“’Tis the Brodies,” she said, raising her head to look up at him anxiously.
“Brodies,” he muttered with a frown as the name tugged at a memory string in his mind. Nodding as it came back to him, Geordie said, “Ye mentioned them the first morning in the tree. They want to add Innes to their holdings, ye said.”
“Aye,” Dwyn breathed woefully.
Geordie almost smiled then. This was no problem at all, he thought, and tightened his arms around her in a hug as he said, “Well, lass, they canno’ have it. Innes is yers, and ye’re mine now. So Brodie is out o’ luck.”
She appeared surprised by his words. “Surely Innes becomes yours once we marry?”
“We are married,” he growled. “And nay, it remains with you. I had it put in the contract. That way, should I die first, ye decide whether to marry again and canno’ be forced to it by yer father or anyone else.”
“But what if I die first?” she asked with a frown.
Geordie shrugged with unconcern, and then scowled as the thought sank in. Dwyn die? Leave him? And she could if his seed took and she got with child and died while trying to birth his son or daughter. Cursing, he leapt off the bed, and then turned to pick her up by the waist and swing her out in front of him so she dangled above the floor. He then began to lift her quickly up and down.
“M-m’l-laird,” she protested, grabbing at his arms. “W-what are y-ye d-doing?”
“Trying to shake me seed out o’ ye,” he muttered, continuing to jostle her up and down. “I meant to withdraw ere I spilled into ye, but forgot. Well, I did no’ exactly forget, I just did no’ even think on it. Ye felt so damned good and I— Ow!” he barked, nearly dropping her when she suddenly slapped at his face. Catching her before her feet hit the floor, he scowled at her. “What was that for?”
Dwyn scowled right back. “Because ye’re obviously hysterical or lost yer mind,” she explained, and ordered, “Put me down.”
“I canno’. Ye’re no’ supposed to stand with yer feet—”
“On the bed,” she said with exasperation.
“Fine.” Geordie heaved the word out on an irritated breath, and turned to set her on the bed, grousing, “But I’ve no’ lost me mind or gone hysterical, and if ye die on the birthing bed because ye would no’ let me shake me seed out o’ ye, I’ll never forgive ye.” His eyes narrowed when she rolled her eyes at that. “Lass—”
“Ye canno’ shake the seed out o’ me,” Dwyn assured him with exasperation, interrupting what would have been a fine lecture on the merits of respecting a husband and not rolling her eyes and such. But then she frowned and added, “At least, I do no’ think ye can.” She considered it briefly, and then shook her head. “Nay. Surely ’tis no’ possible or there would be no bastards in the world. Women would just do some jumping after being bedded and . . .” She shrugged.
Supposing that was true, Geordie bent and scooped her up into his arms.
“What are ye doing now?” she asked with concern as he started across the room with her.
“I’m taking ye to the table. Lovin’ ye’s made me hungry,” he muttered, and then paused as he reached the table and realized he could not set her in her seat. Her unbandaged feet would be in the rushes then. Shrugging, he set her on the table instead, and moved around her to look over what was left on the tray.
“M’laird,” she said, twisting her upper body around to frown at him. “We have to talk about the Brodies.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, lass. We’re married. Brodie canno’ marry ye, and he canno’ have Innes.”
“Da did tell ye?” she asked with surprise.
Geordie shrugged, and started picking through the meat, shifting the top pieces that had dried out and selecting the still-moist pieces underneath. Turning, he offered her one, and when she took it, he said, “Yer father said Brodie has been trying to force a marriage for the last couple years.”
“The last four years,” she said grimly. “Ever since he learned my betrothed had died.”
“I thought ye said yer betrothed died seven years ago?” he said, turning to peer at her in question.
“He did,” she murmured. “But Brodie did no’ ken who I was betrothed to, and only found out four years ago that he had passed.” Dwyn grimaced. “The minute he knew, he began pestering Da about marrying me. His own wife died the year before that, and he tried to convince Da it would be a good idea to marry the two lands. But Brodie is a brutal bastard—he once beat his wife right in front o’ us while we were visiting. It was the last time we visited,” she added grimly.
When Geordie scowled at the mention of the abuse, she sighed and continued, “Brodie seemed to let it go when Da said no that first time, but then he showed up at Innes again a couple months later bringing it up again, and then a month after that. This last year though, he’s been coming by more and more frequently and becoming more and more determined until he started coming by every week. And then he . . .”
Swallowing, she lowered her head again, and admitted, “He caught me outside walking the shore the one day, a month and a half ago, and tried to . . . force the issue.”
Geordie stiffened. He understood exactly what she meant by force the issue. Brodie had tried to rape her to force a wedding. Rage coursed through him at the thought of anyone touching his Dwyn.
“He would have succeeded too if Angus and Barra hadn’t been there,” she said grimly, and explained, “My hounds had chased off into the woods after a rabbit just minutes before he arrived, but heard me scream and came back. They got in a couple of good bites before I called them off.” She lowered her head unhappily. “He was bleeding and furious when he climbed back up on his horse, and he said he would marry me. One way or another he’d have Innes and me, and when he did he’d make me pay for what me dogs had done to him.”
Shaking her head, she raised her gaze to his. “He was raving mad, Geordie, and even foaming at the mouth with it. He’ll no’ let Innes, or the opportunity to punish me, go so easily. Once he hears I am married, I think he’ll attack Innes. That is what ye’re in for do ye marry me.”
Sighing, Geordie set down the meat he hadn’t taken even a bite of, and moved over to step between her legs and wrap his arms around her. Pressing her head to his chest, he kissed the top of her hair, and said, “Dwyn . . . we are married. Why do ye think yer sisters were moved to another room and I was allowed to help ye with yer bath?”
She pulled back sharply and stared up at him. “Da knows we’re . . . ?”
“They all know,” he assured her. “We were supposed to marry at the feast that was planned for tonight. Then ye got sick and it had to be delayed.” He grimaced. “I only agreed to the delay because we were no’ sure ye’d be up to standing for the ceremony after being so sick. But I knew when I went below after we woke up that since we slept all day today, we’d most like be awake well into the night. And I knew I would no’ be able to resist ye. So, I told them while I was below that I was handfasting with ye tonight and we’d have the ceremony tomorrow.” He kissed her nose. “Yer da agreed.”