“N-nay, ’tis not necessary.”
“Good,” he murmured, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Do not begrudge me my concern for your hurt, Aurora.”
“Even when you are the cause of it?”
“Aye, even then.” He stared at her, as if to punctuate the point. “Now, answer my question…truthfully this time. Did I hurt you?”
Heat flared in her cheeks. Again. Not surprising. Mortification seemed to be the state du jour around Brigham. Resisting the urge to find a bucket full of cold water to dunk her face in, she shook her head. “Not really. There is some tenderness, but naught you need concern yourself with, or check.”
Brigham nodded. “Good. Now that all is settled, we can eat.”
All was settled? God’s teeth. When, in the deep well of his strangely organized male mind, had that occurred? Aurora almost hit him…again. “My lord, naught much of anything is settled other than the fact I owe you nothing.”
He arched a brow. “Spoiling for a fight, are you?”
“Nay. ’Tis a simple statement of fact, no more.”
“Verily, Aurora, there is something you should know about men bred for battle.”
“And what, pray thee, is that, my lord?” she said, her tone so sweet her teeth ached. “Their tendency toward violence and mayhem, mayhap?”
Desire flared in his eyes. Aurora tensed as he leaned in—as if to impart a great secret—and whispered, “We live for a challenge.”
Aurora blinked…then grimaced, realizing her mistake. Oh dear, this was not good. Instead of reiterating her firm resistance to his plans, she’d poked a sleeping dragon and roused his appetite for roasted virgin. She wanted to kick herself. Of all the stupid things to say. Intentional or not, she’d just given him another reason for his pursuit.
Dumb, dumb…triple dumb.
She was a thrice-cursed idiot. One in need of divine intervention. An all of a sudden kind of miracle. Nothing else would do the trick. Not if she wanted to climb out of the hole she’d just dug herself into and survive whatever Brigham planned next.
CHAPTER TEN
A Risky Proposition
Footfalls as silent as a thief’s, Aurora hurried down the deserted corridor. Approaching a sharp turn, she hopped sideways into one of the jut outs in the stone wall. Her velvet skirt swayed, brushing against her legs as she slid into shadow. Staying low, she poked her head into the hallway and glanced in both directions. So far, so good. Still all clear.
Thank goodness.
The last thing she needed this morrow was for Brigham to pop out of the woodwork. Jump from one of the murder holes embedded in the stone wall. Drop from the ceiling like a spider. Whatever. She wouldn’t put any of it past him. But really, the method of his stalking didn’t matter. All she wanted to do was get from point A to point B without him waylaying her.
Again. For the hundredth-blasted-time.
Which made her covert foray through Alvar’s quiet halls all the more necessary. The man was a menace, pure and simple. All the proof she required lay in her memories of last night. Aurora snorted in disgust. Strip her bare, indeed…the odious man. His audacity knew no bounds. Lucky for her—and however unfortunate for him—she was about to give him a lesson in humility.
Enough was enough.
He’d had his fun, making her sit beside him at the supper table, pressing his body close to hers, driving her daft with his attentiveness. ’Twas naught but a wicked ploy, one designed with her seduction in mind. Aurora knew that. Even so, she’d found it hard to resist and fallen under his spell. Well at least, a tiny bit anyway. She wanted to deny it, but…drat it all. No one had ever taken care of her so well. Or made her feel quite so special.
The beast.
With a sigh, Aurora shook her head and slipped back into the corridor. ’Twas time for a new plan and evasive action. With the battle lines drawn, she could ill afford another mistake. Hence her deliberate maneuvering this morrow. Tickled pink by her new tactics, Aurora hummed a happy tune. Deliberate avoidance at every turn. ’Twas the only way to combat the brute. The plan went something like…if he couldn’t find her, he couldn’t wreak havoc, drive her daft…
Or incite her to murder.
A great strategy. One she’d already employed.
Her amusement widened into a grin. Oh how she would’ve enjoyed seeing the look on his face when she hadn’t come down to break her fast in the great hall. She’d chosen to eat with Quinlyn in the lord’s chamber instead, behind a thick wooden door and an even more impressive iron lock. Brigham was bound to be annoyed. Particularly since he’d told her he would see her at the morning meal. Aurora chuckled. Glory, glory, hallelujah. She adored the idea of him in a snit almost as much as the notion she’d outmaneuvered him.
A touch petty? Aurora huffed. No doubt. ’Twas perverse to gain so much pleasure from something as small as her victory over Brigham, but…ah, heck. She couldn’t help it. Defying him—besting him for once—felt too good to stop, so…
Onward and upward.
Making a left into the storeroom, Aurora paused in the open doorway. Home to the many spices used in the kitchen to flavor the meals, the large room boasted tall shelves that ran the entire perimeter. A massive table sat at its center, grounding the space, providing a work surface for the drying rack full of bundle herbs above it. Ducking down to get a better view of the opposite side of the chamber, she looked beneath the assortment of vegetation.
A grumble drifted from across the room.
She sidestepped, coming farther into the chamber. “Nate?”
Crouched behind the table, Nate’s head popped up over its wooden edge. He slid a wicker basket onto the work surface. “Ah, there you are. I’d wondered where you’d gone.”
“Breaking my fast with Quin,” she said, eyeing the basket he’d placed on the tabletop. “Rosemary?”
“Aye.” Planting his hands on his hips, he scowled at the floor-to-ceiling shelves. “But I cannot find the saffron. I know it is here. Cook told me so, but…”
As he trailed off, Aurora nodded. “I will help you look.”
He murmured his thanks, and she got to work, scanning the shelves, pulling baskets out only to shove them back in. Working side-by-side with her friend, Aurora made her way around the chamber. Pushing a small creel aside, she spied a smaller container just behind it.
She lifted the top. Spicy aroma spilled out, sweetening the air. “Ah, I think I’ve got it.”
“About time.” Gaining his feet, Nate rubbed his lower back. “Cook will be in a panic by now.”
“I will measure out the quantities and…” she trailed off, becoming distracted by the measuring cups. Stepping alongside the work station, she set the saffron down, and sorting through the metal spoons, picked up the smallest one. “Then you can take them back to Cook before she loses patience.”
With a nod, Nate leaned a hip against the table and crossed his arms. “You are not going to tell me, are you?”
Measuring out the rosemary, Aurora shrugged. “About what?”
“About what,” he muttered, no doubt disgusted by her attempt to evade him. “You know about what. Last eve, him, he, your dark knight…the one who—”
“There is nothing to tell.” Spoon poised in mid-air, she glared at him. “And he is not mine, as you well know.”
“Nothing to tell?” A cloud of suspicion in his eyes, Nate frowned. “You did not get your backside warmed again, did you?”
“Nay, of course not,” Aurora said, the snap in her voice unmistakable.
Lord love a duck. She never should have told him about the incident. Struth, he brought it up at every opportunity, teasing her without mercy, rubbing it in her face. The rascal. Nate enjoyed reminding her of the punishment. ’Twas the only explanation, one Aurora could have done without…along with his constant hounding. Like a mutt with a bone, he never let go, mucking around in her affairs, prodding for details, reveling in her answers. More fool her. Instead of hoarding the truth, she a
lways shared, which…come to think of it…made her more than just an idiot: it made her a co-conspirator in Nate’s special brand of meddling.
God help her.
“Out with it, Rory,” he said, using a no-nonsense tone. “You know I will nettle you until you do.”
Aurora sighed. She might as well get it over with. He would hound her to death if she didn’t, the lovable, albeit incessant, pest. Raking her hair behind her ears, she spilled the beans, recounting her clash with Brigham word for word. She ended the tale on a triumphant note—her successful escape from the hall.
“He threatened to strip you bare?” A twinkle in his eyes, Nate’s smirk widened into a grin. “I begin to like him better all the time.”
“What?”
Ignoring her, Nate prattled on in his usual fashion. “Aye, in fact, I think you should let him. ’Twould do you good.”
Aurora’s mouth fell open. Let him. Was her friend insane? “Do me good? Have you…what could you possibly…have you taken complete leave of your senses?”
“I am but jesting, Rory.” His lip’s twitched. “By the saints, you have lost your sense of humor.”
“Lost my…” Aurora huffed, not at all amused by his jest. She was still too sensitive about the whole mess to see any real humor in it. Heaven above, why no one recognized her jeopardy was beyond her ability to comprehend. “Aye, well mayhap, but then I am noticing you have lost a few more wits.”
Realizing his mistake when she continued to glower at him, Nate frowned. He watched as she measured out the last of the spices. “What has you so upset, Rory? Is it because he chastened you?”
“Nay, although, I could have done without the experience.” Her hand poised about the spice container, she hesitated a second, then gave in and voiced her concern. “You do not seem to understand the seriousness of this, Nate. The man is hell-bent on seduction. He wants me as his bed mate, naught more.”
“You do not think he means to honor you.”
’Twas not a question but a statement. One Aurora discovered she didn’t like when stated so plainly. “He is a baron, Nate, one of the most powerful in the land. Why would he?”
“Why would he not, Rory?” Nate said, his tone and gaze intent. “You value yourself too little. You are beautiful, accomplished, intelligent and kind. There is many a nobleman who would wed you in an instant if given half a chance, and be glad of it.”
A lump formed in the back of her throat. She remained silent, aware if she tried to answer her voice would fail her. Nate meant well. He really did. The earnestness of his expression told her so, but that didn’t mean he was right. He could well be wrong—and her uncle right—when he said no man would ever take her to wife. Nate was her friend, after all, bound by duty to defend her.
Not that any of it mattered.
She’d already decided she didn’t want to marry. She could be just as happy without a husband. And honestly? Why any woman would want to spent the rest of her days being ordered about by an unfeeling brute was anyone’s guess.
And certainly not her idea of a fairy tale.
As if thinking about him could conjure him, Brigham appeared in the corridor outside of the storeroom. A moment later, he filled the doorway. The width of his shoulders blocked the light from the hallway torch, casting the room into darkness except for the flickering tapers sitting on the table. Nate, the traitor, sent her a smug smile, then scooped up the spices and made a beeline for the door. He paused as Brigham stepped into the chamber, allowing him to pass.
Aurora tensed and waited for him to press the advantage of their proximity in the small space. Silence his ally, he met her gaze, but said nothing. Her nerves prickled as his eyes left hers and moved down, skimming over her with predatory interest. Taking a step toward her, he tried to close the distance. Ready for the maneuver, Aurora sidestepped, placing the table between them.
“What do you do here, little heart?”
Deeming that a safe enough topic, Aurora pointed to the herb baskets. “Measuring out spices for the cook, my lord.”
He grunted. “My lord? I think we have moved past such formality. My name is Brigham.”
Aurora almost snorted. She caught herself just in time, and refusing to give him the slightest advantage, smoothed her expression instead. Of course, she knew his name. Who didn’t? But knowing didn’t equal using. She refused to say it, too aware one small intimacy added to another might lead to even greater ones. “I know your name…my lord.”
With a sigh, he slapped his gloves against his thigh. “Are you finished your duties here, then?”
“Why?”
His question pricked suspicion. His motive for seeking her out couldn’t be good. Or the least bit harmless. She’d learned the hard way she must be on her guard around him. Now was not the time to be forgetting that important lesson.
“I thought to take you riding,” Brigham said, feigning interest in the collection of herbs hanging above the table.
Riding? Wide-eyed, she stared at him, trying to guess his game. He must have one, but…oh heavens. Riding! He wanted to take her out of the keep, into the open, all while allowing her to participate in her favorite pastime…horsemanship. So aye. Of course, she wanted to go. But then, that was no real surprise. Given half a chance, she much preferred to be on the back of a horse than anywhere else.
Pinching her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger, Aurora frowned. What to do…what to do? Trust him, agree to the outing and enjoy the fresh air? Or cling to suspicion and mistrust? It was a toss up. An edge she teetered on, not knowing which way to fall. In the process of puzzling it out, she dropped her gaze. She regretted her lapse when she heard him move. With a squeak, she scrambled, scurrying around the edge of the table before he laid his hands on her.
She threw her hands up, prepared to fend him off. “Stay where you are, my lord.”
The devil in his eyes, he stopped stalking her, and folding his arms over his chest, grinned at her from the other side of the table. She blinked. Well, wasn’t that bizarre? Brigham was capable of listening. At least, when he wanted to.
Taking his lack of movement as a positive sign, she met his gaze. “You truly wish to take me riding?”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Aye. Will you join me, Aurora?”
“Do you promise not to touch me?” An excellent question, and one she needed answered. If she decided to join him, the ground rules must be laid. Otherwise he would take advantage and she would end up roasted. Again.
“Nay, no promises, little heart. If you chose to come, you take your chances.”
A frown drew her brows tight. Aurora turned his invitation over in her mind, looking for the trap she knew he wanted to catch her in. “But when I say nay, you will not force me?”
He tilted his head, pretending to give her question avid consideration. “If you say nay, I will respect your wishes.”
Nibbling on her bottom lip, she studied him a moment, hoping to pull his true intentions to the surface. ’Twas a dangerous game she considered playing, and Aurora knew it. Still she felt torn—her desire to stay away from him warring with the need to experience the wind in her face as she urged her mount to speed. Such a difficult decision. After a moment, however, her free spirit won out, urging her to risk it.
What harm, after all, could come from it?
She would be on horseback with an escort surrounding her. He’d promised not to force her. ’Twould be safe enough.
“I would like to go,” she said in a rush, allowing her excitement free rein.
Brigham nodded and turned to leave the chamber. “Fetch your cloak and meet me in the courtyard.”
She waited until he was gone before she grinned like an idiot. Heaven above, she was going riding. Riding! Unable to help herself, she indulged in a jig before locking the storeroom door and racing up the stairs to her chamber in search of her wool mantle.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Play with Fire, Feel the Flame
Brigha
m bit back a smile as Aurora rushed into the courtyard, wool cloak flying behind her. With a tug, he adjusted the cinch around the black’s belly. The action helped quell his rising satisfaction. Not to mention his eagerness.
Goddamn, he couldn’t wait to get her alone.
Impatience buzzed in his veins, making him antsier than ever. Were that even possible. Thanks to Eamon, though, he was well on his way to scratching the itch. His friend’s advice had been sound. So had the resulting foray into Aurora’s territory. Good thing too. Particularly since she was responsible for the latest setback and his aggravation. Smart vixen. She’d thwarted his well-laid plans with little effort, refusing to coming to break her fast. Which…aye…left him in a bit of a bind. He couldn’t, after all, launch another sensual assault if she refused to see him.
Tightening the strap another notch, Brigham shook his head. Her evasion had forced him to reevaluate his entire game plan—and to admit that if she wanted to, it wouldn’t be impossible for her to avoid him all together. Alvars Keep was large enough, and the many guests and activities provided all the camouflage she required to hide from him.
The realization soured his mood.
Eamon saved his arse, suggesting he take her riding, telling him how much Aurora loved horses. Brigham thought the mid-morning romp a sound solution. A ride would take them out of the keep to a place where he could be alone with her. Find the ideal spot. Unleash some of the charm he kept leashed and…voila! The perfect opportunity to further his cause would present itself.
His ploy bordered on underhanded.
Brigham didn’t care, aware a bit of trickery went a long way when forthrightness failed. Guilt held no place when employing such a maneuver. ’Twas battle and, considering the ease with which she’d stepped into the trap, he couldn’t fault his strategy.
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