Midnight s Bride

by Sophia Johnson

  Heartsick at what Roger inferred, Netta ran from the room and kept on running until she burst through the doorway atop a winding flight of stairs. Surprised to find herself at the highest point of the castle, she blinked away the light drizzle of rain and stared around. Knowing how far above the ground she was turned her knees to porridge. She leaned back against the wall and slid down to sit on the damp stone.

  Oh, saints! She was going to be sick.

  Mereck had promised never again to lose control. But that was when she could see him. She hadn’t been with him the day before. How could he have done such a thing? He could not, of course. He was far too gentle with her to be able to commit such a horrible act as that foul murder.

  The door beside her scraped opened. She glanced up, but instead of the bare calves of a Highlander, Roger’s skinny shanks stood there. He bent close to her ear.

  “I thought to bring you the man’s prick as a token. But unfortunately your insane husband lodged it too deeply in the dead man’s mouth. I did not want to bloody my hands removing it.”

  She covered her mouth and gagged. His small, pale eyes gleamed at her. His long nose twitched. He reached out sickly white fingers and grasped her chin, forcing her to look at him.

  “What do you here?” Sir Thomas’hand grasped Roger’s shoulder and thrust him aside like he weighed no more than a small child clinging to his mother’s plaid.

  “I thought to comfort the lady.” Roger sneered at her. “She is distressed over her beast of a husband.”

  She did not have to think about it anymore. This foul man had cleared her doubts.

  Mereck could never be so vicious. Roger could.

  “Nay. You lie. Mereck would not do such as you described.” Netta shoved him with both hands as she shouted the words.

  If Sir Thomas had not stepped between them, she knew Roger would have struck her. Before she turned her back on him, she grabbed Thomas by his sword belt and tugged. She knew he would follow her anyway, but she wanted to be sure.

  Since leaving Wycliffe she had turned into a coward. Hopefully no one would notice that she didn’t intend to ever be alone with the baron again.

  They noticed.

  For the rest of the day, she made sure Sir Thomas knew her every move. If she went from one end of the great hall to the other, she was not content that he kept his eyes on her. She marched over to him, cleared her throat and pretended she wanted to talk to him as she went about her business. She wore him out. As distraught as she was, she started to do one thing, forgot it and started another. When he reminded her, she apologized and declared she didn’t usually act this empty-headed.

  Netta wore herself out, too. Walking to their room that night, Mereck told her he wanted to talk to her. Fearful he intended to lecture her about the postern gate, she asked him to make love first. Actually, she didn’t ask him for the loving.

  She demanded it.

  He showed her what an accommodating husband he could be.

  She showed him her gratitude.

  After her usual vocal release, she sighed and went to sleep.

  “Netta, you will not believe all that is happening. Look at the burning crosses in the front bailey. Do you hear Meghan? She plays that lovely wailing thing, and Brianna says Mother and Father are coming, and are you not excited?”

  “Elise.” Connor, standing beside Mereck, scowled at her from the doorway.

  “Uh-oh, I forgot. I’m not supposed to bother you.” She streaked across the room and disappeared behind the screen.

  Connor followed. Elise scrunched down, and when his big hands clamped on her shoulders, she howled.

  “When will you learn to obey me, Mousie?”

  “Netta heard the screeching and saw the crosses too. She was staring out the window. How could she not look with those great beasts with their shaggy horses and bare legs right there in the bailey?” Elise blushed. The wind had lifted more than one plaid and bared its occupant’s posterior.

  “What did you see that brought the pink to your cheeks?”

  Connor hauled Elise close to kiss and nibble her lips, cup her backside and lift her to grind her against his hardened sex. “You willna look at the men when the wind is high. Dinna think I willna punish you if I see you staring at their bare skin.”

  They went below to the great hall to greet guests. Before the sun was at its full height, all the rooms in the keep, the towers and the outer buildings filled to bursting with men and women representing their clans. Lesser clan members set up their tents in the open baileys between the curtain walls and the inner walls. The tubs in the bathing room would not be adequate for the huge crush of people. Mereck recommended the close-by lake, the water troughs for the horses, and the buckets at the wells.

  “I will be most angry if I find you lurking beside a doorway peering at naked men about their bathing.” Connor eyed Elise. “If you must needs spy on a man’s body, you are welcome to bathe mine.”

  Elise elbowed him in his ribs. “I will not sneak looks at naked bodies, you horrid man.” Her voice rose in indignation. “Why, if Father heard you suggest such, he would smash your nose and maybe even break that proud head of yours. That is what he would do, and he would not let me marry you on the morrow.”

  Soft snickers and loud guffaws of laughter burst out in the room. Elise tried to flee. Connor held her still.

  “I hear the piper calling a Sassenach tune. Your father is about to enter the gates. Do you not want to greet them as they come, so he can start beating me to a pulp?” She ran for the door. Chuckling, Connor followed his bride.

  Netta cried through Elise’s wedding. The more she cried, the more nervous the bride became. Mereck scowled.

  “Wife, you insult me with your weeping. You should smile and show her that marriage is a happy affair.” He hesitated and looked uncertain. “You act like she is being sacrificed on the altar.”

  The minute the couple repeated their vows and the family went inside the chapel for the nuptial mass, Netta’s tears dried. He decided it must be a woman thing. He changed his mind when tears rolled from Elise’s father’s eyes. Sassenachs. He snorted in disgust. No man worth his salt would shed tears o’er a woman.

  Though Netta pleased him, he refused to acknowledge how important she had become to him. He dared not love her. That he felt rage was a natural thing when that offal had again tried to harm her. When someone threatened his possessions, any man would be angry.

  For truth, it was the only reason he kept her clamped to his side. He wouldn’t allow Mortain anywhere near her. The man told anyone and everyone how he could not wait to secure his alliance with Netta’s sister. If he was so impatient, why in Hades didna he leave?

  Mereck doubted how interested Roger was in taking a wife. His short strides were unmanly. Most of all, Mereck disliked how Roger watched Mereck’s squire Dafydd.

  The visitors would spend another day at the castle for the men to enjoy a hunt. When they returned and before Roger dismounted, Mereck would suggest he hie himself back to England. He scowled and realized he could not insist the man leave. He needed to consider Baron Carswell. Had he not promised Netta to control his rage, he would toss the skinny bastard off the cliff.

  Mereck hauled Netta close against his side.

  “Husband, you are hurting my arms.” Netta pinched his waist, demanding his attention. When he glanced down, he appeared surprised to see her there.

  “You willna leave my side, wife. Should you need to seek privacy, I will go with you.” His face was set in hard lines as he righted her and patted her shoulder.

  Netta gasped at such an indelicate remark. And how was she going to get Elise alone and explain mating to her? She didn’t want to tell Elise with Brianna or Meghan nearby. If they learned of her foolish beliefs about mating, they would laugh.

  The only time Mereck left her side was during the afternoon games to decide the strongest warrior. The men refused to participate unless Mereck also entered. He would be the last to compet
e, for none had ever bested him at the caber toss.

  He hauled her by her hand over to Damron’s side. “I would deem it a favor, Damron, if you would hold to Netta.” Hearing Netta snort, he narrowed his eyes at her. “She has a habit of wandering off alone.” He pushed her closer to Damron and left.

  “Netta?”

  Damron’s tone was harsh and demanding. When she looked up at him, his jaw looked carved in stone as he crossed his arms over his chest. His sea-green eyes stared into hers. How did Brianna ever have the courage to crawl between the sheets with this man? She wasted no time nodding to him.

  “I dinna believe in hangin’ on to a lass like me foolish brither. Ne’ertheless, ye willna move from this spot now, will ye?”

  Damron waited for her to nod. Smiling, she did. In a short while she could talk to Elise without a man listening. When she saw he was occupied watching the events, she inched away.

  “I wudna hesitate to thrash ye if ye disobey me, do ye ken?”

  Damron’s voice was mild. His eyes were not.

  “I will not move a hand-width away. You have my word.”

  That settled it. Elise was on her own. Netta didn’t doubt the laird would do as he said.

  She sighed and resigned herself to watching the men’s games. Holy saints! Why, they were truly brainsick, that’s what they were. This caber toss thing was not a weapon like she thought.

  They threw trees. Oaks stripped to their trunks.

  She watched as a man would squat down, get a firm grip on the thin end of the trunk and lift it. When he balanced it to his satisfaction, he surged forward and heaved it upward. If tossed strongly enough, it would somersault through the air to land on its heavy end and fall forward. They judged who had thrown their tree in the straightest line.

  Of course, Mereck won. He was not arrogant about it. He didn’t act like it was an unusual accomplishment.

  It was a very long day. She never had the opportunity to talk to Elise alone. After the banquet, when the women took the bride to help her prepare for bed, Netta gave up. She hoped her friend wouldn’t be too horrified when Connor did more than bump against her arse.

  When Mereck immediately turned her toward their room, he surprised her. Before they got to their door, which was across the hall from the bridal couple’s, he looked blatantly sensual. He sent Bran away and stripped both their clothes off before Netta could whisper a brief prayer.

  She was on the bed in a flash, and his mouth and hands touched her everywhere at once. Mereck was ravishing her, she decided, and doing a thorough job of it. When his lips slid from her stomach down to nuzzle the tight curls between her thighs, she almost sprang from the bed. He lifted her legs to place them over his shoulders, and he clasped her waist to hold her still as he burrowed lower.

  His deep growl when his lips and tongue began to torment her already swollen flesh proved his sensual arousal. His rumblings sounded much more satisfying than the puny whimpers she couldn’t control. She had no time to ponder the reason women didn’t make the same sound. She tried to bite her lips to keep silent, but he teased her nipples between his fingers and thumbs until she was beside herself. To Hades with being ladylike.

  Netta came undone in his hands.

  As he glided up between her legs, his long shaggy hair flowed about his face, and his hot, passionate eyes gleamed at her. He looked like a giant tawny cat covering his mate as he edged closer to her lips. Just as he reached them, a shout stopped him.

  “You are going to do what?”

  Elise’s voice. They didn’t hear Connor’s reply.

  “They are going to do this,” Mereck whispered and thrust into her eager center.

  “Oh, yes. Please keep doing just that.”

  He was more than willing to oblige her.

  When Netta awoke at dawn, she was glad Mereck had already left with the men on a hunt. She had need of a bucket for she had eaten too much the night before. After she finished gagging and retching, she wiped her face with a cold wet cloth and took deep breaths. She waited until her stomach calmed before she dressed and went to Elise.

  “Why did you lie to me, Netta?” Elise demanded after a swaggering Connor handed Brianna the wedding sheet and left the room.

  “When we talked about it, I didn’t lie. I truly believed it at the time.”

  “You did too lie,” Elise huffed. “How could you not have known? You were married when you told me such a giant untruth. When I prepared myself and proudly told him I was ready for him, I thought Connor was going to die of shock. He turned purple and kept gasping for breath.”

  “What in the world did you do?”

  “You are not listening.” Elise huffed indignantly and frowned at Netta. “I told him I was ready. What else do you think I did? I got up on my hands and knees, said some quick prayers and waited.” Elise groaned and turned red. “When nothing happened, I crawled around to discover he was having a fit. I sat beside him and slapped his back. He put his head on my shoulder and gasped a couple of times until he could breathe better.”

  “So? Why is that bad? He could not help it if he was sick.”

  “Easy for you to say.” Elise glared at her a second and then shouted, “He was not sick, like in really sick, Netta. He was strangling from trying not to upset me by laughing.”

  “I am so sorry, Elise. Truly I am.” She wrung her hands. For their friendship’s sake, she told how her own wedding night ended. In the telling, she realized how thoughtful Mereck had been not to make an issue of her ignorance.

  They remained silent for a while. Elise giggled first, then before they knew it, they howled with laughter.

  Meghan burst into the room, demanding to know what was so funny. Elise peeked out to make sure no one stood in the hallway and shut the door. Netta didn’t think they should discuss their marital experiences.

  “Tsk.” Meghan’s disbelieving sound started them giggling over again. “I learned about matin’ when I was a young girl in the French court. You wud need to be blind not to see the couplin’ going on all but out in the open.”

  When they told Meghan of their first nights, she laughed until tears streaked down her face. They stopped guiltily when a worried Brianna came to tell them sentries had spotted the men returning from their stag hunt.

  A warrior rode at their lead. Supported in his arms was a limp, injured man.

  Chapter 26

  Netta didn’t draw a sane breath until Mereck vaulted off M’Famhair. The great brown warhorse stamped and threw his head about, unwilling to end his outing. Dafydd waited while Mereck soothed the mount, then handed him the reins. An assured smile flashed on Mereck’s wolfishly handsome face as his confident, long-legged stride ate the distance between them. Netta had had a terrible fright thinking a wild boar had savaged him. Now, recognizing the injured man, she didn’t feel guilty about being glad.

  “Oh, thank you, thank you, God.”

  Her pleased litany stopped when she realized Roger would be unable to leave this day. She saw no blood. He could not have a serious injury. She shoved her hands on her hips and scowled.

  “Well, I hope he gets nibbled by every one of Lucifer’s fleas and rats,” she muttered. Hearing his high-pitched whining, she tugged on Meghan’s sleeve.

  “Saints’ alive, he is a coward. I will gladly give his leg a well-aimed kick to give him something to whimper about.”

  Netta spent the next fortnight keeping close to Brianna’s solar. Even Meghan avoided Roger’s constant presence in the hall, where he lounged with his foot atop a padded stool, demanding attention. Brianna kept Guardian nearby, for the wolf snarled and slavered every time his golden eyes spied Roger.

  Time passed so quickly that Netta paid little heed to a strange sickness that plagued her. Each dawn and when time for the evening meal, she hugged a wooden bucket. She reasoned that if she did not eat, she would have naught to return to the outside world. Sadly, it didn’t work.

  Everyone noticed she had lost her robust appetite. Merec
k and Damron shared knowing grins. How could they find her wasting sickness amusing? Early one bright golden morn, Mereck left his brother’s side to come to her.

  “Meghan is going hawking, and she thought mayhap my lovely bride would enjoy an outing. What say you, wife?”

  Delighted that she could take Tuan for his first real hunt, she ignored her queasy stomach. Throughout the morn, they took turns freeing their raptors to catch unwary prey. Meghan’s Simple seemed in awe of Glider, Mereck’s graceful falcon.

  When time for Simple to hunt, the sparrowhawk plunged for a grouse flushed from a bush. So engrossed in her zeal for the catch, the raptor failed to see the tree around which the wily grouse flew. She flapped to the ground, a surprised look on her face. Hearing Mereck’s laughter made Netta smile with pleasure.

  When she freed Tuan for his flight, Netta watched with motherly pride while the little kestrel took to the air in sweeping curves. The raptor soon spotted his prey. Netta held her breath as Tuan swooped down, caught a mouse in his claws and returned to drop it at her feet.

  Netta intended to praise Tuan for being such a smart hunter. One look at the dying mouse sent her racing for cover behind a large rowen tree weighted with orange-red berries. Mereck followed to hold her head and whisper soothing words while she retched. His kindness made her realize that this eve she should warn him the Baresark curse intended to claim another bride.

  Rain drummed against the outer walls and lightning flashed close in the woods while Mereck made passionate love to his wife. She waited till her heartbeat slowed to prepare him for her death.

  “Husband, I have a dreadful sickness.” Noting his surprised look, she patted his cheek to comfort him. “You see, I cannot eat. I can only bear to look at food at the noon meal. I will soon waste away. God wishes to punish me for my sins,” she whispered.

  “Are there other symptoms of this alarming malady, wife?”

  What ails the man? She was trying to prepare him that he will soon need another wife, yet he dared look amused? No Saxon would greet his wife’s tragic problem with such ease.