Sold Into Marriage (3 page)

“Relax, my sweet lass. I won’t maul you until we are properly wed.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, trying to get her to laugh. She didn’t laugh, but she smiled, and that was enough for him. Her entire face lit up for a moment, the lines around eyes crinkling and her even white teeth flashing.

“I appreciate that,” she said once they were inside his tent. “I confess I have an aversion to being mauled.”

“Ah, but you’ve never been mauled by me before.”

She blushed and glanced at the floor.

“Are you all right, Meadow?” He recalled the violent manner in which Mr. Lansing had thrust her forward in line. “Did your stepfather hurt you?”

“He talks mean, and he grabs me roughly on occasion, but he’s never really hurt me. He went to slap me once, while my mother was still alive, and she stopped him and made him promise to never raise a hand at me. By some miracle, he managed to honor that promise.”

Relief spread through Varron’s chest. He exhaled and moved closer to her, until he stood with her face cupped in his hands. He felt a tremble rack her body, and he brushed his thumbs over her cheeks, hoping to calm her fears.

“My stepfather asked me to accompany him to the square today because he said we were going to visit the market afterward. He said he needed my help carrying supplies.” Sadness tinged her voice. “I’m glad my mother isn’t alive to witness what he did. Um, no offense to you, sir,” she quickly added.

“No offense taken. And please, you may call me Varron.” He grinned at her. “Unless you’ve been naughty and are in trouble, then I expect you’ll call me
sir
while I’m correcting you.”

Another adorable blush stained her cheeks. “Aye, sir. Va-Varron,” she said.

His cock hardened, desire causing his balls to draw up tight, just hearing his name on her lips for the first time. He wanted to slowly undress her and kiss her all over, then part her legs and claim her as his. But he wouldn’t. Not yet. Not until they were properly wed, just as he had promised her.

He needed to locate the village priest—and soon. He wanted to marry her before they pulled up the camp tomorrow morning.

“Wh-what happens now?” she asked.

He stroked her hair behind her ears, reveling in the feel of her soft locks between his fingers. “Now you will wait here, inside this tent, until I return.”

“Where are you going?”

“I must oversee the rest of the tax collections for today. My soldiers can probably fare well enough without me, but it’s still my duty to ensure all goes smoothly. Then I will be searching for the priest. I intend to marry you before the moon rises, Meadow. I intend to claim you as my wife tonight.”

She said nothing, but the increasingly rapid rise and fall of her chest revealed her nervousness. Though he wanted her to feel safe with him, there was a part of him that delighted in her nervousness. He knew she was an innocent—she had told him so last night—and it thrilled him that she was untouched, that he would be the first and only man to teach her pleasure.

“There’s food on the table over there, should you get hungry,” he said, motioning to the left. “If you need anything else, pop your head out the tent and call for Norm. He’s one of the young soldiers-in-training we brought along. He’ll help you with anything you might need until my return.”

“Thank you, Varron.”

“Do not return to your home or leave this tent, under any circumstances. I will personally visit your home and collect your belongings.”

“That’s very kind of you, but I don’t have much to call my own. A few dresses and a few small personal belongings that are sitting on top the dresser in my chamber, which is at the end of the narrow hallway in our home.”

“I’ll be sure to collect it all.” He smirked down at her. “Try not to steal anything while I’m gone, lass.”

She laughed. “I shall endeavor not to commit any crimes during your absence, sir.”

He kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger on her flesh before pulling back and releasing her. Her hair was in slight disarray from when he’d been stroking it. Ah, but it would be even messier before the day was through.

Hours had passed and Varron had yet to return. Meadow stuck her head out of the tent and scanned for the young soldier, Norm. She spotted him seated in front of a fire, with his back to her, but didn’t glimpse anyone else. All the soldiers were apparently in the village today, making sure the villagers behaved themselves during tax collection day, no doubt. It wasn’t unheard of for a protest against the crown to break out during the annual tax collection, and she supposed that was the reason it took over four dozen soldiers to ride from village to village on behalf of King Baltus.

At the thought of the king, she wondered what life in Himma would be like. She didn’t know where Varron lived, but she assumed he called the capital city his home. Most soldiers hailed from Himma. Would he remain home often? Or would she be left on her own frequently while he attended to his duties as a commander? She supposed it would be the later, and her heart sank at the realization.

She stepped outside the tent and crept to the edge of the encampment, careful to keep her footfalls light so Norm didn’t hear her. The sound of voices, music, and animals braying in the village carried through the breeze. She hugged her shawl around herself and stood on her tiptoes, trying to glimpse the stream that ran through the forest below the hill she stood atop. The sun beamed down upon her, warming her as it reached its highest point in the sky.

Noon. Varron wouldn’t likely return for a while. From what she recalled of the tax collection days, they lasted into the early evenings. After each family visited the table set up in the village square, the soldiers went door to door in order to verify each household had paid up. The soldiers also waited for stragglers who lived on the outskirts of the village to arrive.

Well, she had plenty of time to visit the stream, if she wished. Even though the day wasn’t particularly warm, she longed to dip her feet into the brook one last time. Mayhap she would collect a handful of the tiny, smooth stones that rested at the bottom of the creek bed to take with her to Himma. She had only lived in this village for about five years, having come from a mountain village after her father died and a relative arranged for her mother to marry a man from Monnaka, the awful man she now called stepfather.

Quiet and shy by nature, Meadow had preferred to spend her leisure time exploring the nearby forest, rather than by trying to make new friends in Monnaka. One of the local girls had taken a dislike to her anyway and spread several ridiculous rumors about her, thus making friends would’ve been especially difficult even if she had cared to try.

The stream ran through the forest at a slow, relaxing pace. She’d spent many an hour sitting on a large moss covered rock beside it, with her feet cooling in the water as little schools of fish zipped by. Sometimes, if she was lucky, she would be able to glimpse a white eagle that had a nest nearby.

The prospect of never visiting her stream again saddened her. She started walking down the hill, then paused midway. Varron had instructed her to remain in the tent. Perhaps she should obey him. Her bottom tingled, her soreness from the strapping suddenly acute.

But her desire to say goodbye to the brook grew as she stood in the knee high grass. She eyed the sun again. Yes, it was definitely only noon. A trip to the stream would take but a few minutes. She would return to the tent hours before Varron did, and even if he did come back to find her missing, she doubted he would be angry over her visiting her stream one last time. There was no danger and no reason for her to remain in the tent all day.

Resolved to have one last little adventure before her life as a married woman began, she lifted her skirts and hurried down the hill. When she reached the edge of the forest, she paused and peered through the trees. The chirping of birds and the rustling of squirrels and other woodland creatures greeted her, and she took a deep breath and appreciated the familiarity of the place.

To her delight, after she entered the forest she found the brook deserted. No one else from the village had decided to visit today, and she was glad she didn’t have to walk further down the stream just to be alone.

She moved through the underbrush and came to sit on her favorite rock, spreading her fingers out upon the soft green moss. She closed her eyes and thought of the white eagle, as if thinking of the bird could summon him to make an appearance in the trees above. Her mother hadn’t believed her when she claimed she’d seen a white eagle in the forest shortly after they moved to Monnaka. Her mother had said eagles preferred the rocky mountains, and as a child growing up on the mountainside she had seen her share of white eagles. Glimpsing one in her new home, a home she had been reluctant to travel to, had given her hope that perhaps her life wouldn’t turn out so bad, after all.

Slipping her boots off, she removed her stockings and rolled them up in her lap. She dangled her feet into the stream, gasping when her toes hit the frigid water. Goosebumps rose up on her arms and she shivered, but she lowered her feet more and fully submerged them in the brook, smiling at the ridiculousness of what she was doing. It was early spring and the weather was still usually too cool to go without a cloak or a shawl, and the stream felt freezing.

When her teeth started chattering, she removed her feet and shook them dry. She glanced at the sun through the trees, reveling in the warmth of the rays hitting her face. After pulling her stockings back on, she quickly put her boots on and drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

Through the trees, the tents in the encampment looked like miniature brown domes in the distance. She stared at the hill, knowing she must return soon in case Varron came to check on her, but she didn’t want to leave until she glimpsed the white eagle one last time. Surely, she would never see one again. She doubted eagles made their nests near cities as populated as Himma.

As she waited, she hummed along to the rhythm of the music flowing out of the village. She smiled when a school of tiny yellow fish zipped by, on their way down the stream and through the forest, thinking fish lived such uncomplicated lives. They, as well as the animals in the forest, lived by instinct, the instinct to survive and procreate driving their actions.

So much more drove the actions of men. Greed and jealousy. Pride and ambition. As a quiet child who preferred to keep to herself, she had learned to watch people from an early age. She could usually discern a person’s character by their eyes and their body language, and as a result she either liked someone or disliked them only moments after making their acquaintance.

Thank goodness she liked Varron. Thank goodness he had kind eyes and moved with confidence, yet without arrogance. Yes, she was sure she could tell how boastful and jealous a person was by the way they walked and glanced around at their fellow persons. Her grandmother, widowed at a young age, had made a living in the mountains telling fortunes and reading palms, and Meadow liked to think she possessed a bit of her grandmother’s insight when it came to people. Her mother hadn’t had it, or she wouldn’t have married Herbert Lansing, but the legends about fortune tellers said their gift skipped a generation.

Though Meadow could read people and sometimes get a vague feeling about their future, she found interacting with others, particularly strangers, to be exhausting. She couldn’t imagine talking to new people day after day and reading fortunes. It would be too tiresome and would deplete her soul. Not for the first time, she wished she had the cheerful and outgoing personality of her grandmother, whom she missed very much.

She stood up and jumped from her rock to the ground, her gaze lifting to the trees. She squinted and willed the blasted eagle to show himself. She walked to a nearby clearing and kept her eyes upward, holding her breath as she waited.
Come on. Show yourself.

Joy abounded within her when she spotted a flash of white amongst the branches above. The eagle came to rest on a long, wide branch of an oak tree for a full minute, before spreading its wings and soaring past the trees and high into the sky.

She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks, then headed out of the forest and back through the tall grasses on the hill.

She felt ready to leave Monnaka now.

*****

Where in God’s name was she?

Varron strode through the camp, looking right and left. He’d returned to his tent with Meadow’s belongings, only to find her missing.

He’d ordered her to stay put, yet she had disobeyed him. His palm twitched. His little bride would be going to bed with a sore behind tonight, that was for sure. If she thought she could disregard his rules and do as she pleased, she was in for a rude awakening.

Perhaps he had been too sweet and gentle toward her. He’d felt so much tenderness for the girl that maybe he hadn’t made himself clear enough to her that he expected obedience. The strapping he’d given her had been for a clear violation of the law, trespassing and attempted thievery, which she couldn’t have disputed and had seemed to accept when she willingly bent over the stool for her punishment. But he expected her to heed his orders even if she viewed them as unfair or minor.
Like staying put
.

The priest approached him and gave a slight bow. “I received a message from one of your soldiers that you required my services for a wedding in the encampment, commander.”

Varron swallowed hard and looked sharply at the priest, who shrank visibly under his intense glare. “Aye, I need you to perform a ceremony between Meadow, a girl from the village, and myself.”

The priest smiled. “Ah, what a joyous day it is, my son. When a man and woman come together under a blessing from God…”

“Stay here. I’ll be back soon,” Varron cut the elderly man off.

“As you wish, commander.”

Varron stormed to the edge of the camp where Norm was approaching with four other young soldiers.

“Any sign of her?”

“No, commander. We’ve searched the village and even checked Mr. Lansing’s house. She’s nowhere to be found, sir.”

Worry overcame Varron’s initial anger. What if some kind of trouble had befallen his intended? His hands curled into tight fists at his sides. If anyone had dared harm a hair on Meadow’s head, he would strangle the life of them himself.

He stared down at the nervous and regretful looking soldiers-in-training. “Well, don’t just stand there. Keep searching for her!”

They all nodded and mumbled, “Aye, commander,” before scurrying off into the village once more.

He searched the camp again, peering into each tent and checking his tent for the hundredth time, in case she had returned while he’d been searching on the other side of the encampment.

A feminine figure moving through the grasses over the side of the hill caught his attention, and he broke into a run when he recognized Meadow by her flowing dark hair. They met at the edge of the grasses and the camp, and he grasped her forearms and held her out, his gaze sweeping up and down her body as he checked her for injuries.

“Meadow, are you hurt?”

Her brows drew together in confusion and she shook her head. “Of course not. I’m fine. Why would I be hurt?”

Some of the tension left him, and he loosened his hold on her, but didn’t release her entirely. He peered into her startling blue eyes, thinking the vividness of her gaze rivaled that of the clear blue lakes in Geshema Providence, where he’d grown up.

“I’ve been looking for you for at least a half an hour. I ordered you to stay put in the tent, lass. Where did you go?” Now that he’d confirmed her well-being, his anger over her disobedience returned, his blood heating and his muscles tensing as if preparing for battle. He’d never had a disagreement with a woman like this before, had never had a woman under his guardianship to begin with. His palm once again twitched with the urge to smack her bottom and punish her for her naughtiness, but he took several deep breaths as he awaited her answer. If he was to be a fair husband to her and earn her respect, he needed to be patient and hear her out before deciding on her fate.

“Varron, I simply went into the forest for a while.”

He released her and stepped back. “The forest? I’ve been running around the camp and had my soldiers-in-training looking all over the village for you, and you’ve been in the forest this whole time?” He almost grabbed her again to give her a harsh shake, but he forced his hands to remain at his side. He didn’t want to remind her of her stepfather.

“Aye, the forest. There’s a stream just through the trees. I go there often. It’s my favorite spot, and I only wished to see it one last time,” she said in a defiant, annoyed tone. She lifted her chin and crossed her arms.

He lowered his face to hers, staring directly into her eyes. “I told you to remain in the tent until I returned.”

Her thin, dark brows narrowed further, this time as a look of anger crossed her face. “Well, sir, I am not yet your wife. I don’t have to listen to you yet. I have a few more hours of freedom, don’t I?”

Varron opened his mouth to retort, but the priest’s bellowing voice interrupted him.

“Ah! Commander! You’ve found your bride. Would you like to be married now?”

Varron glanced over his shoulder at the priest and then redirected his gaze to Meadow, who still stood in a defiant posture with anger flaming in her eyes. “Aye,” he said. “We would like to be married now.”