His Bride – Dark Arranged Marriage Romance Read Online Loki Renard

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Dark, Erotic, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 64357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
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I look up at her from my position on the floor, and I think of the scariest, worst thing I could say.

“I’m going to tell on you!”

I hate that the first words out of my mouth are a completely childish threat.

The smirk that appears on her lips tells me I sound just as pathetic to her, maybe even more so.

Arthur

I can hear Mila and Lydia disagreeing in the dining room. My bride might have discovered one of this apartment’s secrets, but there are many more. I chuckle to myself at her impudence, knowing that Lydia will not tolerate it.

I could go out there and tell my bride to respect Lydia, and tell Lydia to be nicer to my bride, but I know they will do better to sort these matters out on their own.

“You’re a bully,” Mila complains.

“I’m a bodyguard,” Lydia replies.

“Well, you’re not doing a very good job of guarding me by pushing me around, are you? You know what? I am going to tell on you.”

I compose myself behind my desk and wait for the inevitable arrival of my young bride. I can hear her coming down the hall, stomping loudly all the way.

“I want a new bodyguard!” she says, bursting through the door. “She pushed me over because I told her…”

Mila pauses when she realizes that what she actually said was Lydia had to do as she said, and quite obviously that’s not the case, because Lydia does as I say.

“She pushed me over,” she repeats herself, finishing the sentence there.

“Do you want me to fight all your battles for you, my sweet bride? Should I perhaps invest in a nursemaid, rather than a bodyguard?”

Her cheeks flare red with embarrassment and annoyance, as she realizes that not only am I not going to side with her, I am in complete agreement with Lydia.

“Someone needs to ensure you stay safe. You’ve shown very little capacity for keeping yourself in one piece so far.”

She has no idea how gentle my words are relative to her sins. I am known for my ability to deliver a tongue lashing like no other. This is barely a little verbal nudge.

“You told me to go with the damn woman,” Mila says. “I don’t know why you set me up to fail that way. Is this what you people do? Put others in danger and then blame them when things go wrong? I trusted that you had told me to go with a nice woman.”

She has a point, a good point.

“You’re right,” I admit. “I did not believe Ms. Carpenter would put you in harm’s way in that fashion. I have never been in the ladies’ lounge, for reasons that are most likely abundantly clear.”

It feels good calling the erstwhile Duchess Emmaline Carpenter, Ms. Carpenter. It feels less good listening to my bride’s response.

“So you left me in the company of strange women and blamed me when they tricked me and drugged me.”

“You have not been blamed. I did not punish you. All anybody has said is that you need to be more careful with people who are… people who are not myself or Lydia.”

“I don’t want her as a bodyguard.”

“I am not giving you a choice in that matter. I have led soldiers for decades, and I know she will do anything to keep you safe. You don’t have to like her; you just have to listen to her.”

“Well, good, because I don’t like her.”

There is something very petulant and entirely spankable about my bride right now, the way she tosses her hair and looks at me with what she might consider strength but comes across as insolence.

“Am I to be dismissed, sir?” Lydia asks the question as she comes into the room behind Mila. She is significantly taller than my bride, which means I can see her expression very clearly over Mila’s. The juxtaposition between them is quite amusing.

“No. I think it would be a good idea if my bride took some exercise today,” I say. “Why don’t you take her to the botanical gardens?”

“I don’t want to walk in the botanical gardens with her!”

Now she sounds like a spoiled little brat. “You could also stay home, in our bedroom, if you wish. You do not need to be guarded there. You can stay in that room until I am done with work, in ten or so hours.”

It takes her a moment to realize what I am actually saying.

“Are you sending me to my room?”

“I am on the precipice of grounding you.”

She gasps, horrified. There is some part of me that finds her endearing. I have had one man killed, and a woman stripped of her land and title and sent to the colonies in the last two days on her account, and yet she seems surprised that I would confine her to quarters.



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