His Rebel Bride (Brothers in Arms Book 3) by Shayla Black, Shelley Bradley

will do all that I can to make your life hell and see you dead. That , you English miscreant, would have made my Geralt happy!”
    Jana pushed away from the bench and lumbered away from the table. Kieran made no move to stop her.
    Aye, he could force her to wed, if he wished it. ’Twas clear Jana could breed, which would ensure he could leave Ireland, but she spent more time in anger or grief than in the running of Langmore or the care of her family. She would soon have a babe to birth and raise, so ’twould be some time before he could get another on her himself and leave this miserable place. Would he not be best served to leave her be? Aye.
    Kieran denied his decision not to wed her had aught to do with the enmity his parents had sharpened to lethal hatred—a fate he feared would be his own if he wed a woman who despised him. But he felt sure Aric and Drake would both have chastised him for such a denial.
    Shaking his head, he tossed back the rest of his ale and rose to leave the great hall. Behind him, small, angry footsteps approached.
    Kieran whirled, hand beside the dagger at his waist, ready. He saw only Maeve and felt his mind relax.
    Smiling, he watched her come near. This morn, she wore her hair loose, a cascade of red-gold glory that fell to her waist. The green dress she wore contrasted with the rich, creamy underdress beneath, spilling a ripple of a sleeve down her arm. The gown fit snugly to her small waist, and though he could not see her legs, he could imagine the long and firm appendages and sighed.
    A light quip sat upon his tongue, one he hoped would charm her. He bit it back when he saw the fury flushing her face and tightening her fists.
    “’Tis so like an English bully to seek out the weak and hurt them,” she hissed.
    “Hurt? Who—”
    “Who?” Maeve barked back. “Now you say that you are simple-minded as well as mean? Jana cries upon her bed great rivers of tears after less than a quarter hour’s conversation with you. Leave her be! Her shattered heart can take no more.”
    Maeve was a warrioress protecting one of her own. He did not think her tendencies ran violent, but had no trouble believing she would sink a knife into any man’s back who dared to hurt one of her kin. He admired that about her, though such could be a meddlesome penchant he must not give free rein.
    “You will not take her to wife,” Maeve insisted, leaning closer, jaw clenched with fury.
    With her spring-scented nearness and her flushed face, Kieran’s mind wandered down dark paths where an eager Maeve accepted his kiss hungrily, with open-mouthed fervor. What would she taste like?
    She exploded, fists clenched. “Do you listen to me? That lewd smirk says not.”
    Her shout chased the thought away. Aye, he wanted her near, but not so he could hear her haranguing him.
    “Aye, I hear you. You wish me not to wed Jana.”
    Somewhat mollified, Maeve stepped back a bit and unclenched her fists. “Aye.”
    “Who would you have me wed then?” he asked.
    She paused in consideration, then, with a false smile, offered, “My brother’s hunting bitch is in heat.”
    Kieran laughed. No one could deny the woman had spirit. She did not speak much, not like Aric’s Gwenyth. But when she did choose to comment, ’twas clear she spoke her mind.
    “As much as I must have a wife, a dog will not do, sweet Maeve.”
    “I am not your sweet anything.” She glared at him.
    “Perhaps I will change that.” He gave her the grin that melted many a heart—or at least a dress away from the owner’s body.
    “You cannot, I assure you.”
    Maeve seemed so sure of herself, so certain she could resist whatever temptation he might throw her way. But she knew naught of his determination if he set his mind to something. And mayhap he would set his mind to having her, if she proved to be the wife he needed.
    In response to her declaration, he merely smiled. “If you wish me to cease considering Jana as a wife, I will do so.”
    Maeve’s