War King's Prize (The War Kings Book

4) Lacey Thorn
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 Table of Contents

Title Page
War King’s Prize

Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Thank You!
About the Author
War King’s Prize

By Lacey Thorn
 War King’s Prize
by

Lacey Thorn
When War King Marcus Blaywolf comes across a group of men attempting to enter the Dread Lands, he knows something is
off. Stealing their guarded prize, he sends them on their way. The prize? A woman. One with fire on her tongue. Fire that ignites
a desire in Marcus that can only be sated by one thing. Claiming his prize and making her his bride.
 Copyright

© 2024, Lacey Thorn

War King’s Prize
Cover Art by Syneca
Edited by Michele Paulin

Electronic Format ISBN: 978-1-949795-86-8

Published by: Lacey Thorn Publishing
Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal
copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5
years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.
 Dedication

Dreamers and me…

 Chapter One

“What do we have here?”

Marcus Blaywolf, King of the Dread Lands, lifted his war hammer and pointed it directly at the group of six riders in
front of him. Six bastards trying to sneak onto his land. Most likely to pillage and rape. Those were the types of men who
usually sought to creep across the border and destroy what Marcus and the other four war kings had created. Bullies, thieves,
rapists, and murderers.
“Looks like trash to me,” Banyon, his second in command, stated as he dismounted, wrapping his reins loosely around
the pommel of his saddle. “I’m happy to take it out.”
“Go ahead,” one of the six intruders suggested. “Six to two by my count. I’ll take those odds.”
Marcus grinned. Banyon, the crazy man, threw back his head and laughed before pulling his sword from his back and
giving it a few waves as if warming up for battle.
“How about one to six?” Marcus offered. “We’ll even let you choose which of us you fight.”
Banyon gave him a glare even before the same man who’d spoken earlier answered.
“You. All of us against you.”
The speaker and the five others dismounted. One took a rope and wrapped it around the bundle of cloth at the front of his
horse before tying it off around the pommel of his saddle. Marcus wasn’t sure what prize was wrapped up in the rolled
material, but in that moment, he decided it would belong to him when they were done. For the sheer audacity of ruining his
pleasant day.
He flung himself from his horse and moved toward the group, wasting no time as he swung his hammer and took down
the first man.
“Hell’s teeth!” one of them yelled as they moved into formation.
Two came at him, but he easily deflected their blades. Before he could get one of them with his hammer, they eased back
and let the other two move forward to engage. Smart. Not the methods of mere bandits. Perhaps mercenaries, hired swords
whose only loyalty was to coin. Ones who’d seen battle and knew how to work as a unit. Didn’t matter, though. None of them
compared to a war king or the men who fought beside him.
“Stop toying with them,” Banyon called.
Marcus glanced over. The bastard was leaning against a tree, sword sheathed on his back while he twirled his dagger
between his fingers.
“It’s a slow day,” Marcus called back then switched gears before the men he battled realized his intention.
He barreled through them, easily knocking aside the closest two before reaching the male creeping back toward the prize
as if preparing to seize it and leave. Marcus grabbed him by the throat and threw him, aiming for one of the two still on their
feet. Then he gave a shrill whistle as he grabbed the bundle of cloth and tossed it over his shoulder before heading back to his
horse.
“You could have let me have a little fun,” Banyon muttered as the rest of Marcus’ warriors thundered around the bend in
the road. “They’re running. Should I fetch them?”
Marcus shook his head, and Banyon held up a closed fist, drawing the rest of Marcus’ men to a stop. The fleeing men
weren’t worth the effort. If they forged into the Dread Lands again, Marcus doubted it would be in the same place. Besides, he
had the prize they’d carried in.
 “What do you think it is?” Banyon asked.

“Only one way to find out.” Marcus dropped the bundle on the ground then paused when he heard a groan, a very
feminine sounding one.
“Shit,” Banyon muttered even as he squatted beside Marcus and helped unroll the length of wrapped cloth.
When the material finally stopped, they found a small figure lying face down. The person was covered from head to toe
by some type of dark blue robe with gold edging. Marcus reached out and ran a finger along one side and felt a tremble go
through the captive before him. He had no idea if it was a female or a young boy. Only that it was someone small in frame.
“What do we have here?” he questioned aloud then found himself on his ass, a ball of fury in his lap and dagger at his
throat as she bared her teeth at him.
God, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Deep strands of fire spilled from the hood, covering her chest
while giving peeks at the ripped material. Another rip on the side revealed a slim thigh that currently hugged his leather-clad
leg. Her full breasts pushed tight against his bare chest. It was her eyes that sucked him in, though. The deep, dark pools of
clear blue edged toward green the closer they went to the center. Eyes a man could drown in.
“Hey, now, little one,” Banyon said softly. “No need for the knife. We mean you no harm. Our good king just saved your
life.”
Marcus almost snorted at that piece of malarky, but the way her gaze darted between him and Banyon then widened as
she took in the lines of warriors on horseback, covering the road behind them, kept his attention firmly on the woman in his lap.
Her eyes flew back to his face as his cock grew long and thick where she nestled in his lap. Making a decision, he wrapped
one arm around her back and held her firmly against him as he stood. She gasped, and when her hand slackened its hold on the
dagger, he quickly removed it and tossed it to Banyon.
“I’ll just keep this safe for you,” he vowed while Marcus mounted his horse with her still in his lap.
“I can’t sit like this,” she whispered.
He reached down and ripped the other side of her dress up the side, exposing the other leg, then helped her wrap them
around his waist, so her boots were at his back.
“That wasn’t what I meant,” she huffed then buried her faced in his chest when Banyon laughed.
Marcus sent a glare toward his second, but the bastard merely grinned with no remorse.
“I can’t sit like this, m’lord,” she whispered again.
“King,” Banyon corrected.

“What?” she asked, glancing toward the other man. Marcus didn’t like it at all. He wanted her attention on him.
“King. The lap you’re seated in belongs to King Marcus Blaywolf. I’m Banyon, his second, and at your service.”
“Well, hell,” she grumbled, setting Banyon off into another gale of laughter.
“I like her,” he managed to say between guffaws. “We’re keeping her, aren’t we?”
Marcus nodded.
“What?” she squawked. “You can’t just keep me. I need to get home. My grandfather will be looking for me.”
“Are you married?” Marcus demanded.
“What? No.”
“Betrothed to someone?”
Marcus knew the practice was common among the nobility in the lands where he’d grown up. Lands where he’d been a
nobody, the son of a tavern wench who hadn’t known which male she’d taken to her bed had sired him. Not that it had mattered.
He’d trained as a soldier, made a name for himself with his hammer, met Jamie Drake and Geoffrey Lyons and formed an
alliance that led to the three of them staking claims on the Dread Lands, lands they now ruled with iron fists. He was no longer
a commoner. He was a king. One both feared or revered, depending on who the person was.
Once again, the woman in his arms shook her head.
“My grandfather doesn’t believe in matching children when you don’t even know how they’ll turn out. He said he
wouldn’t stick me with a right bastard for the rest of my life because of something decided when we were in nappies.”
“Sounds like a smart man,” Banyon agreed. “Never understood all that fuss and nonsense of betrothing children.”
“Fuss and nonsense?” Marcus questioned. Not once had he ever heard his second say that phrase.

Banyon shrugged as he mounted his horse.

“Home?” he asked, without commenting on Marcus’ question.
“Not yet. We’ll stop in the village and see the priest on the way.”
Banyon grinned. “I was hoping that was the way of it.”
Banyon motioned one of Marcus’ warriors forward, speaking quietly enough that the woman couldn’t hear him. Marcus
didn’t need to hear his second. He knew what Banyon was doing. Sending someone to alert the priest so the man was prepared
when they arrived.
The woman in his arms moved her head back and forth between them.
“The way of what? Why do you need a priest? Was someone killed? Did those thieving bastards kill someone?” she
demanded.
“Thieving bastards?” Marcus stared at her and fought his smile as her face flushed a delightful shade of soft red.
“Well, they stole me,” she muttered.
“Bastards through and through,” Banyon said as he pulled his horse alongside Marcus. “Why’d they take you, little one?”
Marcus wasn’t sure how he felt about Banyon calling her little one. It was too much like an intimate nickname. He’d
have to stop that nonsense quickly.
“I don’t know,” she answered. “One minute, I was riding bareback on my horse. The next, I was fighting for my life. One
of them covered my mouth and nose with his hands until I passed out. Then I woke up here. With you.”
Marcus turned her face back toward him.
“With me,” he corrected.
“Well, both of you,” she offered.
Marcus growled. Banyon laughed again.
She ignored both of them. “Are there dead to bury?”
“No,” Banyon told her. “They only engaged with our king, and he made quick work of sending them on their way.”
Her gaze widened as she took in Marcus as if only just realizing how brawny of a warrior he was. He lifted a brow
when her gaze moved back up from his chest and arms to his face. She flushed that delicate shade of rose again, and he decided
he liked that about her, too.
“Then why do you need a priest?” she questioned.
“For the wedding,” Marcus told her.
“Wedding?” She leaned back and tried to unwrap her legs before he put a hand on her thigh and stopped her. “I don’t
want to intrude. If you’ll loan me a horse and maybe a guard or two, I’ll just head back toward my home. My grandfather will
be looking for me.”

“No,” Marcus stated.

“No? What do you mean no? You can’t just tell me no? I’m a lady, damn it. You have to help me.”
“No,” Marcus said again and almost grinned when she huffed and muttered another curse under her breath.
“Well, at least, take me some place where I won’t interfere with the wedding. I can’t imagine a bride wanting some
strange woman showing up uninvited with ripped clothes and no gift, though I do have my dagger. I don’t want to give it up,
however. It’s important to me.”

“It’s a nice blade,” Banyon agreed. “Why is it important?”

“My grandfather made it for me.”
“The bride won’t mind,” Marcus told her, pulling her attention back to him.
She snorted. “You don’t know that.”
“She won’t mind,” he reiterated.
“Because you decree it?” She gave another one of those snorts. “King or not, you can’t dictate how a bride should react
on her wedding day.”
“I can for this wedding,” he assured her.
“That’s not very chivalrous of you,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest and pulling away from him.
He purposely urged his horse into a canter, making her gasp and wrap her arms around his neck as she pressed close
again.
“I can because I’m the groom.”
She jerked away again then glared at him before managing to unwrap her legs and flip herself around in the saddle in
front of him until her back was to him and her grip was on the pommel instead of his neck. He wrapped his arm around her
middle, pulling her back until she was flush against him again, her buttocks firmly settled against his groin.
“Don’t you want to know who the bride is?” he murmured in her ear.
“I’m sure I don’t care, m’lord.”
“King,” he reminded her.
“King,” she growled.
He grinned. He’d definitely found a prize. One he wasn’t giving back. Hell, he didn’t even know her name, but he knew
what it would be after they stood in front of the priest. Queen. Queen Blaywolf. His wife.
“This is the best day ever,” Banyon shared with a big grin.
Marcus’ wife-to-be gave another growl but refused to comment.
“It will be,” Marcus agreed.
Just as soon as he had his prize wedded and bedded.
 Chapter Two

Genevieve Kingsley had no idea why she was so angry. Not that she shouldn’t be angry. She’d been attacked, robbed of
air then wrapped up in that awful cloth that made it hard to catch her breath when she regained consciousness. That wasn’t why
she was angry, though. No. It was the man behind her. No, the king behind her. The one holding her far too close for a man
about to be married. He was a stranger. No one to her. Yet, her entire body had trembled from the moment she laid eyes on him.
King Marcus Blaywolf was the man of her fantasies. Tall with broad shoulders and a well-defined chest. Then there
were the ridges on his stomach. She wanted to lick them. She wanted to run her fingers through his blond locks. Maybe, clench
them while she kissed his lips. Even his facial hair was alluring, and she’d never been one to find that attractive. Still, it was
his eyes that captured her and refused to let go. Some might call them brown, but when he looked at her, she saw flecks of gold
and what looked like red. They made her think of a jewel she’d once seen. A combination of brown and red with hints of gold.
That was the color of his eyes. Eyes she was far too fond of already.
He was the first man to make her feel…alive. That was it. He made her pulse race. Plus, he didn’t comment on her
unladylike language or manners. The men King Phillip had sent to her grandfather as potential husbands had all been…soft.
They’d looked incapable of protecting themselves much less a wife and children and a castle full of people. Was it wrong for
her to want a man who could do those things? A man like Marcus. King Marcus. She had to keep reminding herself he was a
king. She was in the Dread Lands now, not home where King Phillip ruled and had warned her grandfather he was running out
of patience when it came to marrying her off. Not that it had anything to do with Genevieve. King Phillip wanted the castle and
the strategic location where it stood. Despite being female, she wasn’t stupid. She understood how close their lands lay to the
Dread Lands and that their king wanted to seize what he was too lazy to tame.
“Why so quiet, little one?” Banyon asked her.
He was Marcus’ second, something she knew was an honored position. Seconds were usually the men who led the
warriors into battle. She didn’t think that was the case in the Dread Lands. She had the impression Marcus did the leading. He
didn’t appear like the type of man to let anyone fight his battles.
“King Phillip wants the bad lands,” she muttered and felt the tension in the torso at her back.
“What makes you think that?” Banyon asked.
It was interesting to her how Banyon did most of the talking while Marcus listened and only spoke when necessary. Was
it always that way?
“It’s the reason he keeps pressuring my grandfather to pick a husband for me. He wants our land because it borders your
Dread Lands. Now that you’ve begun taming it, he wants it.”
“Did your grandfather tell you that?” Marcus demanded.
“No, I do have a brain of my own that’s perfectly capable of doing things like thinking and reasoning and knowing my
home is worth more than I am.”
“Only to a foolish man,” Marcus offered with a grunt.
She wasn’t sure what he meant by that.
“What does your grandfather think about that?” Banyon asked.

“He says I’ll marry if and when I choose, and no one will force me.”
Banyon laughed while Marcus grunted. As far as she could tell, those seemed to be their normal reactions. Hell, Banyon
had been laughing since before she’d been unrolled from her cloth confinement.
“I think that’s why those men took me.”
 “To force you to wed?” Marcus’ voice deepened as he spoke.

She nodded then shook her head then nodded.

“Well, which is it, little one?” Banyon demanded.
“It was either a kidnapping to force me into a marriage while my grandfather is gone or to bring me to the Dread Lands
and make it appear someone here took me. Then my grandfather would come charging in and start a conflict that King Phillip
would have to stand behind and rally his men to come to our aid. He can’t be blamed for a conflict he didn’t actually start.”

“Well, damn,” Banyon muttered. “That makes sense. You’re a smart lass.”
Genevieve smiled. “Thank you.”
“Who is your grandfather?” Marcus asked.
“Lord Sevres Kingsley.”
The questions from Marcus continued. “And he’s your guardian? What happened to your parents?”
“My mother died during childbirth, and my father was killed when he took a bad fall from his horse. I was three. My
grandfather is really the only family I’ve ever known. Or at least, that I can remember.” She turned toward Banyon then glanced
briefly over her shoulder at Marcus. “I’m Genevieve Kingsley, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Genevieve.” Banyon’s eyes twinkled. “We’re going to be great friends. I suspect you’ll come to think
of me as your shadow.”
Marcus‘ chest rumbled.
“Are you okay?” She turned to look at him again. “You keep growling. Am I too heavy? I’m sure Banyon wouldn’t mind
if I rode with him for a bit. Or one of your other warriors.” Her gaze darted around them. “You have so many of them.”
He made that rumbly sound again.
“Stop that,” she snapped. “You sound like a damn wolf. A hungry one at that.”
“He is,” Banyon interjected.
“He is what? A wolf? Or hungry?” she huffed.
“A wolf. More precisely, The Wolf. That’s his battle name. Everyone knows him as The Wolf with his mighty hammer,”
Banyon told her, and this time, it was Marcus who chuckled.
Before she could turn to gape at him, he leaned close, lips pressing against her ear as he whispered.
“A hungry wolf with a mighty hammer. One you’ll enjoy.”
“I’m not a fan of violence,” she murmured, doing her best not to tremble at the sensation of his breath on the curve of her
neck or the reaction it wreaked through her body.
“I promise you only pleasure, my love,” he whispered again.
She did shiver then. Her breasts felt bigger and heavier than they ever had, and the tips were achy points that needed
something. What, she wasn’t sure of. She also felt strangely hot and needy between her thighs. What was Marcus doing to her?
“I’m not your love,” was what she said instead of asking him that. There was no way she’d tell him how her body was
reacting to him.
“You are,” he told her.
“I’m sure your bride will love that,” she muttered. “Wait! Just how many loves do you have?”
“One,” he stated, confusing her even more.
 If he only had one, and she was his love, then who was his bride?

“You’re an irritating man,” she informed him, crossing her arms over her chest then uncrossing them quickly before she
moaned from the sensation of the pressure against her nipples.
“I really like her,” Banyon said again.
“I like you, too, Banyon. You seem like a very nice man.”
Marcus laughed then, a deep sound that washed over her, setting more of her sensitized nerves on alert.
“Don’t let Banyon fool you, love. He’s not a nice man,” Marcus warned.
“Better than a man who calls one woman love while on his way to marry another,” she snapped.
“Is that what you think?” Marcus asked.
“It’s what I know. You’re not a very nice man, are you, Marcus?”
Banyon opened his mouth, probably to correct her for not referring to Marcus as King Marcus, but the man in question
cut him off.
“I’m not,” he agreed. “Nice doesn’t win battles or protect my people or deal with trash like the men who took you. Nice
is for the weak.”
“That’s not true.”
She turned in his lap, almost falling before he tightened his grip around her waist and jerked her closer. She ended up
sitting sideways across his lap, both legs dangling over one of his thighs.
“My grandfather is the nicest man I’ve ever met. He’s everything good and kind and wonderful in this world.”
“Lord Sevres Kingsley is a brutal warrior feared by many,” Marcus countered.

She opened her mouth to argue, but Banyon piped in.

“He is. Absolutely brutal.”
Why did Banyon sound so gleeful about that? As if he admired that aspect of her grandfather.
“In battle but not with me. With me…” She paused then shrugged. “He loves me. You won’t be able to keep me for long,
Marcus. Grandfather will come for me, and you won’t stop him from taking me home.”

“He won’t take you, love.”

She glared at Marcus. “If you hurt one hair on his head, I’ll never forgive you.”
Not exactly a threat, but what could she actually threaten a warrior like Marcus with?
“I won’t hurt him, but he won’t take you.”
She snorted at that.
“We’re here,” Banyon offered, and she glanced up to see they were in front of a tall building made of stone. A man of the
cloth stood in front of it, obviously waiting to greet them. Or at least, to greet Marcus.
“My king,” the man bowed his head. “I hear there’s to be a wedding.”
“Yes,” Marcus agreed, shifting her as he dismounted from behind her.
“The groom?” the priest asked.
“Me.”
 “Oh, my king! I didn’t realize. And the lucky bride?”

They all turned to look at her. The priest, Banyon, and Marcus. Marcus stared at her as he gripped her waist and lifted
her down. He brought her close, so her body rubbed all along his as he slowly lowered her to her feet. Every inch of her was
alive with that desperate achy feeling only he had ever ignited.
“Genevieve Kingsley,” Marcus said.
“What?” she squawked.

“A lovely bride, my king,” the priest praised.

Banyon laughed. Marcus watched her with so much heat in his gaze she felt singed by it.
“Well, damn,” she muttered.
 Chapter Three

Marcus was completely entranced by Genevieve Kingsley. The woman held back nothing. She’d argued with him
through the entire ceremony, to the point he wasn’t even sure she was fully aware of the moment they were formally joined as
husband and wife. He’d got the yeses from her lips by ordering her to say them. Even Banyon had stepped in to help. She’d
snapped them out, all fiery temper and by far the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. As the priest finished, Marcus jerked
her fully against him then kissed her while she was still mid-rant. He’d never know a dull moment with his fiery, little wife by
his side.
“What are you doing?” She pushed foolishly against his chest, trying to create space between them. “You can’t kiss me,
Marcus. It’s not proper.”
“Now, you’re worried about what’s proper?”
She glared at him. “I’m always proper, damn you.”
He laughed with Banyon this time.
“I’m sorry, Father. It’s his fault, really. Yes, it’s his fault. I’ve never had much of a temper before meeting him.”
“Don’t compound your sins by lying to a priest, love,” Marcus warned.
“Marcus!” she yelled and swatted her palm against his upper arm before turning to the priest again. “I’m not a violent
woman, Father. I don’t know what’s come over me. He brings out the worst in me. Everything will get back to normal once I
return home.”
The priest gazed at Marcus with big eyes.
“Ignore her, Father. She’s not a nice woman. She swears and lies and suffers fits of violence.”
“Marcus!” she yelled again then reached out and pinched him.
Hell, he was almost fully in love with her at this point. A more perfect woman couldn’t exist in the entire world than the
one currently looking at him with fire in her eyes.
“You do seem prone to violence, m’lady,” the priest murmured. “You shouldn’t strike him. It’s not done.”
“Because he’s a king?” She narrowed her gaze. “He’s not my king, Father. I’m not from the Dread Lands.”
“Well, you are now, m’lady.”
She shook her head, and the priest glanced at Marcus then Banyon as if asking for help.
“You do know what just happened, don’t you, Genevieve?” Marcus finally asked her.
“You made me fair froth with anger, pretending I was your bride. That’s not a nice thing to do to a woman, Marcus.”
“But, m’lady—” the priest tried to interrupt her.
“It’s cruel,” Genevieve continued. “A woman’s heart is a fragile thing. Easily broken when treated without care.”
“I promise to treat yours with care, love,” he swore.
She blinked up at him, and he knew the exact moment when it all made sense in her head.
“Did you just marry me?”
He nodded.
 “But my grandfather,” she began.

“Banyon will send a few warriors to speak with him and let him know of our marriage.”
“He won’t be happy,” she warned.
“I don’t care if he’s happy or not,” Marcus told her.

“What about me?”

“You’ll be happy. I’ll see to it.”

“I won’t be easy on you. God’s truth, I’m not that great of a lady. I don’t take orders. I’m sure I’ll defy you without even
realizing it. Grandfather always says he pities the man who finally marries me because he’ll have his hands full.”
“I have large hands,” Marcus assured her.
She nodded, gaze locked on his fingers.
“You mustn’t hit me. No matter how angry I make you. One blow might kill me.”
“I’ll never raise a hand to you. Has your grandfather ever hit you?” he demanded.
“No, never,” she replied. “But he loves me. You just met me.”
“I’ll learn to love you just as you’ll learn to love me,” he told her.
She gave him a look he couldn’t interpret.
“I never dreamed my wedding would be like this. Me, disheveled and bruised with torn clothes. Grandfather didn’t even
get to walk me down the aisle. This wasn’t well done of you,” she admonished, but Marcus focused on one word.
“You’re bruised? Where?” His gaze scanned over her in search of marred skin. She had some dirt on her face and
clothes, but he didn’t see any discoloration.
“My stomach feels bruised from the way I was placed across the horse. My hip, too, where I kept bouncing against the
saddle.”
He moved toward her, tugging at her dress.
“Marcus! Stop!”
She struggled against him as he dropped to his knees and lifted the front length of her dress over her hips. Having ripped
it up both sides made it easy to tug it up and out of the way. He found a dark blotch marring her right hip and swore.
“Damn, that looks deep,” Banyon said, sending Genevieve into another round of shrieks.
“I’m naked under my dress, Marcus!”
His attention had been fixated on the bruise, but as her words registered he realized the only thing protecting her sex
from view was the hand she’d slapped against the material to keep it firmly in place between her thighs.
“Banyon,” he growled.
“Pardon,” Banyon said, and the tone of his second’s voice let Marcus know the other man had seen only the marred skin,
as well.
Banyon turned his back on them then took the priest by the elbow and ushered him to the other side of the church. Marcus
turned her so her back was to the other men then tugged her hand away and lifted the material, so he could see her stomach.
There was redness, but it didn’t appear she’d bruise. Then his gaze dropped between her thighs and stayed. He nuzzled closer,
rubbing his check along her thigh as he inhaled the scent of his woman. He couldn’t wait to taste her.
“Marcus.” His name was a soft whisper. “We’re in a church.”
 “And?” Marcus asked as he ran a finger along her sex, dipping between the folds and rubbing along the dampness
coating her.

“People come here to worship.”

“I’m worshipping,” he vowed, using two fingers to spread her lips then leaning in to taste her.
“Oh, God!”
“Did you want to offer a prayer for a happy marriage, m’lady?” the priest called to them.
Marcus chuckled then reluctantly eased back, letting her dress fall back into place as he rose to his feet beside her. His
little wife was bright red.
“Next time, Father,” he called. “I need to get my bride home.”
“Of course,” the priest agreed. “I’ll offer up one for you.”
“Thank you, Father,” Genevieve called, but her gaze remained on Marcus.
She was silent as they walked out to the horses, not offering any argument when he pulled her back onto his lap.
“Are you okay?” he finally asked when her silence continued.
She nodded. He shared a look with Banyon, who shrugged, offering no help.
“What’s wrong, Genevieve?” he demanded.
“When will you send word to my grandfather?" she asked.
“You’re not going home with him,” Marcus warned.
“I know, but I’d like to send a letter with whoever goes.”
“Banyon already dispatched a few of my warriors on the task,” he informed her. “Why would you send a letter to him?”
“To see if he could gather my things before he comes to see me. I have no clothes except for this dress, which is little
more than rags at this point. My medicinals, my soaps and oils. I don’t even have a brush for my hair.”
“I’ll make sure you have everything you need. Besides you won’t need clothes for a few days.”
Her face went that lovely shade of rose again. She glanced toward Banyon, but his second acted as if he hadn’t heard
anything. Banyon was a smart man. Still, Marcus leaned closer, so his lips were at her ear before speaking again.
“We’ll consummate as soon as we reach the castle.”
“Then what?” she whispered back.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“You said I won’t need clothes for days. I’ve heard the servants back home talking about their husbands or lovers.
Bedding takes minutes. Why will I not need clothes for a few days?”
“A king takes his time, love. He treats his queen as she deserves. He woos her with soft words and tender touches. With
sweet kisses. He tastes her, every inch of her, ensuring she feels nothing but pleasure from him. Then when she’s desperate for
more, when she’s panting and begging her king to love her, when her needy cries for more echo around the bed chamber, that’s
when the bedding begins.”
“Begins?”
Her teeth were sunk into her bottom lip, her breaths short and shallow as she watched him with big eyes.
“Yes, and it won’t take minutes, love. It will take days, years, a lifetime and still your king won’t be satiated. Still, he’ll
need more.”
“Only from his queen?”
“Never anyone but his queen,” he promised.
A shudder went through her as she clung to him. He felt the tight points of her nipples where she leaned into his chest, the
clutch of her fingers against his waist, and her fast breathing. His cock was hard and ready to sheath inside her. He wanted her
lips as well as the soft flesh between her thighs.

As they rode through the gate, he finally turned to glance at Banyon.

“The keep is yours for the next few days.”
“Of course, my king.” Banyon nodded toward him, following him right up to the steps of the castle.
Banyon dismounted then opened the door, so Marcus could carry his prize inside. Marcus acknowledged no one,
ignoring everyone who wasn’t his wife. He heard Banyon tossing orders. Fresh water would be brought up for the tub in
Marcus’ chamber, as well as food, wine, and ale. They’d bathe each other, sate the need for food and drink, then sate a different
need.
“Welcome home, love.”
 Chapter Four

Genevieve watched as a trail of servants carried in buckets of water and filled the large tub in Marcus’ bed chamber. It
had to be large, though, to accommodate a man of Marcus’ size. While the water was being carried in, others brought trays of
food and pitchers of drink, which they sat atop the table that sat along the same wall as the fireplace.
There was a rug in front of the fireplace as well as a large chair that was obviously Marcus’.
“Would you like to eat first or take a bath?” Marcus asked, drawing her attention back to him.
He stood in the middle of the room, watching her, ignoring the people bustling around him. He was a sight to behold. A
warrior in every sense of the word. Tall, broad, strong. His war hammer still hung across his back, and she wondered how he
stood as if the weight of the mighty weapon was inconsequential. She wasn’t sure she’d even be able to lift it. The harness that
held it against his skin crossed over his chest.
Then there were his leather pants that fit as if they were another layer of skin. The muscles of his legs were proudly
displayed, but that wasn’t what kept pulling her gaze. No, it was the thick bulge between his thighs. The thickness she’d felt
under her bottom as she rode in his lap. That was the weapon she wanted to touch, to see, to taste. God, she was a harlot in the
making. She should be ashamed of the very carnal thoughts she was indulging.
Then again, Marcus was her husband. It was a wife’s duty to obey her husband. At least, when it was something she
wanted to do, and she really wanted to discover how it took days to bed with a king. Days! The thought alone had her heart fair
to beating out of her chest and tingles racing across her breasts, as well as between her legs.
Marcus had put his finger there and his tongue. He’d licked her. She’d never heard any of the servants speak of their men
doing such a thing with their tongues. Marcus had. She wanted him to do it again.
“Genevieve?”
She jerked her attention back to his face, flushing at the intensity of his gaze.
“Food or bath?”
The thought of eating while she was covered in dirt was almost enough to make her lose her appetite.
“Bath.”

“Out!” he roared, and she jerked where she stood, one foot already stepping when she realized he was speaking to the
servants still in the room. They hastened their steps out the door, the last one tugging it shut behind them. Marcus crossed
immediately, dropping a heavy board before throwing a bolt at the top and bottom.
“Little much in your own castle,” she murmured.
“I don’t like to be disturbed, especially when I’m with a beautiful woman.”
He moved around the room, removing his weapon and putting it in a spot on the wall before taking off the leather holster
he used to keep it on his back.
“Do you bring many women here then?” she asked and clenched her fists at the surge of jealousy that filled her.
What right did she have to be jealous? She’d only met Marcus a few hours earlier. Not that it was unusual to meet and
marry someone so quickly. Women of her status rarely had choices in their lives. Go here. Sit there. Learn this. Be quiet.
You’ll marry and be an obedient wife. She’d seen it many times. Her grandfather had spoiled her, though. He’d vowed she
would have a choice. Would she have chosen Marcus if they’d met a different way?
“Only my wife,” he said as he sat in his chair and began removing his boots.
 That comment shouldn’t soften her the way it did. Still, knowing she was the only woman he’d brought to his bedroom
made her think she would have picked him. If she’d been given the choice. When he stood and reached for the laces of his
leathers, she squealed and gave him her back.
“What are you doing?”
“You said you wished to bathe first, so we’ll bathe.”
“Me! I meant me!”

“There is no more you.”

His words were murmured against her ear as his heat surrounded her again. She refused to turn and look, to see if he was
as naked as she assumed he was.
“There’s only us.”
His fingers brushed along her skin, sending shivers through her that were chased away when he gripped the neckline of
her gown and ripped it down the middle. It slipped off her shoulders to pool at her feet, leaving her bare. She wasn’t sure
where to cover, but it didn’t matter. His hands were there first, one palm cupped her breast, thumb strumming over her hard
nipple while the other slid down her belly, middle finger slipping between the slick folds between her thighs.
“Marcus.” She meant to be firm, reprimanding, but his name came out on a sigh, a plea. For what she wasn’t sure. He
swept her up into his arms, holding her against his chest while he walked across the room to the steaming tub. He put her on her
feet in the water.
“Eyes forward,” he ordered as he stepped in behind her before easing them both down, so she sat with her back against
his chest.
He lifted her hair and moved it over one shoulder.
“Marcus.”
She felt that part of him, the weapon he carried between his legs. It was long and thick and too big for anything he had in
mind to do to her with it.
“We’ll fit nicely, my love,” he whispered as he reached for the cloth and bar of soap on the stand beside the tub. “I’ll use
my lips and tongue and fingers until you’re fully aroused and dripping with the need for me. Only then will I sheathe my sword
inside you. Hard and deep, until the only thing you feel is me. All you breathe is me. Every fiber of your being is centered on
me and where I am a part of you.”
“For days?” Her words came out a needy moan as he ran the cloth over her, washing her neck and shoulders then down
her arms before moving those strong fingers over her breasts.
“For a lifetime, love,” he vowed then used her hair to tug her head back.
He took her lips, licking and sucking at the curves. He pinched her nipple, and when she gasped, he slipped his tongue
inside her mouth to tangle with hers. God, he tasted decadent. Like sin, a sin she wanted to commit over and over again. His
hands were everywhere, touching with the cloth then without, but his mouth only left hers for brief moments, so they both could
take a quick breath.
The splash of water, the feel of cloth and hands and teeth and tongue… They all consumed her until she wasn’t sure
where to focus.
“Marcus!”
He lifted her with a moan, his lips skimming down her neck then stopping to suck hard at the base. Somehow, he made it
across the stone floor to the bed, laying her back before moving over her.
“I need to taste you, Genevieve. I need you on my tongue.”
He licked the drops of water from her breasts, sucking her nipples into the heat of his mouth and drawing on them in a
way that sent pulses coursing through her body directly between her thighs.
“Oh, God, Marcus!”
He fed on her, as if her breasts provided something he needed. He bit down on one nipple then sucked it greedily,
drawing loud cries from her throat as she dug her fingernails into his shoulders. When he finally slid lower along her body, her
nipples were red, swollen, and throbbing with what he’d done to them. The throb echoed between her thighs.
“What are you doing to me?” She whispered the question, but his only reply was a growl as he kissed over her stomach,
using his body to spread her thighs until he slipped his shoulders between them and his heated breath bathed her sex. He spread
her with his fingers, and though she should have been beyond embarrassed, she wasn’t. She was hot, needy, and more than
ready for the first swipe of his tongue.
“Marcus!”
She slid her fingers through his hair and held on tight. She squeezed her eyes shut then forced them open again, so she
could watch him. As if he felt her gaze on him, he glanced up, their eyes meeting and holding as his mouth brought her to the
brink of madness then sent her screaming into flight. His broad palms held her down while he continued his quest to drive her
insane. It was working. Genevieve saw nothing but stars and maybe even God for a moment before the tug of Marcus’ teeth
brought her back into her own body.
“Marcus. Oh, Marcus.” Her throat was raw from the sheer number of cries he’d pulled from her. That he continued to
pull from her.
“You taste sweet, my love,” Marcus murmured against her core before plunging his tongue inside while his finger
worked magic atop the tight bud that crowned her sex. He sent her soaring again and again until she was unable to even move.
She blinked her eyes closed then forced them back open as Marcus moved up her body.
“I’m sorry, love.”
“Sorry? Why?”
“It’ll only hurt for a moment. I promise.”
“What?”
She shrieked as he thrust his manhood inside her, tearing her apart even as he overfilled her. She tensed, clenching her
eyes shut as she waited to die.
 Chapter Five

Marcus stared down at Genevieve. Her eyes were tightly closed, a few tears making it past her closed lids to slip over
her cheeks. He held himself still, using every ounce of will he still possessed to keep himself from moving within her tight
heat. God, she felt incredible. Everything about her was perfection. Her smile, her temper, her intellect, her body, the way her
sex squeezed him as her breaths shuddered out of her.
He leaned lower, trailing soft kisses over her eyelids, her cheeks, her lips, and jawline. He kept raining those kisses
over her skin until he felt her begin to relax, felt her soften beneath him.
“Marcus.”
He took her mouth as soon as her lips parted, engaging her tongue and groaning when she finally shifted her hips and
thighs beneath him. He waited another moment, allowing her as much time to adjust as his control could handle. Reaching
down, he cupped the back of her knee and pulled up her leg, holding it to his waist. Slowly, he eased back, tugging his shaft out
of her channel until only the crown remained inside her. Then, just as slowly, he eased back inside. Back and forth, watching
her face like a hawk, taking note of the pleasure that replaced the pained look on her face.
He moved a bit faster, drove deeper, and she gasped, lifting her hand and wrapping it around his neck.
“You feel exquisite,” he murmured.
“You feel…big.”
“Your body was made for me.”
He took her mouth again, unable to get enough of her taste on his tongue. Any part of her. Every part of her. His cock was
in heaven, but his tongue and fingers were jealous. The moment he’d seen her he’d known it would be this way. Within minutes,
Marcus had known he’d keep her. As she moaned and wrapped her legs around his waist, he increased the strength of his
thrusts, powering inside her.
“I can’t… Marcus!”
He slipped a hand between them, finding her pleasure pearl and using his thumb to help her fly again. When she
screamed his name, he stopped holding back, taking her exactly as he needed. It was hard and deep, and his vision faded as he
came with a roar of triumph before collapsing atop her.
Genevieve wrapped around him, her nose nuzzling his throat as she held him to her. It took more effort than it should
have to roll them over until she sprawled across his chest. He cupped her buttocks and kept her still, so he stayed inside her
even as he softened from release.
“I should move,” she murmured then yawned before rubbing her cheek against his chest.
“Tired?”
“Mm-hmm.”
He wasn’t sure if that was a sound of agreement or not, but he stroked one hand up and down her back.
“Rest, love. I’ve got you.”

“I should move off you. It can’t be comfortable with me on top of you. Besides, you’re…” She paused, glancing up at
him from beneath her lashes, teeth sunk into her bottom lip. “You know.”
He grinned. “I’m what?”
She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Still inside me.”
 She was so quiet he barely heard her.

“You should get used to that,” he informed her. “You’ll fall asleep with me inside you and wake up the same way.” He
thrust his hips up into hers, his cock reawakening. “My cock belongs inside you.”
Marcus enjoyed the catch in her breath when he rolled them over until she was beneath him again. He tried to go slow,
tried to be easy, but she was sheer perfection. She fit him. She might not realize how well yet, but he did. She made that needy
moan he loved hearing, and her fate was sealed. Not that he could have held back anyway, but knowing she wanted him as
much as he wanted her set his blood afire. Then she was coming undone around him, tightening like a fist and jerking him
headfirst into the pleasure with her.
This time when he collapsed atop her, there was no thought of moving. He barely managed to move his chest off hers, so
that he was facedown on the bed beside her, but his hips remained firmly planted between her thighs, his cock still exactly
where it should be. Inside her.
He kept her abed for days, showing her how well they fit together. Loving them both into oblivion then waking to do it
all over again. He plied her with an endless supply of food and drink while keeping her thoroughly covered in the scent of him
and sex. No matter how many times he took her, it wasn’t enough. He was insatiable.
“Marcus.” She moaned his name as he rolled them until she sprawled atop his chest. He loved having her like that.
Loved feeling her heartbeat against his chest, her breath on his neck.
“Shh, love,” he murmured, running his hand along her spine. “Rest.”
He closed his eyes, breathing her in. Next thing he knew, he was pulled from sleep by a tapping on his door. They’d
moved around while they were out. She lay on her side before him, her back nestled against his chest. He had one hand splayed
over her belly, anchoring her to him. His cock was long and thick and tucked between her thighs. Not exactly where he wanted
it but close enough.
Another knock, slightly louder this time, drew his thoughts from his wife. He eased away from her and moved across the
room to unbar the door and crack it open.
“What?” he growled when he found Banyon standing there.
“One of the men you have watching King Phillip is here.”
“Find out what he wants and send him back on his way,” Marcus commanded.
“You’ll want to hear this.”
Marcus glanced at the bed where Genevieve slept beneath the covers. He wanted nothing more than to join her, but he
knew Banyon wouldn’t have interrupted if it wasn’t important.
“I’ll be down shortly.”
Marcus shut the door while Banyon was still nodding. He jerked a clean pair of leathers out of one of the chests at the
foot of the bed and dressed quickly. He couldn’t resist tucking the covers around Genevieve and dropping a kiss atop her head
before he reluctantly left the room. Whatever the message was, it had better be worth dragging him from his marital bed.
Banyon sat at the main table with a few others when Marcus entered. His gaze zeroed in on the man dressed in Phillip’s
colors. Marcus took a seat, not saying a word until food and drink were put before him.
“Speak,” he commanded, and his spy wasted no time.
“A few days ago, a group of soldiers left on an errand for Phillip. They arrived back yesterday, and he was livid.
Whatever he’d sent them to do, they failed.”
Marcus shared a glance with Banyon, who nodded.
“What did he send them to do?” Marcus demanded, though from Banyon’s nod, he was fairly sure he already knew.
“They were to take a woman Phillip’s been wanting to get his hands on. He had plans to have her safely married to one
of his barons. To the point he had a castle full of the man’s family and a priest at the ready.”
Marcus growled at the thought of Genevieve being taken and forced to marry another man. It didn’t matter if he’d done
the same. She belonged to him now. She was his wife, his queen, and any man who thought to step between them would meet
with his hammer.
“Go on,” he snapped.
“Your name was mentioned. He’s pulling in troops. He’s going to use the woman’s grandfather to pull you out and attack
when you’re most vulnerable.”
Banyon laughed, and Marcus almost joined his second. They both knew Marcus was never vulnerable.

“Is the grandfather involved?” Banyon was the one to ask that question.
“Doubtful,” Marcus’ spy muttered. “There’s no love lost between the two. Phillip wants Lord Kingsley’s land. The
woman’s the way to getting it. Even if Phillip has to force the issue.”
“Has he sent men after Kingsley?” Marcus knew his men would reach Genevieve’s grandfather first. If he was half the
man Genevieve perceived him to be, then he wouldn’t side against Marcus. Which meant Marcus could set up Phillip, instead.
“He hadn’t when I left, but surely, he has by now.”
Marcus nodded, sharing another glance with Banyon. His second stood and directed their guest to follow him. By the
time he returned with several warriors in tow, Marcus had broken his fast, written several missives, and put together a plate to
have taken up for his wife.
“You two, take this to King Drake.” Marcus passed the note then turned to another of his men. “This one goes to King
Lyons. You four, head to the Montrose kings. Stop only when necessary. Head back as soon as you have replies.”
“My king,” they chorused as they all bowed their heads then headed for the front entrance of the castle.
Marcus sat there for a long moment, battle plans forming in his mind. “How long do you think we have before her
grandfather arrives?”
Banyon shrugged.
“No word back yet. Maybe days. Maybe hours. Depends on where he was when they caught him and how quickly he
rode to get here.”

“He would do best to keep our men with him,” Marcus mused. “But that prevents us from having any warning before his
arrival.”
“What’s your gut say?” Banyon asked.
“Hours. Prepare the men.”
“You’re planning to attack your new bride’s grandfather?” The look on Banyon’s face expressed exactly what he thought
of that idea. Marcus wasn’t a fool, though, and he would never put Genevieve in that position.
“Of course, not. I plan to assure him that I can and will protect my wife against anyone who thinks to take her from me.”
Banyon grinned. “That’s the way of it, huh?”
“She’s mine. Once the dust settles, everyone will know that.” He’d make sure of it.
 Chapter Six

Genevieve stretched as she awoke. The bed beside her was empty. That had to be a good thing. She was tender in places
she’d never been before. Marcus had taught her much about the pleasures of the marital bed over the last few days, and each
night she’d slept wrapped in his arms, waking to tender touches and soft kisses that always grew heated. Though, he’d slipped
in and out of the room a few times over the last few days, she’d stayed inside. She’d done very little beside eat, sleep, and
make love with her husband. A husband who’d made it a habit to always be there when she woke. It was odd to wake up alone.
She finally forced herself to roll over and sit up. Glancing around the empty room, she noted the plate on the table as
well as the fresh flowers. A smile tugged at her lips. Her husband was turning out to be a surprising man. She’d heard enough
stories from the women at her grandfather’s home to know not all consummations were fulfilling. Some were nothing but
painful.
Genevieve was thankful Marcus had claimed her. He’d gone out of his way to make sure she’d enjoyed her first time and
her second and every time after. The things he did with his mouth and fingers and manhood… He literally loved her into
oblivion every time he touched her. She wrapped a fur from the bed around her body then walked over to the fresh pail of
water that had been left beside the fire, splashing her face and neck before taking a piece of cloth and washing the rest of
herself as best as she could.
After wrapping up again, she sat before the fire and ate the plate of fruit and cheese that had been left for her then filled a
mug from the pitcher of water on the table. Feeling sated and more awake, she thought it was probably time for her to make her
way out into the castle and meet the people. Her people now.
She found a couple of dresses tossed atop one of the chests in the corner and shook them out. Neither would be a perfect
fit, but she settled on the one that was just a bit tight in the bust rather than the one that would swallow her whole. Tugging it on,
she decided she’d have to be sure not to take too big of a breath or she’d show her nipples to the world. She couldn’t imagine
Marcus being okay with that, but what choice did she have? The too large dress threatened to slip completely off her, leaving
even more of her on display.
Finally dressed, she made her way from the room then took the stairs below to the main hall. Marcus was nowhere in
sight, and neither was Banyon. As they were the only two she knew, it made things a bit difficult for her.
“My queen.” A young woman stepped forward and curtsied before her. “May I help you with anything?”
“I was looking for King Marcus. Have you seen him?”
“The king is in the bailey with his warriors.”
“What is your name?” Genevieve asked.
“Maggie but most call me Mags,” the young girl answered.
“Thank you for the information, Mags. I’ll be sure to let Marcus know you helped me.”
“Of course, my queen.” She curtsied again, and that’s when the truth of Genevieve’s earlier thoughts hit her. She was
more than Marcus’ wife. She was a queen. His queen. Queen to his people. She wasn’t even sure what that meant. She
definitely had no idea what that required from her. She’d have to ask Marcus. As soon as she found him.
It was later in the day than she’d realized when she first woke up. The sun was on its descent, making it afternoon
instead of midmorning. As she walked through the bailey, everyone stopped and bowed or curtsied. Though, she recognized no
one, they knew who she was. It was disconcerting and definitely something she’d need to amend soon. She’d make it a point to
know all of them.
She saw Banyon first and followed his gaze to Marcus. He was speaking with someone, but her gaze never strayed from
her husband. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. He was hers. All hers. Ignoring everyone around her, she headed
toward him. When he glanced her way, she took off at a run. He stepped away from the men surrounding him and caught her to
him, lifting her feet from the ground and claiming her mouth with his. He groaned when he set her down and jerked her back to
him.

“What the hell are you wearing, love?”

She glanced down and noted both her nipples were on full display.
“Oh, God!” she cried, tugging her dress up.
He reached down to help and instead managed to turn her nipples into rigid points that craved the feel of his mouth.
“Marcus,” she groaned, trying to push his hands away. “I’m covered.”
His gaze zeroed in on her breasts.
“Not enough,” he growled. “I want nothing more than to carry you back up to our bed, but there are plans to make. And
someone who’s been demanding your presence since he arrived here a few hours ago.”
Genevieve jerked her head up, glancing behind Marcus to the men he’d been standing with. She didn’t recognize any but
one and flushed a bright red at not having noticed him first. Her gaze had only been on Marcus, though, and judging by the
raised eyebrow, her grandfather knew it. When she would have dashed off to greet him, Marcus caught her hand in his.
“Walk, love, or blood will spill if any of those bastards get a look at what’s for my eyes only,” he warned and had her
glancing back down to make sure she was still tucked back inside the bodice of her dress.
Marcus walked her over to the others, stopping when she was in front of her grandfather. She kept her gaze on her feet as
she felt the tension in the air.

“Granddaughter.”
She chanced a glance up, but her grandfather’s face was set in stone. She had no idea what he was thinking, much less
feeling.
“Grandfather.”
“Did you want this marriage, Genevieve?” He threw a glare toward Marcus, who loomed at her side, and though she’d
never fear the man who’d reared her, she pressed closer to her husband’s side.
Marcus tensed at her grandfather’s direct question, and she placed one palm over his chest as if she had any hope of
holding him back if he chose to react aggressively.
“Not at first,” she admitted, having never been one to lie to the man who was more father to her than grandfather. Both
men tensed, and she hurried to continue. “That’s not true. I knew he was different the moment he saved me from King Phillip’s
men.”
“Phillip,” Marcus corrected with a grunt. “I’m your only king.”
She nodded.
“From Phillip’s men then. Marcus saved me. He told me he was taking me to a wedding. I didn’t realize he meant ours
until we were in front of the priest. He and Banyon kept me arguing while we took our vows, but I’d be lying if I tried to say I
wasn’t aware. I knew what Marcus was doing, and I wanted to marry him. I’ll amend my first words then and say, yes, I
wanted this marriage. I’m happy to be his wife.”
“My queen,” Marcus offered and gave her a kiss before adding quietly. “My everything.”
“And another king falls.”
She glanced up at the man speaking. He had shoulder length dark hair and blue eyes. He had a huge sword strapped to
his back.
“Let me make introductions,” Marcus said, directing her gaze as he pointed out the men to her. “Jamie Drake, Geoffrey
Lyons, Theodore and Gavin Montrose, my fellow war kings. The wives are inside the castle. Not sure how you missed them.”

“How do you know I missed them?” she asked.

“Because my wife would have followed you out,” Theo replied, and both Jamie and Geoffrey nodded in agreement.
“And your wife?” she asked Gavin.

“He hasn’t fallen yet,” Theo answered for his brother.

“Watching all of you lose your minds over your wives is a definite deterrent,” Gavin stated with a pointed look at all of
them.
“Theo!”
The cry was followed by a woman running full out for the men. Theo stepped away from the others, catching who must
be his wife up in his arms and holding her close. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her hands in his hair, and kissed him
with no care to who was watching.
“Fuck, Jo. It’s not like your brother’s watching,” a blonde mumbled as she and another woman joined them. A very large
warrior trailed them.
“Occupy him then.” Jo broke the kiss long enough to reply while Theo chuckled.
Jamie wrapped his arm around the waist of the blonde who’d spoken while the other one moved into Geoffrey. The
warrior tipped his head toward Geoffrey, making Genevieve believe the warrior was one of his.
“The wives,” Marcus offered with a chuckle. “Jo Montrose, Rory Drake, and Serena Lyons.”
Genevieve had met Serena and Rory both before, though it had been long ago when they were all very young girls. She
doubted either of them would remember her, so she didn’t mention it.
“Now that introductions have been made, perhaps we can plan our next steps,” Genevieve’s grandfather said.
“Yes,” Gavin agreed.
“What next steps?” Genevieve asked, noting the way Jamie and Rory shared a look.
“Confronting Phillip,” Marcus told her. “No more lies. No more secrets. No more veiled threats. It ends now.”
 Chapter Seven

Marcus shook his head at Jamie’s suggestion they just march in and force the confrontation. He kept his gaze on
Genevieve as she walked back toward the keep with the other wives.
“He’ll run again,” he warned. “He’ll avoid us at all costs. He’s shown us that again and again.”
Phillip had fled every time they’d tried to force him into a meeting. First, at the Montrose keep where Jamie had
encountered and taken his wife. Then at the keep of Geoffrey’s wife. Every time, Phillip had managed to avoid them.
“I say the best option is for me to call him to my home. Tell him Genevieve’s missing. Ask for help. He’ll come. He
wants my land too much to ignore a call from me,” Sevres Kingsley assured them.
“I’m guessing his messenger missed you then.” Marcus mused. He still wasn’t so sure it was only the land Phillip
wanted. Sevres gave him a look, and Marcus saw the keen intelligence in the other man’s gaze.
“You have spies in King Phillip’s court.” It wasn’t a question, but Marcus nodded.
“He has spies in many places,” Jamie said, and Gavin and Theo nodded in agreement.
“They’ll tell him they couldn’t find me, and he’ll send them to my keep. I’ll take some of your men back with me. We’ll
hide them among my men while the rest of you stay over the border in your lands. Once King Phillip’s inside my keep, you can
close in around us. I’d prefer the king’s blood isn’t spilled on my land, but you’ll have your audience with him,” Sevres
continued. “Besides, my lands go to Genevieve when I’m gone. I assume your firstborn son will be your successor. Mine will
go to the second born, be they male or female.”
“I’ll allow that,” Marcus agreed to Sevres’ offer. “Unless they choose differently. I fought for the life I wanted, and I
took it. I hold it.”
The other war kings voiced their agreement.
“My children will know my unwavering support,” he continued. “No matter what life they choose.”
“I’d expect nothing less from the man who forced my granddaughter to marry him.” Sevres raised a brow when Marcus
glared at him.
“She may have corrected her first words, but my granddaughter doesn’t lie. She’s going to keep you on your toes, war
king,” Sevres warned then finally grinned. “God, I wish I was here to see her put you through your paces.”
Marcus laughed. “I look forward to it.”
“Duncan,” Geoffrey murmured with a nod toward where his wife walked.
“My King.” Duncan bowed as he left to follow after Serena. Even in Marcus’ home, Geoffrey wouldn’t let her out of his
or his second’s sight.
“Are you planning to leave my granddaughter here when you ride to my keep?” Sevres asked.
Marcus wasn’t sure what he was thinking. He wanted her safe but loathed the thought of leaving her without him. “She’ll
be safe here.”
He wasn’t sure if those words were meant for him or Sevres.
“Are you all leaving your brides here or sending them back home?” Sevres asked the others.
“Serena stays with me or my second at all times,” Geoffrey stated.
“Same for Rory,” Jamie agreed.
 “Jo’s at my side,” Theo offered.

All Marcus could see was Genevieve’s bruises, the rip in her dress, the way she’d been wrapped in that blanket and
thrown over a horse. Taken. He’d never let that happen again. He’d kill any man who tried.
“Perhaps we should move this conversation inside,” Jamie suggested, his gaze on his wife as she disappeared inside
Marcus’ home. He and Theo headed toward the castle doors with Sevres beside them.
“They don’t get it,” Geoffrey offered Marcus. “Jamie and Theo both stole their brides. We were different.”

That was true enough. Jamie had taken Rory Montrose for vengeance when her father and several of his men had
attacked a couple of women from one of Jamie’s villages. One of them had been Jamie’s sister, Jo. She’d fought her way free of
the men, but Jamie had still claimed Rory as his bounty. Which led to Theo kidnapping Jo to get revenge on Jamie. A sister for
a sister. Of course, both men had fallen hard for the women they’d stolen and were now brothers-in-law.
Geoffrey and Serena had met differently. He’d first caught his mate when she’d been riding through the Dread Lands.
He’d let her go then searched high and low for her. He’d finally found her when her keep had been under attack and she’d sent
men to ask him for help. She’d been in armor when he’d found her, on the verge of collapse from how hard she’d fought to
protect her home. If anyone understood how Marcus felt, it would be Geoffrey.

“They scared her,” Marcus confessed. “Left bruises on her skin.”

“And brought her straight to you,” Geoffrey said. “Will you really feel comfortable leaving her here when you leave?”
Marcus opened his mouth to say yes, but the word wouldn’t come out. Banyon would be with him, and although he
trusted every warrior who fought for him, he’d leave Genevieve with no one but Banyon or one of the other war kings. Hell, he
didn’t even trust her grandfather since she’d been taken while under his protection. The man had left her unprotected as far as
Marcus was concerned, and she’d been kidnapped.
“She’ll go with me and stay with the rest of the wives,” he relented.
“Trust me, it’s the only way to keep your sanity,” Geoffrey assured him as they made their way inside. “I go mad when I
don’t know where Serena is.”

As if the other man’s words had conjured his wife, she joined them immediately, hugging up against her husband. He
dropped a kiss on her lips and wrapped an arm around her waist.
“Duncan said we were going to Genevieve’s home,” Serena mentioned. “I’d love to stop by and see my father if we
can.”
“Of course,” Geoffrey agreed. “We’ll go there first.”
“Genevieve’s home is here,” Marcus corrected. “She’s a Blaywolf now. My queen.”
“My apologies,” Serena said quickly, throwing a glance at her husband.
“No apology needed,” Marcus assured her as he headed toward the Great Hall where his wife sat at the high table,
speaking enthusiastically with her grandfather.
She glanced at him when he took the seat next to her, and he couldn’t resist taking her lips with his. Her mouth was open
since he’d caught her mid-sentence. He dove his tongue inside, tasting every inch of her. Someone cleared their throat, but
Marcus ignored them, drinking his fill from her lips before finally releasing her.
She inhaled deeply, and he immediately reached down to make sure her borrowed dress stayed where it should. Her
palm covered his as she hid her face in his shoulder.
“I brought a satchel with some of your dresses in it,” Sevres told his granddaughter. “I gave it to one of the maids when
we arrived. She must have taken it up to your room after you left it.”
“I’ll go up with you,” Serena offered. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since we were little girls. Even then it was only a few
times.”
 “I think we met maybe once,” Rory offered.

“I wasn’t sure either of you would remember meeting,” Genevieve offered. “It was so long ago.”
“Well, I’ve never met you, but you must be amazing if you settled on this one,” Jo announced as she stood.
“I see she’s still a brat, Theo,” Marcus called out, though he was grinning.

He, Jamie, and Geoffrey had been friends for a long time. Long enough that Marcus easily recalled Jo as a precocious
young girl, dogging on their heels with a million questions and pleas to be included. She’d grown into a beautiful woman. One
Theo clearly adored.
“My wife isn’t a brat,” Theo replied.
“Please,” Geoffrey spoke up. “Jamie made her one, and you’ve done nothing to correct it.”
Jamie laughed, not denying the claim, and it hit Marcus how much he missed his friends when they spent too long apart.
He was still getting to know Theo and Gavin, but the Montrose brothers fit perfectly with the group. They’d laid claim to part
of the Dread Lands, fought the elements as well as enemies, and claimed their spot as war kings. That was something Marcus
respected, and since Jamie had married their sister, the five of them had formed an alliance.
“Well, this brat is going upstairs with all of your better halves,” Jo groused as she turned and left the table.
Theo stood.
“Josephine.”
One word and she stopped, turning back toward her husband. He did nothing but stare at her until she stomped back to
him, stopping when she was directly in front of him, feet planted between his. He dropped his head, whispered something in
her ear that made her shiver then dropped a kiss on her lips. He patted her on the ass when she turned toward the stairs again,
and Marcus found it interesting that her skin had flushed with color.
Genevieve grabbed his hand and tugged until he stood and followed her across the room where they could have some
privacy.
“I’m going with you when you leave. I won’t be left behind, Marcus. I’ll follow you if you try to leave me. I’ll be safer
with you than on my own. Choose wisely,” she warned.
He couldn’t help it. He laughed. He’d wondered where her spark had gone once they’d married. He figured nerves had
gotten the best of her. She’d been a new bride, a virgin. She certainly had her fire back now.

“Okay.”
“I mean it, Marcus. I won’t…” She paused, blinking up at him. “Okay?”
“You’ll go with me,” he agreed, tugging her close. “It’s where you belong.”
“Oh.” She looked far too adorable blinking up at him.
“You don’t want to use me as bait in case king—I mean Phillip—doesn’t do as you want him to?” she asked.
He growled. “You’ll never be bait, love. Never. You’ll ride with me and be in my or Banyon’s sight at all times.”
“I can ride my own horse, Marcus.”
“You’ll ride with me,” he reiterated.
“I’ll allow it for now, but don’t think I’ll be some docile wife when this is over,” she warned.
“I’m looking forward to that spicy tongue of yours,” he whispered at her ear. “I’d like to feel the flick of it over my cock
later this evening.”
“Marcus!”
 “No one can hear us, love. Now, go change so no one gets a peek at what they shouldn’t.”

She went to her tiptoes to kiss him then nearly stopped his heart when she murmured, “I can’t wait to taste you on my
tongue, husband.”
He had to reach down and adjust himself in his leathers before he turned and headed back to the table where the others
waited.
“Once we settle the Dread Lands’ issues, I want to speak with Phillip,” Jamie demanded, and Marcus nodded.

They’d learned Rory’s mother had been Phillip’s niece, and that she’d been pregnant when he’d forced her to become the
bride of the man who’d ended up killing her. Rory had no idea who her actual father was or why Phillip had turned on her
mother. Jamie wanted to get those answers for his wife, but Phillip had eluded them at every turn.
“I think it’s time to think bigger,” Sevres suggested. “Don’t just demand he leave the Dread Lands alone. Make him give
up something as a show of good faith.”
“What are you suggesting?” Marcus asked, sharing looks with the other kings.
“Land. Mine specifically. Though I think Geoffrey’s father-in-law, Lord Armstrong, might want his included, as well. In
fact, there are several of us that would prefer to become part of the Dread Lands and leave behind Phillip and his rule.”
Marcus glanced toward Geoffrey.
“Serena’s father has mentioned it more than once,” Geoffrey offered, nodding in agreement.
“It seems we have a lot to discuss then,” Marcus agreed. “Jamie?”

“I think it makes perfect sense,” he agreed.

“Theo? Gavin?” Jamie asked.
“The land would be on your side of the Dread Lands, but I see no reason why that matters,” Gavin stated with a shrug.
“Might I make another suggestion?” Sevres asked.
“Go on,” Marcus ordered, wondering what Genevieve’s grandfather had up his sleeve now.
“Phillip has a godddaughter he keeps hidden. Rumor says she’s actually his granddaughter and that he dotes on the girl.
The man thought to be her father has refused anyone who even dares ask for her hand. Make marriage to her part of the
agreement. There’s one of you still single. If you have her, you have him. He’ll do nothing to put her in danger.”
“That will be up to Gavin.” Theo was the one to speak while Gavin offered no comment.
“Whatever you decide,” Sevres agreed.
“Well, gentleman.” Marcus knocked his knuckles against the table. “Let’s make plans.”
 Chapter Eight

Genevieve spent the rest of the afternoon with the other wives and found she really liked them. They were remarkable
women who’d found themselves thrust into relationships with war kings. Rory had been taken as a bounty by Jamie, Jo had
been kidnapped by Theo, and Serena had called Geoffrey to help her when her father’s keep was under attack. Their stories
had been as unique as they were. Hers was just as intriguing to them. Kidnapped then stolen by Marcus, only to find herself
married to the man. One thing all the war kings had in common was, they took what they wanted, including the women they
chose as brides.
She didn’t get a chance to have a private conversation with her grandfather until after the evening meal when Marcus and
the rest of the war kings left to speak among themselves. Marcus told her it was for just the five of them to go over everything
they’d discussed earlier. Then he’d kissed her as if she were the air he needed to breathe, leaving her pulse racing, her nipples
hard, and her sex clenching with need. The man was potent. She’d had no idea how easy it would be to go from virgin to
wanton with the touch of one man.
“Walk with me?” her grandfather asked as he approached her once Marcus had led the others away.
“Of course,” she managed, pushing down the sea of lust her husband had left her drowning in.
“You’re happy?”
She nodded. “For now. It’s only been a few days.”

“A word of advice,” her grandfather offered, patting her hand where it curved around his elbow. “Start your marriage on
firm feet. You’ve married a war king. A man used to giving orders and receiving the full obedience of those around him. It’s up
to you to show him who you are and what you’ll accept and won’t accept from him.”
She nodded again.
“No matter the strength of the man, when he looks at you the way Marcus does, the way I looked at your grandmother…”
Her grandfather paused, eyes showing the sorrow that was always reflected in their depths when he spoke of the woman
Genevieve had never met but her grandfather had loved without measure. “You have all the power,” he assured her. “Use it
wisely.”
Part of her wanted to brush off those words, but she’d already seen how protective Marcus was, how he always watched
her, touched her. At the evening meal, he’d fed her the choicest bits of meat and cheese and fruit. He’d been the one to keep her
cup full. His hand had constantly brushed her cheek, her hair, her arm, even her thigh. She’d practically been in his lap by the
end of the meal due to the way he kept tugging her closer toward him. He saw to her needs before his own. Even sexually. He
always made her come several times before he entered her, and even then, he continued to pleasure her before succumbing to
his needs.
“Now, what have you seen of the keep so far?”
She shook away her thoughts and dropped her gaze toward her feet in embarrassment at the question. His chuckle filled
the air around them.
“The man has priorities. Can’t blame him. Why don’t I show you what I’ve seen. You’ve married with a powerful man.”
There was pride in her grandfather’s voice. “A man who should prove worthy of my girl.”
He patted her hand again. Tears filled her eyes as she glanced up at him.
“I’ll protect him just as fiercely.”
“I know you will. Just remember, you always have a home with me, and when I’m gone, Kingsley Keep will go to you
and your children.”
 “We both know Phillip will give it to another—a baron he feels will be a powerful ally,” she argued.

“Let Marcus and me worry about that. You just know it’s yours, and no one, including King Phillip, will take it from your
hands.”
Another pat then they were moving again.
“Your husband has built a solid castle with impenetrable fortifications. Not to mention all five kings are more than just
allies. What I’ve witnessed is a brotherhood I think nothing will break. And their warriors… They put our soldiers to shame.
I’m wondering if Marcus will let me borrow a few to better train my men.”
“I’m sure he would. I’ll talk to him.”

Her grandfather chuckled. “I think he’d do anything you asked.”

She didn’t say anything. She was still feeling her way with her husband, unsure of exactly what her role was now that
she was the wife of a war king. She’d seen little more than their bedchamber since arriving, so she paid close attention as her
grandfather walked with her around the inner courtyard. They walked until night was full around them, and she did her best to
mark in her mind all the things her grandfather pointed out as well as keeping track of the names of the people she’d met. Her
people now. People who bowed or curtsied to her and called her queen.

“I brought more than just clothes for you,” he told her as he led her to the stables.
She paused, bouncing on her toes as she stared at her grandfather. “You brought Silver?”
He nodded, and she squealed, giving him a hard hug before racing the rest of the way inside to greet her horse.
“My queen,” the stable master greeted her, and she did her best to acknowledge him as she sped toward Silver.
The stallion immediately whinnied, back legs kicking against the wall of the stall he’d been put in. She was there in an
instant, arms around his powerful neck, forehead to his as she greeted him with soothing words and praise.
“I missed you. Were you good while I was gone?”
“That beast of yours damn near took down half my stables when you weren’t there. I swear he would have broken free
and followed if I hadn’t brought him with me,” her grandfather quipped.
“Should I be jealous of a horse?”
She jerked around her head at Marcus’ voice. Damn the man commanded any space he was in. Or maybe, he simply
pulled her into his orbit no matter where they were. Before she could move toward him, Silver nudged her shoulder with his
nose and gave another whinny that made her laugh.
“I think the beast is the one showing jealousy,” her grandfather announced. “I’ll leave her with you, Marcus, and see you
both in the morning.”
She turned then, running to her grandfather and launching herself into his open arms.
“I love you,” she told him.
“I love you,” he whispered, dropping a kiss on her forehead before releasing her.
Marcus tugged her to him, and she swore she heard a growl before her grandfather laughed and walked away.
“Did you growl?”

“I don’t like seeing you in another man’s arms or hearing you tell them you love them.”
She snorted in disbelief. “He’s my grandfather. Of course, I love him.”
“Maybe, I need to remind you who you belong to,” he murmured.
“I’m not a possession,” she snapped.
 “You’re the only thing I want to possess.” He turned, tugging her after him by the grip he had on her hand. “Let’s go.”

“Wait! I want to say bye to Silver.”

“Your stallion can wait. I can’t,” he warned.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Silver! Behave!”

Marcus growled again.

“Are you seriously jealous of a horse?” she asked, running to keep up with him.
“No.”
“Slow down!”
He glanced at her, seemed to note her breathless state, then scooped her up against his chest. She watched him curiously.
“Did I do something to upset you?”
“Don’t leave the castle again unless I know where you are,” he ordered, and she laughed until she caught his gaze and
realized he wasn’t joking.
“I was with my grandfather. Besides, am I not safe here?” she challenged.
“I will know where you are at all times, Genevieve. That’s not up for questioning.”
“And will I always know where you are?”
He nodded as someone opened the castle door for them, but she wasn’t sure if it was meant for her or the other person.
“If you’d like.” He followed that up with a muttered, “How did I think I could be away from you?”
“Be away from me? What do you mean? You agreed I could go with you. I’m going with you.”
“You are,” he agreed, and the slamming of the door jarred her away from his gaze long enough to see they were in their
chamber. He set her on her feet. “Strip.”
She didn’t argue. She merely reached for the laces on her dress and tugged them undone, letting the material glide down
her body to pool at her feet. She kept going until she stood naked before his fiery gaze.
“I can’t be gentle tonight,” he warned as he pulled off his clothes, too.

The intensity of his gaze had shivers overtaking her body.

“Okay,” she agreed then dropped her gaze as his length was freed, rising thick and long between his thighs. She licked
her lips as she soaked him in.
“Genevieve.”
Hunger filled his voice, and his gaze centered on her lips. Without another thought, she moved to him and dropped to her
knees. She had no hesitation as she took him in hand and brought the tip to her mouth, flicking out her tongue and tasting him.
“Oh, God,” Marcus groaned, and she took the head into her mouth, rubbing the underside with her tongue as she tightened
her lips and sucked eagerly.
Another groan then he pressed forward, filling her mouth with more of his length. He helped her adjust her grip, showing
her how to work what she couldn’t take into her mouth. He continued to guide her, one hand cupping her jaw while the other
tugged at her hair. She enjoyed the salty taste of him on her tongue. It was unlike anything she’d ever tasted. She was far from
finished when he pulled away then tossed her onto the bed.
“Marcus!”
 She couldn’t hold in the cry as he thrust deep. He rode her hard and fast, each stroke taking a piece of her soul as he
owned every inch of her. His hands were all over her breasts, caressing the globes before his fingers pinched and tugged at her
nipples. She met every thrust, nails digging into his shoulders as she held tightly to him. The pleasure he gave threatened to
overwhelm her, stealing her breath and leaving her gasping as he pounded his body into hers. A scream broke from her throat
as raw as the pleasure that consumed her. Marcus’ bellow filled the air as he joined her.
Her legs slid from his waist as she went boneless beneath him. “I don’t think I can move. You’ve completely exhausted
me, husband.”

He grinned down at her, dropping a kiss on her lips before moving so he lay beside her on the bed.
“Sleep, love,” he murmured as he pulled her closer, until her head rested on his chest, one hand twined with his.
“Tomorrow will be a big day.”
 Chapter Nine

Marcus watched from the doorway as Genevieve moved around the room, putting together a small bag since they would
need to wait a few days before they joined her grandfather at his keep. Until Phillip arrived as planned.
“Will we be able to bring the rest of my things when we come back?” she asked, giving him a quick glance over her
shoulder. “I need my clothes and my books, not to mention my medicinals. Plus, the trunks of linens and things that I’ve
gathered since I was a girl.”
“We’ll bring it all back with us,” he promised.
“And grandfather wanted to know if you’d be willing to leave a man or two behind to help train our soldiers. Your
warriors are far superior to them, Marcus.”
“Our warriors are superior to his soldiers,” he corrected. “You’re mine, not his.”
She laughed. “You know what I meant, and it was grandfather and me against the world for a long time, Marcus.”
“That time has passed. You’re with me now. My wife. My queen. Mine.”
She shook her head at him and gave another laugh, and he wondered if she’d still be laughing when he stopped the whole
party of men and took her off to fuck her until her screams made sure everyone knew what they were doing. He understood why
the others had questioned him when he’d thought to leave her behind when the rest of them went to her grandfather’s keep. He
would have driven himself insane.
“Are you ready?” he asked as she finally turned toward him.
“Yes. I can’t wait for you to see our—I mean my grandfather’s—home. He thinks he’ll be able to leave it for our
children.”
Her face flushed a soft shade of rose when she mentioned children, making him want to take her back to bed and remind
her how they created the heirs she spoke of.
“If that’s what they want,” he agreed.
“You don’t think Phillip will seize it for himself?” she questioned.
“No,” he vowed. Phillip wouldn’t take anything that belonged to Marcus. Not his wife nor her home.
“The men are ready,” Banyon said as he joined them. “The rest of the war kings and their wives are waiting below along
with Kingsley.”
“Is Silver saddled, Banyon?” Genevieve asked, looking more excited than Marcus had seen her.
“You’ll ride with me,” he informed her.
“I want to ride Silver,” she argued, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at him. “He’s been cooped up since I
was taken. He needs the ride as much as I do.”
“You’ll ride with me. Don’t argue,” he warned when she opened her mouth again.
“Your grandfather has your horse saddled and tethered behind his mount, my queen. I believe he foresaw your request,”
Banyon told her, making Marcus growl again. Banyon merely grinned.
“Genevieve.” Marcus tried to convey as much warning as possible into his voice. Even he wasn’t sure what he’d do if
she tried to defy him.
“I’ll go join the others,” she offered, gliding across the room to him. “Do I have time to grab an apple for Silver? I’m
sure he’s missed his morning treats as much as he’s missed me. It’s the least I can do since I won’t be able to ride him. Yet.”
It was the yet that got to him. Her brow arched in challenge, and he looked forward to seeing what she’d do to try to
change his mind. He wrapped his arm around her waist when she was close enough and pulled her body flush with his.
“Marcus.” Her voice was breathy, and her eyes widened as he rubbed his shaft along her stomach, letting her know how
much he wanted her. Hell, he always wanted her.
“Give your bag to Banyon. He’ll take it and let the others know we’ll be down shortly.”

“We can go—”

He claimed her mouth, cutting off her words and took advantage of her compliance, tugging the bag from her and offering
it to Banyon, who took it then left, quietly shutting the door behind him. Marcus moved her across the room, turning her at the
last moment and bending her over the bed. He had her skirts around her waist and his leathers undone before she was probably
fully aware of what he had in mind. Then he was inside her, pumping hard and deep while she cried out his name. Her hands
knotted in the covers, head tossing side to side as he drove into her.
He couldn’t get enough of her. No matter how many times he took her, he only ended up wanting her more. The feel of
her body against his, skin-on-skin, made him want to keep her naked in bed for weeks. Instead, he was taking her away from
their home into what could prove dangerous, depending on how the coward Phillip reacted to their demands.
“Marcus, oh god! Marcus! Please!” she begged.
With a growl he slid one hand beneath her, finding her swollen nub and giving it a pinch that had her screaming as she
clenched around his cock, pulling him with her.
“Ayy!” he roared as he came so hard his legs actually trembled. The things Genevieve did to him.
She moaned as he tugged free from the grip of her sex, her body trembling. He ran a hand over the curve of her buttocks.
“Was I too rough?”
“No.” She shook her head slowly as she replied. “I can’t feel my legs, though. I think you took all my energy, Marcus.”
“Good, then you won’t mind riding with me.”
He moved away, cleaning up then bringing a wet piece of cloth back to tend to her, as well.
“I’m a very good rider,” she murmured. “Silver is fast. Sometimes, it feels like I’m flying when I’m on his back.”
“You’ll ride with me until we get back here. Then, we’ll go riding together, and you can show me how skilled you are on
your horse.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Are you falling asleep on me?”
“Your loving wears me out, Marcus.”
He straightened her skirts then lifted her into his arms. She immediately curled into him, face nuzzled against his neck,
and fell asleep. He held her close as he headed down the stairs. Banyon took one look at them then grabbed a cloak and placed
it over Genevieve.
“Ready?” Jamie asked.

Marcus nodded, carrying his wife out to where everyone waited. Banyon held his horse’s reins while Marcus grabbed
the pommel of his saddle with one hand, holding Genevieve tightly against him while he mounted. Banyon handed him the reins
then mounted his horse.
“What did you do to exhaust her?” Sevres asked as he brought his mount beside Marcus’, then with one look, he shook
his head. “Never mind.”
 “You and your men go ahead. I’ve told several of my warriors to blend in as best as they can. So have the other war
kings. We’ll wait just inside the border. When the time is right, one of our men will bring word. Your job is to keep Phillip
there. Don’t let him leave,” Marcus warned.
“You have my word he’ll remain,” Sevres swore then reached out to run a finger along Genevieve’s cheek before
handing the reins to her horse to Banyon. “Take good care of her, war king. She’s all I have left in this world.”

“I will,” Marcus vowed, and Sevres nodded before he led his men out of the bailey, Dread Lands’ warriors blended in
amongst them.
“How long do you think before he gets Phillip to meet him?” Jamie asked.
“A few days, at most. We’ll need to stay within the Dread Lands’ border until he’s there.
“My men and I will head to Serena’s father’s keep,” Geoffrey told them as he pulled up alongside them. “Gavin and his
men will join us when they get back. Most will camp along the back of the curtain wall, so it doesn’t look like we’re taking in
an army with us.”
“Theo?” Jamie asked.
“We’re with you, brother,” Jo answered for her husband, nudging her horse toward where Rory waited on hers.
“Where did Gavin go?” Marcus asked, getting back to Geoffrey’s earlier comment.
“He had to take care of a few things,” Theo muttered.
“Did he decide then?” Jamie asked.

“He’ll take her as his bride,” Theo told them. “He’s checking on a few things then sending a messenger back to the coast,
so they’re aware he’ll be returning with a bride.”
“Will there be issues?” Geoffrey asked for all of them.
No one answered until Jo finally tossed a glare at her husband. “There’s a woman who’s taken a bit too much interest in
Gavin.”
Marcus cleared his throat, throwing his own glare at Theo. “I think Geoffrey was referring to the trouble Gavin’s had
with attacks along the coast. Your brother has a liaison at his castle?”
Theo snorted. “As if he has time for that with the constant attacks. She’s the daughter of one of his men. He’s shown her
no interest—”
“He’s also not done anything to dissuade her,” Jo shared.
“That’s because he doesn’t pay attention to her at all,” Theo barked at his wife. “Hell, I didn’t even realize her interest
until you pointed it out the last time we were there.”
“Do you think she’ll be an issue when he brings a bride home?” Rory asked then tossed a glance at Jamie. “I’m going to
Gavin’s home with her.”
“What? Why?” Jamie demanded.
“Because she’s family,” she stated firmly.
“You don’t even know her,” Jamie growled.

“My mother was Phillip’s favorite niece. That makes this woman a cousin of sorts. Which makes her family,” Rory
argued. “I know how I felt when I feared you might have another woman in your castle. I can’t let her deal with that without a
single friend beside her.”
“I’ll be going, as well,” Jo stated.
“Maybe we should all go,” Genevieve suggested, cuddling closer against Marcus’ chest as she woke and joined the
conversation. “I’m not sure what I would have done had I been in a situation like that.”

“You have no reason to worry, love,” he assured her. “There’s only you.”
“Just because my brother agreed to take her as his bride doesn’t mean Phillip will agree,” Theo reminded them. “Let’s
wait until we know more before making any decisions. Especially when neither my brother nor the proposed bride are
present.”
“Let’s deal with Phillip first,” Marcus agreed. “Not just the agreement and concessions we’ll demand, but the answers
Rory needs.”
“What answers does she need?” Genevieve whispered in Marcus’ ear as they all split up, warriors falling in line behind
them as they made their way out of the bailey.
“Rory wants to know who her father was,” Marcus replied. “Before Lord Montrose died, he confessed he wasn’t Rory’s
father. Her mother was pregnant when Phillip sent her to marry the bastard. Phillip’s been ignoring every request Jamie has
sent. Hell, he’s gone in the other direction to avoid any of us.”
“She mentioned some of it when we were all upstairs while you and the other war kings were planning with my
grandfather. About needing answers from Phillip, but not what they were. She and Jo started talking about it, and they filled in
Serena and me a little bit. I hope she gets the answers she needs.”
“She will.” Marcus was confident Jamie wouldn’t stop until his wife had all the answers she required. As for Marcus,
he planned to make Phillip pay for sending men to kidnap Genevieve. He was sure Geoffrey had things he wanted to discuss
with Phillip, as well. The man had a lot to answer for.
Genevieve yawned.
“Still tired?” Marcus asked.
“A little bit,” she admitted.
He knew he’d worn her out with his physical demands. God’s truth, he couldn’t get enough of his wife. She was
everything to him. He pressed her head back to his shoulder.
“Rest for a little longer then. Let me hold you.”
She snuggled into him. “I like the way you hold me,” she murmured, and his heart filled. He guided his horse into the
center of his men, making sure she was well protected while he held her. Jamie and Theo could take the lead for now. He was
content holding Genevieve.
 Chapter Ten

Genevieve was ready to get back to Marcus’ castle, especially their bed there. It had been two days since they’d set up
camp along the Dread Lands’ border. Marcus had split his time between the other war kings, the warriors with them, and her.
He’d been rather inventive with when and where he’d made love to her, and she’d enjoyed every moment of it. They were
sneaking off to find some privacy when Jamie called Marcus’ name.
“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.” Marcus dropped a kiss on her forehead as he walked over to see what Jamie
was bellowing about.
She laughed, watching him until he was out of sight. She adjusted her dress, covering up the breast he’d been attending
and smoothing down her skirts. The man was insatiable, and he was quickly making her the same. The soreness between her
thighs said she should take advantage of Marcus being pulled away, but the pleasure she knew awaited her kept her firmly
where she was, awaiting his return.
“Time to go,” Marcus called as he strode back to her.
“What?”
“One of Theo’s warriors arrived. Phillip’s at your grandfather’s keep. We need to hurry before he figures out what your
grandfather is up to and disappears on us,” Marcus warned.
“Wait!” she cried as he took her hand and swept her along with him. “Do you think my grandfather’s in any danger?”
“He’s betraying his king and keeping him at his home until we arrive,” Marcus reminded her. “Don’t worry, though. He
has several of my warriors with him. They won’t let anything happen to him. I promise, love. Now, let’s go.”
She followed quickly, paying little attention as Marcus called out orders to his warriors. She heard Jamie and Theo
doing the same. Jo was already on her horse, the reins to Theo’s mount in hand, while Shawn, Jamie’s second, helped Rory
onto her horse. She looked as if she might be sick, and Genevieve pulled out of Marcus’ hold to go to her. She hadn’t known the
woman for long, but she liked her and wanted her to be okay.
“Rory?”
The other woman glanced toward her.
“I can’t believe he’s there. That I’ll finally be able to confront him about my mother.”
“Do you think he’ll actually tell you what you want to know? Who your father is?”
Genevieve had her doubts. Phillip had married Rory’s mom off to another man to hide the pregnancy. That didn’t sound
like the actions of a man who planned to share who Rory’s father really was.
“He’ll tell her exactly what she wants to know,” Jamie swore as he joined them. “It’s time to leave.”
He vaulted into his saddle then dismissed his second. “Shawn.”
The big man nodded at his king and headed toward the group of warriors already lined up and waiting.
Marcus rode up, Silver’s reins in his hand. Genevieve took the reins and pulled herself atop Silver, leaning down to
stroke her horse’s cheek and whisper hello.
“Ready?” Marcus asked.
She nodded.
“Stay behind me,” he ordered, and she wasn’t surprised when Jo and Rory fell in at her sides.
 He set out at a gallop, Jamie and Theo at his sides. Genevieve, Rory, and Jo were right behind, the seconds closed in
around them, with the rest of the warriors right behind them. She stayed quiet, watching Marcus as he led his men, something
few of Phillip’s men ever did. It hit her as she watched him, so strong and virile. A king. Her king. She loved him. She was in
love with her husband. It was too soon and made no sense, except it did. How could she not fall in love with a man like
Marcus?
He’d rescued her then decided to keep her. In keeping her, he’d shown her what it meant to belong to a man as
possessive and powerful as a war king. Actually, she imagined Marcus would be the same whether he was a war king or not.
She couldn’t imagine him any other way.
She glanced around, soaking in the lands around her former home. Other than the trip to his castle and this one away from
it, she hadn’t seen much of the land around where Marcus had built his castle. If things went right, part of this land would
belong to Marcus and the other war kings, as well. She knew little of politics when it came to kings and the agreements they
made, but she prayed everything went the way Marcus and the others wanted it to. She also wanted Rory to get the answers she
sought.
Genevieve sat up straight when they all drew to a halt. All of the seconds dismounted and began giving orders.
“Stay here,” Marcus commanded, riding close enough to lean over and drop a quick kiss on her lips before riding away.
“They’ll be leaving most of the men outside your grandfather’s keep, making sure Phillip doesn’t manage to sneak away
or get one of his men out to bring back more soldiers,” Rory said, patting her mount as it shifted beneath her. “Jamie is adamant
that Phillip won’t get away this time.” Rory shook her head then lifted a hand to swipe at the tears on her face. “Is it so wrong
to want to know who my father is? To know why our former king sentenced my mother to death by marrying her to Montrose.
God, I hated that man.”

“I’m sorry, Rory.”

Genevieve wasn’t sure what to say. She might not have grown up with her parents, but she’d always had her grandfather.
She wasn’t sure about everything that Rory had gone through, but she understood the other woman hated the man she’d thought
was her father. According to Jo, Jamie had killed him because he’d harmed Rory.
Jo nudged her horse closer.
“Theo and Gavin both wish he wasn’t their father, either. Hell, the more I learn about the man who sired them and raised
you, the more I hate him. I’m glad Jamie killed the bastard,” Jo snarled.
“I would be the bastard,” Theo stated as he rode up beside his wife.
“Your father was the bastard,” she snapped.
“My sister’s right,” Jamie agreed before glancing at Rory. “Were you crying?”
His voice thundered, and Genevieve found herself leaning away.
“I’m allowed to cry,” Rory bellowed at her husband.
“No,” he informed her. “You know it makes me crazy. I’ll kill Phillip before we even speak to him.”
“You can’t control my emotions,” Rory warned with a laugh. “Especially now.”
“Wait? Why now? Are you…” Jo’s mouth fell open, eyes going wide. “Pregnant?”
They all stared at Rory and Jamie while they waited for confirmation. Finally, Rory grinned and gave a nod. Genevieve
couldn’t tell if Jamie was happy or not. His expression was more fierce than anything else.
“Congratulations,” Theo boomed. “I’m going to be an uncle!”
“I’m so happy for you, Rory. Jamie will be such a great father,” Jo chimed in.
“Jamie will drive you daft with worry,” Marcus warned with a laugh.
 “He definitely will,” Rory agreed, but she was still grinning.

“That means when we get inside the keep, I want you and Jo to go with Genevieve,” Jamie told his wife. “She’ll know
somewhere safe where the three of you can wait while we meet with Phillip.”
“Jamie!” Rory yelled. “I have every right to see Phillip.”
“And you will,” he agreed. “Once we have everything under control and I know it’s safe.”
“We can wait upstairs in the solar. We’ll be safe there,” Genevieve offered.
“I’m sure Geoffrey will send Titus upstairs with Serena as he’ll want Duncan with him,” Marcus told Genevieve.
“Geoffrey doesn’t allow Serena out of his sight unless Duncan or Titus is with her. Not since the attack at her father’s keep.
Titus is the soldier Serena sent to get Geoffrey when she was under attack. Since then, the soldier’s joined Geoffrey’s
warriors.”
“Why doesn’t he just leave her at her father’s keep?” Genevieve asked. “That was where they were going, correct?”
“Her father will probably come with them,” Marcus told her. “It wouldn’t matter either way. He won’t leave Serena
anywhere he isn’t.”
“He knows she’s safest when she’s with him.” Jamie gave his wife a pointed look.
“I won’t be with you,” she reminded him. “I’ll be hiding in the solar while you confront Phillip.”
“Rory.”
“We’ll be fine,” Genevieve shouted, trying to stop what she imagined would be another round of their earlier argument.
“If anything happens, we’ll take one of the secret passages and get to Banyon outside the wall.”
“If anything happens, stay in the passage and send Titus for help,” Marcus ordered. “The three of you need to focus on
staying safe with Serena.”
“I’ll watch over them all.” Jo patted Theo’s chest when he grumbled. “We’ll be fine. I won’t let anything happen to my
little niece or nephew. Maybe, I can get pregnant soon so our kids can grow up together. What do you think, Theo?”
“I’ll work diligently to make that happen,” he swore, and Genevieve laughed when Jamie scowled, probably at hearing
that from his sister and her husband.
“We can work on that, too,” Marcus leaned in and whispered at her ear, sending a shiver over her skin.
“I think that’s all we’ve been working on since we arrived at your castle,” she whispered back, but she was smiling.
Her grandfather had been forward thinking when it came to her upbringing, giving her choices most young girls and
women didn’t have. Still, she’d always known she’d marry and have children one day. She’d hoped to love her husband, to
have a bearable marriage. She didn’t even question she’d have that with Marcus. She enjoyed his company, his humor and
protectiveness, and the way he made love to her. She wanted to have his children. As many as God blessed them with.
“Your eyes just went soft,” he murmured. “What are you thinking?”
“That you better make sure you don’t get hurt while we’re here. I’ll be very displeased if anything happens, and we can’t
work on that later today.”
Marcus’ head lowered, blocking out the sun as he took her mouth with his. She forgot about everyone around them. Her
only focus was on the feel of his lips on hers, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth to tangle with hers. She gulped in air when
he lifted his head, feeling a little lightheaded.
“Let’s go.” Marcus nudged his mount forward, and Silver followed at his side. “The sooner we get this taken care of, the
sooner I can get to work.”
He wiggled his brows at her, making her laugh. As her former home loomed before her, she realized it didn’t feel like
coming home. Just the opposite. It was the first time she’d returned to Kingsley Keep and found herself wishing she was
heading somewhere else.
 Chapter Eleven

Marcus watched as Genevieve, Rory, Jo, and Serena hurried up the stairs and headed to the solar, Titus tight on their
heels every step of the way. Phillip was already bellowing from his seat at the high table with Sevres.
“What the hell is the meaning of this, Kingsley?” Phillip demanded as he stood.
“We finally meet,” Jamie said, taking the lead as they made their way across the stone floor.
The few men who’d come inside with Phillip were quickly surrounded by warriors and escorted from the room.
“I’ll see you dead for this,” Phillip warned Sevres.

“I’d caution you not to make threats against my family,” Marcus warned.
“Family?” Phillip’s gaze bounced between Sevres and Marcus.
“I believe you know my wife,” Marcus practically purred. “Genevieve.”
“You conniving bastard,” Phillip thundered.
“Why don’t you ask the war king how he met my granddaughter.” Sevres’ voice was soft, in direct contrast to Phillip’s
boisterous bluster. “She was kidnapped. Her breath stolen until she passed out before they wrapped her up and threw her
across a horse. Took her into the Dread Lands.”
“Anything sound familiar?” Marcus asked, feeling his temper rise at the memory of the bruises on his wife from her
captors.
“I know you’re not suggesting I had anything to do with it.”
Before Marcus could say anything, Gavin spoke up.
“Let’s cut through the bullshit. We all grew up in keeps like this one. We know who you are and what you allow. It’s why
we all chose to make our own lives outside of here. Why we took on the Dread Lands and made it ours. You’re not dealing
with a soldier stepping out of line and trying to be more than he is. You’re dealing with war kings, and trust me when I say you
won’t survive against us. Not now. Not ever. I suggest you sit down, shut up, and listen to our demands. This is the only time
you’ll have to settle things without a war.”

“People die during war,” Phillip warned with a sneer. “Innocents like wives and children.”
Marcus growled.
“I’d think twice before you threaten our wives and people,” Jamie warned right back.
“As lovely as this conversation is,” Geoffrey interrupted. “Gavin is right. This is the only chance you’ll be given. From
this moment forward, every attack inside the Dread Lands will be returned in kind.”
“I have no control of criminals unless they’re captured.”
Marcus almost laughed at Phillip’s claim. The war kings all knew Phillip hadn’t done anything because he didn’t care.
He wanted the criminals who snuck across the border to wreak havoc in the Dread Lands. The more carnage the better.
“We’ll end this amicably,” Jamie offered. “You want something. We want something.”
“You have nothing I’m interested in,” Phillip scoffed.
“You were interested enough in my wife to have her kidnapped,” Marcus snarled, but Phillip wouldn’t engage.
 “What about my wife?” Jamie’s tone was as lethal as his blade. “Did you intend for her to grow up without her mother?
To be beaten and abused by the man you sold her mother to? What was it he offered you?”

“Think what you will, but I loved my niece. I was told she died in an accident and that Montrose would protect Victoria
with his life.”
“Did you check on her?” Jamie snapped. “Your niece’s daughter?”
“I was told…”

“You were fed lies!” Jamie roared before taking a breath. “You have no idea the scars my wife bears because of that
man.”

“I didn’t retaliate when you killed him,” Phillip offered, but if it was meant to appease Jamie, Marcus knew it had
failed.
“It wouldn’t have mattered if you had,” Jamie told him. “Nobody touches my wife and lives.”
All of the war kings growled in agreement. Even Gavin who wasn’t married yet.
Phillip suddenly looked weary. He sat down and waved for more drink to be brought to the table.
“I didn’t know. I swear. If I had…” He stopped again, shaking his head as his drink was refilled. He took a long
swallow before he glanced back at them. “What is it you want?”
“New boundaries for one,” Marcus said. “This keep and the Armstrong Keep are now part of the Dread Lands.”
Phillip laughed. “And if I deny your request?”
“My keep will go to my granddaughter and her children,” Sevres stated.
“As will mine,” Armstrong agreed as he entered, glancing at Gavin and giving a nod before heading to Geoffrey and
taking a seat beside his son-in-law.
“Anything else?” Phillip took another drink, not seeming surprised by the first demand. If anything, the man looked tired.
“The easiest way to form an alliance is through marriage,” Theo suggested with a glance at his brother.
“Drake is married to my niece’s daughter,” Phillip said.
“Not good enough,” Gavin said as he stood and walked toward the door when it opened.
Two warriors carried in a woman, placing her gently on her feet in front of Gavin. She was petite with long, dark blonde
hair. She let out what sounded like a squeak as Gavin wrapped his arm around her waist and led her to the table.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Phillip roared, coming to his feet again.
This time, he didn’t stand in place. He moved around the table, gaze glued to the young woman Gavin held close.
“Eleanor Buckingham,” Gavin introduced. “I believe you know her parents.”
The woman glanced at Phillip but kept her lips sealed. Phillip seethed.
“Unhand her. Now!” he commanded.
“I don’t think so.”
If anything, Gavin pulled her closer to his side. “As my bride, I plan to keep her very close.”
Marcus noted the woman looking around everywhere, seeming to actively avoid Phillip’s gaze as she took in the rest of
them. There was no fear, though. She held herself rigid against Gavin but made no move to disengage from him.
“Bride?” If Phillip could look more enraged, Gavin’s last words had managed it.
Another random document with
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 ERICA Plukenetia nana.

CHARACTER SPECIFICUS.

Erica antheris muticis, longissimis, exsertis; floribus solitariis, cernuis,

bracteis remotis; corolla sub cylindrica, sub-truncata, atro-purpurea; oris
laciniis minutis, erectis; calycibus simplicibus; foliis ternis, confertis,
inflexis.

DESCRIPTIO.

Caulis sub-pedalis, erectus, robustus; rami verticillati, patenti; ramuli

frequentissimi, sub-erecti.
Folia terna, linearia, glabra, arcuata, inflexa, subtus sulcata; petiolis ferè
nullis.
Flores in medio ramorum ex axillis foliorum verticillati, solitarii;
pedunculi longissimi, bracteis minutis, remotis.
Calyx. Perianthium tetraphyllum, foliolis glabris, carinatis, ovatis, acutis,
coloratis, adpressis.
Corolla sub-cylindrica, sub-truncata, glabra, atro-purpurea; laciniis
limbi obtusis, obsoletis, viridibus, erectis.
Stamina. Filamenta octo, plana, longitudine corollæ. Antheræ muticæ,
exsertæ, filamentorum longitudine, attenuata in filamenta.
Pistillum. Germen ovatum, glabrum. Stylus filiformis, exsertus,
staminibus paulo longior. Stigma obsolete tetragonum.
Habitat ad Caput Bonæ Spei.
Floret a mensi Junii, in Novembrem.

REFERENTIA.

1. Calyx et Corolla.
2. Calyx, lente auctus.
 3. Stamina, et Pistillum.
4. Stamina a Pistillo diducta, anthera una lente aucta.
5. Stylus, et Stigma, Stigma auctum.
6. Germen auctum.

SPECIFIC CHARACTER.

Heath with beardless tips, very long, and without the blossom; flowers grow
solitary, hanging down, with the floral leaves at a distance; blossom nearly
cylindrical, appearing nearly as if cut off at the mouth, of a deep purple; the
segments of the mouth are small, and upright; the cups simple; leaves grow
by threes, crowded together, and turned inwards.

DESCRIPTION.

Stem grows nearly a foot high, upright, and sturdy; the branches grow in
whorls, spreading; the smaller branches are numerous, and nearly upright.
Leaves grow by threes, linear, smooth, bent like a bow, turned inward,
and furrowed beneath; scarce any foot-stalks.
Flowers grow in the middle of the branches, from the base of the leaves
in whorls, and singly; the foot-stalks the length of the blossoms, having very
small floral leaves at a distance from the cup.
Empalement. Cup three-leaved, leaflets smooth, keeled, egg-shaped,
pointed, coloured, and pressed to the blossom.
Blossom nearly cylindrical, appearing almost as if cut off at the end,
smooth, and of a deep purple; the segments of the border blunt, very small,
green, and upright.
Chives. Eight flat threads, the length of the blossom. Tips beardless,
without the blossom, the length of the threads, and tapered into them.
Pointal. Seed-bud egg-shaped, and smooth. Shaft thread-shaped, without
the blossom, and a little longer than the chives. Summit slightly four-
cornered.
Native of the Cape of Good Hope.
Flowers from the month of June, till November.
 REFERENCE.

1. The Empalement, and Blossom.

2. The Empalement, magnified.
3. The Chives, and Pointal.
4. The Chives detached from the Pointal, one Tip magnified.
5. The Shaft, and Summit, the Summit magnified.
6. The Seed-bud, magnified.
 ERICA pubescens.

CHARACTER SPECIFICUS.

Erica, antheris aristatis, inclusis; stylo sub-exserto; corollis ovatis,

pubescentibus; foliis quaternis, arcuatis, incurvatis, hirtis; caule piloso.

DESCRIPTIO.

Caulis fruticosus, ramosus, pilosus; rami et ramuli pilosi, filiformes,

virgati.
Folia quaterna, sæpe terna, obtusa, villosa, incurva, arcuata, subtus
sulcata; petiolis brevissimis adpressis.
Flores in ramulis terminales, umbellati, bini, terni, vel plures, copiosi,
purpurei; pedunculi capillares, bracteis tribus, hirsutis, instructi.
Calyx. Perianthium tetraphyllum, foliolis pilosis, rufescentibus,
subulatis, apicibus coloratis, obtusis.
Corolla, ovata, obtusa, villosa; oris laciniis minutis, erectis.
Stamina. Filamenta octo capillaria. Antheræ aristatæ, inclusæ.
Pistillum. Germen ovatum, ad basin glandulosum. Stylus filiformis,
purpureus. Stigma ad basin peltatum, apice tetragonum.
Habitat ad Caput Bonæ Spei.
Floret a mensi Augusti, in Februarium.

REFERENTIA.

1. Folium, auctum.
2. Calyx, et Corolla.
3. Calyx, auctus.
4. Stamina et Pistillum.
5. Stamina, lente aucta.
 6. Germen, Stylus et Stigma, lente aucta.

SPECIFIC CHARACTER.

Heath, with bearded tips, within the blossom; shaft just without; blossoms
egg-shaped and downy; leaves grow by fours, bowed, turned inwards, and
hairy; stem hairy.

DESCRIPTION.

Stem shrubby, branching and hairy; the large and small branches are
hairy; thread-shaped, and twiggy.
Leaves grow by fours, often by threes, blunt, hairy, turned inwards,
bowed, and furrowed beneath; having very short foot-stalks pressed to the
stem.
Flowers terminate the small branches in umbels of two, three, or more,
are very abundant, and purple; foot-stalks are hair-like, having three hairy
floral-leaves on them.
Empalement. Cup of four leaves, which are hairy, rough, awl-shaped,
coloured at the ends, and blunt.
Blossom egg-shaped, blunt, and hairy; the segments of the mouth are
small and upright.
Chives. Eight hair-like threads. Tips bearded, and within the blossom.
Pointal. Seed-bud egg-shaped and glandular at the base. Shaft thread-
shaped and purple. Summit shield-shaped at the base, and four-cornered at
the top.
Native of the Cape of Good Hope.
Flowers from August, till February.

REFERENCE.

1. A leaf, magnified.
2. The Empalement, and Blossom.
3. The Empalement, magnified.
4. The Chives, and Pointal.
5. The Chives, magnified.
6. The Seed-bud, Shaft, and its Summit, magnified.
 ERICA pulchella.

CHARACTER SPECIFICUS.

Erica, antheris muticis, inclusis; flores sub-globosi, incarnati, axillares,

paniculati; caulis filiformis, flexuosus; folia terna, trigona, sexfariam
imbricata.

DESCRIPTIO.

Caulis flexuosus, pedalis, glaber; rami flexuosi, sub-simplices,

filiformes, longi.
Folia terna, trigona, glabra, obtusa, sexfariam imbricata, sub-erecta;
petiolis brevissimis, adpressis.
Flores in summis ramulis paniculati, axillares; pedunculi longissimi,
bracteis tribus, minutis, remotis, instructi.
Calyx. Perianthium tetraphyllum, foliolis ciliatis, concavis, adpressis,
ovatis.
Corolla sub-globosa, parva, incarnata, laciniis minutis, erectis.
Stamina. Filamenta octo capillaria, receptaculo inserta. Antheræ muticæ,
inclusæ.
Pistillum. Germen globosum. Stylus cylindricus, inclusus. Stigma
tetragonum.
Habitat ad Caput Bonæ Spei.
Floret a mensi Augusti, in Februarium.

REFERENTIA.

1. Folium unum, lente auctum.

2. Corolla, et Calyx.
3. Calyx, lente auctus.
 4. Stamina a Pistillo diducta.
5. Stamen unum lente auctum.
6. Germen, Stylus, et Stigma, lente aucta.

SPECIFIC CHARACTER.

Heath, with beardless tips, within the blossom; the flowers nearly globular,
flesh-coloured, and grow from the lower part of the leaves, close to the
branches, forming a loose spike; stem thread-shaped, growing zig-zagged;
leaves grow by threes, three-sided, tiled, and forming six edges.

DESCRIPTION.

Stem grows zig-zagged, a foot high, and smooth; branches like the stem,
grow nearly simple, thread-shaped, and long.
Leaves grow by threes, three-sided, smooth, blunt, forming six edges, and
almost upright; the foot-stalks are very short, and pressed to the branches.
Flowers grow in loose spikes, near the ends of the small branches from
the lower part of the leaves; the foot-stalks very long, having three small
floral leaves near the lower part.
Empalement. Cup of four leaves, which are fringed, concave, pressed to
the blossom, and egg-shaped.
Blossom, almost globular, small, and flesh-coloured; the segments small,
and upright.
Chives. Eight hair-like threads, fixed into the receptacle. Tips beardless,
and within the blossom.
Pointal. Seed-bud globular. Shaft cylindrical, and within the blossom.
Summit four-cornered.
Native of the Cape of Good Hope.
Flowers from August, till February.

REFERENCE.
1. A Leaf, magnified.
2. The Blossom, and Empalement.
3. The Empalement, magnified.
4. The Chives detached from the Pointal.
5. A Chive, magnified.
6. The Seed-bud, Shaft, and Summit, magnified.
 ERICA purpurea.

CHARACTER SPECIFICUS.

Erica, antheris muticis, exsertis; corollis verticillatis, tubulosis, a basi

incurvata, sensim ampliatis; foliis subsenis.

DESCRIPTIO.

Caulis fruticosus, erectus, bipedalis, pubescens, basi simplicissimus, dein

verticillatim ramosus, ramis simplicibus, adscendentibus.
Folia subsena, linearia, recurvato patentia, supra plana, subtus revoluta,
acuta, rigida, brevissimis adpressis petiolis.
Flores verticillati, subterminales, dilute purpurei, pedunculis brevissimis
instructi.
Calyx. Perianthium tetraphyllum, foliolis erectis, ovato-oblongis,
acuminatis; bracteis binis adpressis.
Corolla tubulosa, basi incurvata, sensim versus apicem dilatata; ore
quadrilobo æquali patente.
Stamina. Filamenta octo capillaria, receptaculo inserta. Antheræ muticæ,
exsertæ, bipartitæ.
Pistillum. Germen turbinatum. Stylus filiformis, filamentis longior.
Stigma tetragonum.
Habitat ad Caput Bonæ Spei.
Floret a mensi Julii ad Decembrem.

REFERENTIA.

1. Calyx et Corolla.
2. Calyx et Bractea lente aucta.
3. Stamina et Pistillum.
 4. Stamina a Pistillo diducta, anthera una lente aucta.
5. Stylus et Stigma lente aucta.

SPECIFIC CHARACTER.

Heath, with beardless tips, without the blossoms; which grow in whorls, are
tubular, gradually widening from an incurved base; leaves growing mostly
by sixes.

DESCRIPTION.

Stem shrubby, upright, grows two feet high, downy, quite intire at the
base, then throws out a number of whorled, simple, ascending branches.
Leaves growing generally in sixes, linear, bent backward and spreading,
plain on their upper, and rolled back on their under, surface, sharp-pointed,
inflexible, with short leaf-stalks pressed closely to the stem.
Flowers grow in whorls, nearly at the top of the branches, of a fine light
purple, and furnished with very short foot-stalks.
Empalement. Cup four-leaved, which are of an oblong-oval shape,
upright, and pointed; with two floral-leaves close to it.
Blossom tubular, with an incurved base, gradually widening towards the
mouth, which is cut into four equal, spreading lobes.
Chives. Eight hair-like threads, fixed in the receptacle. Tips beardless,
without the blossom, and deeply divided.
Pointal. Seed-vessel turban-shaped. Shaft thread-shaped, longer than the
threads. Summit four-cornered.
Native of the Cape of Good Hope.
In bloom from July till December.

REFERENCE.

1. The Empalement with the Blossom.

2. The Empalement and Floral-leaves magnified.
3. The Chives and Pointal.
4. The Chives detached from the Pointal, one tip magnified.
5. The Shaft and its Summit magnified.