Page 3 of Tamed for Her Pleasure

My father would tell me nothing, but I know it has something to do with Marshal.

I round the last corner and come to an abrupt halt as I nearly collide with Bert.

He has a bald head, a long, bushy beard, an enormous belly that challenges his guard’s uniform, and stands, hands planted on hips. “I knew you’d be down here up to mischief,” he says.

I purse my lips as I think. This is not the first time I have snuck down here looking for prisoners, so it’s fair to say that Bert is on to me.

I brush a strand of red hair that has fallen out of my braid behind my ear and casually try to peer around his great bulk. “I heard there was a barbarian down here,” I say. “Can I look at him?”

“No, you cannot fucking look at him. This is a dungeon, lass, not a circus.”

“Where did he come from?” I try changing tact.

“You know I’m not supposed to tell you anything.”

I smirk. “You know you will anyway.” We have played this game often, and he always gives in. I had heard that Wes was on duty tonight, and he is always asleep on his post. Had I known Bert was here, I would not have bothered skulking at all.

“Fine, then, he was Marshal’s prisoner,” Bert says. “Your father has his mate up in the castle.”

My eyes widen. “Why are they not together? Why is he a prisoner?”

“Well, he’s a feisty bastard. So your father had no choice but to lock him up.”

“I don’t understand,” I say, shaking my head.

“His mate is an omega,” Bert says, making a rasping sound as he scratches at his beard.

My lips form a silent O. “I still don’t see why this is my father’s business.”

“Well, that’s between you and your father, lass,” he says. “Don’t go telling him how you got this information. I’m on a third warning after the last time you snuck down here.”

I wave a dismissive hand, certain that Bert’s job is not on the line, as I sidle up to his table, where I see a cup of ale. I lift it to my lips and take a sip. “Gods, that is weak,” I say.

Bert chuckles. “Stop stealing my beer, lass.” He liberates it from my hand and puts it back on the table. “Go on, just a quick look, then.”

“Thank you.” I rise to my tiptoes and plan to kiss his prickly cheek. The lighting is poor down here, but I swear the man blushes.

“Be off with you, lass,” he says gruffly. “Fourth on the right.”

I make my way down the stone passage until I reach the cell, where I peer in through the small, barred window in the sturdy wooden door.

“What the fuck do you want?”

The barbarian is clean, as is the cell and the bed where he lounges. There is even a lamp and blanket for his bed. He is also young and handsome. I have never met one of their kind before, but I have heard rumors that they have impressive prowessin the bedroom… and, more recently, courtesy of the passing guards, are kinky.

I’d also heard that they could be abrupt. This one is certainly abrasive. I cannot say that I blame him, given he has been separated from his mate and thrown into a cell.

“Well, I thought I might be able to help you,” I say, pretending I’m bored with this conversation already. “But alas, if you like it here, then I will be on my way.”

He rises from the bed and stalks over to the door. It’s only now, as he draws closer, that I realize how absolutely huge he is.

I take an unsteady step back lest he reach through the bars. Not that he could do much when I have a dozen daggers about my person, and all of them sharp. Still, he doesn’t know that. I don’t want to get into a tussle with him either way.

He bends so he can peer at me through the bars and gives me an up-down look. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Who I am is not important,” I say. “Now tell me why my father separated you from your mate and locked you in here?”

His lips tug up in a smirk.

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