Free The Reluctant Lord (Dragon Lords) by Michelle M. Pillow

didn’t think much of her society’s custom of forcing orphaned children to serve in another’s home, but he could hardy fault her for the laws of her home world. After the wilderness, he would take her to the village where he’d been born. There, life was simple. There were no castles, no servants, no titles, just people. His people.
    Vlad loved his brothers. Just as he had loved his adoptive parents. They were good people. But there was always a part of him that felt he did not belong fully in the world of noblemen. He had a wildness in his soul, a freedom that burned so bright it needed to be released. Yes, he would do the duty his life had dealt him without complaint, but he did not feel like he was a nobleman. Lord Vladan was a title. He was born Vlad. He was just a man.
    Vlad smiled at his sleeping bride as he ducked out of the makeshift room to give her quiet. Tonight he was blessed by the gods.

Chapter Five
     
    Clara knew she was not in her own bed before her eyes opened. It wasn’t one thing exactly, but a combination of strange sensations that caused a thread of apprehension to flow over her body to settle in her stomach. The mattress was too soft, the air was too cool and the sounds coming from outside too unfamiliar. Normally, she awoke to the feel of her handmaids touching her. They started working on her hair and feet before she fully awoke in the morning. She’d gotten used to sleeping through the attentions of their administering hands.
    Clara turned to the side of the tent. Distant shouts forced her from the bed. Only when her feet hit the floor did she realize she’d slept naked. The realization brought forth the memory of the night before.
    You are very sweet, bride.
    Sweet. Vlad had called her sweet.
    Clara sniffed her arm and flicked her tongue on her flesh. She hardly tasted sweet. He had to mean it as the endearment of the word.
    She wasn’t sure what to make of what had happened between them during his scrutiny of her. Perhaps she had been overtired from her journey, overwrought from her new home world, overcome from being left alone amongst half-naked primitives. No. All those things were excuses. She was a lady and she had failed to act as one the night before as she let her body get carried away by her husband’s inspection. Due to the stress of her circumstance, she could forgive herself this one slip. But it would not, could not happen again. The last thing her mother had said to her when she left was, “Remember the lady I have raised you to be. You represent all of your family with each action you take. I mourn your going but rejoice in the next generation.”
    Clara lifted her hand and let it hover in the air, pretending her mother stood before her. The familiar act brought her a little comfort, false as the comfort was. Whispering into the tent, she said, “I will do what you wish, Mother. Always as you wish.”
    One year to get pregnant. That was manageable. The mandatory night in a tent was over. Now they would go to his noble home where she would be more in her element. If the home was not to her standard, she would make it to her standard. Perhaps she could leave it better than she found it. Regardless, anything was better than sleeping in a tent with dirt floors.
    A gown had been set out for her on a low table near the bed. She didn’t pick it up. Instead, she ran the back of her wrist over the material. The deep purple color reminded her of her favorite plant, razorwires. They grew in the west gardens of her family’s estate outside the reading room window—deep purple vines with razor-sharp red spikes along the spines. It kept intruders from climbing up to the female suites on the fourth floor. So pretty and so deadly.
    She turned her attention to her trunk. The jewel-encrusted gown was inside it—the gown of a lady, the gown of her former life.
    Despite her resolve, the upcoming year stretched out before her. Her ship was gone. She was trapped on this strange planet.