The Warlord Claims His Bride Read Free

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, surely 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 twenty was old for a maid to unmarried. 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 may never say 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 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 that 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 where 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 refusing her one and only marriage proposal, she would be 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.
    “Sweetheart, I am a grown man, have lived my life, and now it is time for ye tae live yours .”
    “And if I said I donna want this? Will ye still make me?” The look he gave her wasn’t cruel or heartless, because her father was one of the gentlest men she knew. He looked at her like a father that was desperate for his daughter to have a better life.
    “Lord Bronson Lyon can protect ye, make ye happy, of that I am sure. He will provide for ye, child.” Her father cleared his throat, and she heard the emotion in his words. “Staying with yer da is not a proper life for a woman of yer age. Ye need tae create a family of yer own, lass.”
    Now she was crying big, fat tears, and she grew angry at not being able to control her emotions. “Da, and what if he donna want me? I am not thin and beautiful like the other women that surely he wants. I have also led a life on the farm. Ye kno’ the women that will want Lord Bronson will be of upper-class. ” She reached out and held his hand. “I love working with ye and the animals, and wouldn’t want it any other way.” She looked down at the table. “The chance he may not want me is verra big.”
    Her father scoffed. “Bollocks. He would have to be insane not to want a beauty like ye.” Her da reached a scarred, dirt stained hand out, and brushed a lock of hair away that had fallen across her face. “Ye look just like yer Ma.” Her father smiled. “With the fiery red hair and the stunning green eyes.” He let go of her hair. “O’ course he will want you, lass, and if no’ then he is no’ worthy of ye.” Her father stood, grabbed his straw hat, and looked at her once more. “In a fortnight