“No answer, little heart?”
The smell of leather, spice, and male assaulted her. ’Twas such a pleasant combination, Aurora struggled to remember the reasons she needed to avoid him. But as she met his gaze, common sense vanished, and she wanted to fall. Give up. Give in. Leave it all behind and surrender to the sensual pull. So dark his pupils appeared almost black in the low light, the desire in his eyes drew her further off track. Goodness, he was tempting, so compelling he lured with a look. Sucked in, unable to break the spell, she surrendered to the pull, allowing herself to be drawn into his seductive circle of his warmth.
Undone by his effect on her, she swayed toward him.
Her movement did not go unnoticed by Brigham, and she tensed when he curled an arm around her waist. Giving her plenty of time to object, he drew her in, pressing her into the hard curve of his body.
“Much better,” he murmured, holding her gaze before his eyes dipped to her lips.
“Ah, I think mayhap…”
He made a low rumbling sound. “You think entirely too much, little heart. Stop thinking for a moment and enjoy.”
With a gentleness that defied reason, he brushed his thumb over the rise of her cheekbone. Exploring, his fingers slid through the hair at the nape of her neck. Tipping her chin up, he lowered his head and flicked her mouth with the tip of his tongue. He kissed her softly, coaxing, imploring, encouraging her reaction. Tongue playing along the seam of her lips, he demanded entrance. Frozen by an overload of sensation, she stayed motionless, unable to comply. He hummed and changed course, tracing her jaw line until he reached the shell of her ear. She shivered as his whiskers pricked her, sending heat in all directions. Without thought, she tipped her head sideways, giving him greater access. He grazed her with his teeth and whispered in vivid detail all the things he wanted to do to her.
Pleasure found her. She tried to push it away and catch the tail of her wavering intellect. It sifted through her fingertips like fine grains of sand. Left her desperate and grasping, without an ounce of control.
His attention on the sensitive place behind her ear, he nuzzled her until she exhaled and shifted in his arms. Only then did he move back to her mouth, claiming her with a hungry, open-mouthed kiss. His thumbs caressed her cheeks before they drifted down to her chin. Applying gentle pressure, he coaxed her to open wider. She did, and he thrust deep, tempting her tongue to mate with his own. A puppet to his passion, Aurora sank deep into his embrace. The sky could have fallen and she would never have known it. The heat was all consuming, whipping her into a sensual frenzy impossible for her battered defenses to resist. She lost the battle, responding to him and everything he made her feel.
The saints preserve her, she wanted him to do everything he had just promised her. It didn’t matter that she didn’t understand all of it. Or even that it might be wrong. Only one thing mattered—his taste on her tongue, his hands on her body, the heat of him hard against her—and despite everything, she didn’t want him to stop.
He made her throb. And yearn. And need.
Her skin tingled, heating wherever he touched her. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. Could only open herself to the experience of his kiss. His taste in her mouth, she savored him and shifted, trying to get closer. The ache was growing, causing a restlessness to settle deep inside her. She wanted more. Needed more. Twisting in his embrace, Aurora wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed closer.
He purred, the sound one of dark desire and unqualified passion.
Aurora answered with a hum, and following his lead, touched her tongue to his. He tensed and lifted his mouth from her own. Senses reeling, mind spinning, she fisted her hands in his mantle and clung, fighting for composure. But God, it was difficult. She could still feel it, the insistent throb between her thighs and the heavy ache of her breasts.
Afraid she’d done something to offend him, she pressed her face against his shoulder, trying without success to take deep, full breaths. Oh, what must he think of her? How was she ever going to look him in the eye again? The answer came. Never. She’d never be able to face him again. Not after acting the wanton, giving him more than any good girl would allow.
And any minute he would tell her so.
Funny thing, though. He didn’t. Didn’t chasten her. Didn’t push her away. Didn’t do anything at all but stand with her in his arms.
After a moment, his stillness—the firmness of his grip—penetrated the haze of self-disgust, propelling her back to the present. Something was not right. He was too still, too alert…too battle ready. She raised her head to investigate his strange behavior, only to have it shoved back down against his chest.
“My lord?” she said, her voice muffled.
“Be silent,” Brigham said, his tone so low she obeyed without question. Although she noticed he didn’t take any chances and placed his thumb against her lips to ensure her silence.
What the devil was going on?
Aurora didn’t get the chance to voice that all-important question.
In the time it took her to take a breath, he tossed her into the black’s saddle and mounted behind her. Grabbing hold of the mare’s reins, he turned off the trail and into the surrounding forest. Hands fisted in Brigham’s cloak, she scanned the foliage, searching for the threat. She knew there must be one. He didn’t seem the kind to overreact and— She heard them before she saw them.
Soft at first, the jingle of horses’ harnesses broke through the quiet. Armed to the teeth, rough-looking men appeared, coming into view through a break in the trees. Brigham tensed. Leather creaked as he wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword. Aurora swallowed, worry spinning her around the lip of fear. The saints preserve her…mercenaries, a large group with a war-honed look. How many men exactly, Aurora couldn’t be sure, but she understood their purpose. Knew their ilk from watching her uncle hire soldiers just like them. Men without conscience or soul. Warriors who cared little how dirty the task as long as coin came on a regular basis.
A band of thugs so close to Alvars.
It didn’t bode well. Not for her. Nor anyone else, for that matter.
Stifling a shiver, Aurora snuggled closer to Brigham. Dark eyes trained on the mercenaries through the shrubbery, he didn’t move. Nor did he acknowledge her presence or make a sound. He watched and waited, all his focus on the rabble outside their hiding spot. Just as well. Distraction came at a cost, and in this instance, it could mean their lives. If the mercenaries discovered their position, it would be over. Brigham would end up dead, and she, a captive. So aye. She must hold the line, quash her fear, and stay as silent as a stone.
To protect herself and Brigham.
No matter how strong. No matter how skilled. No matter his reputation, Brigham stood alone with wolves circling outside the door. And no fewer than ten against one weren’t very good odds.
EPISODE FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Too Close for Comfort
Hidden by foliage, Brigham watched the men through a narrow break in the trees. His hand flexed on the reins. Too close. The bastards rode just a few feet away, nothing but a thin wall of crooked branches with jagged leaves between him and them. The jangle of harnesses and weaponry broke through the quiet. A snarl bubbled up his throat. He snuffed out his anger and shifted in the saddle, calming his warhorse, keeping control, signaling his wishes. The black settled, but not happily. Trained for battle, not hiding amid shrubbery, his mount didn’t like the situation. Neither did he. But then, naught good would come from breaking cover.
Or giving away his position.
Many against one weren’t good odds. Particularly considering who shared his saddle.
Warm and snug against him, Aurora sat sideways in his lap, one shoulder wedged beneath his arm, cheek pressed to his chest, each breath harried as though she couldn’t get enough air. Her fear cranked him tight, notch by horrible notch until— Christ. What was the matter with him? The possibility of death stood moments away. �
��Twas neither the time nor the place to go soft in the head, never mind the heart. He shouldn’t want to soothe her. And yet, even as he fought the urge, concern dragged the need to reassure her to the forefront. Gritting his teeth, Brigham surrendered and, giving her a gentle squeeze, brushed a kiss to the top of her head. The fiery stands of her hair caressed his mouth.
Delight murmured.
Brigham killed his reaction, refusing to allow himself the pleasure. Any other time, he would’ve indulged. Enjoyed the intimacy. Taken time to revel in the soft curves pressed tight against him. But not now. Not with the rhythmic cadence of horses’ hooves beating just beyond their hidey-hole…
And mercenaries circling.
Focus absolute, his grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. The quiet creak of worn leather whispered as he counted again. Eleven strong. Well armed and on fresh mounts. The burly, albeit scruffy, lot had a war-honed look. One Brigham recognized with ease. Cutthroats, men whose blades and skills went to the highest bidder. He knew their sort well enough. He dealt with men like them on occasion, warriors who cared little how despicable the task as long as they received payment for their services.
What troubled him, however, was what they were doing here, on an out-of-the way path so close to Alvars. If they intended to inquire about work at the keep, the group would’ve stuck to the main road. Besides, it was well known there was no work for men of their ilk in the area. Not since the moment Eamon had moved in. His friend kept the peace, exerting his influence with brutal force when necessary. So aye. No need at all for mercenaries near Alvars. Which begged a question, didn’t it? One that began and ended with the why, what, and wherefore of the men riding toward his holding.
Brigham’s gaze narrowed another notch. He wanted to ask them. To open up a line of dialogue with the business end of his sword tip. If not for Aurora, he would have. He was accustomed to results, and his reputation preceded him. A heavy cross to bear most days, but an undeniable asset too. Particularly when it came to intimidation. Most feared the legend. And those with any smarts refused to tangle with him…no matter the odds.
Regrettable in many ways.
He enjoyed a good fight. Needed one too, after the frustration he’d suffered the last few days. But he refused to risk Aurora. Her safety came before all else, so he stayed quiet and concealed, memorizing every detail as the rabble passed lest it prove useful to him in the future. A quarter of an hour later, Brigham relaxed his guard, along with his hold on Aurora. In that time, she hadn’t made a sound. His mouth curved. Goddamn, she impressed him to no end. Her spirit, her fortitude in the face of danger, her ability to listen so well…
All incredible traits.
His throat tightened as she shifted against him, snuggling closer, pressing in, using his body for support. Titling his head for a better view, his gaze roamed her features. Lost in thought, she frowned, furrowing her fine brows. His heart reacted to the pull, leaning toward her instead of away. Christ help him. She was adorable. ’Twas as though she’d forgotten her surroundings…along with her position in his lap.
Appreciation for her rising, Brigham shook his head and scanned her face again. God, she was a beauty. Mayhap not in the traditional sense. Her features were not framed by blonde curls or the vapid paleness so admired at court. She was infinitely more interesting with her sun-kissed skin and the light sprinkle of freckles on the bridge of her nose. Dark blue eyes complemented her face and her glorious red hair glowed, enveloping her in a richness of warmth and welcome.
But for all her charms, the thing Brigham liked best was her mouth. Made for a man’s pleasure, her lips were pink and ripe with fullness. His body tightened in reaction. Hmm, aye. She would please him in unspeakable, naughty ways with that mouth before he finished showing her the passion that existed between a man and a woman. Heat lanced him, dragging him into need as he imagined every one of those ways.
Releasing a measured breath, Brigham drew rein on his desire and ran a callused finger down the center of her forehead. His touch startled her, making her jump beneath his hand. “What has you frowning so, Aurora?”
“I…naught. Have they gone, then?” Her gaze met his. “My lord, I—”
“Brigham.”
Aurora blinked. “What?”
“’Tis my name, little heart. Say it.”
“My lord, ’tis improper…”
“Say it, Aurora.”
“…for you to even suggest such a thing,” she said, sailing on without acknowledging the interruption. “I do not know you well enough to call you by your Christian name.”
Brigham shook his head. “You kiss me with more passion than I have ever known, yet you cannot call me by name?”
Aurora’s face flamed bright red before he finished speaking. When she opened her mouth—no doubt to give him a set-down the likes of which he’d never before experienced—he dipped his head, nipping her bottom lip to arrest her retort.
She gasped.
He grinned against her mouth.
“Never mind. I will settle for the kissing instead,” he murmured, taking advantage of her surprise as he delved deep and proceeded to kiss every thought clear out of her head.
Still snug in Brigham’s lap, Aurora shifted in the saddle as the trail ended on the lip of a grassy field. On the other side of the flat expanse snaked the main road that descended into the valley Alvars called home. She bit her bottom lip, then chewed on it for good measure. She scanned the meadow again. ’Twas now or never. Time to screw on her courage and say something. Anything. With as few words as possible. It was the safest option, considering every time she opened her mouth Brigham ended up kissing her. And she reacted in crazy ways. Ones that included burying her hands in his hair, holding him close, and…ah-hem…kissing him back.
The memory made her squirm. She cleared her throat. “My lord?”
“Uh-huh?”
“I would prefer to be set back on my own mount now.”
“I’m sure you would, little heart,” he murmured against the top of her head, causing a heated curl to ghost down her spine. “But I prefer you right where you are.”
She huffed. The charming dolt. She really ought to be accustomed to his brutish habits by now. “No doubt, my lord. But you have repaired the cinch buckle. It will hold long enough to reach Alvars, and I wish to ride on my own.”
“Are you uncomfortable?”
“Comfort is not the issue, as you well know.” He smiled, and Aurora gritted her teeth. “I do not think it a good idea for me to arrive at the keep in my current location.”
He pretended ignorance. “Why not?”
“You promised, my lord.”
“I promised not to take your innocence, naught more, Aurora.”
“Do the others see us like this, that will be assumed, and I will be ruined.” Pausing for effect, she sighed as though terribly set upon. “’Tis very like having one’s innocence stolen, do you not agree, my lord?”
His lips twitched. “A telling blow. Very well, I concede the round.”
Warmed by his admiration, Aurora grinned. Her smile slipped a moment later when he released the reins and wrapped his arms around her. Dipping his chin, he nuzzled the sensitive spot behind her ear. Enveloped by his heat, backsliding by the second, she retaliated, cranked her arm back, and let it fly. Her elbow thumped him in the ribs.
He grunted and withdrew, rubbing the abused area. “Uncalled for, little heart.”
“More than called for, my lord,” she said, knowing his game all too well. He was trying to unbalance her. Not a difficult proposition, considering she’d allowed him to kiss her witless an hour earlier. Irritated by her lack of discipline, she attacked in order to defend. “Have you ever been informed you are naught but a menace?”
“Aye, although the one responsible did not live to boast of it,” he rumbled in her ear.
A shiver of unease rippled through her.
With a hum, he tightened his hold on her waist, prolonging the contact as he
loosened the mare’s reins from their mooring on his saddle. Frissons of awareness, and something more, crept along her spine. God’s teeth, she had forgotten his reputation. Discounted the stories, along with the moniker for which he was renowned. Right now though—with him pressed so close and a lethal edge in his voice—she remembered every single rumor. All the things others whispered about him in dark corners.
Unnerving, to say the least. Downright frightening, to say the most.
Throat gone tight, not knowing what to say, Aurora remained silent. Mayhap the awkward moment would pass. Mayhap he wouldn’t notice her discomfort. Mayhap if she stayed quiet long enough the lightness of their earlier banter would return. All good things to hope for right now.
Luck, however, had other ideas. Her silence caught his attention.
He stopped mid-tug, leaving her mount’s reins knotted in place. “Have I frightened you, then?”
The softness of his voice tugged at her insides. Already a tangled mess, her heart quivered, but Aurora refused to back down. She turned her head instead, moving toward the inevitable, determined to test the waters. Her chin touched the top of her shoulder. Dark brown eyes met hers. Shielding her own with her lashes, she paused to take stock, then stopped hiding and met him head-on. Her gaze locked with his, she debated. What should she do? Push, pull, or retreat? How far could she go before he lost his temper with her?
Releasing a pent-up breath, she stuffed apprehension back into its proverbial box. She needed to know whether she could trust him not to hurt her. No matter the situation, how she behaved or what she said.
“Aye, a little,” she said with a shrug, feigning indifference. Not that she felt any. Uneasy. Frightened. Nervous as heck. Aye. She experienced all those emotions and more. But now that she’d started down this road, Aurora refused to stop. Not until she knew for certain…one way or the other. “You must know you’ve a truly frightening reputation.”
He drew rein, halting the black in the middle of the field. The long grass swayed, rustling in the wake of a gentle breeze. The black snorted. A lone bird called. Aurora tensed, waiting, watching, praying she hadn’t gone too far as Brigham’s breath tickled the nape of her neck.
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