The Damaged Bride

Chapter 3

Marcus stepped back far enough to give the pair an appearance of privacy, without actually providing any. Whatever Bridgett and her grandfather said would be clearly heard.

“Breed quickly girl,” her grandfather rasped, cruelly grasping her face in his gnarled hand, “I have not married you off to him for nothing.”

Unable to speak, Bridgette nodded her acquiescence, and without another word, he released her and left.

She watched him disappear around the corner, and moments later she heard the door to the great hall close with a resounding boom.

‘What bargain?’ she thought, her heart sinking. All this marriage had done was trade her from one monster to another.

Squeezing her arm, Marcus pulled her once more back into the room where he’d staged his farce. Pushing her towards the low burning hearth, he pointed her to one of the chairs.

“Sit,” he ordered in the same cold commanding manner he had used with her grandfather.

Fearing punishment, she obeyed quickly, unwilling to imagine what was about to happen.

Marcus stood by the empty hearth, his back turned to his new wife, fuming. He hated the very sight of her, let alone knowing she would be part of his life forever. Bridgette could see his broad, muscular shoulders rising and falling with his ragged breathing as he seathed, staring at the cooling grate. 

Bridgette didn’t know what to think of him, her husband. When her grandfather told her that she was to marry Marcus O’Connor, a man whose family he’d had cheated out of their estate, she had accepted it, quietly and dutifully. In truth, she’d been ecstatic.

She had loved Marcus since the first time she had seen him as a young man, accompanying his own father to a meeting at O’Flagnery Hall.

He had been so tall, so strong. Even at twelve she could see how handsome he would be when he was fully grown. Bridgette had secreted herself behind one of the tapestries that lined her grandfather’s hall and watched, hoping and fearing that Marcus would notice her, but his blue eyes had been focused hatefully on her grandfather.

While most men cowered in front of Douglas O’Flagney, including Marcus’ own father, Marcus stood proud, almost defiant, never once showing fear. Her grandfather was a hard man, a man she had never dared to disobey. Since her mother’s death, he’d been her guardian, her taskmaster, her tormentor.

He would brook no transgression, real or imagined, from her. The smallest perceived infraction met with swift and terrible punishment, both physical and emotional. Her back had more than once been bloodied by his riding crop, her face was no stranger to his fist.

Bridgette had thought of Marcus as a knight, bringing her to a new home, a safe home, a home where she would finally find love. In her mind she’d seen her new life as one full of kindness and comfort, two things she had never known at the hands of her grandfather.

She dreamed that by wedding Marcus, being taken to be his wife, his companion, his friend, her life would change. They would spend hours, weeks, years together, living and loving, growing old with their children around them.

“I want to make this perfectly clear,” Marcus began, shocking Bridgette out of her own thoughts. “I have only married you for one reason. Your grandfather held a sizable debt that my father incurred to him.

“I did not want a wife!” he spat, turning to face her. “Nor do I need one! I do not, will not ever love you! I hate your family too much for that to ever happen!”