The Mercenary's Marriage (14 page)

The king raised his eyebrows and regarded
Darius over the edge of the parchment. “Do you accept the
commission, Darius?”

“If my wife wishes,” was the answer.

Brice thought her heart would stop as a
murmur passed through the group of nobles gathered around the
table. Darius turned and the king stepped forward so he could meet
her eyes.

“What do you say, Brice?” King Jenran asked.
All eyes turned to her. Brice swallowed and concentrated on Darius’
face.
What does he think he is doing?
His eyes were clear
despite the pain pulling at his features. His face impassively gave
her no clue as to what was going on behind it. A new title and her
old master’s lands were being offered to him and he was laying them
in her hands. Suddenly it dawned on her. He was giving her a
choice. He trusted her to make the right decision for both of them.
Even though she knew the answer, Brice did not answer. Instead, she
stepped forward so she was at his side. Taking his hand in hers,
she looked up at him expectantly.

“We say yes, my king,” Darius said. “I accept
the commission, granted I can now go home and sleep. My wife is
weary and so am I.”

Jenran laughed, “Yes, Darius, go home. We
will work out the details tomorrow.”

Darius bowed, Brice curtseyed, and they
left.

The cool predawn air greeted them as they
stepped beyond the doorsill. Brice filled her lungs in one deep
breath. Darkness still cloaked the sky, but the horizon beyond the
city to the east glowed with the promise of morning. Above her
head, the inky blackness was speckled with points of light and a
light breeze brushed her cheek.

Darius stood farther down the path. He had
continued when she paused. Turned back toward her, he extended his
hand in much the way he had the night they had been married. “Are
you coming?” he asked.

Unlike their wedding night, Brice looked and
found no fear in her heart. Without hesitating, she stepped forward
to place her hand in his. Just as it had before, his large warm
hand gently enclosed hers. She watched the movement of his fingers
for a moment before looking up to meet his dark watchful gaze.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for the choice.”

He smiled; her heart answered. “Thank you for
your answer.” He dropped his eyes. “Are you ready to go home?”
Accent tinged his voice.

She nodded and then stepped closer. Standing
on tiptoe and pulling him down by his good arm, she brushed her
lips against his cheek. “Yes.”

Darius turned his head and before she could
back away; he kissed her. She must have released his hand for it
was suddenly in her hair. His fingers cradled the nape of her neck
and his thumb stroked her cheek. Her world centered on this man
standing over her; focused on his lips, his touch…him.

The following week was a whirlwind of
activity. Darius had no time to recuperate. There were papers to
sign and regulations to learn. He previously had some understanding
about the duties of a titled landowner, but he never imagined the
magnitude of paperwork he processed in those first two days. The
only time he was not reading or signing was the time he spent with
his eyes closed for sleeping. He saw Brice moments before his head
hit the pillow at night and as he gulped down his breakfast in the
morning.

On the third day, the steward that he hired
to keep things organized informed him that he needed to take
possession of his lands in person as soon as possible. By noon,
Darius’ few essential possessions had been added to the heap of
supplies in the new wagon he was surprised to find he owned. The
street before Darius’ house filled with well-wishers and the
men-at-arms that the king had insisted Darius take to smooth the
claiming of his new lands. Timothy and Brice appeared right before
they set out. Karyn gave Brice a quick hug and presented her with a
small bundle. Darius was not able to catch what she said, but Brice
smiled before obeying Timothy’s beckoning and moving toward the
waiting caravan. Shortly after settling Brice on the wagon, Timothy
mounted and they were off.

They made slow progress through the city, but
once they cleared the gates they picked up the pace considerably.
The roads between the capital and Lord Micrey’s old stronghold were
dry and in good condition. The steward declared it should only take
them a few days to reach their destination. Darius did not care
about how long as much as the fact that he still had not gotten a
chance to speak with Brice. Glancing frequently over at the supply
wagon and Brice perched next to the driver, he considered exactly
what he wanted to say.

He still was not certain what exactly had
inspired him to choose her that last day of the siege, but he
wanted her to know that he was thankful he had. He missed her
company those few days they were parted. There was a deep desire in
his heart to get to know her better. She was complex and
intriguing. In fact, he looked forward to spending the rest of his
life doing that.

As much as he was burdened with wanting to
tell her, he knew that he was not likely to get a chance. Traveling
in a group and at the fastest speed possible meant they were not
going to stop until the last possible hour. Then all the time would
be consumed with setting up camp and preparing the meal. Falling
into bed and instantly asleep would only be followed by an early
rising to begin again. There was going to be no time for the long
conversation he desired. Looking yet again at the figure on the
carts, he decided to wait until there was more time.

They arrived at their destination in the mid
afternoon of the seventh day. The moment the wagon and company
halted in the courtyard, mayhem ensued. Their procession through
the village attracted a crowd of curious followers and the steward
lost no time in putting anyone he could manage to work. Brice
watched the dashing to and fro from her perch on the wagon seat.
She looked across the heads in search of Darius. She spotted him
about to enter the main doors, deep in conversation with the
captain of their armed escort.

Timothy was directing the unloading the
wagon. Deciding she could be of some use in that area, Brice
carefully climbed down from the seat. Going around to the back, she
scanned the bundles for one that looked like she could manage
one-handed. Her broken arm no longer pained her all the time, but
Kurt had been very clear in his instructions not to use it yet.
Spotting one that looked small enough, she reach across the gate
for it only to have someone else grab it first.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Timothy declared. “If
Darius caught you, he would have my head.”

“Then what else can I do?” she asked.

“Go see the steward.” Timothy nodded in the
direction of the main doors. “I saw him go in there.”

Brice worked her way across the yard, dodging
carriers and soldiers. When the heavy oak doors smoothly closed
behind her, Brice heaved a soft sigh into the welcome emptiness of
the entrance hall. It was much dimmer than the bustling space
outside. High above, slits in the thick walls allowed a mean
measure of afternoon sun to enter. Debris and over turned furniture
littered the floor. Picking a way carefully around the tapestry
that had once hung opposite the entrance, Brice headed for the
opening on the left. Darius would have most likely wanted to see
her master’s former chambers. If the estates old records had
escaped the looters, he would have a much easier time assessing his
new property.

The halls were dark and she heard voices
dimly from other parts of the castle. She saw no life in this wing
until she reached her old master’s quarters. Lord Micrey had
enjoyed all the luxury his income and lands could provide. As a
child, Brice had been inside his private rooms. Entering the
sitting room area, Brice could see very little changed since that
one time so long ago. The steward’s voice came from the direction
of the bedroom instructing someone on what had to be done before
the new lord retired for the night. He continued speaking as Brice
tried to determine what to do. Darius was not here.

Suddenly the man burst back into the room and
came to an abrupt halt. “My Lady.” He regarded her with raised
eyebrows. A frown flickered across his features so briefly Brice
was not certain she had not imagined it. Bowing stiffly, he said,
“Your quarters are in the opposite wing, my lady. Do you need a
guide?”

Brice suppressed the frown she felt and
pulled every up last ounce of dignity she had left. “I know the
way, thank you, steward. I was looking for my husband.”

The man stared into space for a moment and
then said, “He did not say where he was going.” Then he pointedly
turned his back and left the room.

Brice had a sudden urge to scream, but she
figured it would only make things worse. Turning on her heel, she
stepped back into the corridor. Figuring she could continue to look
for her elusive husband on her way to her new suite, she made her
way the opposite direction. She was taking the long route.

An hour later, she found herself outside the
familiar doors of her mistress’ rooms. She had seen almost every
member of their party except her husband and her feet hurt.
Tentatively she pushed the door, which opened with a low groan. In
the light from the lamp she acquired in her wanderings, the
splintered wood of the doorframe littered the stone floor.

Evening was turning into night and if she
wanted to make sure she had a bed she had better investigate her
new home. Stepping carefully, she moved further into the room and
lifted the lamp. The shadows receded and revealed the remains of
chairs and an overturned table. Shredded tapestries littered the
floor and her former mistress’ personal belongings were thrown
about. Sighing, Brice reminded herself that she had been looking
for something to do. Setting the lamp on the floor, she started
with righting the table.

Darius rested his forehead against the wall
of his new hall. The cold stone felt good against his skin. His
head was throbbing and all he could think of was of finding Brice
and a soft place to sleep.
Now where had that man said my
quarters were?
Pushing off from the wall, he took the lantern
off the table and headed in the direction his foggy brain told him
was correct.

He had not seen his steward since they
arrived and the slacker sent Darius to evaluate the defenses.
Darius finished that task hours ago. Since then he had been going
from one job to the next and people kept popping up asking him
favors. They always premised the request with “Your steward said.”
Here it was about midnight and his steward had not even shown his
face. Wasn’t he supposed to be helping Darius with his duties, not
disappearing and sending more work Darius’ way? Deliberately
pulling his mind away from the subject, Darius pushed open the door
that supposedly led to his rooms and entered.

Candlelight illumined a large high-ceilinged
room. The great fireplace that dominated the far wall glowed and a
meal was spread out on the table before it. A large chair stood
waiting for him to sit and eat, but Darius was more eager to see
his wife. It would be their first time alone in a week and there
was much he wanted to tell her. “Brice,” he called as he walked to
the open door leading to the bedroom.

“She is not here, sir.” Timothy appeared in
the opening with a concerned look on his face. “I had hoped she had
found you.”

“What do you mean?” Darius frowned.
If
that steward had anything to do with this, he is going to be thrown
out instantly.
“I have not seen her.”

Timothy frowned also. “The steward said
something about her looking for you and then grumbled something
about a lady’s place is in her quarters.”

Darius gritted his teeth. “Where are the
mistress of the house’s rooms?” he demanded.

“I believe they are in the far wing. I
thought it odd the two were so far removed.”

“It was common knowledge that Micrey did not
like his wife, Timothy. I thought you knew that.”

“Yes, but I would not have guessed…”

Darius did not let him finish. “Find that
steward and bring him here.” Then turning, he strode toward the
door.

“Where are you going?” Timothy asked.

“To get my wife.” Darius slammed the door
behind him and stormed back toward the other wing. He did not even
pause to wonder how he would find the correct suite until he
realized he was walking in darkness.
It is too late to go back
now.
He decided and pressed on.

It took only moments for him to reach the
other side of the fortress. None of the rooms he passed were
occupied. Doors hung off their hinges and reminders of the attack
only a few months before were everywhere. Darius was just beginning
to wonder if he should have hesitated long enough to find a guide
when a meager glow appeared under a door farther down the hall. He
quickened his step.

Brice shivered and pulled her traveling cloak
closer around her shoulders. Leaning over the grate of the
fireplace, she adjusted the chair legs so they lay closer to the
sputtering flame she coaxed into life by burning a piece of the
ruined tapestry. Then she watched anxiously for the fiery tongues
to lick at the raw wood where it had splintered. It caught
tentatively.

Satisfied that it would burn if she gave it
time, she leaned back on her heels and carefully rose. Her back and
her arm hurt, but the floor was clear. She had found a broom and
swept. Now it was a clean barren space, and she was going to tackle
the task of making herself a bed. The feather mattress on her
mistress’ bed was slashed beyond repair. The thought of the gutted
thing sent shivers down her back. Darius had saved her from more
than she had realized.

Turning, she walked slowly into the other
room and began looking for the maid’s cot. She found it behind the
wardrobe and was in the process of trying to pull it out when she
heard the groan of the outer door. Letting go of the cot, she
immediately went to investigate.