Keeper of the Stone

A lovely Saxon maid. A brutal Norman knight. Can the innocent surrender of an enemy's daughter quench the fires raging in the heart of a man more familiar with blood and death than love?
Prologue:
The queen’s prediction proved accurate. The heavy door barely closed behind Matilda when Rhiann heard it creak open again. She stood in front of the hearth trying to draw ragged breaths into her suddenly tight throat. She refused to turn around; hoping a few more moments would help her gather her courage to face the terror of the night ahead.
Nathan stepped through the thick wooden door barring the entrance to his quarters and closed the door behind him, sliding the latch into place to bar any interruptions. His eyes immediately sought out his new bride where she stood in front of the stone hearth. Her back was to him but he noticed how she stiffened at his entrance, her fear evident in the way her shoulders trembled and the way her hands were clenched together in front of her. Though he couldn’t see them from where he stood by the door he suspected her small hands shook so forcibly they were causing the trembling evident in her entire slender body. He drew in a deep, cleansing breath hoping to calm his raging needs. His bride’s slight, womanly form was outlined by the light from the fire. The see-through gown did little to hide her naked body from his avid gaze. Nathan knew he needed to gather his discipline before his bride turned to face him, lest he terrify her with his lustful intent. He willed his thudding heart to slow down, not surprised when it completely ignored his mind’s order. His normally iron will and self-control was already losing this battle against his manly passions. Normally he would be irritated with himself at the evidence of his loss of control, but tonight was different. Tonight was the one night of his life it was acceptable to surrender to the urgency coursing through him, to give life to his desires and take the bountiful treasure before him. The maid was his for the taking. A gift of his king for Nathan’s long years of faithful service to accompany the lands he was awarded by his marriage to her.
Though she belonged to him, was his property by virtue of the laws of both men and God, he would not have her cowering before him in terror when he consummated their wedding vows. He needed to regain control over the lust riding him so hard now he could barely put two thoughts together in an orderly fashion. He recognized he was never going to be able to summon the patience he was certain would be needed to gain his bride’s trust if he couldn’t clear his head and slow his body’s incessant urging to take the maid and have done with it.
“Rhiann.” Nathan cringed at the harshness of his tone as his bride’s name echoed in the hushed silence of the room.
Reluctantly Rhiann turned to face the man who was now her husband. She unclenched her trembling hands and wrapped her arms around her stomach in a protective gesture, and in what she knew was a foolish attempt to cover herself as much as possible. Even in her innocence she recognized her husband’s lustful intent in the way Nathan’s glance raked over her and knew she would be defenseless against his greater strength. Just as she was unable to prevent the Norman siege on Heaven’s Crest, she would be unable to defend herself against her husband’s assault on her virgin’s body. Involuntary shivers passed through her at the thought of what was to come.
Not wanting to give the terror his bride was unable to hide from him a chance to take hold, Nathan captured her frightened glance and demanded, “Come to me, wife.”