His Lady Bride (Brothers in Arms) by Shayla Black, Shelley Bradley Page B

would not tolerate cruelty to anyone.” She smiled, even as tears gathered in her eyes. “And he could always spare a moment for me.”
    “And your mother?” Aric prompted.
    “My mother taught me to sew and keep a castle in order. She and my father taught me to read and cipher. Often, they would let me sleep between them and would kiss me awake.”
    “What happened?” Aric’s gentle voice encouraged her to go on.
    “When I was eight years, Mother died trying to bring a son into the world. She had never had good fortune in birthing. All died within a week, except me. The last one took my mother with him.”
    Again, Gwenyth could feel the pain of her father’s saying her mother was no more. She had run screaming toward the solar, only to be barred by her father and the midwife. Never had she seen her mother again. Ten years later, her tears still came easily.
    She sniffed and continued. “My father went to London soon after that. We received word within a fortnight that he began drinking ale one eve and ne’er stopped.”
    Warm tears rolled down her cheeks.
    “Then your uncle came to Penhurst?”
    Gwenyth swiped her tears aside. “Aye. Uncle Bardrick and Aunt Welsa came and brought Nellwyn and Lyssa with them. I had never met them. I believed they would treat me as family, though life without my parents frightened me. ’Twas only the thought I was not completely alone that saved me in the weeks before their arrival. But when they came, I wished with all my might they would leave.”
    “They were cruel?” Aric’s sharp tone took her aback.
    “Only to the serfs, many of whom have starved in the last few years. To me, they were indifferent. Other than the fact they gave my chamber to Nellwyn and Lyssa and assigned me kitchen duties, they took little notice of me at all—at least until Sir Penley came.”
    “Your uncle invited him to Penhurst?”
    “Aye, with the purpose of luring him to wed Lyssa, I see now. I stood in his way.”
    Aric squeezed her hand gently. “You did, little dragon. But you must not fear. I will make certain you are fed and clothed and have a warm, dry bed. I can even tend the cooking, though you must never tell anyone.”
    She smiled, despite her sad remembrances. “Would no one fear the sorcerer then?”
    With a laugh, he rubbed her sensitive palm with his thumb. “Something like that. Can I bribe you for silence with a rabbit stew and warm bread?”
    In mock seriousness, she considered it. “For now, I suppose. But you shall have to bribe me often and well.”
    Chuckling, he raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingertips. Her skin began to tingle.
    “Always, little dragon,” he vowed, rising to his feet. “Always.”
    Gwenyth followed Aric back to their shanty somehow more at peace than she had been in years.
     
    * * * *
     
    Midnight settled inside the cottage. Slouched uncomfortably in the hard wooden chair, Aric propped his feet up on the bed and watched Gwenyth sleep.
    His wife looked peaceful with her dark lashes resting against the pale beauty of her cheeks. Her mahogany hair spread all about her in a dark, glossy sheen, hinting at the tempestuous nature that so intrigued him. The blankets she had recently sewn covered the rest, but his imagination had shown him her naked form many, many times.
    But ’twas not that which disturbed him this night.
    Rolling his shoulders to ease tension, he considered their earlier conversation. Not only did she put too much faith in the goodness of her cousins, she had a blind devotion to family, despite their ill-treatment of her, something he did not understand.
    What he understood less, however, was why he had revealed anything about himself. Gwenyth should know nothing of him. He should have remained mute on the subject of family. Though he had not called his brother, Stephen, by name, revealing details of his past could only lead Gwenyth to want more knowledge—to expect it, even. Worse, he had barely restrained the urge to