Free The Warlord Claims His Bride by Jenika Snow

still had his eye after that wound.
    “No’ close. They would have been spotted, but they overheard two of McCarrick’s men bullshitting aboot taking over the marsh.”
    Bronson curled his hands into fists and clenched his jaw. He had only been wed for a full moon’s time, and already shite was happening to where he couldn’t even enjoy being with his bride. Even faced with this impending battle, all he could think about was Genevieve. “Fooking hell,” he gritted out. He straightened and ran a hand over his face. “More shite because these fooking arseholes canna understand that they stole this land from us in the first place.” He slammed his fist on the table hard enough that their mugs tipped over. “I will ruin them and make McCarrick wish he had buried himself under a rock.” He glanced at the six men that sat around the table with him. Cal, Landon, Dian, Ky, Earc, Osgar. These were the six men that he trusted more than anything else. He had hundreds, thousands more that stood and fought beside him, many of whom had joined his side and rallied with him for the greater good. They were all family, all fighting for the same cause, and that cause was making sure their land was kept for them.
    “Bronson, how should we proceed?” Cal asked.
    He didn’t respond right away, and instead stared at the map, contemplated, plotted, and thought about how he wanted to have this go down. “We need tae surprise them, tae attack when they donna see us coming.” He ran his gaze over the land where McCarrick was said to be. “We leave the night after next, once the sun has gone down.” He looked at his men once more, saw their hard but fierce and commanding, expressions. “Aye?”
    “Aye,” they all said in unison. A fierce battle would commence, and he wouldn’t stop swinging his sword until bodies littered the ground at his feet, and his kilt was soaking with the blood of his enemies.

Chapter Seven
     
    Genevieve closed her eyes and breathed out. The bath water steamed around her, smelling of flowers, and softening her flesh. The sound of Mattina laying out her gown had Genevieve opening her eyes and staring at the young woman. “Do ye miss yer home, Mattina?”
    The handmaiden looked at her with this ever-present blank expression on her face. “Pardon, milady?”
    Genevieve sat up straighter and smiled. “I was only told that ye came from a neighboring village, but nothing else really.” She didn’t mention that Mattina didn’t seem to like to converse. “Ye seem happy, and so I just assumed life back home may no’ have been the best?”
    Mattina walked over to her and handed Genevieve a cloth to wash herself with.
    “Sit, speak with me,” Genevieve said and smiled once again. She knew servants were not to speak so boldly or openly with their charges, so perhaps that was why her handmaiden didn’t care to talk? But Genevieve also didn’t know anything about being a lady. She had only had this title for a small amount of time, and at heart she was no different from Mattina. The other woman sat on the stool beside the basin of water Genevieve was in. It took her a moment to speak, but she didn’t press Mattina. If the woman wanted to share, Genevieve was more than willing to listen.
    “No, my life back home was no’ the best, but we made do with what we had.” Mattina looked at her, but there was no emotion on her face. “I was forced tae leave the man I loved behind.”
    “Oh, Mattina, I am verra sorry. Maybe we can call for him, and he can work at the manor?” Genevieve didn’t even know if that was something she could promise, but she was a lady now, Bronson Lyon’s wife. That had to mean she had some leverage and power of her own, right?
    Mattina shook her head. “It isn’t that, milady. The man I loved was called tae battle before I left.” This hard, angry look covered Mattina’s face before she quickly put on a neutral expression. She turned and stared right at Genevieve. “This world