“Nay, mistress,” he said coldly as he finished with the garters and removed his soft-skinned boots. “I have decided to deal with you differently.”
“How?”
He crooked a brow at her. “’Tis obvious, I would think. I will master you in the one sure way a man dominates a woman. I will have you.”
She stared at him for a long moment before the meaning of his words became clear to her. For the first time real fear entered her eyes. The color left her face and she took a step backward.
A terrifying panic gripped Brenna. This was not supposed to happen. Everyone had said he hated women. Bayard said Garrick would have no use for her in that way. And he had not once looked on her with lust, as the other men had. How could she endure the agony that Cordella said would accompany the act? Would she shame herself by screaming her pain aloud? She had no idea how intense it would be.
Garrick watched Brenna with a puzzled frown. He saw the conflicting emotions that crossed her features. But what surprised him was the terror in her eyes—she who had shown only courage thus far. She had stood defiantly, awaiting a sound thrashing, but now she was cowed at the prospect of his bedding her.
Such a dramatic change was baffling. He had surmised by her rebellious stance that no amount of pain inflicted would gain him the end he sought. But that her resolve should be broken by the means he chose to humble her did not fit her character, at least not before the deed was completed.
“Have I found the means to tame you?” he asked in a quiet, curious tone.
At his words, a spark of anger was lit despite her fear. “I am not an animal to be tamed!”
“But you are a slave whose arrogance cannot be tolerated,” he returned softly.
“But you do not want me, Viking. So why this?” she said in a subdued tone.
Garrick looked at her thoughtfully. “I agree I have no use for women. I do not take them often, only when my body demands it. And so a shapely wench does not turn my eye as she used to. But it seems this is the only way I can put an end to your haughtiness.”
He took a step towards her and Brenna’s face whitened even more. She stood petrified for a moment, then dashed madly for the knife on the floor. But Garrick had anticipated her move and caught her to him before she neared the weapon.
Brenna fought like a trapped wild creature, that knows it will soon die. Her sharp claws assailed his rock-hard chest, but only amused laughter met her ears.
“You have no weapon now, wench. You would match your strength to mine, but you know you will fall the loser.”
Her answer was to sink her teeth into his arm. She quickly gained her release when he cried out. She made to dash for the door, but his hand caught the back of her shift. When she pushed on, the garment ripped to the waist. There her belt stopped the fabric from tearing further, and he pulled her back to him. She turned, and with a closed fist swung for his face. He caught her arm in a viselike grip and twisted it behind her back, crushing her breasts against his chest as he did so.
“Release me!” she cried, hysteria in her voice.
“Nay, I think not.”
She thought to plead again, but then she looked up at him and saw the desire that was finally in his eyes. Her whole body was pressed to his and she could feel his swelling manhood against her belly. The fear that gripped her made her weak, and she could only thrash her head from side to side when he bent to kiss her. Finally he held her head still in his mighty hand and lowered his mouth to hers. But before the kiss was met, she grabbed a handful of his golden mane and jerked his head back.
“By Thor, wench!” he growled. “You fight me as if you were a virgin still, when you are not!”
“I am,” she said in a whisper against his chest, grimacing from the pain in her arm, which he had not released.
He looked down at the top of her head, seeing the thick black braid trailing down her bare back and across both their arms. He loosened his hold somewhat, but still pressed her to him.
“I cannot believe that my father’s men did not lust after you as my own have done.”
“They did not come near me,” she said quietly, praying that this knowledge would change his mind. “Your father kept them away.”
Suddenly his laughter filled the room. “So this is why you fear me now?”
“I do not fearyou, Viking!”
“Yea, you do,” he returned, his voice softening considerably, “for I am the man who will bed you. I will be gentle with you, Brenna, as the issue will be proved no matter how I take you.”
At that he lifted her into his arms, but she thrashed and kicked wildly again and it was indeed an effort to get her to the bed. There he dropped her down, then fell on top of her and pinned her firmly beneath him. She heaved and bucked to remove his great weight from her, and clawed his back until he secured her arms at her sides.
“Why do you persist, wench? I have said I will be gentle. ’Twill hurt this first time, but not overly much.”
“You lie!” she cried, trying in vain to free her arms. “Another vile trait to add to your others!”
