Always Mine (12 page)

Her hands twitched. She understood. He smiled.

He leisurely walked up the remaining steps and took her hand, placing it on his own.

“I see ye are in mourning,” he murmured.

Her fingers were icy. She was not as composed as she pretended. He watched her expressions.

“’Tis perchance for yer lost love?” He saw no response.

“Nay? Hm. For yer soon to be lost innocence, then?”

Her startled gaze flew to his. Her hand jerked.

“Aye!” His chuckle was soft. Wicked.

He turned to face the guests in their bright, colorful garb overflowing the great hall.

“Come.”

Damron led her through the still open path to the dais in front of the lord’s table and turned so they faced the room.

Baron Ridley and his family stood behind them.

“My Lords. Ladies. I present to ye my wife, Lady Brianna.”

His voice held more than a note of possession. He gently pressed her shoulder. “Acknowledge the bond, Brianna.”

“My lord, do you now place your foot on my neck?” She bowed gracefully, deeply.

“Nay, lady. I prefer yer bottom, where it rightly belongs.” When she bowed even deeper, he took her elbow and forced her to rise.

His men cheered the announcement, pleased at the turn of events. Ridley’s guests stood, their mouths agape. No doubt, they had expected to hear of Brianna and Galan’s betrothal.

“In the presence of King William and King Malcolm, I wed the Lady Brianna by proxy in London. I came as quickly as possible to collect my lovely bride.”

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“Huh! Quickly? That’s a crock of droppings,” Brianna muttered, shifting away from him. His arm draped around her shoulders and hauled her tight against his side.

“That was ill-advised, wife,” he warned softly. “Had anyone heard yer remark, I would have been forced to correct ye afore everyone.”

Brianna had no doubt what he meant by “correct.” Her anger simmered. She tried to pull from his side, but he did not let her move so much as an inch. Taking her elbow in a firm grip, he led her to sit beside him at the high table in the place of honor.

Baron Ridley lifted his goblet high in a toast. “In the sad absence of my good friend Baron Cecil Sinclair, I wish our dearly loved Brianna a long, happy life with Lord Damron of Blackthorn. May your union be fruitful and loving.”

Brianna and Damron shared a gold wedding chalice. She took a hearty swallow. Catching a glimpse of Galan over the rim, his soul in his eyes, she swallowed the rest of the wine before Damron could move it from her. When Damron’s squire refilled the vessel, Damron grasped her hand to wrap her fingers around it. His strong, hot hand covering hers, he brought the cup up to his lips. His eyes stared into hers, warning her, as he drank. While the round of toasts continued, he kept possession of the cup, allowing her only small sips.

Cook marched triumphantly into the hall carrying a roasted peacock resplendent with its decoration of feathers and colorful clusters of grapes framing it. Servitors struggled with platters laden with wild duck in wine sauce, quail, and then goose cooked with garlic came next. Fish, lamb and poultry followed.

She had no appetite, but Damron insisted on feeding her as he had before. She didn’t care for the taste of peacock and turned her head aside after the first bite.

“Wife, ye will eat what I have placed at yer lips.” His voice was hard and impatient.

She stubbornly clamped her teeth together.

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“Ye will eat, or it will remain afore yer mouth until Hades freezes. Ye have had too much wine. I willna have ye unaware of our weddin’ night.”

She glared at him. When she took the meat into her mouth, she nipped the tips of his fingers as forcefully as she dared.

Not even the smallest muscle in his face twitched as his gaze held hers.

She released him, only to have him sensuously trace her lips with the tips of his fingers. He lowered his forehead to hers.

“Do so again, and ye will be leavin’ the banquet as ye did the chapel,” he murmured. His warm breath teased her chin.

Fortunately, the massive doors of the keep burst open, distracting him. A great gust of wind flirted with the rushlights and blew out the brace of candles near the entrance.

In the doorway stood a man of the same height and as broad of shoulder as Damron, but with a fearsome demeanor. His hair, black and long, was shaggy around his face. His eyes were as black as a stormy sky. A high, chiseled nose above firm and well-defined lips added distinction to his face.

He had painted the left side of his face blue, and on the right a ragged scar in vivid red ran from his hairline down across his eye. It ended at the corner of his mouth. He wore a brilliantly colored, feathered robe over a black tunic and leggings. He waited, as still as a windless midnight. Hands fisted on his hips, he stared at Brianna.

Damron sprang to his feet, his nostrils flared. Feeling the stranger’s gaze draw her, Brianna also rose to stare at him as he crossed the room.

“Bleddyn. Welcome.” Baron Ridley shouted his greeting.

He, Galan and the Ridley knights stood with obvious respect for this unexpected guest. Elise clapped her hands with glee.

When Brianna could see him clearly, she studied his savage appearance. As his gaze bored into hers, comforting warmth flowed over her.

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“Nathaniel.”
Her voice was a bare whisper.

She didn’t understand her reaction to this man who stood before her. But she knew in her heart he was her loving friend, that she could trust him above all others.

“
Mo fear beog,
my little one. You arrived safely. Have you no welcome for your pet?” His voice husky and deep, Bleddyn tilted his head to the side, studying her. “I came when I knew of your marriage. It has taken a sennight to travel here.”

Reaching across the table, he cupped her face and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

Damron growled. His hand shot out to grip Bleddyn’s wrist in a vise. Their eyes met. With a slight flick of his arm, Bleddyn broke the hold as easily as he would have a child’s.

“Do not be concerned, my lord. The lady is as a sister to me,”

he said softly.

While the Ridley family greeted him, and the castle’s knights and ladies called to the savage-looking man, Brianna made room between herself and Connor. When Bleddyn walked behind Damron, he nodded to him. “May I seek audience with you and the baron? ’Tis most urgent.” On Damron’s nod, he looked satisfied, and sat.

Brianna smiled and turned to Damron’s squire. “Spencer, please prepare a trencher large enough to feed an army.” On hearing her request, Bleddyn grinned. “Well, sir, did you plan to scare our Norman guests out of their wits? You know they are not accustomed to Welsh ways.”

Brianna’s mind flashed memories of her Nathaniel picking her up and dusting her off when as a child she fell off her horse. He had immediately put her back on and encouraged her to ride again. He had held her while she cried after he told her of her father’s death. Alana stood at his side. She knew it was Alana, for the woman wore a habit. Recognition jolted through her, remembering the woman’s eyes. They were the same as Lydia’s mother’s in the twenty-first century.

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Not a glimmer of doubt remained. She had returned to a former life.

“‘Sir?’ Why this formality, little one? Am I no longer your Nathaniel who followed you to pick you up each time you fell?“

“Is she in the habit of fallin’ from her horse?” Damron’s tone was silky as he stared hard at her.

“Nay, Lord Damron. She is a more accomplished rider than many men. I referred to her childhood when she learned to toddle.

She was but ten months of age and determined to outwit her sister, Alana. She tried to walk at every opportunity.” His expression turned tender. “After several steps, she lost her balance. I would follow to save her bruising. If I was not fast enough to catch her, I was there to kiss the tears away.”

“Was it then you knew of your gift?” Elise stretched forward to see Bleddyn more clearly.

“Nay. It came over many years,” he replied quietly. “You need not be afeared for Brianna, for I will keep her safe.”

Baron Ridley took the opportunity to stand and signal for the entertainment to begin.

Damron leaned close to whisper in her ear, “Do eat, my love. I would have yer mind clear of wine this night.”

His breath tickled her ear. Shivers rippled down her back as his teeth nipped gently on her earlobe, then licked the spot.

She gasped. His smile turned more erotic as he drew back.

He left the table with Connor, Bleddyn and the baron.

Brianna broke out in goose bumps, only to become hot as fire in turn. Damron was far too arousing. If she didn’t gain control of her senses, how would she resist him? A sharp stab of panic jolted her.

Baron Ridley offered each man a cup of wine as they took their seats around the sturdy table. Damron sat nearest the window opening, grateful for the refreshing breeze drifting through it.

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“As soon as I knew of your intent to take Brianna to Scotland,” Bleddyn said, “I came as speedily as I could.”

“If it took ye a sennight to reach Ridley, how did ye learn of my presence here afore we arrived?” Damron interrupted.

His gaze searched the Welshman’s face.

“Do you place credence in witches or warlocks? Or mayhap believe Lucifer has visited someone with a dark gift?” Bleddyn’s gaze studied Damron.

“I have no patience with foolish beliefs. God has blessed some men with the power to heal, or to know when trouble brews. My half brother, Mereck, oft hears peoples’ thoughts.

I have honed my own instincts to feel an enemy’s approach.

What has this to do with yer knowin’ of me?”

“At Stonecrest, when you received King William’s missive demanding you fetch your bride, I felt your wrath and dis-pleasure. When Brianna attempted to run from you, and Sweetpea tossed her to the ground, I knew your anger.” Bleddyn hesitated a moment. “You will take her to the Highlands.

I sense danger to her along the way, and even more when she reaches Blackthorn.”

“Ye dinna think my fighting skills honed enough to defend my wife? Or do ye suggest ’tis I who poses a threat to her?”

Offended, Damron narrowed his eyes.

“Nay. Nor do I doubt Sir Connor will be a staunch defender.

I, too, have a special gift. It warns me whene’er danger threatens our Brianna. Had I believed ’twas from you or one of your men, I would not have allowed you to leave Stonecrest.”

Damron’s jaw squared. This man was more than arrogant.

“From whence comes this peril?”

“I know not. But I have
seen
her attacker. He is but a vague shadow. No visible surroundings hint as to his identity. Even so, I
know
it will happen. I will travel with you. When we reach your Blackthorn, we will find what threat awaits her there.”

“Bleddyn speaks true, Lord Damron.” Baron Ridley leaned

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toward him as he spoke. “Often he is forewarned of danger to Brianna. She was but a youngling when he raced to pull her from deep water where she had slipped from the bank. He taught her to swim soon after. When she was a budding young woman, a misguided swain sought to pluck her from her home. He had not taken her more than three leagues before Bleddyn caught up with them.”

“Along with my skill with weapons, I am knowledgeable in the healing arts,” Bleddyn said. “’Tis fair I warn you that should you deny me, I will follow at a distance. I will protect her with or without your consent.” His tone left no doubt of his resolve.

The Welshman’s calm authority stiffened Damron’s spine.

He did not like the thought of this man hidden in the deep forests that lined their way north. Having Bleddyn, or

“Nathaniel,” where he could watch him would be best.

“Ye may join us under one condition. Only if ye agree will I allow it. Make no mistake, sir.
No one
may trail us without my consent. Ye must swear an oath to me.”

“I swear to no man.” Bleddyn bounded to his feet. “I am no knight beholden to
any
man. I come from an ancient family and rule my own lands in Wales. I am more than your equal.”

His hand on his sword, Damron moved close in challenge.

Baron Ridley edged between them. “Bleddyn ap Tewdwr is descended from the ancient Druids of Cymru and of Cad-wallon, King of Gwynedd. Some name him a mystic for his many skills. Perhaps a vow between peers will give you the assurance you require, Lord Damron.”

Damron studied the Welshman’s face. “Will ye pledge from this day forward, until the threat to Brianna passes, ye will hold yerself true to me? That ye will protect my lady wife until ye request that I release ye?” He watched Bleddyn’s eyes for any hint of wrongful intent.

From inside his tunic, Bleddyn removed an ancient talisman held by a gold chain. The light in the room brightened.

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Ancient Druids had etched symbols into the surface of the heavy, round pewter. Around the edges were linked hounds, each overlapping the other. The hound denoted the otherworld. At the center was a triangle. The left side of the triangle had a salmon for divine wisdom. An eagle flew on the right as king of the sky, and at the bottom snarled a wolf, proclaiming the wearer a powerful warrior.

At the triangle’s center was a jagged bolt of lightning.

Holding the talisman, Bleddyn repeated the vow as Damron had uttered it, staring deeply into Damron’s eyes.

Damron’s body tingled as if a current passed between them until the Welshman returned the talisman to its resting place.

“I, Damron of Blackthorn, pledge from this day forward, until the threat to Brianna passes, that ye have my and my men’s protection. I will hold true to ye until such time as ye request to leave.”

Damron studied Bleddyn’s eyes, then nodded, satisfied at what he saw there. “Let us return to the feast. I have neglected my bride far too long.”