A/N: Enjoy the next installment of medieval/ fairytale Darcy shenanigans. Brock is warming slightly to our heroine.
The trip to the busy market town was not ideal. Brock had traded some well made tools and axes for use of a cart horse named Silvermane. Although the trip was much nicer than using Darcy's horse to carry both her and her grandmother, as well as their supplies, Brock made Darcy sit in the back of the cart after insisting there was only room for two in the front. As the cart bumped and tousled her, Darcy regretted not saddling her own horse and tried to bore holes into the back of Brock's head. Two weeks had passed since bringing him his remedies. She had to admit that he looked much better than before. Although she'd made excuses to walk past his hut and check on his health, Brock was rather flippant and did whatever he could to be unpleasant. Even if watching him chop wood shirtless and bang out different iron creations was entertaining at first, it eventually lost some of its charm, what with all the surly looks he cast her. Darcy spent more and more time on her own when it was obvious that any interest he'd originally shown towards her had been a mistake in judgement on her part.
It suited Darcy fine, even if her pride stung. Still, she liked the idea of a man being somewhat interested in her despite her title. Brock didn't strike her as the sort to go after women of means for a dowry. Then again, he was mostly level headed and any level headed man wouldn't turn down a formidable dowry if offered, even if a horrifying bride accompanied it.
Darcy never got the chance to ask him his preference of love versus gold. Well, it was more accurate that she never asked for fear of the answer. She quite liked the image of a man who shunned riches for a life of hard work. An idealistic and naive view of the world, perhaps, but Darcy was rapidly running out of time to enjoy the simple pleasures. As she'd yet to come up with a plan to thwart her betrothed fate, she clawed for anything to restore her faith in destiny and dreams. It had become quite clear that Brock was not a solution or even a reliable distraction.
The town was almost an entire day's ride from grandmother's home but they'd started at dawn. Normally, Darcy and her grandmother only came to the town once a month and stayed for a few days. The market took place weekly but the lord that owned the land was kind and allowed travelers to sell their wares for days at a time if they payed a tax. Added excitement was that Darcy always found ways to entertain herself in the village and thus looked forward to catching up with friends she had made over the years. So in theory, it should be a delightful way to spend the upcoming days. As long as the weather stayed clear, Darcy decided she would not let Brock's attitude sour her spirits.
The town boasted one inn but its mattresses were flea ridden and sometimes the visiting soldiers were rough or didn't take no for an answer. To avoid it, grandmother offered soap and herbs to the town healer who let them sleep in her small home. Unfortunately, the woman had passed away at the end of winter. Since Brock was in tow, they decided on covering the wagon and sleeping just outside the town lines. Common with many traveling merchants and common when grandfather was alive but not the safest when there were just two women.
Brock slept under the wagon while Darcy and her grandmother slept inside. The first two nights were rather uneventful. Brock chose to speak more to grandmother and didn't say anything to Darcy until it was absolutely necessary. After a day of this, she decided to do the exact same to him. It was terribly difficult, especially when Brock did little things to try and garner a reaction from her once he realized she was trying to beat him at his own game. Silly little things like purposely bumping into her or moving objects she had put down were fine and well when Bucky, Steve or even little Godfrey did them but it was absolutely infuriating coming from Brock.
If it had been one of the boys she knew so well, Darcy would have simply tousled until there was a winner. That simply wasn't an option with Brock because Darcy wasn't keen on seeing how he'd react to it. He seemed the type to not let her win. But also, she didn't feel the same annoyance bubble up when Brock went out of his way to prick her nerves. An angry blush would heat her face but her insides fluttered and her heartbeat pounded whenever he touched her. There were moments where she would retaliate in the most immature of ways, knowing full well he'd reach out and grab her wrist. Darcy was beginning to even crave his touch, whether it be a sliding of shoulders or his light pinching her side. Something in her chest pained whenever he moved away from her and every so often, she felt like a string was starting to weave its way from her heart to his. Completely ridiculous and caused by the unusual heat so early in the early summer. At least, it must have been because otherwise, she couldn't make sense of it.
Eventually, Darcy distracted herself from the fanciful thoughts she'd been having. Market day flew by rather fast and she even found time to catch up with old friends. All had families that were growing and appeared happy, leaving Darcy with envy in her heart at little freedoms available to those not born of high stations. But, at least the town market was busy and many were interested in the wares Darcy and her grandmother had produced. Brock also fared well, catching the impressed eye of soldiers collecting taxes. They ordered a list of items to be finished within the next couple of weeks, which would more than keep Brock busy.
When the crowds began to calm, grandmother left to bid farewell to friends and for a bit of final trading of her own. That left Darcy and Brock to pack up the cart on the final day. They intended to sleep one more night by the town and leave at dawn. For the first time in her life, Darcy found that she was relieved to be leaving. It had been rather warm these past few days and the heat had done nothing to ease her temper. In fact, she'd not worn her red cloak for most of the trip despite her grandmother's occasional suggestion to put it back on.
Not intending to speak to Brock for the rest of the trip if she had to, Darcy made her way to Silvermane and led the horse back towards the wagon as the final wares were tossed in the back. With soft words and treats during these past few days, Darcy had easily earned Silvermane's undying love. He was a sweet grey horse with large hooves and a dark spot on his nose. Throughout the trip, Darcy had groomed him and braided flowers throughout his tail and mane, all to Brock's consternation. Once Silvermane was tied to the wagon, Darcy gave the horse a pat on his shoulder and earned a nuzzle to her neck as he sought out the carrots he knew she was hiding. The nuzzle turned into light nibbles and with a giggle, Darcy acquiesced by pulling out the carrot from her satchel at her waist and fed him. Silvermane's head lifted as he finished chewing and he began to sniff Darcy's cheek. She couldn't help but give him a little peck above his nose.
"You're going to spoil him if you keep doing that," Brock's voice rumbled, startling Darcy out of the innocent moment. An unbidden shiver ran down her spine and she could feel his body heat even though he was two large strides away.
"Why does that bother you? You're not jealous of the attention he gets, are you?" Darcy said with a feigned air of detachment.
"Are you asking if I'd want you to braid my hair and feed me carrots?" Brock rose an eyebrow and grinned with commanding poise that made Darcy want to throttle him. "The answer is no."
"Unbearable toad," muttered Darcy, turning her attention back to Silverman and moving to pet his neck. As she took her time to come up with a scathing remark, she felt an itch between her shoulders. She recognized the feeling as Brock's eyes burning her skin and wished she wasn't so aware of his presence.
"I wouldn't mind the affection though," Brock said softly and Darcy's entire body stiffened. A lump formed in her throat as her hand slowed. Silverman nudged at her to continue but all Darcy could do was blink while attempting to process the meaning of his words. The logical voice in her head told her he was just trying to garner a violent reaction but there was some other feeling in her gut that wanted her to lunge. Lunge at him to what end, she wasn't entirely sure.
Once Darcy found her courage, she turned to face Brock but before she read the meaning behind his earnest face, a woman strolling towards them caught her attention instead. She was wearing a fine kirtle of rich blue, with the neckline dangerously low. Around her shoulders was a shawl made of raye cloth. Normally, the striped material was worn as a hood to brand prostitutes but Darcy was impressed by this woman's ingenuity. Obviously, this woman was not one who dallied with the common man if the fine detail of her clothing was any indication. Her eyes were a sharp, piercing blue and her beautiful blond locks tumbled down her shoulders and to her waist. Although she was quite comely with full lips and fair skin, the puckered look on her face took away from her beauty. She appeared to glide with an innate sense of sensuality that Darcy knew she'd never achieve.
"Oh Brock, I see you've found yourself a pretty young maid," the woman said, voice trilling high, aim obviously to be alluring to Brock. It clashed with the expression she fixed on Darcy, making her look as if she'd just smelled something rotten. Darcy crossed her arms and stared right back with an unimpressed glance, refusing to let this woman try and shame her for no reason other than unfounded jealousy. In the back of her head, she thought she heard a growl but decided it was just a buzzing she used to hear when angry as a little girl. Although Darcy thought Brock was being a right toad lately, she still sort of saw him as her toad. The realization of this confused her because it didn't make much logic but now wasn't time to dwell on the details. If Brock wanted to dally with whores, he could do so at his leisure even if the idea made Darcy's blood boil. As long as she didn't have to be dragged into it and could berate him afterwards to her heart's content.
"Bernice," Brock said in a reprimanding tone but the woman ignored it and he frowned.
"If you miss a woman with tricks up her sleeve, you know where to find me," Bernice purred, swinging up her shawl so that it hooked around Brock's neck. She used it to try and pull him down for a kiss but all the while, not taking her hawklike eyes off Darcy.
"Please, you're free to have him," Darcy snorted, causing the woman to frown in confusion. Once distracted, Brock used the opportunity to untangle himself from the shawl. "I'd rather kiss his horse than put up with his unpleasant moods. In fact, if you really miss him that much, maybe you should marry him. He's enough room in his hut and I'm sure the wife of a blacksmith is a step above the life of a small village whore."
"Darcy," Brock warned the same time Bernice let out a gasp of indignation. Just as Brock began to make his way to stand between the two women, Bernice raised her hand and slammed down to slap Darcy. Faster than Darcy realized she was capable of, she grabbed the woman's wrist before it could make contact. Shock registered in both women's eyes but Darcy found her strength quickly. Anger burst forward just as fast.
"If you ever lay a hand on me, it will be the last thing you do," Darcy growled, feeling it reverberate in her chest. Fear flashed through Bernice's eyes as Darcy tightened her grip, earning a whimper. It felt freeing to have an outlet for the anger that had been mounting her entire life. Almost cruel, given Bernice's only issue with Darcy was a case of mistaken ownership over a blacksmith but at least Darcy had gained control over something. The anger morphed and made way for another feeling that she couldn't quite name. Darcy's heart started to pound and her insides fluttered. Her chest continued to rumble with a growl and it seeped into her bones. "Brock is not your property and you will not act as if he is. If you suggest otherwise and I hear about it, I will-"
"Darcy," Brock pleaded, cutting her off but the voice sounded far away. Warm hands gripped her waist and the growling ceased immediately. Brock said her name again but this time, it was softer, sweeter. The scent of woodsmoke and cloves tickled her nose and her shoulders relaxed. Letting go of Bernice, Darcy watched the woman run away. A bit of pleasure swelled up, replacing the fluttering. Brock pulled her back so she lay against his chest. She could feel his deep breaths, in and out, with the movement of his chest and her heart eventually slowed to a normal beat that matched his.
"Aren't you going to run after the future Lady Blacksmith of the Northern Picts?" Darcy mumbled. If she sounded petulant, Brock didn't seem to take notice or simply didn't care. A headache was beginning to grip her temples and she really could do with a nap.
"And risk you ripping out her throat?" Brock asked, though it sounded more of a statement and there may have been a tone of pride in it.
"I didn't do it to defend you. She just angered me," Darcy insisted, trying to wriggle out of Brock's hold but he held on tightly, wrapping his arms around her waist. She liked it and a shiver ran down her spine when Brock placed his lips next to her ear. "Whilst I do not judge a woman by her profession, I will gladly judge her on her rude actions towards a stranger. Acting as if I was the root of her problems when I would rather have nothing to do with you."
"It didn't look like that from what I saw. Though, I appreciate your attempts to save my reputation from utter ruin," Brock teased. Darcy wanted to turn her head to see what it felt like to have his lips so close to hers. At that thought, she knew she needed to move away.
"Your reputation is beyond utter ruin. The Pope himself couldn't save it," Darcy said, elbowing Brock lightly in the side. He let her go but kept a hand on her elbow so she couldn't get far. Instead of fighting, Darcy just set her focus on his chest. She didn't want to look into his face. She was worried of what she'd see. "I don't know why I said those things to her. About you and property and what not. I don't know why I said any of it."
"I'm sorry. For the way I've acted these past few weeks. I'm afraid I've been out of sorts," Brock admitted softly. Looking up sharply, Darcy searched his face for any signs of lying but didn't find any. He appeared sincere and it caught her completely off guard.
"I suppose I'm also sorry. For annoying you and...scaring off your future wife," Darcy said suspiciously, earning a snort from Brock. The apology was not one she'd ever expect to hear from him and she was quite certain he had some sort of trick up his sleeve to follow. He let go of her elbow and she took a small step back.
"I have to admit that I've quite enjoyed seeing you ruffled up and might have been doing my best to keep you thus. You shouldn't make it so easy for me," Brock teased.
"So, you like your women angry?" Darcy scoffed, crossing her arms and feeling a little more like her normal self. "That does not bode well for your future wife."
"She'll just have to be able to keep me in line," said Brock with a shrug and small smile. There was a warmth in his eyes that Darcy found she quite liked.
"Well, whoever she is, I wish her the strength and patience of a saint. Also, you need to find other hobbies instead of annoying unsuspecting victims."
"Perhaps my victims should be careful on looking so pretty when prickled," Brock said, trying to fight off a grin.
"And perhaps you should stop pricking everything in a dress 'fore you anger another tender heart. I'd hate to make another woman jealous enough to strike me again all because I'm standing next to you. I've better things to do that argue with someone full of hot air," Darcy said haughtily, bringing her affections back to Silvermane when she felt the animal nudge at her shoulder.
"Like braid manes and dance half naked in the fields?" Brock offered, voice close to a hedonistic rumble.
At the suggestion, Darcy turned her head back to Brock to find a smug look on his face as he tried very poorly to stop himself from smirking. Heat bloomed on Darcy's cheeks as she realized that Brock had very likely seen Darcy dancing about in her shift as she braided flowers into her horse's tail and mane. It's something she'd often done through the years after a wade in the creek but was also quite certain she'd never been spied upon.
"That's a terrible thing, to spy on someone's private time," Darcy hissed, looking around them and ensuring all that passed were too busy in their own lives to listen to her concerns.
"It's not private time if you're naked for all to see," Brock warned softly, leaning in so only Darcy could hear him. "Besides, I did warn you many times to be careful about what hides in the woods. Maybe now you'll be more wary, as you should."
"Obviously, the only dangerous thing wandering around in those woods is you. I'm quite immune to your charms, so I've nothing to fear."
"Nothing to fear? Brave words uttered by fools," said Brock sagely.
"I've simply have more worrying matters to concern myself with. I choose to fear something that can actually do me harm," Darcy said.
"Are you saying I can't do you harm?" Brock asked, tone raising slightly at the insult he seemed to think it was.
"You've yet to give me reason to think you would. Most of the time you seem to ignore me. Why should I fear that? My father's ignored me for most of my years and now that he's garnered some interest, my life has become terribly complicated. It would be a dream if all men ignored me for they only cause trouble for whatever sparks their interest. Now, if you please, I shall go find my grandmother. You can go back to ignoring me or even beg on your knees to Bernice to forgive you. Either suits me quite fine," Darcy announced, beginning to turn away but Brock reached out and grabbed her wrist gently. A shock of heat ran up her arm and she pulled out of his hold but didn't walk away.
"Perhaps I don't ignore you half as much as you think. Some men have the ability to exert quite a bit of self control. Once in a while," Brock said, face full of yearning. Despite his words promising control, his shoulders were tense and he looked like he was about to pounce on her.
"Then I'll bask in your superior control for the rest of the summer, only wailing once it's over that I shall never meet a man like you ever again. Would that make you happy?" Darcy asked, lump back in her throat. Brock took a step to close the distance she had made in her efforts to escape. Although she should have taken two steps back for each of his, she found herself rooted to the ground.
"You couldn't begin to know what would make me happy," Brock said softly, voice low and full of need. Pain flashed through his eyes and the string she imagined that twined their chests pulsed. Darcy's chest cinched and her throat felt raw all of a sudden. Brock lightly gripped on a lock of her hair, twirling it twice around his finger then tugging until it slid off. It sent a shiver down Darcy's spine and her heart beat wildly in her ears. Darcy decided it was certainly time to find her grandmother. With a final pat to Silvermane's neck, she turned to walk away, flicking her hair away from his grasp.
"Well, if I'm ever curious, I'll knock on your door," Darcy called over her shoulder. Something light and exciting pumped through her veins instead of the dread that Darcy assumed would have weighed her down after such an interaction.
"Daughters of Barons shouldn't go looking for trouble behind doors. Especially when wolves are waiting on the other side," Brock called after her in that enigmatic tone he used when he was imparting what he thought were wise words. Normally, now Darcy had become to realize, they were just odd bits of nonsense.
"I'll look for whatever I please. You're not my husband," Darcy laughed.
"If I were your husband, I'd be gray headed after one day."
"But you'd probably be much less cross," Darcy said in a sing-song voice. She was not completely certain she knew why she said that or even fully what she meant by it. In fact, she half regretted the words the moment they left her mouth. That appeared to be a terrible habit she was forming whenever she spoke to him. Speaking nonsense without thought.
Although curious, Darcy thought it best not to look back to see what Brock's reaction was. Already, she could feel his gaze burning between her shoulder blades and twisting her insides. Darcy wondered if his eyes were heated or if his brow was furrowed in confusion. Instead of giving into temptation, she skipped all the way to her grandmother and giggled a little bit too.