Midnight's Bride (9 page)

“Not a man but Lord Bleddyn's great eagle,” Mereck explained. “They talk to each other in strange sounds. Cloud Dancer understands what he says.”

“Sure he does,” she scoffed. “Soon you will be telling us Lord Bleddyn has magic and knows what is to happen.”

“Aye, he does. But it is not magic. Have you not sensed Caer Cad-well's overlord is a mystic?” Mereck's voice was soft.

“Of course, but he…”

Too late, she realized her error. Icy chills rolled like storm swept waves down her body.

Netta swallowed great gulps of air. At first, her body felt as cold as if she burrowed beneath snow, then heat engulfed her. She opened her mouth. No words came, only a sound disgustingly resembling a whimper.

“I knew you to be Lynette of Wycliffe afore we left Ridley.” Mereck's tone was soft and even.

His inscrutable face hid any clue to what he planned to do with her. Panic flashed through Netta. She grabbed his shirt and held on for dear life.

“I beseech you, Mereck, do not return me to Father. He would force me to wed a barbarian. A veritable savage. A giant!”

“A giant, lass? Though I have never met a man whose head was above those in mine own family, I have heard tales of men so tall and powerful they appeared to be giants. Having never seen one, I canna judge for myself.” He rubbed his jaw and peered down at her. “Tell me more of this giant of a savage barbarian.”

“His hair was as wild and tangled as his shaggy beard. Blue paint colored one side of his face, and wolf skins covered his shoulders. The wolf's head was still on the largest one. It had long, yellow teeth.” She shuddered, remembering the sharp teeth.

Dafydd, standing beside them, snickered. Mereck turned but a moment to narrow his eyes at the young man, who hung his head and shuffled his feet.

Netta swallowed. “A hide tunic barely covered his nakedness. It left his body indecent to female eyes.” She looked at his chest, avoiding his eyes. “He smelled. He likely never bathed.”

The men had a strange sense of humor, for their chuckles turned to outright laughter.

“Nay! Ne'er bathed, you say? You were that close to the man?” Mereck's brows reached for his hairline.

Wanting him to envision the frightful man so he would not drag her back to her father, Netta hesitated. Though he had thought her only a maid, he had been far kinder to her than anyone in her family had ever been. Surely he would not refuse to protect her now.

“He chased me from my father's own hall, sir. Even as I ran from him, I could smell his unwashed body.”

Mereck's right brow quirked.

“Did you hear her, man?” Marcus rolled his eyes. “The dastard giant smelled.” Drawing close to Mereck, he wrinkled his nose and sniffed. He yelped when Mereck kicked his ankle.

“He cornered me in the stables and laid his beefy hands on me,” she added. Blushing, she thought of his far from beefy hands gently squeezing her breasts as they searched for stolen goods.

“He had human skulls hanging from his saddle.” Elise piped in, eager to help sway Mereck's decision.

Netta cringed. It was her fault. To correct the story now would be to call her friend a liar.

“Skulls, you say?” Marcus shook his head. “Well now, milady, 'tis a wonder the baron didna skewer the man.”

The laughter grew louder. Mereck fixed his men with an icy stare, and they quieted.

Far from gaining sympathy, her distressing tale seemed to amuse them. “Father welcomed him into the castle. I did not stay for him to hand me over to the beastly man.”

Her father's loathing for her was so great he would force her into the arms of such a one. Knowing it, a weight as heavy as an anvil settled on Netta's chest.

Mereck rubbed his chin, then nodded. “No young maiden should have to marry a giant. A savage. Or a barbarian. Especially one who smells and is so bestial he carries skulls on his mount.”

Netta dared to hope. He patted her shoulder before he cupped her face in his large hands.

“I promised Baron Ridley I would see you safely to Blackthorn.”

“You will not force me to return to my father, sir?” Her heart pounded, and her knees were ready to buckle at any moment.

“Nay, lady, I willna. I will do as I vowed and see to your safety and well-being.” His eyes sparked through narrowed lids as he studied her. “E'en so, I intend you respect your own vows.”

“Dinna fear, milady,” Marcus assured her. “No bestial, smelly giant will claim you for his bride. Not with Mereck as your champion.”

A rousing cheer from the warriors greeted his words. Moving to stand close to Mereck, Marcus reached up to measure the difference in their height. “Nay. Not even a giant would dare prick Mereck when he is wont to battle.”

Netta's breath burst from her lips, surprising her that she had held it. She smiled up at him and hugged herself, then stepped back.

“May Elise and I cleanse ourselves of the day's ride?”

At Mereck's curt nod, Dafydd led them to a spot where thick, beautiful elm trees stretched branches out over the water, adding privacy. It was close to the camp, and the squire promised to listen for their call when they were done.

“Oh, Netta, I have heard of Mereck's honor. They say he would rather die than break his word. He will demand you do the same on your vows today.”

“I will have as husband the man Saint Monica sends to me. I will honor that vow for I made it,” Netta reassured Elise. “But I made no promise to the beast Father would force on me. He cares not who I marry, as long as he is rid of me.”

They bathed in silence. The woods became quiet. Too quiet. Instinct prickled Netta's skin. She stood hip deep in water and beckoned Elise to come to her. Her finger to her lips cautioned her silence. Her uneasy gaze searched the trees.

Warning her of trouble, hair tingled at the nape of her neck. Stealthy rustling came from the woods on their right. Someone or something watched and stalked them.

“Hurry, Elise. Don your clothes.” Netta nudged her from the water and handed her clean clothing. Her eyes scanned the forest while she tugged a smock over her own wet body. Hearing a snarl and twigs cracking her heart thumped.

Elise screamed. A blood-chilling scream. Had it been autumn, its sheer volume would have tumbled the leaves from the trees.

“Wolves! The wolves Galan told me about. Quick, Netta. Get a knife. A stick.”

She grabbed a hefty tree limb from the ground and thrust it into Netta's hand, then seized a rock.

From the woods facing them, a large beast hurtled through the trees toward them. Warriors screamed wild, warbling battle cries and pounded close behind in hot pursuit.

It was a man. At least Netta thought it was a man who burst into the open. She shrieked. Then froze. Unable to run, to move. Elise screamed and jumped behind Netta, then grabbed her around the waist. Elise's hand brandishing the rock quivered.

Slicing the air above his head, the man's great broadsword whistled. Wild, green eyes gleamed and probed, searching the area. Rage distorted his face. Like a wolf scenting prey, his nostrils quivered. Taut lips, ringed with white, drew back to bare his teeth, as an animal's roar burst from deep within his chest. He and the warriors raced toward them, their swords drawn.

He thudded to a stop. His wild gaze searched Netta's face, over her body, and the ground around her. The men spread in a semi-circle behind him. Bit by bit, his features eased, softened. His feral snarl relaxed. Full lips again covered strong, white teeth. The wild light in his eyes calmed. His nostrils lost their flair. He took a great gasp of air. His body shook as he fought for control and banished the last of his strangeness away.

She recognized Mereck.

When he stalked toward them, his face still taut, Netta gulped and fought to master her fear. Elise's rock thudded to the ground behind them.

“Saints above. They are demented,” Netta whispered, shocked.

She tightened her hands on the branch, raised her arms and brandished it. “I know not what offended you, sir. Even if you dislike my breaking Father's contract, I will not let you harm us. By the saints, but try it and I will bloody your nose.”

Mereck's eyes widened. Netta's smock clung to her wet skin, the rosy hue of her nipples showing through. The dark triangle of hair shielding her woman's mound was evident, along with every sweet curve of her body. Though she held a belligerent stance, fear shone from her eyes. He saw no threat in the area around them. He did see the picture his soon-to-be wife presented to his men.

“Lucifer's fetid breath, lady. Have you no modesty?”

Mereck stormed forward, snatched her cloak from the ground and swirled it around her.

Netta, trembling still, shouted back. “Modesty? We had not the time to don our clothing.” She stabbed the air with her finger. “Something watched and stalked us from behind that birch tree.”

He unwrapped her fingers gripping the stick and threw it on the ground, then signaled his men to spread out on either side of the tree.

“Dinna move from this spot. Marcus, keep them here.” He stalked to the tree and examined the ground and nearby bushes.

Marcus sheathed his sword. He picked up the end of Netta's cloak and bent over to peer at Elise. “Come, lady. You will stifle yourself under there, and you dinna want to injure your friend.”

Elise, her gaze darting over his face, appeared. “I have heard of Mereck's temper, but why was he wroth with us?” Her voice quavered.

Marcus draped her cloak over her quivering shoulders and tied the laces under her chin. Before he answered, he also secured Netta's cloak. “With you? He wasna angry with you. When we heard your screams, he was afeared someone attacked you both. He came to do battle for you.”

Netta's tense body began to relax. Though Mereck's terrible temper had frightened her, she realized he had fought to control it. He had not struck out at her. Though more frightening than her father or Roger at their most furious, Mereck had not laid a hand on her.
They
had.

Mereck studied the trampled grass and leaves. Something large had rested there. He spied the leavings of an animal. The tufts of fur and specks of blood worried him. They belonged to a wolf. From the amount of blood, a badly injured wolf.

“Come, lass.” He gripped Netta's elbow, tightening his hold when she flinched away. He looked at Marcus and nodded his head toward Elise, then led them back to camp.

“What was it? Man or beast?” Netta forced a calm smile.

Mereck felt a pang of regret. Was she asking about him, or the creature under the tree? He preferred the latter.

Quietly so Elise would not hear, Mereck answered. “Wolf. By what we found, I expect he could no longer rule the pack, and they turned on him. We must find it and put it out of its misery.”

He called his best hunters and pointed out the directions in which he wanted them to search. He swung back to Netta.

“You will both stay with Ewen. Dinna leave his side, lady, no matter what.” He stared at her until she nodded, agreeing. He pulled a long, wicked-looking knife from his belt, turned and loped off into the woods.

 

Ewen gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes. He would rather face a ravenous wolf than one small Saxon with the tenacity of a badger. Elise was no problem. Her eyes sparkled with interest as she watched Netta demand he allow her to “take a stroll.”

“Netta, I don't believe he will budge. You cannot push him either. He is much bigger than you. Have you thought of payment? Father always says you cannot get something for nothing. Surely some coins will sweeten his disposition?”

Ewen's temper exploded. “Bribe me, milady? Ye advise her to bribe me?” Ewen felt his face turn hot red.

Elise clamped her hand on her mouth and scooted back.

“Do not roar at her.” Netta frowned at him. “You will frighten her again. Did you not hear me afore? I told you I give not a tinker's hoot what Mereck said. I have to leave this tent. I have to go. Now stand aside.”

Why did the dratted man not understand? It seemed like much time had passed since Mereck and the hunters left. Wishing she had not drunk so much water with her noon meal, she groaned.

“Milady, I canna.” Ewen's jaw jutted and his fists clenched at his waist.

“Move.” Netta yelled so loud Ewen winced and stepped back.

Atop his commander's toes.

Saints! When had Mereck returned? He moved Ewen aside. Netta took one look at him and tried to pull Ewen back between them. Without a word, Mereck pried her hands from the warrior's arms and led her into the tent. Elise followed. The anger in his eyes and his set mouth made Netta more than a little uneasy.

“Have you no wits at all, lady? Do you have any idea what could happen to you both? Though badly wounded, it took two men to kill the wolf. And you wished to roam the forests?”

When she opened her mouth to protest, he clamped his hand over it.

“Nay. Not another word.” He barked his command. “As to Ewen. Never again will you seek to dissuade a warrior from his duties. Lady, when I put you someplace, you will stay until I give you leave to depart.” He glared at her, his jaw set. “You will obey the men whom I charge to protect you.” Threateningly, he towered over her, crowding her. “You will apologize to Ewen.”

“Apologize? For what, sir? I did him no harm.” Netta scowled and braced her fists against her hips. She had been very polite in the way she had handled Ewen, until she learned his sensibilities were as dense as a rock.