Page 63 of Heart of the Hunter (Band of Bastards #3)
Anora cringed. She did not attend church regularly, and she could not recall exactly how long it had been since her last confession.
In truth, the priest in Oswestry, Father Perry, scared her with his prophecies of doom, and with the way he harrumphed during her confessions and told her she was near-to-beyond saving.
Her cheeks reddened at the thought of confessing the time spent in Hunter’s arms and the deeds they’d done together of late. Father Perry would have a fit.
“Do not be afraid to tell the truth,” Father Osric encouraged. He was very similar to Father Perry in his demeanor, but they looked nothing alike. Perhaps they were trained to be so stoic and cold in the same monastery.
“I am in good standing.” She tried not to flinch as she lied to the priest, and she prayed God would forgive her for not trusting Father Osric and his intentions.
Fortifying her courage, she continued, “I find it hard to believe Baron Payne abducted me and brought me here just for you to hear my confession. Will you tell me why I am here, Father?”
Father Osric looked from Anora to Edmund, the unease apparent in his widened eyes.
“Do not be so obtuse, my dear,” Edmund said.
His nearness startled her. She had not heard his approach, yet he stood almost directly at her side.
His lips were contorted into a smile but there was no kindness or joy in his expression.
“You are well aware why we are here. For our nuptials, of course. The priest has agreed to stand as witness.”
Anora spun on her heel to face the baron. “I will never marry you.”
He pivoted to stand in front of her, blocking her from the priest’s view.
In a low, menacing voice, he said, “I suggest you take some time to think about the consequences if you do not amend your response.” He grabbed her upper arm in a crushing grip and led her to the back of the church.
There he wrapped a hand in the front of Tommy’s tunic and twisted as he lifted the boy nearly off his feet.
“Do you want to see this boy have the skin peeled from his bones in slow, excruciating strokes? Donald is quite skilled with a blade.”
Anora’s knees wobbled and her stomach lurched so forcefully she had to swallow to keep the contents down. She tried to appeal to his vanity. “You are a lord now and your influence must surely be growing with your alliances. You are deserving of a noble woman for wife, and I am not noble.”
“We discussed this already. You will make a pretty trophy, worthy of envy, and your father is wealthy, or at least wealthy enough to provide the funds I need until my other prospects come to fruition.” Baron Payne released Tommy with a dismissive shove and pushed him back into the grip of Donald.
“I could ask the king for a noble woman, but he has proven a disappointment in that regard. His rewards are not equal to the value of what I have done for the expansion of his realm. The daughter of a wealthy merchant is still considered a worthy bride, and I want others to be jealous of my good fortune when they see your beauty as you walk by my side. Most especially, that bastard-born, worthless peasant Hawk allows to run roughshod with disrespect.” He flashed her a wicked smile.
“Making you my wife, knowing you are naked in my bed, will drive him mad.”
She felt his gaze like an unwanted touch as it moved slowly over her body, then back up to her face. He took her chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Now, we are going to say the words in front of the priest to make you my wife. Unless you you’d prefer to watch Donald carve up the boy.”
Even in the dim light from the candelabra across the room, Anora could see the horror in Tommy’s eyes and the way his lips worked as he tried to maintain his composure.
She could not blame him for being afraid—Heavens above knew she was terrified out of her mind!
Tommy had been threatened with bodily harm before as a cutpurse and thief, and was not easily frightened, but she suspected this was the closest to real harm he’d ever come.
“Let Tommy go first, and I will cooperate,” Anora said. Her mouth felt dry and tasted of ash.
Edmund studied her for a moment, eyes narrowed, then shook his head. “I think not. I know you better than you realize, Anora. You are going to fight me every step of the way unless Donald keeps a knife to his throat.”
The odious guard slid a long dagger from his boot, the candlelight glinting on the silver blade as he held it up in front of Anora’s face.
She didn’t miss the look on Tommy’s face just beyond the dagger, the way his eyes widened just slightly, and his shoulders dropped back as he came to attention.
Anyone else may have mistaken his reaction as one of increased fear, but she knew it was the excitement of an opportunity that had him suddenly more alert.
She gave him an almost imperceptible shake of her head, relieved when his eyes shoulders drooped with disappointment.
He’d been a talented little thief when he lived on the lanes of Oswestry, and she knew he had already calculated in his head how to steal the knife.
As advantageous as it would be to them if he stole the dagger from Donald, the timing of the theft was critical.
Stolen too soon, and it would cause more trouble for Tommy, but if he waited until the right moment, it could be very useful.
She didn’t yet know when that moment might be, but she felt certain the time was not now.
“Is there a problem, baron?” Father Osric called from the other end of the room.
“No, Father,” Edmund replied over his shoulder. He turned on his heel, his eyes still on Anora, and held out his forearm. “My lady?”
She refused his arm but took a deep breath while she racked her brain for a way out of this situation as she walked back to stand in front of Father Osric. He looked down his nose at her, then looked at Baron Payne as he joined her in front of the altar.
Father Osric sighed and shifted uncomfortably, then said to Anora, “I ask again, will you require confession before saying the words that will bind you to this man in matrimony?”
“No,” Baron Payne interjected before Anora could respond.
Anora was surprised to see a quick flash of discomfort in the priest’s eyes. Something more than irritation. Was he afraid of the baron?
“Is there any reason this union would not be deemed legitimate in the eyes of the church?’ he continued, eyeing them both.
“No, Father,” Edmund said through gritted teeth.
Anora said nothing, unable to speak past the lump in her throat as an image of Donald scraping Tommy’s skin with the knife filled her mind.
Father Osric hesitated but continued when the baron cleared his throat with force. “With God as your witness, do you take this woman to be your lawful wife?”
“Yes, Father,” the baron said solemnly.
“And you, my lady, do you take the baron to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you take his counsel in all things, provide him the comfort of your body, and bear his children?”
She felt the crushing weight of pain and regret on her chest. If she allowed this to happen, she would be bound to the despicable man at her side for the remainder of her life.
Or his. She squeezed her eyes shut to try to shut out the pain, but the tears overflowed and rolled down her cheeks.
She tried to reason with herself that she must say the words or Tommy would suffer the consequences of her actions, but she was paralyzed.
The words turned over in her head—take his counsel, provide comfort with her body, bear his children—it all sounded so horrible.
She understood why some women threw themselves from the highest tower they could find rather than face a lifetime of misery and disgust with a horrible husband.
How could she let him touch her when she would spend the rest of her life longing for Hunter, remembering his touch, the pleasure in his arms?
“Say the words,” Edmund bit out through gritted teeth.
If she said the words, and if she…heaven help her, if she was forced to consummate the marriage with the baron, then there would be no undoing what had been done.
“Say them,” he commanded again.
The priest’s gaze was darting back and forth between the two of them, his discomfort increasing with each passing moment that she remained silent.
Edmund finally broke the silence, saying with a flick of his hand, “Do as you will, but the priest will attest that he heard you say the words. No one will dare question him. Or a baron.”
Anora squeezed her eyes shut and hoped when she opened them again, she would wake from this nightmare.
Counsel.
Comfort.
Children.
Her eyes flew open wide as inspiration struck her like a bolt of lightning. “Children!”
Edmund looked at her like she’d just said the most absurd thing. “Aye, children. I will expect an heir.”
Anora turned to him, unable to keep the excitement from her voice. “But you will want to be sure the heir is truly of your blood.”
He narrowed his eyes at her and curled his lips in disgust. “Of course, it will be of my blood. I will not tolerate a whore for a wife and if you should think to make a cuckold of me, you will live to regret it.”
Anora ignored the baron’s outburst and blurted, “We cannot consummate this wedding.”
“What?” both the baron and the priest said at the same time.
“If you want to be sure any offspring are of your loins,” Anora cringed at the words and the images it conjured, “then you will need to wait until you can be certain I am not already with child.”
Baron Payne studied her for a long moment, then returned his attention to the priest. “She does not know of what she speaks, Father.”
“Do you understand…” The priest seemed at a loss for words. “Do you understand what must happen for you to become with child? What must happen between a man and a woman?”