Conquering the Dark Axe Read online

  Rourke yanked her up roughly with the one hand that clasped both of hers together and held her away from him as if she were no more than a ragdoll. She moved her long legs as though to kick him. He gave her such a hard shake that Alexa felt her teeth rattle. Surely the big lout had loosened a few or all of her teeth in her head.

  Rourke still could not see anything more than her nose and those full lips for that amber mop on her head still hid most of her face. He shook her again.

  “Answer!” He roared.

  As soon as the bastard put her down Alexa knew her first action would be to run him through. But for now, she would cut the giant warrior to the quick. She swallowed and said through clenched teeth, “Lady Alexa Barnett. If you value your life, you will put me down at once lest you-“ Alexa found herself on her arse again in the hard dirt.

  Rourke plucked up her sword and gazed down at her, a look of repulsion on his face. As he’d known. Luck had forsaken him yet again. His betrothed.

  This hellion of nothing but bones and legs.

  Rourke inhaled, a sound of censure left his lips and he stood to his full height as the hellcat scrambled to her feet. She was indeed tall. The top of her head came to just under his chin. She whipped those amber locks up into a quick and furious knot within seconds and glared up at him. Fury flashing in those amber eyes shot daggers at him. Spots of blood covered the front of her white tunic.

  Alexa stilled and took in the warrior before her. He wore no suit of armor or mail like she’d first suspected. He wore nothing more than a black cape that hung on one large shoulder over what was the largest chest she’d ever seen and his face- no other words came to her, angry or not- even though tall and savage looking, the man was beautiful. Golden hair graced his skull and was pulled back from his face; a shadow of whiskers covered his squared jaw. Bright green eyes shot fire at her and he possessed lips that were full like hers. She smiled when her eyes dropped to his throat.

  She may not have cut off his beautiful head, but she had not missed her target altogether after all. Blood trickled down the front of his thick neck, just below the bump on his throat. She could not stop her smile even if she had wanted to.

  Rourke took in her simple features. The wench left much to be desired. Plain with sharp bones, high cheeks, a strong jaw and large amber eyes to match that unruly mop on her head. The only thing he thought of, with some disappointment was that she was too thin and probably would die in childbirth. Her figure did not appear strong enough to handle the rigors of childbirth. He liked his women with more meat on their bones. Like his friend’s wife he’d just left, the Lady Danielle back at Gravane manor. Why couldn’t he have been blessed with a Saxon wife as that? The image of Lady Danielle’s voluptuous and tempting curves came back to him.

  Indeed he’d no luck.

  Back in Normandy, the women there were not only raving beauties, but curvy. But, aye, it mattered not. He did not have to like this wench.

  He said, “Lady Barnett.” He would not bow. “Your betrothed stands before you. I am, Rourke Thorsson.” He kept his title to himself and waited. Her smile disappeared. Her amber eyes sparkled and went wide.

  He recognized the familiar look of horror flash in them over his size, and then it was quickly replaced- with anger. He ignored it as he always did. Yet, she surprised him when she met his gaze with a brave jut of that strong jaw.

  Alexa wished she had been successful in cutting off his head. Nay! Beautiful or not, this oversized warrior could not be who the King had promised to Lisbeth. Aye, what was she thinking, it could. Their new King was indeed a cold unfeeling man. Lisbeth would have taken one look at this hulk of a man and burst into tears with a plea to beg off the wedding. Oh no. Alexa narrowed her eyes. She could not marry this man either. She had to get away or she would have to kill him.

  She could not help but voice her objections aloud. “Next time I will take your head, Norman bastard.” She wiped at his blood on her tunic between her thumb and forefinger with relish before she smeared it slowly across her chest to further emphasize her slice of victory.

  Rourke’s hand went to his neck and felt the cut. His fingers came away wet. He stepped to her. He gazed down at her and said in a deadly whisper. “There will not be a next time, wench. Come the morrow, I will plant my seed in you.” He ignored her screech of rage.

  “Your king-“

  “Our king!” he corrected.

  “Your king may force me to marry you, but I tell you this and best you remember it. You will indeed have to lock me up or kill me before I give you an heir or have you touch me, Norman bastard.” She spat at him.

  She gasped as with lightning speed he bound her hands behind her back with the sash he had at his waist and slammed her hard against his frame. He had moved so fast she had had no time to move. The corner of his lips turning up told her he enjoyed her flinch. Alexa let out a breath. The fury that blazed from his green eyes matched how she felt inside.

  “You may have learned to wield and play with a sword, but you have not learned how to hide your thoughts.” A cold smile spread upon his full lips that did not reach his green-eyed steely gaze. He continued with a shrug of those massive shoulders. “So be it. You will be locked away until my child is born. Hellion of a wench you may be, but you will not be escaping this union. Barnett lands are now mine and that makes you mine. No one takes what belongs to me. You do well to remember that and quickly, Lady Barnett. For it will make this marriage much easier, perhaps even pleasant for you.”

  Alexa glared at him and took a deep breath when he set her away from him a little, putting some space between them. He smiled showing a flash of white teeth. The devil’s grin as his green eyes bored coldly into hers.

  He mounted the big warhorse and with little effort, he pulled her up in front of him, face down across his lap. Her arse in the air. Her eyes fell upon his heavily muscled thigh down to the long ominous looking black axe fastened to the side of his saddle.

  Rourke ignored the string of profane words that spewed from her mouth as they descended the hill towards her home.

  TWO

  Alexa was so full of rage that her body shook with it. Just a little more than a sennight ago, bastard William’s messenger had arrived with news that she was to marry in Lisbeth’s stead. Then to have the Dark Axe arrive today, without warning. She could see why he was called such; it was not from his fair head. It was from that dark scowl the man wore. Alexa wanted to punch something. But there was nothing to punch other than her pillow.

  That rotten bastard had not only carried her inside her own home over his large shoulder past his sea of soldiers, who did little to hide their mirth, but past her servants, who lowered their heads ashamed. The final insult had been when the Norman had torn the cloth from Camm’s hands, her maid, and shoved it into Alexa’s mouth, gagging her to muffle the string of her promised threats.

  He’d held her firmly with one hand over his shoulder. His large hand seated just below her bottom and Alexa had turned even redder at the intimacy of his touch. The man did not care. He’d asked of her maid to show him where her chambers were and Camm had scurried ahead to show him.

  Once inside her chamber, he dropped her unceremoniously in the middle of her bed. Before Alexa could scramble off, he had grabbed her by her foot hard, with such a jolt; she had seen stars, stilling her movements.

  His words had been hard as he spoke over her heavy breathing with dead calm. “You will learn quickly enough that I never break my word, wench. Think you to do me harm with your squire sword? I will exact punishment in time for that mistake. As you wish, you will be locked up until we are wed and Lady Barnett,” he’d spoken the words a fraction away from her ear as they were meant for her ears only as he finished, “after my son is born, I will see what I can do about having your other request met.”

  She had stiffened at the threat. He wouldn’t kill her would he? Aye, the glint in his eyes told her he would. Perhaps she had been hasty in her anger.

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nbsp; Others had accompanied them into the room. Another man, almost as tall as her future husband, had stood at his back along with two soldiers and they had rope.

  Rope that she now twisted and pulled against as she lay confined to the middle of her own bed. He had tied her with both arms to each post and her long legs, tied together at the bottom. The gag was still in her mouth. He’d left orders with Camm that it was only to be removed when she was to be fed or given water. Like an animal. After he’d first removed it, it'd been her own fault for she'd been unable to contain her fury and her vile threats against his person had spewed from her mouth. The giant that stood behind him had shaken his head no at her as though in warning, but Alexa had not cared.

  Upon nightfall, Camm came in to give her food and drink. She would have been relieved to see her maid and friend had it not been for the two soldiers that accompanied her. The men even remained when Camm had accompanied her to the hidden alcove that led to the garderobe so that she could relieve herself. Worse yet, the brooding brute was there to overlook the soldiers duty the entire time and to assure that Camm had no chance to talk to her beyond anything of relevance. Further orders from that Norman bastard. The brute made her uncomfortable the way his dark eyes watched her every movement.

  Morning came all too soon and the big brute, Alexa soon found out from Camm, was her bridegroom’s right hand man. His dark eyes made her nervous. He watched her intently and the soldiers like a hawk and never uttered a word. The nightmare she was trapped in was not a dream for sleep eluded her and with the dawn, she came to know and feel the full truth and weight of her predicament. She was grieving over all that had happened in such a short time.

  Her father dead at the beginning of the year. A skilled and excellent rider had been thrown from his horse and ended up with a broken neck. Her mother dead ten summers when Alexa had been all of four and ten. Now, Lisbeth, gone.

  Alexa felt out of her body when the maids dressed her in the gown that would have been worn by her dead sister. This after a few alterations still left the gown slightly short and tight across her bodice and under the arms. Lisbeth had been shorter and less full on top. Alexa’s bosom was bigger as were her well-toned arms. The material pinched and scratched her skin. She ignored it. She did not even come alive as she was led down through the dining hall, to the small chapel attached to the side of the manor. Her hands bound in front of her and the gag dangling around her neck. Ready for his use if needed. Alexa had said nothing.

  The old priest’s eyes had all but bulged with shock when he saw her and he moved to protest, but a dark look from the Norman had him lurch into the ceremony at a hasty pace before she was fully kneeling.

  Alexa was brought to the present by the grip the Norman used on her bound hands, each time she forgot or did not respond promptly, he tugged the rope tighter. Hating him more and more with each tug and damning him to hell, she glared at him when the priest came to the honor and obey part. The two of them stared at each other long and hard. His green eyes looked right through her. Alexa knew right then what she’d thought earlier to be true. He’d neither heart nor soul. Why did someone not kill her now? Why could she not lie next to Lisbeth than have to endure this man’s touch? She shook off a shiver of deep despair.

  His golden brows furrowed at her movement and anger shot from those green eyes. He yanked on the rope hard. She broke the challenging gaze and said what was demanded of her.

  It was done.

  Then she turned back to him. Alexa opened her mouth and told him, “Know this and never forget it. I will never obey you or any man.” As she’d known, he reached out and placed the gag back in her mouth with ease as though he’d just fed her something with gentle care. It did not stop her tirade and she continued, although her words were muffled, she saw in his eyes that he understood every word. “Especially not a Norman murdering bastard like you.”

  For a brief second Alexa felt fear as his gaze turned deadly and seemed to engulf her as he yanked her hard up against his chest, pulled by the rope.

  “Aye, Lady Thorsson, you will.” His lips touched hers over the gag in a chaste kiss, so feather light she was not even sure he had touched her. But the warmth in her face told her that he had.

  He pulled back as if burned with what looked like disgust upon his beautiful face, yet, she saw something else flicker in his eyes and then it was gone just as quickly. Alexa could not help but add, “Whoreson!”

  Rourke advanced quickly and snatched her arms up in a tight grip. “You will cease your name calling. Know this, ‘twill not stop me from planting my seed in you and being overlord here. I care not if you like it or not. Do you not give me a son, you will face the consequences.”

  The priest choked in protest at the ominous threat. Rourke quickly dismissed the cleric. His man, Goran came to her aid next.

  “Rourke. Now you just wed her. You cannot kill her.”

  “Aye. I can.”

  Time froze and Alexa could only stare at him. The look in his eyes told her he spoke truth. With a muffled cry, she tried to wrench free but he held tight a moment longer. His face was so close to hers, she could see the little scars long healed upon his cheeks and the storm unfurling in his emerald eyes. Then he thrust her away from him with a hard shove. “Get her out of my sight,” he roared and quit the chapel and Alexa found herself in Goran’s outstretched arms.

  Alexa was undressed quickly by the maids and again, she shared a look with Camm, praying for a moment alone with her friend and maid. But there was no chance of that with the soldiers present. Although they had their backs turned away this time, they were still in the room and within ear shot. She felt like a prisoner and embarrassed as the only familiar face in her room was that of Camm’s.

  Out of the three other women attending her, there was a new face that had not been there earlier. A plump, redhead, her servant clothes cleaner than the rest, kept shooting dark glares every now and then in her direction as she moved with the others to prep the bed.

  Finally, Alexa had a brief second alone with Camm, and free of her gag for the moment, she whispered as low as she could. “Who are these women, Camm?”

  Camm continued to brush her hair and whispered back. “They came with the new lord, mistress. That one that looks at you so without a care, came this morning.”

  Alexa cast a glance over to her bed. The redhead lowered her gaze, but not before Alexa noted the loathing in them. “I get the feeling she might have a problem with me.”

  “Aye that one is a special one to the new lord or so that is what has spread throughout the manor, mistress. I don’t like her too much myself. She is rather high and mighty, when she should know her place.” Camm scoffed and held out the cup to her for Alexa to drink to cover their talk as the one soldier eyed them suspiciously.

  Alexa moved her gaze from him back to the redhead and felt something sting her chest. She ignored it. Good, she was probably his whore. That would be the reason for the girl’s obvious dislike. Alexa turned away. The wench could have him. She told herself she was glad. Maybe he would, once he had her with child, quickly find his way back to this one’s bed. He would leave her be after all.

  That’s what got her through the next few minutes as the women finished preparing the room for the wedding night and soon they left with the soldiers in tow. At four and twenty, Alexa never thought she’d marry nor had she wont to or ever the desire. Her father had treated her as the son he never had and she was glad of it. She could wield a weapon, her favorite, the sword as well as most men and ride just as well. She had no thoughts of love as had Lisbeth. Sadness and longing shot through her. All this should have been for Lisbeth. Not her. Even though Lisbeth would have fainted dead away from the sight of the man alone. , she was more of a lady than she and surely, Alexa knew that her sister would not have had to be bound and gagged on her wedding day. It probably would have gone a lot smoother.

  Rourke sat in the high back chair at the lord’s table lost in deep thought over the da
y. His foul mood was all over his face and he looked more like he was at a funeral than his wedding feast. The wedding celebration was a somber one. Yet all within the dining hall still indulged and made merry. The room, with tapestries hanging behind the raised dais, was lined with intricate carvings on pillars and notched arches that ran the length of both sides of the room which was sparsely filled with trestle tables and guests. His arrival had been without all the fanfare and he cared not to befriend the neighboring nobles at this point.

  “I knew you would be the last one to have a lavish wedding, Rourke. But, even you still deserve one better than how this one has begun.” Goran said next to him. Rourke said nothing but Goran was used to it. They had been together long enough.

  “Perhaps ‘twould be somewhat better- a lighter affair, so to speak, if you allowed your bride to attend. After all, is it not her feast too? A chance to make amends…” Goran knew he was pushing his limit. The new lady had drawn first blood on the Dark Axe and Goran knew it would be a long time before Rourke would let that go. He knew the fierce knight would eventually, but not just yet. Nonetheless it did not stop him from making an attempt.

  Rourke turned his head slowly toward his friend whom he’d grown up with side by side since they were lads of six. “Goran, I think you abide in your cups too deep. This should have been her sister’s wedding celebration. So, nay, it is not her night. She deserves naught.” Rourke said calmly. He’d glimpsed the family portrait briefly when he’d carried the hellion to her chamber. On his way back down the circular stone stairwell, he had paused in his angry stride to look at the family portrait again. He’d gotten the short end of the stick. The hellion was not as comely as her sister. Lisbeth had not been a raving beauty either, but she’d been blessed with handsome features more so than the ones his wife possessed.

  Goran took a deep drink of the warm, bitter mead and waved away a serving wench who came to refill it. “But, you did not marry her sister, Rourke.”