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)
For the past twenty years she’d been living in this world, she had never felt the tingling sensation that started at the base of her spine or the warmth that settled between her thighs in her nether region. That is, not until she had seen him on his mighty steed that very first time. The wetness that spilled from her had her cheeks feeling hot as the fire the great dragons of the sky breathed. And she felt all of this, because this warlord was staring at her in a way that made her feel like a woman nude right before him.
“Yer hair, it is a verra beautiful color, one I donna see verra often.” He slid his gaze to the strands, and then, causing her heart to beat an erratic tempo, he lifted his muscular arm, and picked up a strand of hair off her shoulder in his massive hand.
Her heart pounded so very hard in her chest that she feared it would burst right through. Although she could imagine herself alone with this man, this interaction between Lord Bronson and herself made her very aware that there were others watching. She suddenly felt their gazes on her, so heavy and penetrating that gooseflesh popped out along her arms.
Lord Bronson slid his gaze along her gown, lower and lower until she knew he was staring at her breasts. The dress had been her mother’s, the one she stitched by hand before Genevieve was even born. Genevieve had been hesitant to put it on, but her father insisted. And so here she was, wearing this gorgeous gown and feeling so much emotion fill her because of it. She was trying to entice a man that lived a life that both terrified her and—if she were being honest with herself—excited her.
He took a step back and looked at her up and down, as if he could truly see through the materials that covered her form. Lord Bronson stood before her, looking every bit as intimidating as he truly was. As with the other warriors, he wore only his knee-length kilt in the blue-and-green design of his clan’s tartan. His black boots were worn from the life of a warlord who took what he wanted without caring about the consequences. His chest was bare, and the leather straps secured around his bulging biceps seemed to amplify his muscles. She lifted her gaze back to his face and watched as he slowly lifted the corner of his mouth. It was a smile of a man who knew what he wanted and was about to take it.
“Genevieve McNoland, I do believe ye will be my wife.”
And with those words, her fate was sealed.
Chapter Five
The Wedding
Genevieve smoothed her hands down her white gown and took a deep breath. She was only moments away from marrying Bronson Lyon of Clan Lyon, a fearsome warlord. Could she really do this? Was this really going to be her fate? Could she be the wife he needed her to be, allow a man into her bed who had killed countless people? It was so strange to be standing here, knowing that just in a few moments she would be wed to the most powerful man in all the five territories. She feared for many things, but all of them came back to her not being able to please him and disgracing her family’s name.
In reality, it did not matter, because she was to marry him even if she was kicking and screaming her way through it. He had already declared that she was his, and because of that, her fate was set in stone. This was what was to happen, but she never would have thought herself in this spot, on this day, all those years ago when she first saw him riding through the village.
The ceremony was but a simple one, and certainly not extravagant in comparison to the celebrations she knew the warlords from other lands had. But she was thankful, because she felt out of place at it was. Her handmaiden, Mattina, was but a young woman and had just been brought in to work at the manor only days before. She was quiet, keeping to herself, but Genevieve wouldn’t have been in the mood for conversation right now anyway.
She glanced at Mattina in the mirror that hung in the room Genevieve had been assigned to dress in. The girl couldn’t have been more than eighteen, if that. Although her handmaiden had been soft-spoken and timid even to Genevieve, she couldn’t help but feel strange at having Mattina in her presence. Maybe it was nothing and the prickling sensation she felt on the back of her neck was a combination of her upcoming nuptials and the fact that tonight she would no longer be an untouched female but claimed by a warlord.