Author's Note: One of the readers had a question about the 'lady love' conversation. Tanya was saying that because he found her attractive and wanted to be intimate, she called herself his lady love. He argued that didn't qualify as a lady love but a mistress (meaning he saw the title of 'lady love' more appropriate for a woman held more dear than a mistress). She, however, pointed out that men rarely put themselves in harm's way for a mistress but he did when rescuing her - in other words, she knows he cares even though he'll never love her as a wife. He's made it clear that love isn't an option, but conceding to 'lady love' is his way of telling her that she holds a dear place in his heart. Could he be leading up to professing love? ;)
BTW, I put up a poll to see if there's an interest in my Jason/Emma series and Mark/Tanya story if I turned them into ebooks for a small price. I'm seriously thinking of starting a blog (don't know about what yet) to be my main income because I love writing so much and interacting with followers (I hope they'd all be as nice as you all!). Maybe the ebooks would be the start of an author career. :) So, stop by my author page to vote in the poll. Please 1 vote per reader. Thanks!
Mark walked into the library the next morning, his face serious. She set the book aside and swung her legs down to make room for him on the settee. "This came in the post for you." He held out a letter. "It's from America."
"I don't know anyone in America." She frowned and took the letter.
"Except your grandparents."
She smiled. "After all these years? I doubt it. Besides, how would they have found out where I am now?" Slipping a finger under the seal, she opened it.
"Our marriage would've been announced in the papers."
Her eyes flew to him. "Even so, why do you look upset?" He simply shook his head, so she read the letter while he stood there waiting.
Our dearest granddaughter,
We heard of your father's passing. You may not even know about us, but we're your mother's parents here in Colorado. How we've worried about you over the years. Your father denied us into your life - and he had his reasons, but you're a grown woman now and can make your own choices. Your grandfather tracked you to here and learned of dreadful tales of the heinous Engishman who bought you. We're coming for you. No matter what happened, we're coming to this address and will find you from there. Grandfather has gathered all the money and we'll come free you. We love you.
Grandfather and Grandmother
She swallowed hard and folded the letter. "I never thought I mattered to anyone while growing up." Offering him the letter, she took the handkerchief he offered.
He pulled his spectacles from his breast pocket and read it. In silence, he tucked the spectacles away and handed her the letter.
"They'll like you once they find out the rumors aren't true."
The man didn't crack a smile. "Probably think I beat you and keep you in the barn." Humor didn't lighten his tone.
"What's wrong?"
Both of his hands propped on the cane and he seemed so aloof, as want to do when masking emotion. "Your living male relative did not give permission for the marriage."
A nervous laugh bubbled up. "We're already wed and the bondslave papers give you claim to me."
He didn't look convinced.
"Mark, once they see you're a good man and I love you, they won't have objection. Let me send them a letter - "
"It's dated three weeks ago," he grunted. "They'll be here in a few days." Then he turned and walked out, obviously worried about something.
Two days later, she had a bag of ice in hand to take to Mark in the library when someone knocked at the door. She opened it and blinked in surprise at a tall, lean old man and short, plump woman who wore odd dress.
The woman cried out and the man stared in horror at her belly.
"What has he done?!" The old man roared in a deep voice with a heavy accent.
Mark shot out of the library on his cane at an impressive speed. "Who are you?"
The man flew past her and slammed Mark against the wall, a hand crushing his throat and a blade to his vitals. "Take her and run!" the old man roared, ignoring Mark clawing at his arm as the man turned his face red with pressure.
"Stop it!" She ran over and shoved the man to make him lose his balance.
Mark dropped to the floor, gasping in air.
She dropped beside him and glared up at the man. "I assume you're my grandfather?"
"Yes!" The man stood over with a deadly look in his eye. "I kill him."
"No! This is my husband!" She set a protective hand on Mark's back as he pulled himself to his feet.
"Where is Debonairo?! I kill him!"
"This is him, and he's a good man!" She flung out a hand when he stepped toward Mark.
"The baby - "
"Is not his. There was a robbery at Papa's house. Mark married me a couple months ago."
"Then I kill him!" He retrieved Mark's cane and brushed off his suit coat. "Sorry." He held out his hand.
Mark shook it. "REmind me to never upset your granddaughter lest she sic you on me."
The old man clapped Mark on the back. "You English are a weak breed. I make you a man before we leave."
"Oh, I can't wait," Mark said dryly.
Then Grandfather nearly crushed her in a hug. "You need more food from earth for baby - you are too little."
"Mark is a doctor and is seeing to us."
"I'm medicine man. I not lose a person in seventeen years." He eyed Mark. "I teach you my medicine too," he ordered and went to the old woman.
Mark leaned over and whispered, "I think I understand now why people don't like their in-laws."
"Oh, he just wants to man you up."
His mouth fell open.
She smiled and patted his arm before going over to meet her grandmother.
"She not speak much English," her grandfather said at dinner about grandmother. Then he glanced at her plate and piled on more food.
"No, I'm fine, Grandfather."
"You have two to feed. Eat."
Grandmother patted her hand and nodded at her plate.
"One Who Limps - " Grandfather turned to Mark.
"Mark," he corrected.
"English names no good."
"Grandfather," she sighed, "please."
He eyed her. "Your name Brave Sunshine."
She looked to Mark for help.
"Sir - "
"One Who Killed Bear," Grandfather corrected.
"Tanya prefers her Christian name be used," Mark said in a firm tone.
"You English and need to Christianize 'heathens.' My granddaughter no heathen!"
"I never said she was," Mark replied, gritting his teeth.
"You argue with an elder?" Even she wanted to duck from the glare Grandfather gave Mark.
Mark didn't flinch but met his glare in challenge. "In my house, you will respect my wife's wishes." It was a command that even the King might not have the courage to disobey.
"You deny her heritage," the older man growled.
"I do nothing of the sort," Mark snapped. "She asked to be called 'Tanya' and I'm seeing that her request is honored."
"Mark," she said softly.
He held up a hand to silence her, so unlike even his gruffest manner. Mark must be terribly angry.
Grandfather stood and walked out, Grandmother following behind in confusion.
Mark's shoulders sagged in defeat. She walked over and pressed his shoulder until he scooted the chair back. Then she sat in his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Thank you for standing up for me."
"He disapproves of me," he grunted.
When dinner was cleared, he took her into the library when Grandfather's voice could be heard booming in temper from the bedchambers upstairs. A pile of children's books sat on the settee tied with a big red ribbon.
"Oh, Mark!" Her hands flew to her mouth. "You got books for the baby?! Whenever did you leave to get them?
"Pick one out to read the babe for a bedtime story."
Her eyes flew to him and she cupped her belly. "You want to read him a story?" Her heart melted and she hurried over to the pile. "A Christmas Carole! It looks just like the copy I had when I was a girl!" She snatched up the leather bound book and clutched it to her chest. "Read this one, Mark."
He chuckled and limped over. "What about it is so special?"
She looked down at the book and stroked the worn leather, her smile fading. "Mama bought it for me while with child. She died giving birth to me. It was the only Christmas present I ever had from her. In the back, she wrote an inscription under the flap. I pretended that it was her secret note to me. When I was ten, there was no food for four days. There was nothing left in the house of worth to sell...except my book." She swallowed back the tears. "I got sick because I cried so much for two weeks."
He opened the book and pulled back the corner of the flap.
Merry Christmas, Baby Hartwig.
Love,
Mama
December 1836
"You had an unusual last name. Given the date, I figured 'baby' must be you," he said, his voice quiet. "I like to browse bookshops and found this on my trip to Paris a couple weeks ago."
She burst into tears and latched on when he pulled her into his arms. Once the tears calmed, he set an arm around her waist. "Let's go to the privacy of our room and read." He scooped up the books.
"I think not."
She spun around. Grandfather glared at Mark from the doorway.
Mark heaved a weary sigh. "I supposed you're going to tell me why."
"Who you ask permission to marry her?" He marched in.
"Her father asked me to wed her," he replied tightly. His posture tensed considerably.
"Who else?"
"I didn't need to ask anyone else," he answered calmly, but his hand fisted around the head of the cane. Maybe this is what Mark had been worried about since he'd read their letter.
"You not ask her male relatives and friends?" He scowled.
"Grandfather, things don't work like that in England. Papa approved - "
"He had sense of a flea." He looked Mark up and down. "He gave you a weak, crippled husband."
"Grandfather!" She gasped in horror and took Mark's hand. "He's a good man who got hurt saving me from ruffians! Which brings us to the question of why men are after me to have Spanish jewels that I assume were Mama's?!"
He snorted. "Your father probably stole them." Then he eyed Mark again. "You are highly regarded by your people?"
"I don't have much use for socializing," he stated, wisely sidestepping that issue.
Grandfather spun to his wife in the doorway. "He's not a respected man! He - " Then he whirled around with wide eyes. "You one who murdered wife!"
Anger surged at the disrespect and injustice to Mark all day. "Stop it! He did no such thing! If you want to see me, you will respect my husband. He's done nothing to harm me! He's done far more for me than any other soul on this earth! I owe him my life many times over, and I'd think you'd be grateful too! I love him. I'm sorry you don't approve, but it's my life and I approve of him."
"You love this Englishman?" he spat and pointed at Mark.
"Yes." She raised her chin.
"I hate English. They come and try - "
"Then you hate me, for I'm half English."
Grandfather closed his mouth and looked at her sadly.
"Mark is not responsible for Papa's sins."
"No, but all Englishmen are same. You come home with us."
She stepped back against Mark's chest. "No."
He stormed over, but Mark stepped in front of her. "I think it's been a long day and everyone needs to go to bed."
Grandfather glared at him. "You. You buy her like animal and pretend to have marriage?!"
Mark's knuckles whitened on the head of his cane. "I paid to keep her and the babe from a nightmare worse than anything you or I could imagine!" he roared, the veins in his neck bulging as he finally exploded. "She may leave if it is her wish!" He looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes fierce. Even in a temper, he would let her go, though.
She shook her head.
He turned back to Grandfather. "She's given her answer," he growled. "I'm sorry to be such a disappointment to you, but I keep her safe, fed, sheltered and clothed, and I certainly don't beat her. Beyond that, your only concern is her happiness. If staying makes her happy, she is not leaving this house."
The two men glared at each other. She exchanged a worried glance with Grandmother. Taking a step beside Mark, she took his hand and wrapped her other hand around his arm to be close. "He's a good, intelligent man, Grandfather. He's acknowledging the babe as his. You have no basis to hate him other than because you think he's another Englishman taking me away like how Papa took Mama."
His old milky eyes teared. "He took our babe and killed her," he said in a thick voice. "Then he kept you away many moons. I won't let another take my family to his civilization for a 'better life.' You come home with us. We find you good man from tribe to marry."
"But I want to stay! This is the world I grew up in. This is what I know - "
"We teach you. Chippewa is your blood - "
"And so is the English," Mark cut in. "It doesn't have to be one or the other."
He glare at Mark.
"I won't conceal her heritage like her mother was forced to do. She is as much a part of your world as she is mine. If she wants to run around with her hair colored blue or in man's clothes, she is free to do so. But she does it because that's what she wants, not what she's told she has to do."
Grandfather looked at her. "Tomorrow we teach you about your people. Then you'll want to come home." He kissed her cheek and walked out.
Grandmother came over and said something in another language. She pulled Mark's shirt until he bent down. Then she cupped his face and began a song chant. He glanced over at her in question and straightened when Grandmother finished. Then Grandmother held out a hand. He took it, but the woman turned it over palm up and traced her finger on his forearm dot-by-dot.
She broke between them and shook her head.
"What does she want?" Mark set a hand on her back.
Looking over her shoulders, she met his eyes. "Papa had three circular burn scars on his forearm. I asked him as a child what happened, and he said that a man must pass tests to show he's worthy of marriage. One was hot coals set along the arm to see how much pain he'd endure to protect his wife. He said he left with Mama after that first test. I never believed him that it was true."
His blue eyes held hers for a moment. "Do you want me to do it?"
"No!"
"Would it mean something for your Grandfather to approve?"
Her heart twisted. "You'd do that for me?"
His expression hardened. "To get him to shut up, of course," he grunted.
She smiled and stroked his cheek. "I don't want you to do that for me."
"See if he even can." Grandfather's voice cut into the private moment.
Turning, she ground her teeth. "He's not an animal to perform for you."
"And you're not animal to be bought."
She threw up her arms. "I give up!"
"We will discuss these tests tomorrow," Mark declared.
In bed, she punched the pillow in a fit to fluff it. "I can't believe you're being this stupid."
He pulled down the sheets and got in bed. "There's no true harm - "
"No harm?! He's talking of burning you and God knows what else!"
"I promise not to cry. Does that help?" The man had a smirk as he laid on his back.
"Marcus Reynold Charles whatever-the-hell-your-name-is, you make me insane! I - "
He grinned up at her. "I have every intention of doing so tonight."
"No. Not with them in the house." She caught him studying her. "What?"
"You must look like your mother. You somewhat look like your grandfather, so I assume your mother looked like him too. I see the features now that Brigands said are unique to your heritage. Come lie with me." He tugged up her chemise.
Discarding the clothing, she flushed, painfully aware of the physical differences now with family here.
He held out his hand when she hesitated. "Come here, beautiful."
"I'm not beautiful." She let him pull her down.
"But if I said you were gorgeous - "
"I'd think you feverish again," she finished and moved to lay her head on his shoulder. But his wet, hot mouth captured her breast. A gasp and her hands grabbed his shoulders to keep from collapsing.
"You're so sensitive, my little minx," he rumbled deep in his chest. "I'll show you pleasures that won't wake the house."
While panting in the afterglow minutes later, she smiled as he curled up on his side behind her and pulled her close.
"May I see if we'll fit? Your body will be most ready when pleasured like this. I won't do anything more tonight," he whispered in her ear.
She nodded, not frightened like this. With him. His lips pressed against her neck and his hand continued to weave magic as he rolled her onto her back. He pulled pillows behind to recline her, easing the weight of the babe on her insides. Then he gave a sound kiss to her lips before shifting to keep his weight off the babe. "Tell me if you get frightened or it hurts." His eyes locked with hers as he nudged her thighs apart. He broke eye contact for a split moment when he leaned down and kissed her belly.
There was so much tenderness. So much safety. So much...love. Her hands skimmed up to rest on his thick upper arms that flexed holding his weight off. It took him a moment to figure out how to position for his poor knee, but he didn't give up. His face stained red with embarrassment, making this all the more precious. "Mark, I don't care how you must be for your knee to hold you. I love you."
His heart visibly melted in his eyes. "Tanya," he whispered and leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips. "I - "
The moment he leaned down and kissed, his manhood pressed. A sharp, small pain of resistance.
Her eyes shot open. The man. Papa's kitchen. The cold floor pressed into her back. Pain. A scream of horror ripped out.
He scrambled back, her eyes blank yet frightened and chest heaving. "Tanya, it's just me."
At the flip of a switch, she was quiet again and pulled the sheets up over her chest. Unnervingly quiet and calm as she stared at the wall, curling up into herself inside. This was the first true glance of the woman who had been violated and beaten within an inch of her life.
He wasn't the one to comfort a woman - he was the most brash man in England.
"Mark?" Her hands shook and voice trembled.
Easing onto the bed beside her, he moved slow so as not to frighten her.
"What happened?"
"I think you had a flashback."
"A what?" Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes.
"The memories felt real again." He laid down next to her, keeping a space in between so she'd feel safe.
She rolled toward him, draping an arm across his chest and resting her head on his shoulder. "Make me feel safe again," she sniffled.
His arm wrapped around her, something in his heart tugging as it hadn't in years. "You're safe, my Tanya," he whispered.
He watched her sleep in the early morning light. She'd woken up screaming from a nightmare of the assault during the night, and it'd been impossible to go back to sleep. She looked so peaceful and beautiful here in his bed where he could keep away danger...except for the memories that haunted her.
When she woke up, she went about getting ready for the day as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. It was unnerving. When she walked toward the door, he grabbed his cane and followed. "Tanya?"
The woman turned with a smile. "Hm?"
"Your behavior this morning...I can't help but be concerned why you're so composed." He stopped toe to toe with her and set a hand on her belly.
With a shrug, she met his eyes. "Society says I made it up. Going around sobbing and making a scene would behoove me? I learned fast that if the world believes something didn't happen, it's best to act like something didn't happen. You object?" She cocked her head.
"Yes, I object!" His temper shot through the roof. "Pretending it didn't happen exacerbates the trauma, thereby inflicting more self-imposed nightmares!"
She cocked an eyebrow and rested her hands atop her belly. "Self-imposed? My, you sound like a highbred lord. And what is responsible for my self-imposed nightmares? Female wiles, Marquess? Because it certainly couldn't be a man responsible."
He pursed his lips. "Never have I said you aren't right in your fears." Clenching his teeth when she tilted her head up to him in challenge, he scowled. No fear or accusation shadowed in her eyes. "You aim to redirect my attention to that of anger in an attempt to end a topic you do not wish to discuss."
A smile bloomed on her lips. "Guilty." Then that lovely smile melted away and her eyes dropped to the floor. "I'll uphold my end of the agreement, Mark. I just need a couple days," she whispered and turned to grab the doorknob.
Such a beautiful creature didn't deserve to shoulder such horrors, much less be forced to lock them inside so suffer their tortures alone. Rage over the injustice surged and he slammed a hand against the door to keep it closed. "I don't give a damn about the contract!" The vehemence startled even himself.
Someone knocked. "Everything alright?" Her grandfather called.
"Jesus," he muttered under his breath and closed his eyes. "You deal with him. I've had enough of his shit yesterday." He limped to the closet for a pair of fresh pants. In the haste to get to her, he'd left the bed without a stitch of clothing.
She opened the door. "Everything's fine."
"I heard that snooty purebred yell at you." He pushed into the room.
"He's not snooty and we're fine. You've been henpecking him since you arrived - "
"Where's the coward?"
He stepped out in pants and his shirt still unbuttoned, purposefully leaving the cane in the closet to appear less weak to this man who would fight tooth and nail to take Tanya away from him.
The older man looked him up and down in disapproval. "I figured out my two tasks for you, Englishman. First, you will prove that you will protect her at all costs - "
"He has!" Tanya stepped in the way, her posture so fierce. "His knee was ruined because he rescued me!"
Her grandfather held up a hand to silence her. "You will take a bullet - "
"What?" Tanya screeched.
"You will prove yourself now." Three men - all too familiar from the kidnapping - entered the room with ropes.
He grabbed Tanya and shoved her in the closet. "Lock it!"
She dove for the latch and flipped it just in time.
"The jewels, Tanya!" her grandfather roared, his broken accent gone.
A loud crunch and Mark screamed in pain.
"The jewels or we break his other leg!" Grandfather yelled. Another grunt of pain from Mark.
"I don't know!" she cried and searched for any kind of weapon in the dark to help Mark.
"Tanya, a blade to the belly is a terrible way to die. Come out and tell us!"
"No, Tanya!" Mark was loudly silenced.
Something long and hard. Mark's cane. She grabbed it and opened the door.
Mark was held down on his knees, his eye already swelling and lip bleeding. Two men held Mark's arms, one grabbing a fistful of Mark's hair and yanked his head back as Grandfather slammed a fist into his jaw. Grandfather pulled out a knife.
"Stop!" The scream ripped out so loud it hurt.
All eyes flew to her.
"Tanya, in the closet," Mark gasped weakly. The men tossed him aside.
Mark somehow scrambled to his feet toward Grandfather, who advanced toward her. She screamed when another large man shot into the room. Mark tackled Grandfather, and this man tackled one of the other thugs, to her shock. They took down and tied the third man.
The stranger grinned and slapped Mark on the back. "My brother," he nodded to her grandfather. Then he looked at her. "Tanya?"
She stared at the older man - his eyes looked exactly like hers. They must be Mama's eyes.
"I'm One Who Kill Tiger - I'm grandfather."
Mark stared, seeming shocked.
She took a step closer, studying his wrinkled face and black hair. "What did Papa say when he asked to marry Mama?" Her voice shook.
The man held her eyes and pain flashed across his face. "That he'd never take her away." He held out his hand. "Granddaughter." Tears shimmered in his eyes. "We've looked for you for three decades." He stepped aside as she took his hand. "This is your grandmother."
An older woman stepped into the room. Time had done little to her beauty and grace. The woman held open her arms. "We've waited so long so long to meet you." She gracefully came over in a simple maroon dress and hugged.
She clung to the woman - the only piece of Mama she'd ever known. "You look like Mama?" Tears flowed freely.
"The spitting image," her new grandfather said as he helped Mark to his feet. "I'm the medicine man back home. Let's see to that black eye."
Letting go of Grandmama, she hurried over as Mark leaned on Grandfather to limp to bed. "They hurt your knee! Oh, Mark, you must stop being so heroic." She helped Grandfather ease him onto the bed.
"I like your family better already." Mark groaned as he sat.
"My brother," Grandfather said and by happy coincidence made a well-calculated trip over the liar, "is a con artist. I see he beat us here." He scowled at the man as Grandmama came over with a medical bag. "I am the medicine man in our tribe, but I have learned the white man's ways too." He manipulated Mark's knee as she tended to his eye. "You're the one who bought my granddaughter?"
"Her father found himself in a disagreeable situation. Coin was needed."
Bless his heart for not disgracing Papa and embarrassing her by admitting the truth.
"Enough coin for a bank?" Grandfather paused and gave Mark a look.
Mark held Grandfather's eyes. "In exchange for bondslave papers taken from another man after we were already wed. Tanya consented and is free to leave if ever she chooses without fear of me invoking the bondslave order."
"And the baby is yours?"
"She walked in on a robbery before we were to be married." Mark neither hesitated nor flinched.
"You still took her?" Grandfather looked at Mark in such an odd manner.
Mark's shoulders squared and his eyes narrowed. "You speak of her as if a horse."
Grandfather smiled. "You regret being made to trade coin for a wife?"
"I regret, sir," Mark said with sternness, "that she is made to forever wonder if I took her to keep my word to an old man."
"Is there any other reason why you would trade such great coin for her?" Grandfather gave him the most intense look. It was as if she and Grandmama weren't even in the room.
Her heart beat faster. Surely Mr. Manchester wasn't correct that Mark had done it for love.
"For what other reason would a man trade a lifetime's worth of fortune for a woman?" Mark's gaze didn't waiver.
She swallowed down the disappointment, keeping her eyes locked on Mark's split lip even as his gaze burned.
"It is that blackguard who harmed her." Mark stood as the man in ropes struggled to free himself. He hauled the man up by his collar. "Look away, Tanya." Then his fist snapped back the man's head.
The force of his anger made her jump. She turned away as another punch made the evil man gasp in pain.
"If you ever come near her again, I vow I will kill you," Mark hissed in a low whisper obviously not intended to be overheard. Another crunch.
The man collapsed into an unconscious heap and Mark limped to the bed again, shaking out his hand.
"You could be arrested for battery," Grandfather said, although a smile lurked on his face.
Mark gave Grandfather a leveling look. "I tripped. My fist so happened to meet his face."
"Ah. Come, I have a poultice for that knee."
It was pleasing to see Mark and Grandfather get along quite well over breakfast after the sheriff arrested the thieves. They even went as far as sharing medical knowledge.
Rather than frowning upon the ways of the 'savages,' as most would think of Grandfather's ways, Mark seemed quite awed. "Your women - they do not get childbed fever?"
"No, however, infant death rates are high, which could be due to our women birthing on their own in the woods."
Mark's eyebrows shot up. "A woman births alone? Should something go wrong, what is she to do? Surely there are at least women near to aid?"
Grandfather shook his head.
He set a hand over hers on the table, but his eyes remained on Grandfather. "A physician will be present when my wife gives birth to ensure her health, as well as the babe's. She may have whomever present she chooses and otherwise follow your birthing traditions, if she wishes. Just to be clear."
A smile greeted Mark's words. "Your methods are odd compared to what I have learned of the white man. I have asked of your history. You have delivered more than two hundred infants with far less than fifty deaths. Those numbers are unheard of. You will deliver my great-grandchild."
"I am without a license. I cannot," he said quietly.
"Ahem." The men looked at her. "I am so glad that you are the ones giving birth, deciding what shall happen."
"Forgive us." Mark raised her hand to his lips. "We simply wish to see you and the babe safe. We shall have more appropriate conversation."
After dinner on the way to the drawing room, he pulled her aside. "I meant no disrespect at dinner, as if discussing the breeding of a mare. Childbirth can be dangerous, and I got caught up in the conversation of the safety measures he knows."
She cracked a smile. "Are you seeking to not fall out of my favor?"
"I'm your husband and have final say. I do not need to be in your favor," he growled. Then his arm slipped around her waist and he stepped closer.
Biting her lip to hide the smile, she looked up at him from beneath her lashes. "Then why are you still here?"
"To not fall out of your favor, my lady love," he said deep in his chest, the words quiet and intimate. His left hand not relying on the cane to support him let go of her waist to offer his arm.
Letting the smile free, she accepted the escort.
"It seems your grandfather approves of your husband." Grandmama leaned over and said as they had tea while the men drank Scotch near the fire where Mark propped up his leg.
Happiness bubbled up. "I've never seen Mark talk so much. I think he's having fun picking Grandfather's medical knowledge. When a hand laid over her arm, she turned her head.
"Is he good to you?" Grandmama asked seriously.
"Oh goodness, he treats me like a queen." Her cheeks flushed and she took a sip of hot cocoa.
"As a man should. You seem fond of him," she said over the rim of her cup.
The flush burned hotter. "He is my husband."
"Perhaps that's it," Grandmama said with a knowing smile. "I didn't have an arranged marriage. I met your grandfather when we were children living in neighboring tribes. He was promised to another, as was I, but we were in love. My parents turned me out for shaming them, but his tribe welcomed the wife of the young medicine man. I promised to never force a marriage on your mother."
"But you wish you had." The regret in Grandmama's voice flowed so thick.
She sighed. "Your mother was in love. We weren't impressed with your father but wanted her happy. Your grandfather spent years tracking your mother, perfectly livid when your father took her away." Her eyes teared, but she remained tall and regal, as if never displaying too much vulnerability. "We found them three days after you were born - after your mother died. We begged to meet you, but your father ran with you again. Your grandfather has spent the better half of his life trying to find you."
The men's laughter cut in and Grandfather looked over. "He's proud of you, Granddaughter."
"For what?" She blinked in surprise.
"For a child left to raise herself, you've obviously done well. Your husband does not seem like a man whose respect is easily won, much less retained." Grandfather raised his glass to Mark, whose embarrassment only showed as far as slightly stained cheeks.
"He adores you," Grandmama said when the men began talking together again.
"We barely know each other - "
She patted her hand. "That too will change with time."
After a bit, Mark said, "Come, Tanya, it's time to get you to bed. I lost track of time." He pushed himself to his feet and took the cane that Grandfather offered.
"I'm fine." She glanced at the clock. Half past ten.
"it's been a long day and the babe's tired. You must get your rest." He limped over.
She cocked an eyebrow. "How do you know if the babe's tired?" But she took his hand all the same.
"A father knows." Then he turned to Grandfather. "The butler has left for the evening. If I may be so rude as to ask you to take your suitcases upstairs...I would not be much help." He gestured toward his swollen knee and his cheeks stained with embarrassment. "Then I shall return and see that you're adequately settled."
"Of course. We can see ourselves to our rooms, if you'll point us in the right direction." Grandfather stepped forward. "Goodnight." He shook Mark's hand. Then he turned and engulfed her in a hug, his height nearly matching Mark's but his breadth much leaner. "Goodnight, Granddaughter. We love you." He pressed a kiss to her temple.
Then Grandmama gave Mark a hug and then her. "It's so good to finally have you back. I love you."
When they let go, she brushed at her eyes.
"Tanya?" Mark set a hand on her back and handed over a handkerchief.
She hiccupped, the emotions so unexpected and overwhelming that the tears couldn't be stopped. "The last time anyone said 'I love you,' it...was a teacher when I was six years...old." She gasped in a huge breath to try to calm the sobs.
"We have always loved you." They wrapped her in a hug again.
When they let go, Mark propped the cane against the settee and wrapped both arms around.
"We'll go get our bags," Grandfather whispered to Mark and took Grandmama out.
Mark cradled her head against his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat so comforting. "Don't cry," he whispered and pressed a kiss to her hair. "Don't cry, my lady love." He took the handkerchief himself and dabbed at the tears with more tenderness than a gruff man like him should possess. Fresh tears fell. He kissed each one away, and his lips trailed down to hers.
It was a kiss of tenderness and safety and passion.
When he broke the kiss, his chest heaved as much as hers. Those blue eyes dilated with lust and his hands still cupped her face. "Come to bed without anything between our bodies. I won't consummate tonight, but let me hold my wife as a man is meant to."
Oh dear heaven, that was so romantic. Of course he only meant it in a physical way, but it still made the knees weak. With a nod, she took a steadying breath and untangled her arms from around his waist. "Do you know what I miss?"
He grunted and picked up the cane.
"Not having a belly in the way when I hug you."
His head whipped to her, his eyes surprised and a bit wide like he didn't know what to do with that comment. But he took a step to her side and wrapped his arms around in a hug that offered closer contact.
A smile replaced the tears and she hugged him tight.
He stepped away a second later and cleared his throat. "I shall not often indulge in such female wiles," he grunted.
She grinned. That was the biggest lie ever. "Yes, Mark."
"Don't look at me like that, woman."
"No, Mark." She had to look away and cover her mouth to hide the smile.
"Don't 'Yes, Mark' and 'No, Mark' me, woman!"
Setting her hands on his chest, she leaned closer until he bent down. Then she whispered in his ear, "Should I call you 'master' instead?" Then her tongue flicked over his earlobe.
He shuddered and hissed in a breath, swallowing hard as he straightened and his heart beat fast through his shirt. "You are so damn lucky I'm crippled, or you could be explaining to your grandparents tomorrow why I swept you upstairs in my arms and didn't return." The man growled the words through clenched teeth.
Her eyes darted down to where his pantaloons strained. "I should say you probably don't want to return tonight, least you embarrass yourself. Then you shall be explaining yourself, husband." Then she turned to go and threw a smile over her shoulder.
He leaned forward and gave a sound swat padded well through the skirts. "Get upstairs, minx. I shan't be patient." Then he swept past with impressive speed for his injury.
With a final goodnight to the grandparents, she caught up to Mark on the stairs. It took him a great deal of effort between the railing and cane to haul himself along, bless his heart. The weight of his massive frame surely didn't help his knee.
She came up a couple steps behind him on the second set of stairs after Grandfather and Grandmama deviated down the hall to their rooms. "Let me know if you need more motivation to get to the bedchamber."
He snorted. "I'm making good time, wench. Get in front - I've told you to not go up behind me in case I fall." The man stopped and held the railing with one hand while taking her hand with his other to help her come around.
She turned and looked at him from the step above. "You're a worry wart."
His jaw dropped. "I am not!"
"You are." She grinned. "I don't know that I've ever heard of any other man making his pregnant wife go up the steps before him so he can catch her." Then she turned and headed up and waited at the top. It took the poor man almost a half minute to catch up.
"Go! I'm not an old man who needs a nanny following," he snapped.
Resting her hands on her belly, she kept a straight face and shrugged. "I thought you might want me to wait so you can take my clothes off."
The man stopped dead in his tracks and stared, completely speechless.
Her cheeks burned the longer the silence dragged on. "I shouldn't have said that, should I?"
He blinked. "No, I...you just surprised me. I expected you to be shy and perhaps a bit frightened."
She cocked her head. "Should I be frightened? You said we won't consummate."
He held her eyes with a slightly arrogant expression. "You seem to have a knack for rendering me speechless." The man offered his arm. "Not a quality I'm sure I like, Marchioness."
"Oh, I'm Marchioness now, am I?" She took his arm and continued walking with him. "I should say it does you good to have someone keep you off kilter. Could it be, Marquess, that you don't like it because I'm..." she gasped in mock surprise and widened her eyes at him "a woman."
His lips pursed, clearly not amused. "Man or woman, it does not agree with me. And it does even less so from a wife whom already exhibits little obedience."
She smiled. "You've said so yourself that a meek wife would bore you. Every time you huff and puff, should I cower and hide?"
"Life would be damn easier if you did," he huffed.
Weeks ago that comment would've been taken to heart, but now it only made her smile from beneath her lashes. "I shall always be most obedient in the bedchamber and let you ravish me at any hour of the day."
The man stopped in the doorway, the shock apparent on his face. Then he slammed the door closed. "Insolent wench! Turn so that I can take off your clothes and teach you a lesson!"
She giggled and presented her back for him to loosen the ties. "I promise to be a good woman and take my deserved punishment."
He jerked the ties, loosening them all at once and likely tearing a bit of the fabric too. Then he caught her arm and spun her around, a slight smile tugging at his lips just a hairs breath from hers. "Your punishment shall be pleasure of degrees you are not yet aware exist," he rumbled deep in his chest. Then his smile faded in all seriousness. "Never shall I punish with pain or fear."
Reaching up, she cupped his face and searched his eyes. "I know," she whispered. She let the undergarments slide to the floor to stand before him without shame.
His eyes reflected so raw what he drank in - a creature of beauty and worth everything to protect. And it was there in his eyes for the first time, if only for a moment...love.
