He cursed inwardly and snatched the man up, wrapping one fist in the fabric of his shirt and cocking the other to pound his face. “Do not. Speak disrespectfully. About my wife,” he growled loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Forgive me, sir,” Adam exclaimed, his face pale.
Barrett held him bent backward, his arm ready to strike for a long moment before he released him with a shove. “Anyone else have a wisecrack about my lady wife?”
A chorus ofno, siranswered.
“Very well. Get to work.”
He turned to Daisy. He had hoped few had noticed the bite in the dining hall and he had chosen not to punish her publicly because he wanted her to feel comfortable at Rothburg. Humiliating her more than he had already done would be inconsiderate, at least until she had settled in.
Daisy’s eyes were round, but she surprised him by saying, “I will move stone if you untie my wrists.”
He gave a short bark of laughter. “Nay, lady. I’d have a dagger in my back the moment I turned around.”
She looked disappointed, as if her request had been genuine. She took astep closer to him. “I’m sorry about the bite,” she said in a low voice so the others would not hear. “I do not know what came over me.”
Mayhap he was a fool, but he believed her. He cupped her face and stroked her soft skin with his thumb. “You’re forgiven, wife. But that doesn’t mean I can trust you.”
“No,” she agreed, her shoulders dropping.
“Stay where I can see you, love,” he said and joined the task of sorting stones, heaving the largest rocks. When he turned around, he realized Daisy had decided to help anyway, picking up the smallest stones between her bound hands and making a neat pile against the wall.
“Daisy,” he called. “Come here.”
She looked up in surprise and walked over.
“What are you doing?”
She stuck her chin out at a defiant angle.
God, he’d come to love the spunk in her.
“I’m helping. While it is quite impressive to watch you work, I think I should get quite bored doing nothing.” Her eyes had traveled across his chest and over the muscles in his arms, and she blushed, as if she just realized what she’d admitted.
He smiled. “All right, little one. I will set you free if you wish to work. But if you give me any trouble at all, you’ll be locked in our room for a fortnight. Understand?”
She shuddered. “Yes, sir.”
He unwound the ribbon from her wrists, sorry when he saw how raw they’d become from twisting against the binds while laboring. “You’ll stay right beside me. And if you even think of throwing a rock at me…” He raised his eyebrows and gave her his most stern look.
To his surprise, she giggled.
He grinned. He’d rather have her laughing at his authority than angry. He was determined to win her heart, even if he had to keep her chained to his side for a year to do it. So far, he’d found her enigmatic. One moment easy to manage, the next a feisty spitfire. Of course, she might be putting him on—simply pretending to soften until she had her opportunity to escape. She certainly had the intelligence for such a game.
That idea bothered him more than he’d like to admit.
Daisy set to work at a pace that wouldn’t last, picking up midsized stones, far too large for her to carry. Her face grew red from exertion, little beads of sweat forming at her hairline, despite the cold. She threw off her cloak and continued.
He watched her as he worked, his cock growing hard. Was it wrong to be aroused by a lady in hard labor? Probably. But it spoke to an animalistic need of finding a mate capable of survival. Daisy would not die in childbirth like his mother, one of the castle’s serving wenches, had. But more than hercapacity to bear children, seeing her hard at work, without a single complaint reignited an old dream of his: leaving Rothburg and purchasing his own small property.
Without a strong woman at his side, such a dream would never come to fruition. He had enough silver to buy the property, but hadn’t had the lady. Certainly he could have picked any wench from the castle and she would’ve worked her fingers to the bone for him. But he fancied a loftier life.
As a bastard child, born of a serving wench but acknowledged and raised by a prince, he didn’t really fit anywhere. His father had promised him if he pledged his sword to his younger half-brother, the rightful heir, he would always have a place at the high table of Rothburg. And so it had been. He did not covet Erik’s title or his inheritance. His brother treated him as well as he would a full-blood sibling. But no lady at Rothburg would marry him. They wanted a nobleman. A true knight, rightfully born. Not a bastard. And while he had ventured out to make his own fortune as a mercenary, he had never even thought to take a lady from another castle as his wife.
Would it bother Daisy to have a bastard for a husband? He glanced at her again. She looked exhausted, still lugging heavy stones to and fro.
“Take a break, Lady Daisy. You’re looking tired.”
