One corner of his mouth turned up. “You’re hungry.” It was a statement, rather than a question. It embarrassed her, as if being hungry said something about her character. Mayhap he sensed her appetite went beyond the food. He fed her another bite, brushing crumbs from her lips once she’d taken it on her tongue.
She shifted on his lap, in a curious state of unrest. How did this man have such an effect on her? She hated men. She certainly had never thought about kissing one before.
“Lady Daisy, are you a relative of Princess Susanna?” Prince Erik asked.
Her stomach tightened and she swore Barrett scowled before his expression turned blank. She swallowed her food and turned her attention to the prince. “No, my lord. I was born in Balenhof. Prince Frederick took me in as a lady-in-waiting to his daughter when my castle was sacked eight years ago.”
She shifted again. Sir Barrett had begun stroking her, his large warm palm sliding down the side of her ribs and over her flank, then reversing. Before she could stop herself, she’d made a low humming sound, like a cat purring.
Sir Barrett’s mouth turned up again and she stopped the hum, sitting up straighter. What was wrong with her? Did she actuallylikebeing manhandled by this burly knight?
Some traitorous part of her screamedyes.
She shoved it forcibly away. She could not encourage him. The most important thing tonight was to make him understand she could not consummate the marriage.
Sir Barrett continued to feed her until she shook her head and mumbled, “No, thank you.”
“Lovely manners, Daisy,” he said, the rumble of his low voice reverberating through his chest against her back. He picked up his goblet of wine and pressed it to her lips.
She drank several sips, certain he would spill it into her lap, but he read her perfectly, somehow knowing when she’d had enough to drink, and righting the goblet. He drank down the rest of the wine and lifted her to stand.
“Did you not eat?” she asked in dismay.
He grinned. “Aye, I ate along with you. Did you not notice?”
She ducked her head. She must have been too wrapped up in herself to realize.
“Come. I’ll show you our chamber.”
The mention of the wordchamberbrought a renewed sense of dread. She chewed the inside of her cheek, trying to think of something she might tell him to keep him from forcing her into that terrible act. She shuddered.
“Fear not, little one,” he said, probably noticing her shiver. “I will be gentle.”
She blinked back tears, any hope she’d had that he might not intend to consummate the marriage dashed.
He led her up the spiral stairs to the solarium, a large room with a high, domed ceiling. Instead of a pallet, he slept on a prince’s bed, raised from the floor and covered with a beautiful woven blanket. A tapestry hung on the wall, in rich purples, red, and brown. It depicted a large bear standing on its hind legs.
She gazed at it, then glanced at the bear claw around Sir Barrett’s neck.
“They call him ‘The Great Bear,’” Penrod remarked, seeing her stare. He crouched at the hearth, building a fire.
“Sir Barrett, you mean?”
“Aye. When he leads the mercenary army, instead of Prince Erik’s, they ride under the banner of a bear.”
“Enough, Penrod,” Sir Barrett said mildly. “And add more wood. I don’t want my lady wife to be cold.”
Penrod smirked and looked as if he might say something, but Sir Barrett raised an eyebrow and the young man seemed to think better of it. He added two more logs and stood, approaching his master.
Sir Barrett waved him off. “I will undress myself,” he said.
Penrod bowed and left, closing the door softly behind him.
Sir Barrett unwound the ribbon binding her wrists, then loosened the tie that held her bodice. She caught the edges of it before it fell open and backed away.
He allowed her retreat, stripping off his tunic and then undershirt.
“Sir Barrett… my lord husband?”
