by McCall, Mary
“You what?” Bernon clenched his jaw and balled his fists.
Barwolf took a defensive step backward and turned a fragile gaze onto his hands. “Padarn hurt his back after the sowing. His wife had to care for five children and had another on the way. By the time he recovered, most of his crop was lost. His family would have starved that winter. I still do not understand why my father got so angry.” She raised her hand and rubbed her ear. “When the others heard of Padarn’s plight, they gave extra and more than made up for the loss of his share.”
“What were you doing collecting shares to begin with?” he asked, pinning her with his glare. Did she truly expect him to believe this nonsense?
“I got that duty when my father disagreed with the way I settled the dispute between Aiken and Merton over who should marry Sherard’s daughter. No one told me ‘twas not appropriate to ask Willa who she wanted.” She ended on a lame note.
Damnation! Her tales were too outrageous to be made up. What in perdition had William gotten him into? Bernon wiped a hand over his face. “Do you expect me to believe you were responsible for settling disputes at Strangclyf?”
“’Twas given to me as punishment three years ago when I decided to whitewash the interior of the great hall. ‘Twas a bit gloomy and I thought it would cheer the place.”
“And just what in perdition did your father do while you were running the holding?”
“He spent most of his time trying to make a son, so Strangclyf wouldn’t have to pass through me. ‘Twas the reason Father Marcel preached to him about fornication.”
Silence reigned as the king and queen stared at his bride. Geno didn’t seem surprised. His friend looked at Bernon with a sad expression.
Barwolf sucked in a deep breath then leveled her eyes at his chest and spoke rapidly. “I am sorry you got hampered with such an inferior bride, milord. You may as well know my other flaws. I am slow to wake. I am too soft and too weak. I trust too easily. I am too nice. My hips are too wide. My waist is too small. My father also said I have the damning eyes of a jaded tart. I am too short and an eyesore since I cut my hair, which was my only redeeming feature. I was born the wrong gender. I murdered my twin brother by pushing him out of my mother too soon, so I could have more room. And I worry about things that are not my concern, like your arm, which still plagues me.”
She paused to draw a breath. When she opened her mouth to continue, Bernon cut her off. “Is there truly more?” he asked dryly.
“Aye. I will probably never please you, but I’ll try anyway because I want a new name. That is a flaw too. Why the Lord in heaven doesn’t strike a hideous unworthy creature like me dead is a mystery for the great minds of our time to ponder. My father claimed ‘twould make the world a better place for men to live. Grandfather told me a long time ago not to give my husband the secret of Strangclyf until our marriage was consummated. But if you think you cannot tolerate my company for one night, then I will give it to you anyway and you can send me away. If I were a man, I wouldn’t want me either. Did I mention my unfortunate temper? Sometimes I—”
“You will cease speaking now,” Bernon commanded, recovering from his shock.
She raised wide eyes then quickly bowed her head and clasped her hands.
Bernon stared at her in disbelief. The woman possessed no pride whatsoever. Even he who disliked most women recognized his bride’s worth. Did she truly not know her own value as the lady of so great a holding? Especially if she possessed even half of the skills she claimed.
He heard a small sniff and clenched his jaw. ‘Twas not enough that she had labeled herself a hideous unworthy creature and took ownership of every flaw known to mankind while the king and queen listened. She had to end her spectacle by crying in front of them too. He wasn’t even angry with her. He was angry with the recreant who made her think this way. “Your Grace, may we make use of your great chamber, so my lady may prepare a missive for this Aurick?”
“Aye, Bernon,” King William replied, disbelief echoing in his gruff tone. “When you return, we will dine then discuss strategies for seizing Strangclyf.”
Bernon nodded to his king, turned toward Barwolf, and lowered his voice. “Come, ma petite.”
She remained motionless and didn’t acknowledge the command. Bernon’s eye twitched. She would not dare disobey him after her disastrous behavior.
Geno leaned toward him. “She doesn’t disobey you, my friend,” he whispered. “She probably didn’t hear you. She has been struck so many times she is deaf in her left ear.”
Bernon stepped in front of Barwolf, cupped her jaw, and raised her face to his. “You are mine and I possess no inferior property. Now come. We will send a message to this Aurick.”
~ * ~
Queen Matilda watched the young lady’s jaw go slack at Bernon’s words. Her gaze followed the newlyweds as they left the hall. “You have done well with that match, William.”
“Aye, my queen,” the Conqueror agreed, following the pair with his eyes. “He will give her pride.”
“True.” Matilda arched a brow. “And mayhap she will give him back his heart.”
Three
Barwolf dusted sand over the parchment, shook it off, then calmly held the document toward Bernon. Thank the Blessed Lord she had finally gotten back a modicum of composure and hopefully she wouldn’t lose it in front of her husband again…at least for another day.
He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. “Tell me what you have written.”
Accustomed to such commands from her father, Barwolf lowered the missive onto the desk and read, “My loyal Aurick, Hadwyn murdered my father and took Strangclyf. I sought protection from Bernon and I am no more. Do not enter the gorge unless my colors have been replaced with black and gold. Godspeed, Your little lamb.”
Irritation crossed Bernon’s face. “Why do you sign the message thusly? You are mine, not his.”
“He has called me ‘my little lamb’ ever since I was little. If I sign this way, he shall know ‘tis from me.”
His gaze raked over her. “The size of little must be a matter of opinion.” She bowed her head and tried to keep her hand from trembling. He sighed. “You will mark out the your and sign it just ‘little lamb.’”
Barwolf dipped the quill into the inkpot and crossed out the word your.
Glancing up, she saw her husband gazing out the window at the night sky with hands clasped behind his back. He looked like the master of the world, someone she could depend upon to keep Strangclyf guarded and the children protected. He had claimed her as his in front of the king after her terrible spectacle too. She had been so nervous that once she started telling him her flaws, she hadn’t been able to stop. He hadn’t even instructed her as she expected. He said she wasn’t inferior instead. Why, she would claim him too.
Before he could turn back, she quickly jotted his name above the crossed out word, sanded the change, and rolled the missive. “’Tis done.”
~ * ~
Bernon took the scroll to a messenger who waited outside the office. After closing the door, he walked back across the room and stared down at his bride who was rubbing the left side of her head. After a moment, she gasped, quickly stood, bowed her head, and clasped her hands in front of her.
He frowned, remembering Geno’s words about her cousin striking her. “Does your ear pain you?”
She gave him a tiny nod.
Had Hadwyn done anything else to her that made her this fearful? “You told Geno that your cousin touched only your neck, arm, and head. How did you get the bruise on your leg?”
“I fell against the tiller in the boat on the way here,” she replied shyly and her cheeks burned that he should have viewed so much of her.
“And no one touched you anywhere else?”
She shook her head.
He sighed. “Do you think you can restrain yourself during our meal with King William?”
She raised an anxious gaze to his. “You cannot eat at the sa
me table with me.”
His brows snapped together. “Why not?”
“The sight of me during a meal causes food to settle sour in the male belly.”
“Do you seek to deliberately rile my anger?”
“Nay, milord.”
“Then you will cease insulting yourself.”
“I apologize if I blundered again and upset you. ‘Twas only said to spare you distress.”
She once again assumed her submissive pose and Bernon studied her. How could she possibly believe all the disparaging things she said about herself? He didn’t want a wife lacking in pride and spirit. His wife should be a dignified woman, a reflection of himself.
Moving behind the writing table, he sat in the chair and pulled her around, so she stood between his legs facing him. He unclasped her hands and held one in each of his on either side of her. “I wish to look at my bride’s face.”
She raised her head. He captured her shame-filled gaze with his. “Your height is just right. Your woman’s body is supposed to curve and be soft. Even though ‘tis short, your hair curls in a nice fashion and goes well with your face. You do not have the eyes of a jaded tart. You could not have murdered your brother while still in your mother’s womb. My arm has been tended. I may not have wanted a wife, but if you had been born male, then you would be the wrong gender for me. You are not hideous. If you truly carry out even half of the duties you claim, then you are not inferior. If you wish to please me, then you will cease claiming all these alleged flaws. I will let you know if you have any. I do not intend to love you, because ‘twould be a weakness and make me ineffective as a warrior. I would rather you did not fall in love with me, because you would turn into a clinging nuisance. I will ponder this matter of a new name for you and inform you when I decide.”
She sucked in a breath and stared at him awestruck. “You mean you will give me a woman’s name?”
“Aye.” He nodded once. “When I think of one that suits you.”
A deep dimple appeared on the right side of Barwolf’s chin as a radiant grin flashed across her face, lighting her eyes to a dazzling spring-meadow green. She gazed at him as if he had just granted her heart’s desire, and honest to God, her smile made him feel warm all over.
Her dimple fascinated him and drew his gaze toward her rosy lips. She may be small but she was definitely all woman. How would she taste and how would her lips feel yielding under his? Well, she belonged to him. He might as well find out. “We will kiss now, so put your arms around my neck.”
He leaned toward her. She pulled back, her smile faded and her brow puckered. “Bernon, I promise I want to please you, so I beg you, do not be angry with me.”
“Are you refusing me?”
“I would never refuse you anything,” she said solemnly, peeking at him from beneath her lashes.
“Then why do you stall?”
A rosy hue swept over her cheeks and she looked at his chin. “I never kissed anyone on the mouth before I gave you the title, and I do not know how to kiss well.”
Now why did he feel pleased by her confession? And how could she possibly call that wispy graze she had given his lips a kiss? “You are not supposed to know. ‘Tis my duty to teach you.”
She relaxed. “’Tis a relief to hear that. This has been a great worry for me.”
Bernon placed her hands on his shoulders, slipped his arms around her, and pulled her against him. Her eyes widened and she went rigid.
“Relax.”
“I cannot. Something is wrong with me.” A hysterical note raised her pitch.
“Are you stalling again?”
“Nay.” She clutched at his shoulders and raised distraught eyes. “I think I am getting sick.”
He frowned. “What is wrong?”
She gulped and then spoke in a rapid breathless voice. “My heart is pounding, my stomach is fluttering, my bosoms feel tingly, and ‘tis getting hard to breath.”
Good God Almighty! She is serious. “You are not sick. Your woman’s body is excited because it likes touching mine.”
“It does?” she wondered.
He nodded.
“My body must like yours an awful lot.”
“You will cease speaking now.”
She promptly clenched her jaw, bowed her head, and knocked his chin with her forehead. Bernon rolled his eyes, took hold of her chin between his forefinger and thumb, and lowered his mouth onto hers.
Her delicate body was so rigid in his arms, he feared she might snap in twain, and rapid puffs of air blasted against his cheek from her nose. He massaged her back, trying to release some of her tension, but she tasted so fine. He couldn’t resist parting his lips and stroking his tongue across hers. She jerked back with a gasp and gazed at him through shocked eyes.
“Open your mouth for me.” He gripped the base of her skull, recaptured her mouth, and sucked on her lower lip. Then he swept his tongue inside, brushing the roof and the walls of her mouth. She tasted like fresh spring honey. His other hand caressed down her back. He cupped her derriere and massaged fine supple flesh.
She came alive in his arms. An erotic quaver surged through her. Whimpering through her nose, she slid one arm over his shoulder and twined her fingers through the short silky hairs at the nape of his neck.
Her other hand tugged on his shoulder and he realized she was trying to climb onto his lap. He lifted her bottom, and she placed her knees on the seat, straddling his thighs then began sucking on his tongue. Molten desire surged through him from the eagerness of her untutored response.
A pounding on the door intruded upon his senses. He reluctantly broke off the kiss. Barwolf sagged against him, panting. He gritted his teeth, struggling with lust. He was going to thoroughly enjoy introducing his innocent bride to the carnal pleasures of life. At least this was a pleasant surprise.
Standing up, he lowered her until her feet touched the ground. She leaned against him for support. The knocking on the door continued. “Cease the pounding and give us a moment.”
The noise stopped. At a tug on his tunic, he glanced down. Barwolf gazed up at him with glistening eyes. “Why the tears?”
“Something truly is wrong with me, Bernon.” She placed a delicate hand to her forehead. “I am lightheaded and feverish, and I feel wet someplace where I shouldn’t.”
Bernon grinned. “You please me after all.”
“You are pleased because I am sick?” she squeaked, clearly upset.
“Nay. I am pleased because your body likes mine a lot.” Bernon kissed her forehead, set her back from him, and walked across the room. A smile still quirked his lips as he opened the door.
Geno burst into the chamber and looked from Barwolf’s reddened complexion and kiss-swollen lips to Bernon. A smug grin spread across Geno’s face. “Ah, my friend, and did I not tell you?”
“Aye, Geno, you did, and you are intruding.”
“Then ‘tis good I am here. This is no place for her first time, and not five minutes ago I heard William’s stomach rumble.”
Bernon sighed. “Come, ma belle. Our king is waiting.”
~ * ~
As the evening meal progressed, Barwolf drank every drop of wine poured into her goblet. She glared at Lady Lucretia, who sat at Geno’s side across from her and Bernon at the king’s table. Some lady! That tawdry tart hadn’t quit casting her lustful blue eyes at Bernon since the meal started. She was flapping those teats of hers too.
‘Twould be interesting to see what the witch would look like without all that red hair. Aye. ‘Twould feel good to shave her head bald—might even manage a few nicks in her scalp along the way. Barwolf narrowed her gaze and clenched her jaw at the strumpet’s latest lid flutter then moved closer to Bernon on the high-backed bench they shared. That no-good, udder-swinging, lid-fluttering harpy didn’t know who she was challenging.
Bernon wasn’t really a mean bear after all. He was nice on the inside and just took some getting used to. Everything was going to work out, and he was g
oing to give her a woman’s name. And he was hers. That no-good harpy had best stay away from him, because she wouldn’t allow the strumpet to spoil her first night with Bernon.
~ * ~
A delicate hand settled on Bernon’s thigh and he glanced down at the top of his bride’s head. She had plastered her small frame so intimately against his that he wondered if she was actually trying to seduce him and not so naïve after all. Nay. She kissed like an innocent. She also hadn’t eaten a bite from their trencher and was well into her fifth goblet of wine. “Come, wife. Eat some food.”
Barwolf raised a hand to her ear and turned her face up to his. “I’m sorry, milord. Did you address me?”
His throat seemed to fill. She had the clearest eyes he had ever seen. Could her heart be as honest and pure as her gaze? He leaned over and spoke into her good right ear so she could hear his words over the din in the hall. “You need to eat some food.”
“I cannot right now,” she said, wrapping an arm around her middle. “I’m still full from eating this morning after going without for three days. I’m also so nervous that I’m afraid I will…toss up if I eat anything.”
“’Twould please me if you would take at least a few bites, else all that wine will go to your head.”
“’Twould truly please you?” she asked skeptically, eyeing their trencher.
His lips quirked at the grimace that crossed her face. She had no notion how to dissemble. What a refreshing trait in a woman. “Aye. ‘Twould please me a lot.”
“I’ll try,” she whispered. “But ‘tis my most hated dish.”
Barwolf set down her goblet and reached a dainty hand toward their trencher. Bernon grabbed her wrist, halting her as Lady Lucretia sniggered. Barwolf raised questioning eyes to his.