Brazen

by Amy Sandas

  She remembered falling asleep with his deft, attentive fingers easing the tension from the muscles along her spine. He’d been gentle and insistent. Even though she’d initially been deeply embarrassed to reveal to him the nature of her distress, he had accepted it without concern. Not many men would have done what he’d done for her last night.

  She shifted her legs, trying to ease away from him, and his fingers immediately tightened over her hip as if to keep her in place. A gruff, sleepy, belly-stirring sound issued from his throat. “Where are you going?”

  Tingling sparks lit across her skin. Moira bit her lip. “I must attend...my needs,” she muttered as heat infused her cheeks.

  He made a low sound of acknowledgement as he shifted his hand on her hip to press his thumb into the muscles along her spine in slow circles. Her eyes fell closed again and she had to hold back a moan as her body melted in response to his touch.

  “Will you need to rest today?” he asked.

  The intimate inquiry should have made her blush but it didn’t and she answered honestly. “Nay. I’m well enough.”

  He pressed a brief, tingling kiss to her nape and murmured, “Then join me for breakfast this morning.”

  Apprehension mingled with an excitement she couldn’t deny. She suspected her days of avoiding him were at an end. It hadn’t done her any good, anyway. Her attempt to shield her heart was failing miserably.

  When she finally nodded, he dropped another kiss to her nape before he rolled away and rose from the bed. Moira watched as he strode across her bedroom in his trousers and nothing else, looking more handsome than any man had a right to. At the door, he glanced over his shoulder, then stopped and turned to look at her more fully. “Damn, but you’re gorgeous in the morning,” he said in a rough voice.

  Then he flashed a devastating smile and slipped through the door, leaving Moira alone and fairly certain she’d never be the same again.

  ***

  After breakfast, Braden convinced Moira to spend the day with him. In truth, it hadn’t taken much effort on his part. He’d simply had to smile at her with that mischievous dimple and she’d practically melted into a puddle at his feet.

  Despite the various tasks she had planned for the day, he managed to talk her into taking him trout fishing, saying they both needed a little fun for a change. It had been years since she’d stood on the banks of the river with her fishing pole and she quickly remembered how enjoyable it could be with the right company. And Braden was certainly that.

  Though on occasion she thought she caught glimpses of something dark and needful in his eyes that made her belly twist sweetly, he kept the conversation light and amusing.

  After a few hours, they headed back to the house with their baskets full of fish and happened to encounter Douglas along the way. When he saw their abundant catch, he gave Moira a wink and noted how things already seemed to be taking a turn for the better.

  Braden eyed him curiously, but Moira brushed past the comment.

  The reminder of how many people were relying on what they believed her marriage would accomplish managed to put a damper on the bit of frivolous enjoyment she’d indulged in over the prior hours.

  She sensed Braden had noticed her change in mood, but he didn’t ask about it. Instead, he linked his fingers with hers and held her hand the rest of the way back to the house. That simple, silent gesture of unity pleased her as much as it frightened her.

  That night she dressed for dinner in her favorite gown, a plum-colored silk, and joined Braden for their first evening meal together. She spoke of Dunnwood Castle’s history, her relationship with her grandfather, and the death of her parents when she’d been very young. In turn, Braden shared his regret over never having known his mother who’d died giving birth to him. His relationships with his father and grandfather had been distant at best and he confessed to having had a lonely childhood until he’d gotten to school and met three boys who still remained his closest friends.

  It was so comfortable and easy to sit across the table from him and return his smile and trade teasing comments. But at the end of the night, when he escorted her from the dining room and up the stairs to the landing where the staircase split to head toward opposite wings, she experienced a moment of harsh longing.

  Because she didn’t want him to bow over her hand and press a chaste kiss to her knuckles.

  She wanted to keep her arm looped through his as he led her the rest of the way to his bedroom.

  And when he straightened to give her a gentle smile and his eyes flashed, she didn’t want to avert her eyes in fear he’d see the soul-deep need in her own gaze.

  She wanted to curve her hand around the back of his neck and pull him toward her for a kiss.

  Instead, he said good-night and she turned to make her way toward her bedroom in the west wing while he went on to his bedroom alone.

  The next morning, when she came out of her bedroom, Braden was leaning casually against the wall across from her door...waiting for her. He greeted her with a warm smile and a jaunty “Morning, love. What have we got planned for today?”

  Over the following days, he insisted on accompanying her as she went about her usual routine. One day they rode around to visit the elderly tenants. On another, the rode the outer boundary of the estate with Douglas where he showed deer tracks heading back into Dunnwood Forest. And on yet another day, they traveled to the village to discover that the inn had been filled to capacity with a group of travelers who had decided to stay on an extra night and take in the local sights before moving on.

  Every moment with him required her diligent focus in order to maintain an emotional shield while under the constant barrage of his heart-stopping smiles, teasing manner, and brazen flirtation.

  It was as though he knew she was struggling more and more every day to remain aloof.

  Their time together also revealed new aspects of his character that she hadn’t expected to discover in the playful, seductive rogue. For all his seeming irreverence and his devil-may-care attitude, Braden was astoundingly compassionate and insightful. He obviously adored being around people and possessed an easy, friendly manner with everyone they met. He also appeared to be genuinely interested in the more mundane workings of the estate and often expressed admiration for her management and direction.

  She’d never concerned herself much with what others thought of her, but when she saw the respect mingling with the desire that was never absent from his gaze, a jolt of pleasure went straight to her heart.

  Her feelings for him had grown beyond her control.

  ***

  It was another night without Moira in his bed and Braden was restless.

  He couldn’t shake the feeling that he approached the edge of some metaphorical cliff. And though the idea of going over the edge terrified him; it also thrilled him.

  At some point over the last couple weeks, Braden had come to accept that a year wouldn’t be nearly enough time with his bride. He suspected a decade wouldn’t satisfy him. Perhaps not even a lifetime.

  He wasn’t sure exactly when he’d made the decision to convince Moira to accept him as husband beyond their handfasting period, but he knew with a clarity beyond anything he’d known before that he wanted this life with her to be a real and lasting thing. Every time he sent his thoughts toward imagining his future, it now had her in it.

  The past several days with Moira had been more rewarding and enjoyable than anything in his memory. The more he learned of her life and observed her as she took care of so many people, the greater his admiration for her grew. And then there had been those subtle sidelong glances of her tempting green eyes when she’d thought he wasn’t paying attention and the way her lips parted when he smiled and her pulse quickened when he was near.

  The truth was, he had become utterly fascinated with the woman. Fascinated and infatuated. No, more than infatuated. Infatuation implied something fleeting, a bright flash that was destined to fade in time. His feelings only grew str
onger with every day that passed.

  He could only hope she might be experiencing something similar.

  She had been smiling more recently and she seemed more relaxed in his company now than when he’d first arrived. Even though she continued to maintain a somewhat reserved demeanor, more and more often her gaze would flicker over his hands or his mouth...as though she were remembering how they felt on her skin.

  Unfortunately, he’d also noticed a frequent shadow of concern in her expression during those moments when they seemed most comfortable with each other.

  He had no idea what she was so wary of, but he intended to find out.

  Though they now spent every day together, it had been six nights since he’d last had her in his bed and he was very close to going mad. He knew patience would bring its own reward, but he just couldn’t stay in his bedroom one more night, staring at the clock as he paced back and forth in front of his bed.

  Though night had fallen hours ago, he felt the need to escape the silence of the castle. The idea of fresh air and the call of night birds lured him outside. After dressing, he left the house and strolled down to the stables. As he neared, he noticed a light was on within. He heard voices as well—Ewan and Douglas. And it sounded like they were having a damn good time.

  He found the two men in an empty stall where a few wooden chairs had been set up around an upturned crate covered by some boards laid side by side to form a makeshift table. On the table was a half-empty bottle of whisky, a few glasses, and a deck of playing cards that appeared to have been set aside some time ago.

  When Braden stepped into the stall, the two men swiftly, if a bit unsteadily, rose to their feet.

  “Yer Grace,” Ewan said in an oddly accusatory greeting as he tried to tuck his shirttails back into his breeches.

  Holding up his hand to stall any further acts of unnecessary deference, Braden said, “No more of that, if you please. Tonight, I’m a man in need of the kind of distraction that can only be found in the enjoyment of good spirits and casual company. If you don’t mind sharing, of course.”

  The two men glanced awkwardly at each other, obviously unsure how to respond to a titled lord inviting himself to their table. Then Douglas gave a shrug before replying with a bit of a slur. “The scotch ain’t as fine as wot ye’d find in yer cellars, but yer welcome to it.”

  “Excellent.” Braden came forward and took a seat.

  Ewan used a handkerchief to wipe out the extra glass that had assumedly been discarded by someone who had left before Braden’s arrival, Ewan’s father perhaps. Then Douglas poured a small dram and handed it to Braden. With a nod and a quick muttered “Sláinte,” Braden downed the whisky before offering the glass for another pour. “I’ll savor the next one, I promise,” he said with a grin.

  Douglas chuckled and poured them all another round.

  “So, is there a particular occasion we’re celebrating or is this a causal gathering?” Braden asked.

  “To be honest, Yer Grace,” Ewan said as he lowered his glass, “we’re toasting yer marriage to our lady.”

  “Is that so?” Braden asked with a raised brow. “Our...ah...ceremony was nearly two weeks ago. Aren’t you a bit late?”

  “We were waitin’ to be sure ye were wot was needed,” Douglas explained.

  An interesting way to phrase it. “And was I?”

  “I’d say,” Ewan exclaimed as he swayed in his seat. “Already th’ deer and trout have returned, the villagers are seein’ more business than they have in years, an’ the sheep are fattening up.”

  Douglas nodded sagely in agreement while Braden wondered just how much spirits the men had enjoyed before his arrival. “What does any of that have to do with me and my bride?”

  A look passed between the two men before Ewan braced his elbows on his knees and leaned over the table as if he was about to impart a critical piece of information. “Our lady’s done verra well by us for many years. All on her own. But a castle needs a family an’ a legacy. A lady needs a laird an’ the land an’ people need both. In the last few years, we’ve seen crops startin’ to lessen, the game grew scarce, an’ less travelers came through the area.”

  Braden narrowed his eyes, trying to identify the man’s point. “Again, what does that have to do with me?”

  “There’re many who believe that if the laird an’ lady of the castle ain’t prosperous an’ fruitful, the land an’ people won’t be either.”

  Suddenly realizing what Ewan was implying, Braden tossed the other man a dubious glance. “Are you trying to say people think their misfortune was somehow caused by the fact that the lady of Dunnwood was unmarried?”

  “Aye,” Douglas offered with another sage nod. “The bad luck dinna start until after she came of age. An’ now that ye’ve been joined, things are startin’ to right themselves again.” He lifted his glass. “It’s a good enough reason to celebrate as any,” he added before downing the whisky in his glass.

  Braden upended his glass as well. That the people of Dunnwood believed in the type of superstition that had just been explained to him didn’t bother him so much as the possibility that Moira might take the idea as seriously as these men seemed to.

  It would explain her determination in bringing him to heel after so many years. In a lot of ways, it would have been in her best interest to wait him out. She had likely suspected for some time that there was a good chance he’d renege on the marriage agreement.

  But knowing the deep sense of responsibility she felt for her tenants and even the people in the village, she would have felt compelled to do her duty and marry as everyone expected her to do. Whether she wanted to or not.

  And she’d made no secret of the fact that she hadn’t wanted him.

  The acknowledgement of that made his chest ache with a hollow feeling.

  Maybe she’d never want him. If things were turning for the better as Ewan and Douglas stated, would she stop coming to his room at night and return to avoiding him during the day?

  He wouldn’t let that happen. He’d employ every bit of his skills in seduction if he had to.

  Ultimately, the knowledge that she’d married him to appease some superstitious nonsense changed nothing. Intentions could change. His sure as hell had. He might have entered into this compromise with Moira feeling relieved that he’d only have to sacrifice a year to the unwanted marriage.

  But he’d fallen utterly in love with his handfasted wife.

  He wanted more from his bride. And Braden always got what he wanted.

  Chapter Ten

  Just as she had on Braden’s first night at Dunnwood, Moira once again stood staring at the door to his bedroom.

  She’d had her belongings moved into the rooms belonging to the lady of the castle earlier in the day, and though it felt a little strange, it also felt oddly right. Her monthly time had concluded two days ago and she was impatient to return to her husband’s bed.

  Whereas on that first night she’d stood at this door she’d been tense with uncertainty, tonight her tension held a healthy dose of giddiness and, dare she say...hope. But she was also nervous because all that day she’d noticed something different in his eyes when he’d looked at her. A quiet question. A pensiveness she hadn’t seen in him before.

  Whatever it meant, it would not keep her from going to him tonight.

  Her time with him outside of the bedroom made her realize something important. If she would have him as husband for only a year and a day, then she would fully embrace every bit of their time together. No more holding back in a futile attempt to protect her heart. It was already his.

  If she was destined to suffer a broken heart, she deserved to experience all of the thrills and excitement and passion and fear that came with it.

  So now, here she stood, staring at his closed door as she acknowledged that committing to doing something and actually doing it were two different things. And loving a man like Braden was proving to be a heady and terrifying experience.

  She
pressed a hand to her chest and took a few deep, bracing breaths. As she exhaled her third, the door in front of her suddenly opened.

  Braden’s large muscled body was dramatically framed by the low-burning fire behind him. The obvious strength in his bare torso made Moira’s next inhale tight and difficult as the heat of desire claimed her in an instant.

  There was a moment of stark silence as they stared intently at each other. Then Moira felt the heated path of his gaze penetrating the thin cotton nightgown she wore. His wonderfully sculpted lips parted when his attention swept over her breasts. But as his gaze lowered to the dark shadow between her thighs, he rolled his bottom lip between his teeth and sucked a swift breath.

  Moira’s core melted, making her legs weak. Anticipation fluttered through her bloodstream.

  “Were you coming to me?” he asked, his voice thick and...hungry.

  Moira nodded and saw a bright flare of desire and triumph in his gaze. As nerves slowly overwhelmed her, she swept her hand to indicate the room behind her. “I’ve moved my things...” she began, but her voice trailed off because Braden had taken a very deliberate step toward her.

  She held her breath as he took another. But when his arm came around her waist to pull her against his hard body, the air escaped her lungs in a ragged sigh.

  “It’s about bloody time,” he muttered as his lips descended to hers.

  The kiss was fierce, possessive, and deep.

  There was no patient, practiced seduction. There were no flirty caresses or teasing strokes of his lips. Just a hard claiming with demanding thrusts of his tongue while his hand dove into her hair to hold her head secure for the onslaught.

  A raw sound of need sounded in Moira’s throat as she wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her legs to wrap them about his hips. The groan of satisfaction that rolled from his chest sent a jolt of pleasure through her.

  A few long strides had her falling back onto his bed as he came down atop her. The welcome weight of his hips between her thighs had her back bowing in a deep arch.