His Lady Bride (Brothers in Arms) by Shayla Black, Shelley Bradley Page A

and he apparently wanted her in his bed.
    How had Aric known her dimensions and carved her so exactly? Since he had not seen her without clothes, she could only surmise he wanted her greatly to spend such energy in the carving of her likeness. Certainly she had not removed her gown whilst here, though she had yearned to do so long enough to wash the garment.
    Gwenyth rose cautiously. ’Twould seem he wanted to bed her more than any man had. Even Sir Penley, who had sought her as a wife, had never once hinted he wanted her betwixt his sheets. If the speed with which he had carved her image was any indication, Aric had seemingly thought of little else since they had wed. The realization aroused and frightened her at once. Certainly she could not deny he had been kinder than her remaining family.
    Tumult and confusion wound through her. Ruthlessly, Gwenyth suppressed it. She could not lie with Aric and yield her body, no matter that her stomach jumped at the thought. Her future would be sacrificed if she gave in to him. She would be here forever in this shanty, more than like wondering whence the funds for taxes and clothing would come. Her circumstances would become more desperate than they ever had under Uncle Bardrick and Aunt Welsa’s care. She would be an outcast forever as a sorcerer’s wife.
    Yet was she not an outcast already?
    Aye, but she wanted it changed, everything changed. She wanted the life Sir Penley could give her.
    Yet she could not cease wondering if Aric could make ardent magic in his bed—if he could, as her husband, make her feel this wanted always. If so, would the passion be worth the price?
     

CHAPTER FOUR
    Gwenyth was staring at him—and had been since last eve—with a mixture of hesitancy and curiosity. Aric met her gaze, and she slammed her eyes shut, feigning sleep.
    As night had fallen, he had noticed the speculation in her entrancing blue eyes. By God’s teeth, he had even once seen her gaze fixed on his manhood. Now, as then, he hardened at the thought of having her. Lest the front of his hose expand noticeably again, he looked away from her supine form as she lay tossing upon his bed in search of sleep.
    Between the linens, Gwenyth would be no passive wench. This wife of his would loose her passion and make him a very contented man—with the right encouragement. Since they were bound by law, Aric saw no reason not to give her every encouragement and bind them in flesh—and quickly.
    He considered her attachment to that milksop, Sir Penley, and frowned. Such an excuse for a man would never touch Aric’s wife. No man would. In fact, the very thought of it disturbed him, oddly enough. Aye, a seduction was indeed in order.
    He looked forward to the event with great anticipation.
    Yet since the moon’s last rising, she had become noticeably silent. Aric thought he would find the quiet welcome, but he knew that with it came Gwenyth’s uneasiness, perhaps even her fear. Somehow, he missed her pointed remarks. Aye, even her insults. ’Twas as if she no longer cared that he occupied the same home at all.
    It would not do, he decided. He had charmed a wench or two in his twenty-six years. He could do so again.
    “Gwenyth?” he whispered.
    She did not open her eyes. “Aye?”
    “Have you seen Dog?”
    “Dog?” She frowned, eyes still closed against him and the light of the single candle.
    “Aye, Dog. When I found him, I knew not if he had a name, so I simply called him Dog.”
    “Ah.”
    “Have you seen him?” he asked again.
    “Nay.”
    Her response did not give him cause to hope. But he knew enough of Gwenyth to realize she liked to talk. He changed tactics.
    He touched her shoulder, lightly wrapping his fingers about her arm. Aye, there. Now she opened her eyes. Warily, of course, but he had her attention.
    “Today, I found Dog in the forest doing something so uncommon I could not cease my laughter.”
    “Did you?” Gwenyth sat up, breaking their contact.
    Resolved, Aric