Storm Trilogy

by Ria Cantrell

  Bronwyn willed herself to be still. She would not deny him. She could not. She was his wife after all, but she would not allow herself to respond to him, either. If he wanted her, he would have her, lying as still and as cold as a corpse.

  Only Drew did not want to bed a corpse. He knew what she was up to when he felt her go very still. His lips hovered over her breasts and he whispered, “I will have you, Bronwyn. All of you.”

  She sucked in her breath as his mouth closed over the silken sheer fabric, catching a nipple gently between his teeth. She would not respond to him. She would not! She stayed still when his mouth moved over her taught stomach or when his hands touched her still with the gown between them.

  “All of you, Bronwyn,” he repeated only to have her stiffen more at his advances. She watched his eyes as they never seemed to leave her own. If she thought he would be penitent for his betrayal, she was wrong. Instead he continued to torment her and despite her resolve, she wished to not deny him. She would deny him. She must.

  She repeated over and over in her mind, He shall have my body, but never my heart again. It became like a slow mantra that she held onto. She allowed her anger and her hurt to fuel it and when his mouth wandered to the apex of her thighs she closed her eyes against him.

  She murmured, “ye’ have my body but not my heart.”

  Drew bolted upright and said, “What did you just say?”

  Bronwyn did not answer him. She kept her eyes shut so as to not see him.

  “Oh, so you aim to punish me, even when I tried to tell you that I did not betray you? You still have no faith in me and would let the lies of one twisted woman sway you. Fine…but mark me Bronwyn. I will have your body. For it is my right. I care not if you love me or not. You are my wife and I will have you. Heart or no.”

  It was now Drew who was angry. It was his turn to punish Bronwyn for her faithlessness. Yes, it looked bad…yes, he had not told her about Daria coming to his bed, but he had done nothing wrong. He had the spiteful bitch put out immediately. By God, he had taken Bronwyn as his wife and by God he would have her. Heart or no!

  So Drew punished her with tantalizing kisses that he knew melted her resolve. He punished her with caresses and strokes that he knew turned her will to ashes. When he parted her legs and pushed the tantalizing shimmering gown up and entered her, he punished her with deep pulsing thrusts. She may have laid there still and feigning nonchalance, but her body betrayed her when he was met with her soaking heat. He was actually relieved she still reacted to him, because the last thing he really wanted to do was to rape his own wife. She may have acted like she felt nothing, but her moist response told the tale.

  When he had spent himself, Drew rolled off of her and said coldly, “Heart or no, I have had you and I will again.”

  “Blackguard,” she spat.

  “Aye. That may be, but you married me. No one forced you to do that. You knew me for what I was when you agreed to be my wife.”

  Fine, let her stew and brood, Drew thought. After all I have tried to do for her, she still wishes to believe the worst about me. I’ll not defend myself again. She is not the only one with pride.

  Bronwyn was more furious at herself than she was with Drew, who had used her body shamefully. While she did not let out so much as a gasp, her body had betrayed her. She could still feel her heat dripping from herself. Damn him! She was sure she was the more punished for it.

  She turned away from him and she let go of the emotions she had held as silent tears soaked her pillow. Drew turned his back to her and pretended to go to sleep, but for her quiet sniffles. He knew she was crying but he knew that reaching out to comfort her would only earn him her rejection yet again. He thought that perhaps after they had some sleep things would look better for them in the morning.

  ~Bronwyn found herself on top of the rise on the night she gave over her childhood to womanhood. She could still hear the old woman chanting as she drifted off to sleep. Old Woman, he will not come to me. You are wasting your time, she thought.

  He will come. He is nearly here. Ye’ will see.

  If you say so…tired, I am so tired.

  Because ye’ rail against destiny. If you do not cease, ye’ will have lost him forever.

  He is not the one… he is not the one…Bronwyn repeated the phrase that she had so many times in the dreams of her past.

  Then she saw Drew riding toward her. He was as handsome as she remembered; only he was no longer wearing the attire of his people. He was dressed in full Clan plaid. His hair, long and unbound, brushed his strong bare shoulders. He bore the mark of her clan on his arm. He was Clan. Why was she so afraid of him? He did not ride past her, this time, but he rode to her, pulling her up into his strong arms and onto his giant warhorse. Her heart beat in time with the beating of his, as she felt the steady pulse of it against her own chest. They had only ridden a short distance, when he slowed the horse and stopped. Taking her in his arms, he laid her on the soft grass, he lay beside her and they made love with wild abandon.

  “Do you love me,” he asked.

  “No,” she denied, for she could not love him. He had lied to her. She would never admit loving him again.

  Sadness passed over his eyes in a way she had never seen before; in a way she hoped to never see again. It was too much to bear. At her denial, he said nothing more, but left her in the grass where they had just made love, and leapt onto the back of his destrier. He rode away, dejected and heartbroken, never even turning to give her one more glance. She felt it in her own lying heart. Of course she loved him. She would always love him. She had always loved him from that time she first saw him all those years ago on the rise. But as he rode from her sight, she knew she would never see him again. Foreboding filled her as she knew denying him would surely end his life, as part of her died inside with the lie she told him.

  She saw Morag before her and she said, “He was here…I let him go.”

  “You are a headstrong girl, stuck in your childhood fancy. He will die from a broken heart. And you will die from running from your destiny.”~

  Bronwyn woke with a start. Drew was sprawled beside her, deeply asleep. He hadn’t even stirred at her waking. As the vestiges of her dream evaporated, she remembered everything. She pushed the warning of her dream to the back of her mind and turned from Drew again. Nay, this time, she was not sure she could forgive him. The warning from the dream was silly superstition, born of ill placed guilt. Drew had let that other woman into his bed…into their bed. She would not give him her heart again.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  If Drew had hoped that things would right themselves by morning, he was sadly aware that they had not. Bronwyn was still not speaking to him. In fact, the very next day, she had moved all of her things out of their bed chamber into a small antechamber off a room in one of the unused portions of the keep. She had only a small bed and a washstand in there.

  Drew was furious. He knew people were going to start to talk about their awkward sleeping arrangements but he would not be put off. So, she wanted to sleep alone? He would be happy to oblige, but he would not let her get away with denying him.

  If he had to he would beat down the door and give himself access to her quarters. Drew knew that even if he did do that, she still would not give him back her heart and that was what he craved most of all. One thing he learned about this stubborn little Scot, though, was that when she put her mind to something, there was no budging her on it.

  On the third such night, Drew made his way to that small closet of a room. He stood outside for many moments, warring with himself as to what to do. His hand flexed on the handle, expecting to feel it locked. To his surprise, the handle turned and he quietly let himself into the room. She was huddled under the furs, as there was no fire in the room to warm her. He said, “You are going to catch your death in this place. Come back to my room and I will stay here instead.”

  “No thank ye’. I am quite comfortable here.”

  Well, a
t least she answered him…which was more than she had done since their wedding night. Drew started to undress.

  “Just what do ye’ think ye’ are doing?”

  “You are my wife. I expect you to honor your vows.”

  “Our vows are a sham.”

  Drew shrugged. “Then I expect you to honor your duties.”

  Drew was not about to let her get away with denying him that. She wanted to think the worst of him, so be it. Let her think the worst of him. She wanted to make him out to be the abuser, so be it. He would have her, willing or not. Besides, she would catch her death and she needed his body heat at least for a time to warm her, he reasoned.

  “Ye’ would have me unwilling?”

  “That is your choice. You can welcome me and find the pleasure I know you felt regardless of your stony resolve or you can just do your duty, willing or not.”

  When he said it like that, Bronwyn felt dirty and sick. There was no more talk of love. Why should he? She had all but told him she hated him. But he was still a man and she was his wife, so she would bear it as best she could.

  If only her body would obey her. Instead, after he was done, he always knew she had responded to him.

  Every night it was the same; Drew would come to her bed, he would have his “rights” with her as her husband, for he would not be denied, and Bronwyn would curse him.

  After one such night, Drew had been with her, as he had every night, and try as she might, Bronwyn could not prevent the climax she reached in his arms. Drew hid his smile. So, she still wanted to pretend she felt nothing. Now, it was going to be his turn to torment her with denial. He felt her shaking orgasm all the way to his toes. Stupid little fool! She could never hide that from him. Well, now he had a new weapon to play against her battle of wills.

  Drew got out of bed, threw on his clothes and started toward the door. He made no mention of her “little” climax, but turned just before he left and said, “I will no longer bother you with my attentions. There is no pleasure in bedding a plank of wood. You have won your battle, Bronwyn.”

  But not your war, my darling wife. That, my love, has just begun. You may believe I no longer want you. I shall die of frustration before I admit it. But your beautiful little response shows me you do still want me. If I can break your resolve, you will also admit you still love me. Because you see, Bronwyn, making love to you and not having your heart is unbearable. I will have you…all of you, including your heart, or I will have nothing of you. Ahhh, my beautiful Bronwyn, you don’t know how patient a man I can be.

  ~~~~~

  Drew had not come to her bed in nearly a week. Bronwyn was beyond miserable. Her father and most of her brothers had returned to her home in the Highlands. Only Rory remained, which she was grateful for, but she could not confide in him. He would kill Drew if he knew what he had done.

  It was of no matter, now. She had succeeded in driving Drew out of her bed. He, no doubt was finding comfort in that doxy’s arms and Bronwyn had no one to blame but herself. Even though she had won the battle, Bronwyn felt as if she was at the losing end.

  She was lonely; lonelier than she had ever been in her entire life. She no longer had Rhianna’s friendship. Drew’s mother and father had returned to Brandham Manor. Few maids spoke to her, now that she was Drew’s wife in name only. She was sure most everyone knew that they were estranged. It was a big keep, but not big enough for gossip to be deterred. She was treated more like a diseased leper than the wife of the Captain of the Elite Guard.

  Sometimes, Bronwyn would see Drew or they would run into each other accidentally. Those were the times the keep could not be smaller. They would just acknowledge each other with the curtest of nods; nothing more. Since her estrangement with Rhianna, Bronwyn no longer went to the village to help with the sick or injured. She just rambled around in Ragnorsen keep, lost and alone.

  ~~~~~

  Rory observed his little sister from afar. For someone who was supposed to be in love, she certainly looked miserable. Something had gone horribly wrong and he needed to find out just what. Only, Bronwyn was not talking. Rory heard a rumor from one of the maids who delighted in gossiping and spreading tales that Bronwyn no longer shared Drew’s apartments. How could that be? What would make his sister do such a thing? It had to be because of one thing and one thing only; a woman.

  Could Drew have betrayed his sister? He would beat the daylights out of him if that were true. He could feel the blackness rising up inside of him just thinking of such a thing. He needed to find out the truth and he needed to find out now.

  Rory cornered Drew coming in from the lists and he said, “A word, with ye’ brother.”

  Frowning, Drew knew that this was the talk he had dreaded for weeks. Bronwyn had moved out of their bedroom nearly two weeks ago and the last time he was with her had been nearly a full week. He was a fool to think no one would notice, especially this brother of hers. Both Bronwyn and Drew never came to dine in the evening together and Drew hoped that people would think it was because they were dining alone together as newlyweds sometimes did.

  Drew was grateful that the rest of her family had gone and that his own parents could not witness the unhappy turn their marriage had so quickly taken. Removing his mail hauberk, Drew nodded and sighed. Perhaps, Rory could help him fix what had been so badly broken.

  Following Rory to a seat before the fire, Drew prepared himself for Rory’s wrath.

  “Is there aught wrong betwixt my sister and ye’?”

  “I had thought to lie, but I cannot do this anymore. Your sister and I have had a terrible quarrel. She has not spoken to me in days and only then in short, clipped answers.”

  “How long has this been going on, aye?”

  Lowering his head, Drew murmured, “Since our wedding night. In fact, she removed her things from the wedding chamber the very next morning and has been sleeping elsewhere ever since. I stopped visiting her room nearly a week ago, thinking she would come around.”

  Rory cracked a smile. “And they say I am the stubborn one. What did ye’ do, Lad? Tell me now, take yer’ lumps and then I shall see if I can speak to her fer’ ye’ for it is obvious ye’ dunna’ want this to linger.”

  “I did not do anything.”

  “Then, what does she think ye’ did?”

  “She thinks I bedded my former lover.”

  “Did ye’, Lad. I promise to only thump ye’. Yer’ a strong fighter. Ye’ can take it, but I want the truth from ye’.”

  “I did not. Look, you won’t believe me even if I explained everything. Your sister sure did not.”

  “I am not my sister, Lad. Have at it. I’ll decide if I believe ye’ or not.”

  Drew set out to tell the whole sordid tale. At the end of it, Rory, whistled through his teeth.

  “Ach, Laddie, that is a fine pickle. I’ll not lie to ye’. It does not bode well fer’ ye’. And this lass…do ye’ believe there is even a slight chance yer’ the da to her wee bairn?”

  “Well, aye, of course, but she would have to be carrying for more than six moons. She looks to be about four months along.”

  Swift and sure, and before Drew knew what hit him, Rory’s fist connected with his jaw. Stars burst in his head as Drew tried not to land sprawled on the floor. Drew thought he would spit out some of his teeth. When his vision cleared, he said, “Well I guess that answers that. You don’t believe me any more than Bronwyn does.”

  “Oh, I believe ye’…but she is still my sister. I vowed I would knock yer’ head off if you even hurt one hair on her head. Even though I believe ye’, she is sitting up there with her heart broken. I canna’ have that, Lad.”

  “I tried to talk to her, but she will not even let me speak to her.”

  “She is a wee bit headstrong. T’is our fault really. Being the only girl, we indulged her too much and she never learned to curb it. Plus she suffers from something we all share, Lad. Pride. Bloody feckin’ pride.”

  Rubbing his jaw, Drew said, “Wh
at do you suggest I do?”

  “Ye’ love her. I know that. If ye’ dinna’, ye’ would nay have come all the way to learn her language and get branded to boot. She is foolish to doubt ye’, man.”

  “So, what should I do”, Drew asked impatiently, not even sure he was speaking clearly. His face felt like a rock had hit and bounced off of it. Drew worked his jaw, trying to speak coherently. Damn, Rory’s fist was more like the hammer of Thor.

  Drew did love Bronwyn. More than ever, but he feared the longer they did not speak, the deeper the rift between them. If it got any deeper, they would soon not be able to bridge it.

  “Go to her. Beg for her forgiveness. Do not let love go, Brother. I know about lost love…swallow your own pride and go to her.”

  Drew watched as a faraway look came over Rory. Drew knew Rory had lost his love some time ago, but he had not thought Rory still grieved. He was the toughest bastard Drew had ever met, so surely he had let that loss go. Drew did not know all the details, as Jamie seemed to reveal the crux of the situation, but Drew knew that Rory’s betrothed had died accidentally.

  When he asked Bronwyn about it, she had said it was why he had the worst temper. It was like something broke inside the man after the death of the girl. Drew suddenly realized how that could feel. Although Bronwyn was alive and hale, he felt like she had died…or at the very least, their newly found love had died as quickly as it had begun. The war had been lost, Drew conceded, and if he did not do something soon, it would be done for good. Drew suddenly felt sympathetic to Rory’s plight. Despite his throbbing jaw, he was kin to this man now. He was his brother.

  “Go to her, man. Before it is too late,” Rory said again. Drew stood and nodded. Clapping Rory on the back with gratitude, they seemed to forge a friendship that he would have never believed would have been possible. He would go to her. Tonight. He would hold her in his arms and not let her go until she relented, until she felt the passion smolder and burn…until she listened and heard every word, until she realized he could not live without her.