind. What a damned ridiculous situation he had gotten himself into. Cuckolded before he could even claim his chosen bride and giving her a promise not to touch her just to get her to wed him. He growled at the stupidity of the entire situation.
He knew Regana was fond of watching the men train, but Pauwel had never considered that she was watching anyone in particular. She was careful not to show a preference. Or was she? He slowed his step as he considered it. Regana watched the men training dual most avidly. At the time, Pauwel had assumed she was drawn by the excitement of the two-bladed style. In retrospect, she was probably watching Jörg and Gawen all that time.
Pauwel ground his teeth at his own foolish pride. How many times had he sought out a fight in her line of sight to try to draw her attention? How many times had he misread a kindly smile from her? How many nights had he dreamed of claiming Regana after the battle or fantasized her beneath him as he lay with one of the women provided for their needs?
All that time, she was in Jörg’s bed, releasing the need in that damned pup that had all but driven Pauwel himself to madness. He groaned in the knowledge that she loved Jörg. It would be easier to convince her to turn a kind eye to himself if she were not pining for another man she could never have.
The fact that Jörg took her before the battle was almost forgivable. Pauwel had walked the edges of insanity many nights. Slipping over the edge wouldn’t have been difficult. All it would have taken was a kind word from Regana at the wrong moment to ensure his own fall.
The first unforgivable thing Jörg did was taking her — ever, even once! — without making sure she wasn’t in high cycle. He could not have been so cocky as to think himself invulnerable. His death could have occurred in battle easily, leaving Regana alone and with child without the benefit of Jörg’s protection. While Gawen would have demanded the child’s rights of inheritance and likely been granted it, it would still have been an unconscionable hardship to submit her to.
Worse, Jörg hadn’t died. His outright death would have been kinder to all involved. Leaving her the way he did, child or no, only left Regana questioning why, lost in self-blame, and dishonored in the worst possible way. Did she still dare hope that Veriel was not the beast all knew him to be? That he might harbor some kind emotion for her and her unborn child? He shuddered at the thought.
The baby had been a shock to him. For a torturous moment, Pauwel had considered turning his back on her and walking away. Then the familiar burn had set in, and he knew his course. The baby may have been an accident of Jörg, but it was part of Regana. The regret that Pauwel had not put it in her womb himself was immaterial compared to the possibilities of the joy of placing the next, and he could see the child as an extension of Regana until he forged love for it on his own terms.
He would have promised anything to get Regana to accept him as husband and father to her child. When she agreed, Pauwel had almost wept in relief.
Now, she awaited him at his home, an unwilling bride who viewed him as a duty and a means to the end of safeguarding herself and her child. Worse, Regana feared him. She shied from his every touch.
Pauwel sighed. Having her in his bed and still not touching her would mean madness for him, but as long as his brothers put the mad animal in him to death after Pauwel had convinced all of the baby’s claim to his estate, he will have done all he could for the only woman he could love. And, if the gods showed him the ultimate mercy and Regana turned a favorable eye to him before that time came, his soul would sing for the rest of his life. Pauwel was too far into printing to do any less for her. He hadn’t lied to Thorald about that.
He eased the door open and steeled himself before entering. Pauwel came in slowly and followed the sound of voices to Kethe’s chamber. He smiled at the sight of them sitting together and talking. He stayed silent so as not to disturb them. At least, Regana would have Kethe to bring her peace here. He was glad for it.
“You’re being ridiculous,” Regana asserted. “Why can’t I help? I must earn my keep here somehow.”
“Oh, you’ll earn it,” Kethe teased boldly.
Before Pauwel could roar out his anger at the impertinence of such a statement, Regana buried her face in her hands. If only Kethe hadn’t said such a thing. He would never win her if Regana continued to be so upset at the notion of intimacy with him.
“I am undone, and you think it funny,” Regana groaned.
Pauwel’s blood ran cold. Regana could not— No! She would not tell Kethe that. She understood as well as anyone what was at stake if the truth were known.
“Nonsense,” Kethe replied. “If anyone is undone, it is my hot-blooded brother. It is lucky for him that Gawen decided to grant his blessing and not take his head for this trespass.”
Pauwel let out his breath in relief, as his wife started speaking again.
“He didn’t have much of a choice, I suppose,” Regana answered honestly enough.
That much was true. Pauwel had played on Gawen’s fear to get his permission.
“And, this is hardly Pauwel’s fault,” she defended him hotly. “Please, Kethe. Do not vilify him in this.”
“Still, I owe him harsh words for not being honest with me,” Kethe countered. “When you swooned while drawing water, I nearly joined you in fear.”
“She what?” Pauwel thundered from the doorway.
Regana stood quickly and spun to face him with a frantic look on her face. Too quickly, he noted. He was a blur of movement as he saw the color drain from her face, and he caught her smoothly as her balance deserted her.
Pauwel swept her up in his arms a
nd headed for his own bed. “Kethe, fetch a cool cloth,” he ordered.
She scrambled ahead of him as he turned into the other room. Pauwel lay Regana on the bed with her knees up on his leg to raise them slightly and rubbed her hands to help her blood move more naturally. Regana looked at him in concern and started to rise. He pushed her back gently with one large hand to her shoulder.
“Pauwel,” she began.
“Stay there,” he growled dangerously. “Drawing water? You’re mad.”
Regana watched him warily, as if he was a danger to her somehow. “Other women—”
“Other women are not my wife. Kethe will make sure you rest from now on.” Pauwel barely registered the panic that tinged his concern for her. “I will not allow you to risk yourself — or my child.”
Her eyes widened and she flicked them toward the doorway as if she expected Kethe to be standing there watching the scene unfold. “Your—” She stopped uncertainly.
“My wife and my child,” he repeated. “You will not endanger either one.” Pauwel met her eyes and his heart softened. “I could not bear it. Do you understand that?”
She swallowed hard and nodded, tears misting her dark eyes. “I understand. It will be as you wish. You have my word.”
“Good enough.” He took the cloth from Kethe’s hand and settled it on Regana’s forehead. He met Kethe’s smirk with a hard glare, and she returned to her room without comment. “Close your eyes and rest a few moments,” he crooned to Regana.
Pauwel watched her long after her eyes fluttered shut, confused at his reaction. Women carrying a child did not require such coddling, and he knew it. Still, some mad part of him demanded such care with her and — my baby. Ours! Mine! Not simply Regana’s and never Jörg’s. She was his and so was the baby she carried. Nothing would be permitted to threaten that, while he lived to prevent it.
* * * *
Regana pulled the covers around her hips and waited nervously for Pauwel to come to his bed. She wasn’t sure if he had stayed with her the entire time she slept that afternoon, but he was still watching her when she woke. His eyes had been disconcerting, soft and shimmering like warm, black liquid. His eyes drew her, and she had to look away. Even now, those eyes haunted her.
She berated herself soundly. When had she left all semblance of decency behind? Regana barely knew anything of Pauwel Lord KreuzStütze though she’d known him practically from her birth. At least she had grown with Jörg. Not that the fact excused her wanton behavior, but she had no idea what to expect of the man she had to pretend was the father of her child, that she had to share a bed with.
Not that Regana could claim to know what Jörg was capable of either. The moment when his madness had taken hold of him still haunted her. When his body lay over her, crushing her into the grass beneath and his mouth claimed hers, her first reaction had been fear.
The moment had come out of nowhere. Jörg had come to the clearing while she was relaxing there and sat to talk with her. Regana remembered smiling at him in answer to some teasing comment he made before he had her under him, his hands pulling at her dress and his eyes strange and fierce, as if not possessed of his senses. The first time had been quick, her cry of pain muted in his mouth, as her fingers fisted in his tunic.
Jörg hadn’t paused but had continued to master her, his seed easing the way for him. Her fear had subsided, as he muttered endearments between the motions of his hands and the possessions of his mouth. The printing, she understood. Jörg would die without her. He needed her. If he waited for the choosing ceremony after the battle, he would not survive.
In the end, her shocked inability to act had given way to her acceptance of what he was doing to her. In time, Regana had come to revel in his inability to control his need for her. Jörg could not wait to see her unclothed. He could not wait to claim her with his body. He took her there beneath their tree and laid gentle kisses over Regana when it was over, professing his love to her. It wasn’t until later that Jörg seemed to realize the full import of what he had done, but he’d assured her of his love and his intention to marry her.
That moment, when he fell on her under the tree to claim her without reason, Regana had been sure she didn’t know him at all, though she reasoned later that it was only the madness she didn’t know and not the man. When Jörg went to the stone after all his promises and assurances, she had been sure she didn’t know him at all.
Now, she was married to a man she truly did not know, and— Gods help her! Regana wanted to be a real wife to him. As if he’d have her!
She considered her life miserably. Giving herself to Jörg got her into this mess, but she wasn’t so sure throwing herself at Pauwel would make it better. He’d never given any indication that he wanted more than the marriage of convenience he’d contracted for. Even if Pauwel did, what would he think of her if she threw herself at him?
A harlot, Regana realized sadly. As if she wasn’t proof of that already. She had resigned herself to that sad state when she hadn’t screamed at Jörg’s handling. Regana had resigned herself to that when she began to enjoy the things Jörg was doing and the power her body had over him. She gave up all decency when she started going to him willingly, allowing him to sate his needs in her without remorse for the laws she was breaking to do so. She lost all decency when she decided her love for him was more important to her than all morals. Regana would have lied for him. She did lie for him more than once. Worse, she’d decided that what they had was more important than the possibility that Gawen would take Jörg’s life for it. It bothered her, but she still allowed it to continue and even urged it to continue despite that fact.
Like it or not, Regana couldn’t act on this mindless attraction she felt for Pauwel. Was she such a wanton that the first man who looked kindly on her after Jörg left her bed had her in such a state? Regana laughed at the irony of it. She was married to a man who was honorable and caring, a man who made her heart race, and she couldn’t even express how much she wanted a real marriage with him.
She jumped slightly, as Pauwel stepped into the room, pulling the covers to her chest. He took in the sight of her, and she met his eyes, burning too brightly in his half-shadowed face. Regana looked away, aware of what he must see in her. She watched him through her eyelashes. Pauwel nodded grimly and closed the door behind him. He moved to the bed in the almost non-existent light and disrobed quietly. She felt the bed sink, as his weight dropped onto it lightly, and she held her breath.
“Lie down, Regana. Get comfortable. I told you that I don’t take unwilling women. I didn’t lie to you,” he whispered.
She let out her breath slowly and sank to the bed. What seemed like a huge bed that morning suddenly seemed cramped with Pauwel’s form sharing the space with her. It was impossible to move without touching him, and every touch made her want to touch him again.
It was like finding your way after your lamp died out. Her cheek brushed the muscles of his arm and she tried to move further away. Her hand brushed the nude expanse of his thigh, and Regana jerked away in shock, abruptly and acutely aware of his state of complete undress.
“Regana,” he growled under his breath.
She stilled immediately. “I’m sorry. I am unaccustomed to sharing a bed with a man.” Regana groaned as she considered how ridiculous that sounded coming from her mouth. “I mean,” she began miserably.
“I know what you mean,” he grumbled. “If touching me is so horrible for you, we’ll figure something out.”
“It’s not horrible,” she countered in a whisper. It wasn’t, and that was part of the problem. “I mean—” Regana gave up and swore fluently under her breath.
Pauwel jerked in surprise. “Where did you learn that?”
“At training,” she admitted. “Several of the men are eloquent in their usage.”
Regana held her breath, waiting to see what his response would be, and was shocked when he laughed lightly.
“I suppose they are,” he conceded. “Well, I w
ill inform them that such things are inappropriate around a lady such as yourself before the next time you come to training.”
She froze. Pauwel had said it honestly enough. There didn’t seem to be an underlying snub in his comment about her character, but Regana realized that it was nothing more than the appearance he would fabricate for them both.
“You wish me to go to training?” she asked uncertainly.
“I would much appreciate it if you did,” he answered cautiously.
“Very well. I will accompany you tomorrow.”
“No. I want you to rest tomorrow. The following day will be soon enough. Agreed?”
“As you wish.”
“Now, will you relax? If you don’t find touching me horrible, and I don’t find your touch horrible, can we sleep in peace?”
“Sleep well, Pauwel.”
Regana lay awake — and very still for long after his breathing normalized into a deep, peaceful rhythm. When she was sure that he was fully asleep, she relaxed against his shoulder and dropped off to sleep.
Chapter Seven
Pauwel drifted into a warm, semi-conscious state, aware that daybreak had passed but too comfortable to consider starting his day. A movement against his chest caught his attention, and he lay very still, searching his memory for an explanation. A pulse of pleasure gripped him as the answer came to him. Regana. His wife was in his bed with him.
He opened his eyes, praying his body wasn’t imagining the glorious sensations he was experiencing. During the night, she had curled into his shoulder. The warm, soft length of her lay along his side and her knee rested lightly on his thigh.
Pauwel’s heart beat frantically behind his ribs as he placed his hand over her hip gently. He drank in the feminine scent of her and his body tightened in response. He ground his teeth in restraint, as the burn in his blood reached a fever pitch, demanding he claim her properly and be done with this torture.
The knock on the chamber door came without warning, and Regana startled in response. Her eyes widened as her position became clear to her, and she started to push away from him.