Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 30858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
She watched Bronson and his men head up to the manor. Bronson may have been on the battlefield for many years, but he had made sure the people in the villages on his land were taken care of, had food and fresh water, and were safe from danger. But despite the fact that he had done many good deeds, he was still this powerful warlord who could easily take down a group of men with his bare hands alone. She shivered, feeling an iciness travel through her.
“Child, are ye okay?” Her father stepped up beside her and wiped his brow.
She turned her focus away from the manor and stared at her da. He wiped his brow once more as sweat beaded down his skin and he squinted at her.
“Genevieve, ye look frightened.”
“I’m fine, Da.” She focused back on Bronson, but he and his men had already disappeared behind the gates of the manor.
* * *
A fortnight later
Genevieve sat across from her father at the small wooden table. The cottage they lived in was small, and her father and many of the other villagers helped build it. But then again, the people who lived in this village helped each other, because they were the only ones to rely on. But maybe now that Lord Bronson had taken residence in the manor, things would be better.
The sound and scent of the animals could be heard and smelled through the open window. This was her life, and she wouldn’t have changed it for anything. Yes, they had to work for their food, and the meager amount of money they earned was on the occasions her father traveled into the bigger towns. The villages in the surrounding land didn’t have the means to pay for the goods her father brought from their farm—the wool, milk, eggs, and even the few items of clothing she had sewn. They lived in poverty, but they were alive and happy, and wasn’t that all that mattered?
“Ye canna be serious, Da.” What she was surprised about was that not only did her father want her to marry and leave him, but that he wanted her to be the warlord Bronson’s bride.
“Aye, child. I am verra serious.” They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds.
She swallowed roughly in nervousness at the very thought of that behemoth of a man rutting around between her thighs, but she also couldn’t stop the arousal that filled her. He frightened her, but she desired him. She really didn’t want to have this conversation with her father and didn’t want to think about a man like Bronson taking her to his bed, even if there was a part of her that grew warm at the thought.
Would he be as fierce and brutal in bed as he was in the battlefield? Surely he wouldn’t care about her comfort or her pleasure and would just take from her as easily as he took from everyone else. He would tear her in half, and even though she was still untouched, even an experienced wench wouldn’t be able to handle the insatiable appetites of Lord Bronson.
She glanced down at the scarred table and ran her fingers along the cracks in the wood. But hadn’t this been what she wanted? Hadn’t she wanted to be with the warlord?
Aye, but those were thoughts, a fantasy.
“Genevieve, lass, ye are nearing the age of twenty. Ye’re not a child any longer and should have been wed with a handful of babes by now.” Her father rubbed a hand over his greying beard and sighed. She knew for a maiden to be twenty was old. Most of the time, eighteen was the oldest a woman was wed, and even then, that was not considered young. Since her mother died five years ago, her father had been struggling with doing everything himself. He might’ve never said anything to her about his troubles and loneliness, but Genevieve could feel it as well as if it were her own. Leaving her father when he had no one broke her heart, and so when the one suitor who had come for her hand in marriage—a farmer’s son from her village—she had politely turned him away.
“Da, this isn’t a farmer living beside us but the warlord who reclaimed his land. The body count alone that was left in his wake is frighteningly large.” Another shiver worked through her. She realized she had many of those instances in which a shiver took control of her when seeing or even thinking about Bronson. How could a man she had never even spoken to have this kind of effect on her?
“I kno’, lass, and that is why I want ye tae wed him.”
She shook her head, not knowing what to say. She was brought up not to argue and to always obey, and if her father hadn’t approved of her denying her one and only other marriage proposal, she would’ve been a farmer’s wife right now. But this instance made her want to lash back with words. Her moving away, even if just to the manor in their village, was not the best thing right now. “I am happy with this life, Da. I want tae stay here, tae be with ye and make sure ye’re taken care of.” She smiled at her father, knowing that seeing him alone would tear her up inside.