Page 36 of Claimed

Six months later …

ROUGH MALE SHOUTS made Drew glance up from her weaving. In the solar, high in the tower keep, she was at work near the chamber’s tiny window. Leaving her loom, she peered out, her gaze alighting upon the bailey below.

“What are they doing?” Clara called from behind her.

Drew glanced over her shoulder, her gaze settling upon Clara De La Roche, wife of the man who ruled this castle. Small and red-haired with jade-green eyes, Clara wore an impish expression as she glanced up from her embroidery. “They aren’t brawling again, are they?”

“No,” Drew replied with an answering grin. “Carr’s got them wrestling each other in the dirt.”

Clara laughed, cast aside her embroidery, and joined Drew at the window. “This I have to see.”

“We’re too far away to catch much,” Drew replied. However, both women could see that the men had stripped down to their braies, gathered in a semi-circle around two wrestlers locked together.

Clara gave a huff of annoyance. “This won’t do.” She stepped back from the window and picked up her skirts. “Come … Drew. Our weaving and embroidery can wait.”

With that, Clara turned and hurried from the solar. Still grinning, Drew followed her. They’d been living at Belvelly Castle for over three months now, after Carr had taken the position as Captain of The Belvelly Guard. They’d originally gone in search of Carr’s kin, only to discover that few of his family now resided in the area. And those who did lived in poverty.

Carr decided to strike out on his own, and shortly after, he’d found this position.

It had taken Drew barely a day to realize that she and Clara would become good friends; the women shared the same wicked sense of humor, the same sharp wit.

Life had been good ever since she and Carr made Belvelly their home. As soon as they’d gotten settled, Drew sent word to Dunan. She’d known that Craeg and Coira would be worrying about her. In her missive, she let them know she was safe and well—and living in Éire with Carr Broderick.

The women descended the narrow stone steps, wending their way to the bottom of the tower keep and into the Great Hall that made up most of that level. The noon meal approached, and the servants were busy setting the long tables that lined the chamber. The aroma of mutton stew and baking bread wafted through the keep.

Outdoors in the bailey, the wrestling continued. And as she approached the group of warriors, Drew realized that one of the wrestlers was her husband.

Husband. She got a warm glow in the pit of her belly whenever she thought of Carr that way. It was ridiculous really, for they’d been wed nearly six moons now, yet she still felt as giddy as a blushing sixteen-year old maid around him.

Her gaze feasted upon him now, naked to the waist. His muscular torso gleamed with sweat. Years ago, Drew had thought of Carr as ‘stocky’, yet the first time she’d seen him naked, she’d realized there wasn’t any fat on him. His body was pure muscle.

“This is entertaining, is it not?” Clara whispered to Drew, linking arms with her. “I must say, yer husband is a fine specimen.”

Drew smiled, although she never took her gaze off Carr. As they watched, he hooked his leg through his opponent’s and brought him crashing to the ground. The onlookers cheered and clapped, as did Drew and Clara.

Breathing hard, Carr straightened up. He wiped sweat off his brow and exchanged a few words with the man next to him, before he realized they had a female audience. His gaze widened. “Drew … Lady Clara. This is hardly a place for ladies.”

Clara gave a delicate snort. “I must ask ye to practice wrestling with Conor sometime … now that’s a sight I’d enjoy.”

This comment brought guffaws of laughter from the surrounding warriors. Conor De La Roche, Baron of Belvelly, was a huge bull of a man. One that few would want to wrestle with.

However, Carr grinned at this. The sight made Drew’s heart flutter. It was so good to see him smile. It made Drew realize how much happier he was these days. Dunan had cast a shadow over him as much as it did her.

Here in Éire, they were both lighter, freer, as if a heavy mantle had been lifted from their shoulders.

Taking a drying cloth that one of his men handed him, Carr approached Drew. Perhaps realizing she was intruding, Clara moved away to talk to one of the guards, giving them a few moments alone.

“I enjoyed that,” Drew greeted him with a pert grin. “I hadn’t realized how much I love watching half-naked men fight.”

Carr smiled, a slow, sultry expression that made her belly melt like hot tallow. “I aim to please, wife,” he said softly, before bowing his head to kiss her. Oblivious to the fact that they stood in the midst of the bailey, surrounded by men and horses, he deepened the kiss.

Drew stood on tip-toe, her lips parting under his. Pulling back, she realized her pulse was racing. “The noon meal is almost ready,” she murmured, breathless now. “Will ye come inside with me?”

He nodded. “Just let me get my léine.” He turned and retrieved his tunic from one of the guards. He then pulled it over his head and took Drew by the hand, leading her back toward the keep.

“I’m not sure I want ye coming out here to watch me wrestle,” he said with a wink. “The other warriors stare too much at my pretty wife for my liking.”

Drew laughed, the sound carrying over the bailey as she squeezed his hand. “Let them stare. I only have eyes for ye.”

She meant it too. The connection she and Carr shared was powerful, and grew stronger with each passing moon. She’d almost lost him once, through her own blindness, and she’d never let that happen again.

Carr smiled down at her, his gaze soft now. He drew her hand up, placing it over his heart, letting her feel its strong, steady beat. “And I for ye, mo chridhe,” he whispered.

The End