by Bree Wolf
As she walked toward an uncertain future, a shiver went down her back, and his hand tightened on hers before pulling it through the crook of his arm.
When they had reached the end of the corridor, he opened the door to a large bedchamber.
A four-poster bed rested in its centre by the back wall, framed by two large windows on either side. In the corner stood a massive armoire, beside which Henrietta spotted her trunks. A circular rug occupied the left side of the room, an armchair as well as a chaise were situated along its shape.
“It is late,” her husband stated, and a mischievous twinkle came to his eyes as he turned to look at her. “We should go to bed.” At the evident shock on her face, he chuckled and then pointed to her trunks in the corner. “Change into yer nightclothes, and I shall do the same.”
Henrietta’s eyes darted around the room. “Here?”
A smile on his lips, he nodded. “I promise I shall keep my back turned…as long as ye do the same.” His eyes became serious as they looked into hers. “Trust me.”
Henrietta hesitated, narrowed eyes exploring his face before she snapped, “Fine.”
He nodded and turned to the armoire. “Tomorrow, I shall have a wardrobe brought in for ye.”
As he started to unbutton his jacket, Henrietta spun around as heat crept up her cheeks. Although she could not help but doubt his word, there was nothing she could do. If she were to turn around in order to assure herself that he was keeping his back turned and he noticed…
However, he could only notice if he were to break his word himself.
Shaking her head, Henrietta felt exhaustion wash over her. Never before had she been forced to be this alert, always aware of her surroundings, never, not for a moment, allowed to let down her guard.
As the sounds of clothes dropping to the floor echoed to her ears, Henrietta took a deep breath, and for a second was tempted to glance over her shoulder, curious what she would see. She bit her lip then as improper thoughts entered her mind and quickly turned to gather her nightgown from the open trunk at her feet.
As soon as she had untied the laces in the back, relieved to have been able to reach them on her own, Henrietta quickly allowed her dress to drop to the floor before pulling her nightgown over her head.
“Are ye decent?” her new husband asked, a touch of laughter to his voice.
Smoothing down her nightgown, Henrietta quickly tied the lace at the top. “I am,” she answered, keeping her back to him. Although she was curious, she did not dare turn around as her heart hammered in her chest and her hands trembled. Would he kiss her now?
“Allow me to help ye with yer pins,” he whispered beside her ear, and his breath tickled the soft skin on her neck.
Drawing in a deep breath, Henrietta stood still as his hands gently pulled the pins from her hair, dropping them on the floor, and strand after strand tumbled down. As he worked, the tips of his fingers brushed over her skin, sending her senses into an uproar. Then his hands came to rest on her shoulders, and Henrietta braced herself for what was to come.
“Look at me,” he whispered, urging her to turn around. His hands again resting on her shoulders, he lowered his head and looked deep into her eyes. “I willna bite ye,” he said, and for once his voice did not sound teasing.
Still, Henrietta swallowed before she raised her head. As much as he unsettled her, she would not cower before him.
A soft smile came to his lips, and his hands slid down her arms, gently grazing her skin as though no fabric separated them. Then his hands circled around her waist, once more pulling her to him, and his eyes held hers captive before they dipped lower, touching her lips.
As the imminent threat to her resolve towered above her, Henrietta averted her eyes, knowing they would reveal her innermost desires to him.
Instantly, his left hand came up to cup her cheek, once more tilting her head upward, forcing her to meet his gaze.
And so Henrietta closed her eyes instead and waited.
Suddenly blind, she could only sense him as he bent his head farther down to hers, his breath brushing over her lips. A shiver went over her, weakening her knees, and she lifted her arms, placing them on his, her fingers almost digging into his flesh as she desperately tried to remain standing.
His hand slid from her cheek to the back of her neck, holding her steady, before his lips lightly brushed hers.
A jolt went through Henrietta at his touch, and her fingers dug even deeper into his flesh.
As anticipation made her shiver, his hand nudged her head to the side before he planted a soft kiss on her cheek, his beard tickling her delicate skin.
Confused, Henrietta frowned.
“Open yer eyes,” he demanded, a teasing note to his voice. “I’ve claimed my kiss.”
Meeting his gaze, Henrietta felt a surge of disappointment sweep through her as her lips still tingled with unfulfilled desire. However, seeing the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, she cleared her throat and stepped back. “Good.”
A knowing grin spread over his face, and feigned sincerity tinged his voice as he said, “I apologise if I took more than ye were willing to give.”
A deep blush came to Henrietta’s face, and she turned away. His hand, however, reached for hers, pulling her back.
Lifting her chin, he met her gaze. “If ye want more…,” he whispered, and his voice trailed off. The look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.
Unlike her, he did not hide his desire, and Henrietta wondered what it would be like to be free of the fears that bound her. Although she was well-aware of their influence on her, she could not in all honesty deny that they kept her safe. Had kept her safe all her life.
She could not say who she would be without them.
“I am tired,” she whispered, withdrawing her chin from his grasp. Averting her eyes, she found the floor strewn with their clothes as well as her hair pins. As she knelt down to pick them up tough, he stopped her once more.
“The servants will take care of them in the morning.”
Henrietta’s eyes swept over the room. “But…” Again, her cheeks began to burn with embarrassment. “What will they think if they find them like this?”
A low chuckle rose from his throat. “Surely, they will think we were dying to be in each other’s arms and have spent a night of passionate love-making.”
Gritting her teeth, Henrietta forced the rising colour in her cheeks back down. He was baiting her, and she was gullible enough to respond the way he wanted her to. When her pulse began to slow, Henrietta took a deep breath. “I bid you good night,” she said in passing as she brushed by him and pulled back the covers, slipping into bed. The soft sheets welcomed her tired limbs, and she had to stifle a yawn.
“Good night,” he said, a faint touch of surprise on his face as he rounded the bed and slipped in the other side. “Today was quite memorable,” he whispered into the dark after extinguishing the candle. “I shall remember it fondly.”
For a moment, Henrietta lay completely still, listening to the sound of his breathing and the soft rustles of the sheets as he moved, trying to get comfortable. Then the dark began to soothe her tense nerves, and as her muscles relaxed, an unexpected peacefulness spread through her. Sighing, Henrietta closed her eyes.
“I’d be much obliged if ye’d keep yer cold feet to yerself,” he stated into the dark, an amused chuckle in his voice.
Instantly, Henrietta’s eyes flew open, and she yanked her legs back, unaware that the warmth she had felt had come from him. Would this humiliation never end?
“However, I could think of a better way to keep ye warm.”
Drawing in a deep breath, Henrietta rolled onto her side, turning her back to him, and closed her eyes. Moments later, she was fast asleep, for a few hours escaping the temptations so unexpectedly presented to her.
Chapter Ten − A Fierce Spirit
When Henrietta woke up the next morning, the sun stood high in the sky, its rays reaching inside thei
r bedchamber and bathing her face in a warm glow. As her eyes focused on her surroundings, Henrietta shot up, remembering where she was.
With her heart still hammering in her chest, her eyes searched the other side of the bed, and relief flooded her when she found it to be empty.
And yet, a frown settled on her face. Where was her husband?
Sliding from the bed, Henrietta tiptoed toward her trunk in search of a new dress when she realised that someone had picked up the clothes that had so carelessly been dropped on the floor the night before. A hint of colour rose to her cheeks, but she pushed it away determinedly.
Selecting one of her favourite gowns with a wide skirt, which allowed her legs to move more freely, Henrietta was about to pull her nightgown over her head when footsteps echoed from outside in the hallway.
A moment later, the door swung open, and her husband marched in. “Ah, ye’re awake after all,” he observed as his eyes slid over her in an intimate caress that raised goose bumps on her skin. Setting down the tray he had been carrying, he strode toward her. “Ye had me worried, Lass. Ye slept like the dead. I was tempted to dump a bucket of cold water on ye.”
Staring at him, Henrietta didn’t know how to reply. This man was impossible!
“Get dressed,” he said, nodding at the gown she had chosen, “and eat something. Ye’ll need yer strength for what I’ve planned.” He winked at her then, and a devilish smile came to his lips before he turned around and marched toward the door. “I shall wait for ye in the courtyard,” he said over his shoulder before turning back to look at her, “unless ye need help with yer gown.”
“No,” Henrietta replied, finally finding her voice.
Chuckling, he left.
After pulling on her dress, Henrietta sat down to eat. The hot tea and warm bread with butter and jam filled her belly in a most delicious way, and she realised how famished she had been. When had she last eaten?
Finally heading down the stairs in search of her husband, Henrietta felt as though she was walking through a hazy dream. How everything had changed in such a short time! Nothing seemed real, and yet, she felt the rough stone wall under her fingers and heard the faint echo of her footsteps resonate in the large hall. Stares followed her, and hushed voices reached her ears. Henrietta sighed at the realisation that this was her life now. Surrounded by people, and yet, completely alone.
“There ye are.” Striding toward her across the courtyard, her husband led two horses behind him, neither one of which had a side-saddle. One was the black beast she had seen before at their first encounter while the other appeared a little more even-tempered, but no less tall. “This is Kerr. She’s a kind soul with a fierce spirit,” he said, handing her the reins. “I thought ye might suit each other.”
Stroking the mare’s nose, Henrietta eyed her husband questioningly.
“Ye didna truly expect a side-saddle?” he whispered, stepping closer, his eyes holding a challenge. “However, I could always have one brought out, if ye−”
“No,” Henrietta interrupted him, running her hand over the mare’s chestnut coat. “You forget I am used to riding like this.” Then she pulled her skirts back, freeing her left foot, set it in the stirrup and pushed herself into the saddle with the ease of an accomplished rider.
A pleased smile on his face, her husband looked up at her. “I didna forget.”
Averting her eyes lest she return his smile, Henrietta kicked her mare’s flanks, urging her onward.
The wind caught in her loose hair, whipping it in her face, as Kerr carried her through the gate and onto the open plains, stretching all the way to the forest in the east and sloped back on the other side of the castle. The warm sun touched her skin, and she leaned forward, almost flattening herself to the mare’s back, increasing their speed.
Racing toward the horizon, Henrietta marvelled at the sense of freedom that swept through her. If only she could ride on like this forever!
The thundering beats of her mare’s hooves echoed in her ears, and only when the black beast pulled up beside her did she remember that she was not alone.
Glancing at her husband, Henrietta was surprised to see neither annoyance nor displeasure on his face, but rather the opposite. Smiling, he met her eyes, pointing to his left and the nearing tree line.
Begrudgingly, Henrietta followed his lead, and before long, they slowed down, their horses picking their way through the denser growing forest. The smell of pine and fir trees reached her nose mingling with the earthy smell of wet soil. They proceeded until they reached a small clearing, not unlike the one she had sought solace in at home.
A frown on her face, Henrietta turned to look at him, wondering why he had brought her there.
“Do not look so suspicious,” he chided, rolling his eyes at her. Jumping off his horse, he tethered the beast to a low-hanging branch, then held out his hand to assist her down.
Ignoring him, Henrietta slid off her mare, landing sure-footed in the grass beside him.
Her husband laughed, “If I offer ye my assistance, it doesna mean I believe ye incapable of doing it on yer own.”
“If that is indeed the case,” Henrietta stated, “then you surely won’t mind if I assist you out of the saddle upon our return to the castle.” A challenge in her eyes, she looked at him, wondering if he would finally drop his mask and lash out at her.
He did not.
Instead, an amused chuckle rose from his throat as he stepped toward her. Skimming his thumb over her cheek, he held her gaze as his fingers travelled downward until they came to rest on her chin, tilting her head upward. Leaning closer, he whispered, “Are ye trying to anger me, Lass?”
“What if I was?” Henrietta asked, feeling her skin tingle with delight at his touch. “What would you do?”
Breathing in deeply, he searched her face, the desire to understand clouding his features. “D’ye not find it exhausting?” he asked. “To be distrustful of everyone all the time?”
“Even if that is the case,” Henrietta said, not wavering under his gaze, “it does not change the fact that it is necessary. Would you let down your guard if an enemy lay in hiding, intent on doing you harm?”
“An enemy?” he whispered. “D’ye believe I would harm ye, Lass?”
“I cannot know that,” Henrietta replied, “and since I do not know, I need to be on my guard. Would you consider that foolish?”
“Not in general,” he admitted. “However, not everyone is an enemy. By thinking them to be, ye do them wrong.”
Henrietta shrugged. “Better them than me.”
A frown came to his face, laced with a hint of anger resting in his dark eyes. “Who hurt ye, Lass?”
Clearing her throat, Henrietta stepped back, leading her mare over to the trees where she tied her reins to a branch. All the while, she kept her head down, forcing the memories that had rushed to the surface of her mind back down. She did not have the strength to deal with her husband while her heart ached with the pain of the past. She needed to keep a clear head, or he would see her weaknesses.
“I am not yer enemy,” he spoke out from behind her, and she spun around, her eyes taking in the two foils he was holding, one in each hand, “but at least for today, I wish to be yer opponent.” Flipping one foil, he held it out to her hilt-first. “Will ye do me the honour of crossing swords with me?”
Reaching out her hand, Henrietta took the foil, unable to tear her eyes from her husband. What was he doing? Dimly, she remembered that Anna’s husband had challenged her to a fencing match as well, and he had demanded spoils. Back then, Henrietta had counselled her friend not to allow herself to be fooled, that her husband was merely trying to endear himself to her in order to hide his true motives.
“Do not look so suspicious,” her husband chided for the second time that day.
“Why then?”
“Because ye enjoy it, d’ye not?”
Torn, Henrietta glanced at the gleaming weapon in her hand, then back at her husband. “What are
the rules?”
A smile spread over his face. “Considering that this is a training match, I hope we can agree not to injure each other.”
“And should you win?”
“D’ye believe that to be possible, Lass?” he asked, his gaze searching her face before he stepped toward her and understanding lit up his eyes. “Or are ye afraid of the demands I might bestow on ye should ye lose?”
Henrietta drew in a deep breath.
His eyes narrowed. “Have ye been challenged to a fencing match before?” he asked, and his voice sounded tense as though he was afraid of the answer.
“Not me.” Unwilling to elaborate, Henrietta stepped forward, foil pointing at his chest. “Shall we?”
***
Tying her hair in the back, she stood before him, strong-willed and relentless, and Connor wondered about the wounds of her past that had made it necessary for her to learn how to fight. Then she picked up her foil and stepped into position, her form impeccable and graceful, and unexpected pride surged through him.
Assuming the en garde position opposite her, he watched her closely and noticed her eyes resting on his, taking account of every twitching or tensing muscle, trying to see his attack before it happened.
Grinning, he pondered how to charge her when she suddenly lunged forward, the tip of her blossomed foil coming dangerously close to his chest.
Side-stepping her attack, he stared at her, temporarily stunned with her expertise.
Pride lit up her face, and the honest smile that lifted the corners of her mouth took his breath away. She was radiant!
Back and forth, they went across the clearing, attacking and retreating, and Connor revelled in the joy that came to her face. “Who taught ye how to fight?”
“My brother,” she said, forcing him down the clearing once again.
Her brother? He wondered. What kind of a man would teach his sister how to fight and then not even appear at her wedding? “Has he passed on?”
At his words, she froze, staring at him wide-eyed. Then she swallowed and shook her head. “No. Why would you ask that?”