Marin's Promise (Borderland Ladies Book 1)

by Madeline Martin

  “It's in my gambeson on the chair.” His grip loosened. “I'd get it, but I'm sure ye'd think I'd spring out of here bare-arsed and attempt to ride to warn Kerr of yer knowledge.”

  He released her, but she did not move. Was this a trap? It could be an opportunity to get the advantage and attack her.

  “How could you do this to us, Bran?” Marin asked, her voice clogging with the emotion she had been trying to stifle.

  He gestured to a nearby chair by the fire. “I’ll no’ say words ye willna believe. Go to my gambeson and get the missive.”

  She backed away from him, leaving a dripping trail in her wake. With her gaze fixed on him, she carefully searched through his pockets until she found one with a bit of parchment lodged within. Her heart slammed as hard in her chest now as it had when she had been only moments from killing him.

  With trembling fingers, she unfolded the blood-spattered note, following the same creases as its twin, the sheet she'd intercepted earlier that day. There, in the same scrolling handwriting, was a plea from Bran to Kerr to see the Werrick household, the earl and his daughters all safe. But that was not all, it was a demand for the safe release of Ena.

  Marin lifted her head and stared at Bran. “They have Ena?”

  Bran’s jaw flexed and he looked away, the way hardened men did when in pain. “Kerr tried to enlist my aid for the last several months, but I dinna work with rich men. They dinna care about people other than themselves.” Bitterness laced his tone. “And so, when Ena married an Englishman from the English Middle March side, he arrested her for breaking the law.”

  Marin sucked in a breath. “It’s punishable by death.”

  Bran nodded.

  “But no one enforces such a law,” Marin protested. “English and Scottish marry all the time.”

  “True, except for the Wardens of the Marches who find a way to get what they want.” Bran shifted and the water in the tub spiraled out around him. “I deliver him Werrick Castle and he releases Ena.”

  Marin’s thoughts whirled with this new development. Ena was all Bran had left of his family. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because ye’re protecting yer own sisters, Marin.” He shook his head. “Would ye willingly sacrifice them to save mine? Would I be willing to sacrifice mine to save yers?” He ran a hand through his hair, the power of his arm flexing with the simple movement. “It all would have been done if the battle at Berwick wouldna have happened. Now there’s no’ anything to do but wait.”

  Marin looked at the missive once more. “Ena.” The name slipped from her lips before she realized she was saying it. “Is she safe still?”

  A hard look passed over Bran’s features. “She had better be.”

  Marin set the missive onto the chair and tried to breathe around the heaviness in her chest. All this time, Bran had been trying to protect Ena. He had even tried to use his holding of Werrick Castle to offer protection to Marin and her family, even if it meant possibly angering the man who held Ena.

  Bran had been trying to save his sister, trying to save everyone at the castle, and Marin had been ready to kill him.

  Bran remained in the tub and let the understanding sink into Marin. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

  “I almost killed you,” she whispered.

  “I would have stopped ye.”

  “Bran–I…” She slowly approached him. “You risked angering Kerr by asking him to keep us safe.”

  “Aye, because I wanted to ensure yer safety and those ye care about,” he answered honestly. “I never want ye to know the loss I have suffered.”

  She gave a small whimper. “I tried to kill you. I don't deserve—”

  “Ye do.” He stepped out of the tub and drew her into his arms. The ground was cool underfoot, a comfortable respite from the heat of the tub.

  Her hands slipped around his back and she clung to him. The wet fabric of her gown was cold against his skin and helped keep his head focused.

  Because as much as he hated to admit it to himself, her accusations and lack of trust had wounded him. True, he had taken the castle under malicious circumstances, but in the time following, he'd aided her, he'd supported her.

  She was not like the ladies he had met, the privileged women of considerable wealth who looked down upon his lot. Nay, she was kind and determined and had enough room in her heart for an entire castle full of people.

  Mayhap even for him.

  Her mouth pressed to his chest in a kiss. Several kisses turned into a string of them up his chest and to his neck. His body responded immediately, lighting with heat and hardness, sparked by having lost her trust and regaining it once more.

  Marin rested her palm on his cheek and lifted her face to his. Bran kissed her, sweetly, chastely, until she rose on her toes and swept her tongue into his mouth. He gave her what she needed then. He slanted his mouth over hers and lost himself in the shared passion between them, the spiked fear of loss, the strength of mutual want.

  “Forgive me, Bran.” She spoke between kisses, frantic with need, made clear by the way her hands grazed over his body.

  Her fingers trickled down his stomach to where his cock had already risen hard between them. He growled against her lips and drew the lacing from the back of her gown, blindly plucking at the ties. Her touch curled around his shaft and his bollocks drew tight with anticipation.

  She stroked him the way he'd shown her, starting at the base and working up to the sensitive head. His thoughts went hazy. It turned all his racing musings from before into ash and they simply blew away. From bottom to top, her small palm squeezed and worked his lust to fervent intensity. His concentration on the lacings became difficult and his movements were clumsy. Too damn slow.

  He grunted with frustration.

  “You said once you would feed me your cock,” she whispered in his ear.

  He went still, or at least all of him but his prick, which lurched to attention at such words.

  “The way you slipped your thumb in my mouth.” She drew her hand over him, up and down, like slow, sensual fire. “Is that how it's done?”

  His mouth was too dry to answer, and his fingers stopped working at her lacing. She gave him a coquettish gaze and lowered herself to her knees in front of him.

  “Should I be like this?” Warm, sweet breath bathed over the blazing heat of his skin.

  He swallowed.

  Her kirtle hung open at the back and drooped from one shoulder, exposing only part of her to him. The curve of a breast was tantalizingly creamy white in the shadows of the gapping fabric. Her state of partial undress in contrast to the blatantly erotic act she intended to perform on him only served to send his senses soaring higher. He wanted to shove down the limp sleeve, to kiss her shoulder and expose both perfect breasts.

  She gazed up at him expectantly. God’s teeth. Bran took his cock in his hand and guided the tip to her mouth, rubbing it teasingly against her full lips. Tingles of pleasure rippled through him. His breath hissed through his teeth.

  “Open yer mouth, wife.” His voice was deep with lust.

  She obediently opened her mouth, her gaze fixed on him.

  He shifted his hips forward and pushed his cock into her mouth. She closed around him as she’d done with his finger before, and she gave a little suck. Bran’s toes curled at the overwhelming sensation.

  “Aye, like that,” he murmured. “Now take it deeper, aye?”

  She drew him further into her mouth, suckling with sweet, torturous innocence. Pleasure raked through him, sizzling and greedy. He gave a choked cry and reached for Marin's head to bury his hands in the mass of her silky hair. To guide her over him.

  She suckled the incredibly sensitive tip, nudging him into her mouth ever so slightly. A low humming moan in her throat reverberated down his shaft as she pleasured him. He wouldn't be able to take much more of this.

  She teased his hard flesh for an indeterminate amount of time, until he was nearly mad with the need for her to tak
e the whole of him. She'd wanted him to feed her his cock—by God he would do so.

  He released one hand from her hair and put it over her grip on him. “Open yer mouth wider.” He spoke in a low growl, his throat tight with his restraint to not plunge his cock forward. No, she needed to go at her own pace. “Take me deeper.”

  She obediently opened her mouth, and did exactly as he asked, letting him push his cock so it disappeared further.

  It was a good thing they'd had one another so often of late, or this simple act alone would have undone him. As it was, he knew he should stop, but dear God, he could not bring himself to do so.

  24

  Desire built between Marin's legs in a low, hungry pulse while she took Bran's phallus into her mouth. He watched her with an almost unwavering intensity, his jaw tight, the bands of his stomach taut as iron in the firelight. His entire being was centered on her. She was powerful in her sexuality and the knowledge of it gave her a lusty high.

  The thickness of his manhood pushed slowly deeper, hard and hot against her tongue, until it touched the back of her throat. His fingers at his base told her there was still more of him, but she hadn't the room. Instead, she secured her lips around him, and sucked.

  His body jerked and he uttered a curse. She didn't have to look up to know he was enjoying the sensation. His hand tensed in her hair and she slowly pulled her mouth off him. His cock popped free. He still held at the base with his other hand, positioned toward her mouth, ready to push himself into her lips once more.

  Desire thrummed wickedly between her legs. She licked the swollen head, enjoying the spongy heat of it against her tongue before she sucked him into her mouth once more, firmly and with more confidence. He gave a long, desperate groan and her sex clenched in response to his obvious pleasure. She cast her attention upward and found him watching her with a deep, intense ferocity.

  “Keep looking at me,” he said in a husky voice.

  She did as she was bade, keeping her eyes fixed on him as he guided her ministrations. Giving him such bliss made her want to give even more–not because she'd almost killed him–because he had given her such evocative sensations. She wanted to give him what he'd given her, to make him feel alive in the way he'd done for her. Every grunt, every cry of delight he'd issued forth served to heighten her own enjoyment of the act, driving her forward and making her bold.

  She sucked and licked, moaning her pleasure as she did so. She let him love her mouth the way he'd loved her body and allowed him to see how much she enjoyed it.

  His hardness against her tongue tensed and seemed to grow larger.

  “Stop,” he ground out.

  Marin immediately released him. His cock stood thick and hard in front of her face. He'd released it and the engorged tip pulsed in time with his racing heartbeat. Her mouth ached for the swollen heat of him against her lips once more.

  “I want to be in ye when I come.” Bran brought her to her feet and caught her in his arms.

  The movement was quick and strong and nearly took Marin's breath away with how badly she needed exactly this. Longing burned like stars in his eyes, bright and hot. His jaw flexed and he pushed aside the loosened sleeve of her gown. He bent over her and ran his tongue over the top of her shoulder to the crook of her neck. Waves of delicious tingles spread through Marin's body; her skin incredibly sensitive with the brilliance of her yearning.

  With one hand, Bran slipped the laces of her gown free. With the other, he reached into the open bodice and cupped her breast. She had been chilled by the sodden gown and his palm was like fire against her icy skin. His fingers found her hard nipple, which he rolled with wondrous skill.

  He peeled the gown from her torso and let the fabric crumple to the ground in a sad, wet pile. Bran trailed his fingers down her flat stomach and did not hesitate to slip one between her thighs where her lust burned without control, without limit. Marin's hips bucked toward him and she gave a long moan.

  He grunted with pleasure, his merciless finger stroking over her again and again, gliding against her sex until the poor swollen bud made her want to rage in frustration. His lips came down on hers and his tongue swept into her mouth. He claimed her mouth as he made promises to her body. Heat prickled through her palms and she began to tighten toward the nearness of a climax. So close. So very close.

  Bran removed his hand and aided her in sitting on the wooden shelf at the rear of the tub where a lord's drink and food might be placed. It rocked under her but held her weight.

  Before she could ask what he was about, Bran knelt on the wet ground and gently parted her legs. Marin might have been embarrassed at being so exposed, were she not so mindless with need. As it was, she offered no protest when he gazed between her thighs, nor when his fingers spread her sex.

  She writhed with his touch, desperate for her crisis. Everything pulsed with a hot, heavy need, her senses so alight, she feared she might burn from the inside out. She opened her mouth to beg for release when he leaned forward and dragged his tongue over her aching center.

  It was wicked and sinful and wrong and wholly incredible. She cried out and gripped the edge of the shelf. Her senses were intensely alive, sharp with the power of her desire. The wet heat of his mouth, the tease of sandalwood floating around her in the steamy air, as though all of him were completely consuming her.

  He traced up and down with his tongue as his finger had done, and finally came to rest on the swollen bud. Marin's cries were hoarse, and her knees trembled. He groaned into her while he circled and flicked and sucked.

  Her gasps hitched. She was helpless to restrain herself, even if she wanted to. And she did not. She was so nearly there, teetering on the edge of losing control, ready to fall and shatter into a million euphoric fragments.

  He drew away from her with a devilish grin. “In the water.”

  Her mind spun, trying to understand. He was killing her with this rise and fall of nearly climaxing. If she did not release soon, she might well explode.

  Bran stepped into the tub and sank down into it. He paused with a jerk, then lifted the lost dagger and errantly flipped it onto the floor where it clattered. “I canna believe ye tried to kill me again.”

  “I cannot believe I failed again.” Marin got into the bath with him. “Though if you keep teasing me thus…”

  He beckoned her to join him. “Teasing ye?”

  Marin sank into the water beside him, her skin tingling from having been so cold in her dress to being fully submerged in such glorious warmth. Bran caught her before she could fully sit on the bottom of the tub and guided her to him. No, not to him, over him.

  “There will be no more teasing.” His hands slid up her hips and he gently pulled her down. “I want ye to ride me.”

  “Here?” Marin asked in shock. This was where bodies were cleaned, not where--the blunt edge of Bran's hardness bumped her inner thigh. She bit her lip and gave an uncontrolled moan of need.

  He gave her a lazy smile. “I think ye'll find the water enjoyable.” He guided her hips toward his. The water lapped at her breasts and nipples, stimulating and enticing.

  She sank onto him and the entire length of him slid deep inside her. Bran groaned with the same appreciation for the bliss of their joining. His hands cupped her bottom and he drew her snuggly against him. She put her hands to the dampness of his powerful chest to better keep her balance. “Show me what to do.”

  He nudged her hips back and then rocked her forward again. “Like that, aye?”

  The movement rubbed at her swollen bud. She gasped and nodded, understanding immediately what he wanted in this new position.

  Bran cradled Marin to him, their pelvises fitting perfectly together. She was tight where she sheathed him, exquisite. Her wet skin was slippery against his hands and glossy in the firelight.

  He guided her hips backward and the water swirled around them. A gasp escaped Marin's parted lips. She watched him with half-lidded eyes, her cheeks flushed from their intimate games.<
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  Marin shifted her hips forward on her own.

  “Aye, like that,” Bran said raggedly.

  The next couple rocks of her hips were hesitant while she learned the motion. Bran clenched his teeth to stave off the rising swell of climax. Sweat prickled at his brow. Marin arched herself forward and braced her hands on his shoulders, her moves growing more confident. Her lashes fluttered and he knew she'd not only found the rhythm, but the exact spot she'd needed.

  She had the power and she knew what to do with it. Exactly as he’d anticipated she would.

  He growled in approval and slid his hand up her narrow waist to where her breasts bounced near his mouth. Too tempting to ignore.

  Water churned around them beneath the surface where they were joined together, heightening the pleasure of it all. They were light in the water, buoyant. Bran pushed against the rising tide of release threatening to overwhelm him. By God, he would not come yet.

  Her hands gripped his shoulders harder and her breath came faster. He cupped her bottom once more and pumped into her as she rubbed over him again and again. Bran's breath hissed from between the clench of his teeth. Water splashed over the sides of the tub. Her pace increased.

  She slammed down hard on top of him and her sheath clenched him in so powerful a grip, his own crises tore from him. She tossed her head back and cried out with abandon while he roared at the ferocity of his own release.

  Flashes of white danced in front of his vision as his entire body succumbed to pleasure.

  When at last the waves of euphoria finally ebbed and trickled away, he opened his eyes to find Marin watching him with a wicked smile curving her lips. His cock twitched within her, eliciting a flinch of oversensitive pleasure from her. Her hair fell around her face, the golden cloud of it floating around them in the water. With her naked torso and perfect breasts rising from the choppy surface, she looked like a water nymph who slipped from the sea to slake her pleasure. The image was erotic, intoxicating. This would not be the last time they used the tub thus.