Dawn Thompson by The Falcon's Bride

Author:The Falcon's Bride
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

“James, no!” Thea screamed, seizing his arm. “He has done naught that I did not want him to do. We are wed.”

James hesitated. The sharp point of the dirk had pierced Drumcondra’s skin, and a trickle of blood ran down his neck, though he made no sound. Thea’s eyes oscillated between her brother’s indignation and the muscles ticking along her husband’s broad jaw. Her fingers tightened on James’s wrist, and tears swam before her eyes. He had never been able to resist her tears. She prayed it was still so now.

“Please, James,” she sobbed. “I love him.” It was the first time she’d admitted it, much less spoken it. The words drew Drumcondra’s eyes despite the blade still indenting his skin, but she dared not look then for fear she’d see in them that what he felt for her was something more akin to lust. Of that much she was certain. They had never spoken of love.

“How can he be your husband?” James snapped at her. “Who has wed you—what vicar, what priest? There are none here in this heathen nest of Gypsies to be had, and not a soul abroad for miles around.” He snatched her shift off the floor and tossed it at her. “Dress yourself,” he charged. “I mean to know what is going on here. You have a good deal of explaining to do. Get up, I say!”

“Do as he says,” Drumcondra said. Then, to James, he added, “We are wed by Romany law. If you will put that blade down, I will explain.”

“He is telling the truth, James,” Thea pleaded, on her feet now, wrapped in the fur rug. “Put that blade down!”

“Stay out of this, Thea, and put on that garment. I will not stand here conversing with you like . . . like that.”

“Avert your eyes if you would have me dress,” she snapped.

James turned back to Drumcondra while Thea struggled into her shift in great haste. She had never seen such a look of rage in her brother’s eyes in all her life. His mouth was white, his violet eyes glazed over like a drunkard’s, and his cheeks were blotched crimson. He was livid.

“The old Gypsy woman told me a preposterous tale,” James said. “I suppose you are going to tell me something equally ridiculous?”

“James, please,” Thea pleaded. “Put that down!”

He cast her a sidelong glance. In that split second Drumcondra seized his wrist, flipped him over onto the floor, leapt from the bed and fell upon him. Snatching the blade, he held it at Thea’s startled brother’s throat.

“Now you will listen, I think,” the warrior said.

“Oh, my God, Ros, no! I beg you, don’t hurt him!” Thea shrilled.

“I am the one who is bleeding,” he said. “It is not my intent to harm him, but neither will I sit still and let him run me through in my conjugal bed with my own blade. Now, sir, will you let me fetch my leggings and converse with you in a civilized manner, or are we to wage a war you cannot win?”

“James, please.

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