Free The Warlord Claims His Bride by Jenika Snow Page A

is no’ meant for the lowly like myself. We canna even have the one thing that we crave the most … tae be with the man we love.” Mattina stood and went over to the small table. “I’ll leave ye, milady, tae finish.” Mattina looked over her shoulder. “Unless ye need me?” There was this strange tone in her voice, one that spoke of distance and even hatred.
    Genevieve shook her head. “No, I’m okay. Thank you.”
    Mattina nodded and led herself out.
    Genevieve slipped out of the bathwater and covered herself with the cloth Mattina had left for her. The small enclosure was warm and foggy from her bath. Once she was dried she dressed in a gown, and even after this time of being Bronson’s wife and staying in luxury, she could never get used to these things. She was used to the rags that she worked in, of the bath that was never smelling of flowers, and was only lukewarm, if she was lucky enough to get to it in time. And she certainly didn’t have people helping. Having servants was not something Genevieve cared much about, but she supposed it was no different from Genevieve working out in the fields, and helping her father. Work was work, and they had to do what kept them alive.
    She took the brush off the table and started running it through her dark red hair. She hadn’t seen Bronson all day, but she knew he had been preoccupied with his men. She was not privy to what they discussed, but she didn’t want to know anything that had to do with battles, which she assumed was what they were speaking of. So, she busied herself with learning the layout of the manor, or working in the small garden on the back of the property that had gotten overgrown, and visiting the village. She saw Bronson during the evenings. He would slip in bed with her, take her like he was starving for her touch, and then wrap his big body around hers. He’d then speak quietly and gently to her in Gaelic until she fell asleep. She had never felt as well loved, cherished, and protected as she did in his arms.
    It was late, and she excused Mattina for the evening. She should just go to sleep, but a warm glass of milk sounded heavenly. Her stomach had been queasy off and on, and she didn’t know if it was the fact she was finally settling in, or if it was because she had taken Bronson’s seed and there was a child growing inside of her. She turned and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her dark red hair was curling at the ends, and in a short time it would be a wild mess of waves around her head. She glanced at the closed door and then looked back at her reflection. She unlaced the ties at her waist, pushed away the layers of her gown, and stared at her nude body. She wore no undergarments because she knew Bronson preferred her to be bared and ready for him, but honestly she enjoyed the fact it pleased her husband to know she obeyed him. He wasn’t a bad man and didn’t mistreat her. But he certainly liked pleasures that were foreign to her, but ones she found most pleasing.
    Her breasts seemed fuller and her nipples darker, but perhaps that was the low candles that were placed around the room and giving bad lighting? She cupped her breasts, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with touching herself. The sensitivity in the mounds startled her. She lowered her gaze to her belly, and although she didn’t see any change in the size, she rubbed her hands over her flesh regardless. This feeling inside of her intensified as she realized she hadn’t bled yet this month, and that she should have done so already. Could she be carrying Bronson’s son? The thought thrilled and frightened her. Her belly did a little flip as she laced the gown up again, and she turned and headed out of the bathing chamber. Genevieve headed toward the back hallway that would lead her to the kitchen. She turned down another hallway, but the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She glanced behind her shoulder, feeling like she was being watched. A gasp left her at