Authors: Sophia Johnson
ALWAYS MINE
79
“No one can own me. I’m not property that can be sold.”
She stiffened in defiance.
“Ah, my sweet-tempered lassie. Ye are well and truly my
property
.” He rolled the last word slowly, decisively from his lips. His countenance became stern and immobile. “We are wed.”
“Wed? How could we be, if I have no memories of it?”
Every muscle in her body tensed. “You are wrong, sir. If we’re truly man and wife, you would have spoken of it when you came upon me in the clearing.”
She had recalled other memories. Why not this most important one? Wouldn’t she sense it?
Damron nodded to Connor, who cast her a chagrined look.
“You are in truth his wife, Lady Brianna,” Connor said.
“Lord Damron married you, with Queen Matilda standing in for you, in both King William and King Malcolm’s presence.
And by their insistence.”
“A wedding by
proxy?
” Brianna near shouted the word.
“Proxy?” Connor tilted his head, a look of uneasy puzzle-ment on his face.
Brianna ignored the question and turned to Damron.
“When did this so-called wedding take place?” She stared at him, demanding an explanation. “From what I know of proxies, the bride must be notified.”
“’Twas in a village church outside Abernethy a fortnight ago,” Connor offered without meeting her gaze.
She stared at Damron in disbelief. “Do you mean to tell me you married a woman without her knowledge? That
can’t
be legal.”
Damron looked surprised by her anger.
She wasn’t just angry. She wanted to scream. Her fists tightened until her nails bit into her palms. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her building temper.
The nerve of the man. He hadn’t mentioned the marriage to
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her so he could check her out. Like she was a prized brood mare!
He wanted to be sure she was worthy of his great honor. Why, he was even more arrogant than Gordon had been.
“You neanderthal! You’ve been here for days and didn’t take the time to tell me of it?” With each word, she stepped closer to him. The jerk looked surprised she wasn’t overjoyed with his news.
She grabbed his shirt at the neck and tugged. “You blasted giraffe, lean down so I can talk to you. Explain how this mon-strous thing occurred.”
“Neanderthal? Giraffe? Cease yer crazy name-calling.
Calm yerself.” He gripped her waist and lifted her until they were eye to eye. “I sent two messengers. When I spoke with the abbess, she advised me the first man ne’er arrived. ’Tis likely brigands came upon him. The only word she received was to prepare ye for travel.”
He started to set her on her feet. Before he could, she fisted her hands and boxed his ears.
His eyes widened in disbelief.
Taking advantage of his surprise, she kicked his shins.
Seconds later, she hung face down across his shoulder like a sack of dirty laundry. Air whooshed from her lungs, and when she caught her breath, she clamped her teeth together to keep from screaming curses at him while in the chapel.
Galan tried to reach her, looking intent on tearing her from Damron’s arms. Connor stepped aside and two of Damron’s warriors approached Galan. Though he struggled, they subdued him, locking his arms tight against his sides.
“Put me down, oaf!” Brianna pummeled Damron’s back as hard as she could. When it had no effect, she pinched and tried to use her sharp elbows to get his attention.
On exiting the chapel door, all hellfire flew into her. “You obnoxious, overbearing bastard!” She pounded him with her fists and kicked her legs trying to dislodge his arm. He didn’t
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miss a step. She bent her left arm and used her elbow to hit him on the back of the head. He didn’t twitch. If he didn’t release her, she’d snatch him bald. She twisted around, grabbed a handful of his thick black hair and yanked as hard as she could. His head jerked backward.
He ignored her. Disgusted, she filled her hands with his tartan, lifted it and tugged. By God, she’d strip him bare.
Leave his beautiful naked ass for all to see. Cold air rushing over his nether parts got his attention.
“Lucifer’s cursed horns!” He set her on her feet with a thud. “Cease this untoward behavior, Lady, or I will deal with you as a child.” He adjusted his tartan, clasped her hand and pulled her toward the keep.
She had to run to keep up with him. He drew her into the baron’s solar at the rear of the great hall and rested a heavy arm around her shoulders to keep her from bolting. Pressed against him, she caught his enticing male scent. For an instant, she forgot her mind-boggling predicament.
“Ye are William’s ward, after all. Why are ye surprised he arranged yer marriage? Surely yer own father, God rest his soul, wouldna have sought yer approval in selectin’ a man to husband ye.” He softened his hold on her.
“It doesn’t surprise me that William arranged it. It’s the way it was done.” She snapped the words at him with bitter resentment.
“Without any regard for my wishes. My feelings.”
From his blank look, she knew he didn’t understand. In these times, women had no say in the matter. If William had wanted, he could have married her to an ancient with five hairs on his head, an even fewer number of teeth and warts on his nose.
“You say we were married. I want to see proof with my own eyes.” She tried to shrug free from his restraining arm.
He didn’t let her.
In all her research on Damron, she had never seen mention
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of a proxy marriage. She had believed the likeness of him had shown a man with a strong, admirable character. A man with integrity. No matter how much she was drawn to him, the more she thought of his colossal nerve to marry a woman and not make sure she knew of it before the fact, the more resent-ful she became.
“My word is proof enough, Lady. Ye belong to me as much as the sword at my side, my weapons, my clothing or my warhorse.” He dropped his arm from around her shoulders.
His words were as hurtful as a slap on the face. “Your horse?
You think of me, a woman, the way you think of an animal?”
Even her cheating husband in the twenty-first century had treated her as his equal. Her chest ached with disappointment.“I’ll have the marriage annulled.” She stepped back from him and folded her arms across her chest.
Damron lowered his face until his nose touched the tip of hers. Her eyes crossed.
He paused after each unyielding word. “There will be no annulment, Brianna.”
“Like hell there won’t.” All of these past days at Ridley, he’d been spying on her. No wonder Connor was close when Galan took them on their outing. Other times, too, she had felt someone watched her.
“What if you had come to collect your bride and found she had one eye and few teeth? If I had displeased you, you would have gone to William and told him to stuff it.” She wanted to stamp her foot. Her fingers itched to throw something.
“Do ye think ye
please
me with your damnable temper?”
His voice hardened. “Yer speech that better suits the stable is supposed to be
pleasin’?
Yer deliberate attempts to fan my anger are
pleasin’?
Lady, ye fall far short of pleasin’ me.”
Why did his words cause such pain? She blinked back threatened moisture. If Baron Ridley and his family hadn’t arrived then, she would have disgraced herself with tears.
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Connor, the last to appear, carried several parchments.
Brianna cleared her throat, hoping to relieve the ache there.
“May I see them, please?” She strode over to the table beside the window opening and held out her hand. He raised a brow at her as he unrolled the parchments and spread them flat. She held her temper, remembering medieval men didn’t believe women intelligent enough to master reading. When Damron raised a brow, she stifled the urge to kick his shins again.
Afraid that she would be unable to understand the documents without time to study them, she took a deep, calming breath. Stepping aside, Damron waited with widespread legs.
Her gaze followed the elaborate writing across the page and sighed with relief. She blessed her mother for having so often requested her help in deciphering ancient documents.
On the twelfth day of June in 1072, Queen Matilda stood as proxy for Brianna Sinclair. King William bestowed Damron with Stonecrest and Ridley castles, Rothbury and Bellingham manors and various other properties formerly held by Brianna’s father, Cecil Sinclair.
Matilda and William’s signatures were prominent, as was Damron’s after his own pledge. Though it was unusual for the times, Damron had been generous with her in the marriage contract. In the event of his death, he settled a considerable amount of money on her, along with the deed to Rothbury Manor, not many leagues from Stonecrest. His firstborn son would inherit his title and lands in Scotland. A second son would receive Stonecrest Castle and half his English holdings.
She blinked, remembering the early Brianna had birthed him two sons.
Her legs turned to rubber. Damron slid a stool close. She settled onto it as gracefully as a one-legged duck.
“My lady, are ye satisfied our marriage is fact?”
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“We can still have it annulled,” she whispered. “We don’t deal well together, and the union has not been consummated.”
“There will be no annulment, wife.”
For all that his voice was soft, the words were said with steely resolve.
“You made it clear I’m not pleasing to you. Why wouldn’t you wish to find someone who is?”
He ignored her.
“We will leave as soon as ye gather yer clothin’. ’Tis a long journey to Blackthorn, and I have been gone far too long.”
“I’ll not flit off to the wilds of Scotland with someone I barely know.” Her heart pounded against her ribs. “You’ve waited this long, so you shouldn’t mind a short delay.”
How could she begin a marriage with a man who was so very unlike the person she had believed him to be? A man who thought her no more important than his horse?
“I will wait until dawn.” His voice was firm. “See yer possessions are ready, else ye will leave with what ye have on yer back.”
He looked at Lady Maud, as if seeking her aid for Brianna.
Lady Maud, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, came over and put her arm around Brianna’s shoulders.
“Come, love. We will help gather your clothing.”
Brianna had hit a brick wall. She couldn’t run away. What good would it do? She’d be alone in a strange land, a strange time. She would be a suicidal fool to wander around the countryside. It would be like walking in her underwear down the most crime-riddled streets of a crowded, modern city.
Here, if she was lucky, she’d be found by Damron or a Ridley search party before she was a mile away. If a stranger found her, she’d soon be struggling beneath him in the dirt. If she lived past the assault, she’d become some lout’s slave.
Damron would never agree to an annulment. It was how
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his first marriage ended. This proud man would never allow another woman to disgrace him.
While Maud went to the kitchens to see to what should have been a betrothal banquet, Elise and her aunt Cecelia spent the next hour showing the servants what to pack in the sturdy trunks. When Brianna looked around the now familiar room and knew she would be leaving it, she shivered with apprehension.
What if she left Ridley and this was where she had to be to find her way back to her own time? But then again, she was in Scotland when the storm struck and sent her here. To return, perhaps she needed to be high atop the battlements at Blackthorn Castle.
Elise, her face mottled from crying, handed her a heavy green tunic and hose for traveling. Cecelia took Elise by the hand and said they would search the storage room for young men’s leggings. The garments resembled heavy pajama bottoms with feet, and would be suitable for riding. Brianna could still hear Elise’s sobs and the older woman’s murmurs of comfort as they went down the stairwell.
Brianna sat on the floor as she slit the green tunic and another brown one down the center so she could ride astride.
Fortunately, the tunics had ample material.
“’Tis unfortunate ye learned of this in such a way,” Damron told Galan. “All must follow as the king decrees. We canna turn from that.” In the baron’s solar, he let Galan talk freely as he watched him pacing back and forth.
“We planned to wed,” Galan whispered, his heartbreak in his words.
“No matter the circumstance, ye canna intervene in what the king has ordered.”
Little did the young man know Damron was as much dis-
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pleased at being forced to marry as Galan was at losing his Brianna. But now that Damron had control of Brianna’s honors, he would fight to the death to keep the security they represented for Blackthorn. They were a steady source of income, and more important, of fighting men.
“You had not the right to wed Brianna without her knowledge,” Galan said. “You neither sent greetings nor informed her of her status.”
“I had the right,” Damron said quietly. “King William demanded it. I did send word, though the man ne’er arrived.”
William insisted on the proxy marriage, knowing Damron would have held off the deed as long as possible. Mayhap until he was old and gray, Damron thought wryly. Once he was safely wed, even Malcolm of Scotland turned a deaf ear to his requests to delay fetching his bride.
“Do you not care how cruel you have been to her?” Galan stared at him, his eyes reflecting his ruined dreams.
“I need not answer to ye, Galan. Only to my king. As ye must also.” He frowned, declining any more discussion on the matter. The deed was already done.
Damron realized the havoc he had created. He and Connor had been arguing over the matter when the mare pitched Brianna onto the ground. He knew he had been churlish to marry his bride and not come for her immediately, but duty had forced him to go to Mereck at Stonecrest to see to its garrison and repairs.