The Warlord Claims His Bride (7 page)

“There isn’t much tae say really.” He smiled softly at her, and her heart did a little jump at the sight. “Why did ye pick me?” She shouldn’t have overstepped her boundaries by asking him such a question. “I meant, why did ye pick a peasant when ye would have had the choice of a lady?” She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “Ye could have had any woman ye wanted.”

Would he grow angry with her because she questioned him? She hadn’t been trained to know how to please a man or know her place. She had worked out in the fields with her father, cooked and cleaned every day, and knew what it was like to be tired because she had worked from dawn to dusk.

“I wanted a woman that knew how hard life truly was. I wanted a wife that wasn’t afraid tae get her hands dirty, and that would teach our children what it meant tae have tae sweat and bleed for the things they want.” He pulled her close so suddenly that she now found herself draped over his body. “I wanted ye, Genevieve, because I could see that ye knew all of those things. I wanted ye tae be the mother of my sons because ye knew what it meant not tae have anything handed tae ye.” He leaned in close again. “And because I wanted tae fuck you with a passion that rivaled my need to draw blood on the battlefield.”

She felt his lips move against hers as he spoke, and the air left her on a breath from the impact they made on her. He took her hand while not moving his face away from hers, and placed it on his erection. She made a small noise in the back of her throat, but he already had his mouth on hers and was swallowing the sound. He pushed the hide off so now he had her hand on his bare flesh. He was hot, big, and so very stiff.

“Lovely, ye see what ye do tae me?” he said against her lips. “Ye make me harder than I have ever been in my life.” He was breathing hard, and in the next second he had his hands on her waist and had her hauled over him. With her legs spread on either side of his waist, her pussy on full display to his penetrating eyes, she felt that ever present flush steal over her.

“Ye’re gorgeous, Genevieve, and all mine.” Bronson looked up from between her thighs, and into her face. “Now, ride me, lass, show me how much ye want my cum.” He placed a hand on her belly. This wasn’t just about pleasure. Bronson hadn’t let it be a secret that he wanted sons right away. He reached between their bodies, grabbed hold of his shaft, and ran it up and down her cleft. “Are ye sore, lass?” He stared into her face, and she nodded.

“Aye, but I want this, Bronson. I want
you
.” She was sore, but as soon as he had kissed her she had grown wet and needy for him all over again. She may have just wed him, hadn’t known him for very long, but Genevieve wanted this warlord with a passion, and she wanted to give him the babes he so desperately wanted. There was a very primal and basic need in both of them. She wanted to be a mother to his children, and she wanted to make him happy.

Chapter Six

Genevieve walked through the small village she had called home her entire life. Up until this very moment life hadn’t been the easiest. There had been a lot of bloodshed from the man that had ruled over her people before Bronson had finally reclaimed his land., During that time while she was growing up there had been a lot of blood, sweat, and tears that had gone into making sure she and her father had food, and didn’t lose their home.

Seven sunrises had occurred since she had wed Bronson, and things had been going very well. Although she only saw him for a short time during the night because of his obligations with his army, she was thankful for the man that she was now connected to. She had her handmaiden, Mattina, with her as she moved through the village, her silk gown dragging on the muddy ground behind her. She had two of Bronson’s men walking a few feet behind her, and although she had always felt safe in the muck she had always called home—still did in fact—she knew Bronson did have enemies. This may be his land now, but that didn’t mean the people he destroyed to get it back would take their defeat like honorable men.

She greeted the people who had seen her grow into the woman she was today, and although by marriage and now name she was “above” them, in her heart she was still one of them.

“Milady.”

She smiled and lifted her hand to the elderly woman who used to bring treats to her when she was younger. She was no longer called Genevieve, but “milady”, and although she took pride in that title, she did miss being called by her given name. She turned the corner and saw her father’s small cottage in the distance. The lone mare that stood in the pasture grazed, the few chickens pecked at the ground, and the pig that was due to be slaughtered for meat lay in a mud pit under the sun. She saw her father bringing a bale of hay to the mare, and she all but ran up to him. It may have only been a short time since she had since him, but it felt like an eternity. Her foot got caught in one of her undercoats, and she fell forward ... right into a puddle of mud. Slop covered her face, and she gasped out. Bronson’s men were at her side seconds later, but she was too busy laughing to notice them all but lifting her off the ground.

“My lady, are ye hurt?” Cal, she believed his name was, asked her.

“Aye, I am okay, just messy,” she said through her laughter. She brushed off her gown and lifted her head to see her father coming toward her. He didn’t look concerned, and instead was laughing at her. Her falling was a common occurrence.

“Sweetheart, ye have always been two left feet.” He embraced her, not caring that she was filthy, but then again so was he.

She turned toward the two guards and her handmaiden. “Is it okay tae visit my da alone for a few moments?” She didn’t wait for their response, and instead turned and started heading inside of his small cottage. The scent that assaulted her had her closing her eyes and smiling. It was one of her
home
, of her childhood memories, and of age and dust. It certainly wasn’t clean as it had been when she lived here, but then again he had his hands full tending to the animals now that he was alone.

“How have ye been, child?” her father asked and sat down at the small table in the center of the room. He rubbed his forehead and breathed out.

“I am good, Da. How are ye?” She pulled the seat out and sat down. Her father handed her a rag, and she wiped off her face.

“I’m good, just tired. Today was verra challenging as something spooked the mare and she could no’ get over it.” He leaned back in the seat, and although he looked tired, she knew that he wouldn’t change this life for the world.

“But ye are okay, Da? I mean ye donna need anything?”

“Nay, sweetheart. I have everything I need right under this roof and four walls. In fact Lawson is sending his lad over tae help with the animals during the day.” He smiled and stood to grab them something to drink.

“I am glad tae hear that, Da, because I worry about ye out here all alone.”

He scoffed. “No’ worries, lass. I have tended to fields, farms, and myself for longer than ye have been alive.” He grinned over at her. “Yer husband is treating ye well?” He handed her a mug of mead she knew he had made earlier in the year. The scent of honey filled her nose, but she didn’t drink it right away.

“Aye, everything is well. Bronson is verra gentle and caring. Surprisingly.”

Her father smiled. “Aye, I could tell that under his tough exterior he would be a gentleman. A man like that must have many different layers.”

They stayed silent for a moment, and she couldn’t help but smile. “He is quite a male, Da.” She felt her cheeks heat once more, and she twisted her fingers together. “He wants babes right away.” She glanced at her father, and saw him grin. She knew he wanted grandbabies as well, had wanted them a while ago.

“It will be one fine day when there are wee ones running around the farm.”

She glanced down, feeling her smile fade as she thought about that. “And what if I canna have babes, Da?” She looked at him again. “What if I am like—”

He held up his hand to stop her from continuing. “Yer mother wanted many children, but the gods didn’t bless us with a brood. But that donna mean ye canna have many, Genevieve.”

She nodded, knowing he was right, but still worrying.

“It’s early, lass, and many things can happen. Donna worry.”

“Ye’re right, Da.”

He reached out and took hold of her hand. “Ye go back tae the manor and clean up.” He patted her hand and smiled. “I have a lot of work to finish anyway.”

“Da, why don’t ye come tae the manor and live with us?”

He shook his head. “Child, ye know I canna do that. I love this farm, love that I have memories here that will last me a lifetime.”

She knew her father would say no … for the second time. But she had needed to ask him again, to at least put it out there that if he chose to he didn’t need to work so hard to survive. What was the point of having a status like she had if she couldn’t share it with others? She had already started bringing food to the villagers, and although most everyone fended for themselves, and were surviving, she wanted to be able to help them so things weren’t so hard. She had known these villagers her whole life, and this was the least she could do now that she had the means to help.

“Lass, go on back tae the manor, clean up, and spend time with yer new husband and not an old man.” He smiled and started chuckling. They both stood at the same time, and after she gave her father a hug and headed out of his cottage, she made her way back toward the estate. Her life had certainly changed in such a short amount of time, but she was enjoying every minute of it.

****

Bronson sat beside his men at the meeting table. The map spread out on the center of the scarred wood showed them the land that belonged to Clan Lyon.

“Bronson, Dawson McCarrick is gathering his men as we speak, thinking tae take back the land he thinks is his,” Dian, one of many strong men in Bronson’s clan, said from right beside him.

Bronson did not say anything for several seconds. All of his men were like brothers to him, and had stuck with him from the very beginning. They were not men of wealth or status, but then again when his father had lost their land to the savages that rampaged, raped, and killed, Bronson had been nothing more than the once heir to the Lyon wealth.

The McCarrick Clan were the Scots that had taken over the first part of Bronson’s land after his father had been slain, and the first he had defeated when he had decided now was the time to reclaim what was rightfully his. That battle had been the most grueling and bloody fights in all of the battles Bronson had been in. And when he had been victorious it had been all the sweeter. But Dawson McCarrick had not been involved with the fight since he was in another territory. Bronson had known Dawson wouldn’t have given up that easily, and it looked as though Dawson waited until Bronson had defeated all of his enemies before coming back at him full force.

“He thinks tae take back what is no’ his,” Landon said from the other side of Bronson.

“He can think what he wants. No one will take what is ours ever again.” Bronson stood, braced his hands on the table, and stared down at the map. There was a mighty roar, and his men started pounding their hands on the table in acknowledgment. “We worked too hard for a bastard tae try and come back with swords raised. We will show him what it means tae lose tae Clan Lyon again, and this time I will bring my sword down upon Dawson’s neck.” Another mighty roar filled the meeting room, and he felt it deep in his bones. He continued to look at the map and reached out to run his fingers over the outline of the Gaelina Mountains that separated Clan Lyon territory and the Clandestelle Kingdom.

“The scouts that we have stationed on the edge of the territory said they saw McCarrick and his men over the Angelin Pass. Their fire burned brightly, and so they ventured forth, and saw his army being gathered.”

“How close did they get?” Bronson asked Cal. He turned his head and stared at the blond haired, blue eyed warrior. Cal had a nasty scar that moved from the top of his hairline down to his chin. He was lucky he still had his eye after that wound.

“No’ close. They would have been spotted, but they overheard two of McCarrick’s men bullshitting aboot taking over the marsh.”

Bronson curled his hands into fists and clenched his jaw. He had only been wed for a full moon’s time, and already shite was happening to where he couldn’t even enjoy being with his bride. Even faced with this impending battle, all he could think about was Genevieve. “Fooking hell,” he gritted out. He straightened and ran a hand over his face. “More shite because these fooking arseholes canna understand that they stole this land from us in the first place.” He slammed his fist on the table hard enough that their mugs tipped over. “I will ruin them and make McCarrick wish he had buried himself under a rock.” He glanced at the six men that sat around the table with him. Cal, Landon, Dian, Ky, Earc, Osgar. These were the six men that he trusted more than anything else. He had hundreds, thousands more that stood and fought beside him, many of whom had joined his side and rallied with him for the greater good. They were all family, all fighting for the same cause, and that cause was making sure their land was kept for them.

“Bronson, how should we proceed?” Cal asked.

He didn’t respond right away, and instead stared at the map, contemplated, plotted, and thought about how he wanted to have this go down. “We need tae surprise them, tae attack when they donna see us coming.” He ran his gaze over the land where McCarrick was said to be. “We leave the night after next, once the sun has gone down.” He looked at his men once more, saw their hard but fierce and commanding, expressions. “Aye?”

“Aye,” they all said in unison. A fierce battle would commence, and he wouldn’t stop swinging his sword until bodies littered the ground at his feet, and his kilt was soaking with the blood of his enemies.

Chapter Seven

Genevieve closed her eyes and breathed out. The bath water steamed around her, smelling of flowers, and softening her flesh. The sound of Mattina laying out her gown had Genevieve opening her eyes and staring at the young woman. “Do ye miss yer home, Mattina?”