With a grin, Nate flicked a hand in her direction. “Selfish, ’tis what you are. Friends share, you realize?”
“Watch it, Nate.”
Share, indeed.
Did he think her daft? There would be no sharing her brute. Marrying him may not have been her idea, but now that she had, she refused to give him up. He belonged to her. No other—man or woman—would warm his bed. And if that changed, even the slightest bit, she would…
What exactly?
Aurora frowned. Lord save and keep her. She’d lost her mind. One night spent in his embrace had turned her into a complete ninny. Aye, without a doubt. ’Twas the only explanation that supported her possessiveness. Which she needed to reel in, faster than fast. Brigham would do as he pleased—per usual. And though she despised that Brigham might find pleasure in another’s arms, it wouldn’t stop him if he felt so inclined.
Aurora grimaced. Such an unpleasant thought. Annoying in the extreme too.
Glowering at the blue robe Nate held out for her, she slid toward the edge of the bed, hoping the distraction of dressing would divert her from her current train of thought. Before she reached her destination, however, the sanctity of her chamber was breached—again. A thump sounded. The door whipped open, squawking on its hinges. The force of the thrust banged it against the wall. The wood panel whiplashed, flying back toward the jamb.
“He wants to leave now!” Quinlyn stormed into the room, narrowly escaping the backlash of the door edge. “Immediately, he said. The roads have not yet cleared from the rain, and he plans to ride off—devil-may-care without so much as a by-your-leave.”
Taken by surprise, Aurora blinked. “Who?”
“Your husband, you ninny.”
“Oh.” She stared at Nate as the information sank in. Oh, bother. Trust Brigham to muck up everything. “Now? He wants to leave now?”
Quinlyn huffed. “Aye.”
“I married a madman.”
Throwing aside the covers, she stepped into her robe and almost fell flat on her face. Her knees wobbled, threatening to abandon the cause. She spent a precarious moment preventing her collapse before turning her attention to the problem at hand—to assimilating the facts and place them in proper perspective. While she collected her wits, she watched Quinlyn pace the length of the chamber—grumbling under her breath about the dictatorial tendencies of barbarians—and the problem finally struck home. He wanted to leave now…now. In the early morning light, the day after the wedding and bedding, he planned to set her atop a horse and ride off without discussing it with her.
Not that he needed her permission. But a little notice would not have gone amiss. She’d hoped they would stay a few days, wait until all the guests departed before taking their leave. The idea he wished to whisk her away in the muck and mire before she and Quinlyn had spent any true time together, well…
’Twas unacceptable. Pure and simple.
Which meant she needed to change his mind. But how? He was now her husband, and if he decided to drag her from Alvars before she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, he had every right. Of a sudden, she felt as upset as Quinlyn looked. Neither of them wanted her to leave just yet. The true problem, however—the one she couldn’t see a way around—lay in convincing him to postpone the departure.
Discouraged, Aurora stroked the spot between her brows. She felt a headache coming on. With a sigh, she wondered if she went back to bed and hid under the covers, the problem might dissolve on its own. Somehow she doubted it. One glance at Quinlyn told her all she needed to know. Her friend would never let the matter rest. God’s truth, her friend now glared at her with impatience, marching about the chamber, having expanded the topic of her tirade now to include every male under the sun and the difficulty of their obstinate natures.
Fingertips massaging her temples, Aurora crossed the room. Her destination, the pitcher Nate brought for her. She needed to wake up and think through her present dilemma. Pouring a generous amount of warm water into the ceramic bowl, she ignored the two pairs of eyes boring holes between her shoulder blades and dipped her hands into the water. She splashed some on her face, then reached for the drying cloth and turned. Arms crossed over her chest, she leaned back against the edge of the table and waited for the barrage.
It didn’t take long.
“Well?” Hazel eyes narrowed, Quinlyn ceased her pacing.
“Well, what?”
Tapping her toe on the rug, Quinlyn planted her hands upon her hips. “Well, what are you going to do about it?”
Aurora opened her mouth to reply.
Nate chimed in. “What do you expect her to do about it, Lady Quinlyn?”
“Stop him, of course.”
“Stop him…just like that?” Nate snorted, snapping his fingers to emphasize his point. “He is not a bull to be led about by the nose, you realize. He is her husband, and he has given his orders. She cannot naysay him.”
“Of course she can, you nitwit.” Vexed by Nate’s attitude, Quinlyn glowered at him. “If she can’t, then who can?”
Watching her friend’s hands curl into fists, Aurora sent a sharp look in Nate’s direction. “For the love of God, you two. Stop it at once. You are giving me a headache.”
Surprise, surprise. Her sharp tone garnered results.
Thank heavens. She had enough to worry about without having her two friends at each other’s throats. Blowing out a long breath, she waved Nate forward. “Come. Help me dress, and then we will see what’s to be done about this.”
Nate frowned and pushed away from the bedpost. Swiping the clothing he’d laid out for her off the bed, he started across the bedchamber. “An order is an order, Rory. I do not see—”
“Really?” She raised a brow, skewering him with a look. “And just when did you adopt that particular theory?”
Color bloomed in his cheeks. With a humph, he presented Aurora with her chemise.
Cocky in victory, Quinlyn smirked at him. “Ha! You see?”
“And you.” Aurora pointed a finger in Quinlyn’s direction. “Were our positions reversed, could you sway Eamon?”
With a sigh, Quinlyn plopped into the armchair in front of the hearth. “What are we going to do?”
“We are not going to do anything. I am going to find that tyrant you both were so happy to see me marry, and try and talk some sense into him,” she said with a grumble. “For all the good it will do me.”
For once, God love him, Nate did as instructed. In record time, Aurora stood before the oval mirror, looking her best in a dark blue woolen gown. Nate pulled her hair back into a single plait. The simple style framed her face, emphasizing the pink flush of her cheeks. She paused a moment to look at herself. Starting at the top of her head, her eyes skimmed down until they reached the tips of her toes.
Funny, she looked the same.
She assumed she would be…well, different this morning. That what had occurred in the dark last eve would have, in some way, transformed her, stamping her with its imprint. That Brigham’s possession, his command of her body, would have marked her. Changed her in profound ways, other than the physical. ’Twas surprising to realize it wasn’t the case. Aye, her body might be sore, but other than that, she felt the same.
’Twas a nice surprise.
It meant the disadvantage she assumed would be hers didn’t exist. Now she could meet Brigham head on. No shyness. No feelings of ineptitude. No…all right, mayhap not without embarrassment. After all, she was new to the intricacies of lovemaking and didn’t know what he thought of her behavior last eve. Had he enjoyed their intimacy? Would he want her again? Aurora nibbled on her bottom lip. She had no idea. But at least now, she possessed the confidence to find out.
Straightening her shoulders, she led the procession of three from her chamber. Reaching the great hall, she paused at the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes skimmed over those gathered about the tables breaking their fast. No wide shoulders, dark mane, or commanding presence. She sighed. Drat it all. Brigham was
n’t present. Which meant one thing. He must be supervising preparations in the courtyard.
Blast the man.
He hadn’t wasted a moment. Was no doubt waiting for her to show up so he could hoist her onto a mount and gallop out the gates to Alvars Keep. Footfall quiet, pace quick, Aurora crossed the great hall. Pulling the heavy door open, she stepped out into the crisp morning air and…
Straight into bedlam.
Overrun with soldiers, the inner courtyard overflowed with horseflesh, carts, and crates. For all the activity, however, it seemed a well-organized affair. A small number shouted orders while others moved to obey, loading supplies, trunks, and satchels into wagons and rigging out the horses that would pull them.
Scanning the crowd, Aurora marched down the stairs and thrust herself into the busyness at their bottom, determined to find Brigham and waylay his plans for departure. She’d taken no more than a few steps, however, before someone grabbed her from behind. Strong arms came around her. A large hand settled flat against her belly. Shock rippled through her. Curling her hands into fists, she shifted, preparing to turn and maim the cur. Her intent died an agonizing death when a second hand joined the first, hemming her in as it found a home beneath the curve of her breasts. With a jostle, he pressed his chest against her back.
His mouth brushed the shell of her ear. “Good morrow, little heart.”
Tension flowed out of her like water from a pitcher.
Thank goodness. Brigham.
Taking a deep breath, she turned into him instead of away. Gracious, he was so warm, so strong and…oh, murder. He smelled delicious, too. Full of woodsy delight, his scent enveloped her, tempting, taunting, soothing her as naught else could. Unable to resist the sensual pull, Aurora nestled in, then glanced over her shoulder to gaze up at him. Dark as midnight, his eyes met hers.
Remembering his taste, her lips parted. She glanced at his mouth and swallowed, the desire to kiss him almost overwhelming. “Good morrow, my lord.”
His gaze skimmed her face. He studied her, then stepped back into the shadows that clung to the side of the staircase. Dipping his head, he gave her the kiss she wanted. Aurora hummed in reaction, and he smiled. “My name is Brigham, Aurora. I would be pleased did you use it.”
She retreated enough to peer at him through the gloom. The request hung in the air between them. She’d never said his name aloud. Not once. Oh, he’d asked her to, but she refused, too aware allowing such familiarity would only lead to deeper, more dangerous intimacies. But he was her husband now, and the reasons she’d used to protect herself no longer existed.
“Brigham,” she whispered.
His mouth curved in approval.
Her heart flip-flopped, tumbling inside her chest. Oh, dear. Not a good sign. She was in a serious amount of peril…feeling way too much, heading into uncharted territory and past the point of return with a man who demanded all. And would leave her with nothing, if she didn’t guard her heart—and all it entailed—with the vigilance of a battle-ready warrior.
Hearing her say his name for the first time almost did Brigham in. Like a long-gone soldier finally come home, he wanted to shout his triumph. He shoved the impulse aside instead, aware Aurora wouldn’t approve of his possessive nature. The fierceness of it startled him. Then again, everything about his new bride surprised him. Her spirit. Her intelligence. The adroitness with which she wielded both. He shook his head. Incredible, but he’d not comprehended how much he wanted to be needed.
Until her.
He wanted to protect her. He yearned to serve and please her in ways he’d not contemplated before. A strange reaction. He accepted it anyway. Resistance was futile. Aurora was special. Unique in ways he appreciated, yet didn’t fully understand. She turned him inside out with desire. He craved her constantly, his body reacting even as the smarter side of him urged him to resist.
Even now, being so close to her caused a shift behind his laces.
Lust urged him to press his advantage and taste her again. But he knew his limitations. If he did more than hold her, his control would vanish. So he strangled the need to drag her back to his chamber and lay her down. The image did nothing to cool his ardor, but the thought of its consequences sent his will racing to intercede. Aurora needed time to recover from her first loving. If he rushed her, he might hurt her.
And that he vowed never to do.
Raking his gaze over her still-upturned face, Brigham moved away—needing space between his overheated body and the lushness of hers—as he recalled the reason for his restraint. “Are you all right, loving? Did I hurt you overmuch last night?”
Stiffening against him, Aurora blinked. A moment later, she leaned away, only to glare at him. His brows collided as she skewered him with a look. Bloody hell. Her mutinous expression didn’t bode well. What the devil was the matter with her?
She gave him no time to reflect upon the mystery. She drew her fist back instead and punched him square in the chest.
“Ouch!” A grimace replaced her yelp of pain. Unfurling her fist, she shook the sting from her hand. “God’s teeth, you are made of stone.”
He grunted and grabbed her wrist. Quelling a smile, he rubbed his palm across the surface of her knuckles, easing the ache she’d caused by striking him. “What was that for?”
She frowned. “You are not supposed to ask me that.”
“What?”
“Whether or not I am tender.”
The news surprised him. “I’m not?”
“Nay,” she said, a grumble in her tone. “There must be a rule or something.”
Brigham chuckled. Goddamn, he adored her temper. It never failed to inflame him. ’Twas all he could do to control the sudden urge to show her its rather startling effect. Then again, all she needed to do was look down to discover that for herself.
“I make my own rules, little heart.”
“That much is obvious.”
“Answer my question, Aurora.” Irritation flashed in her eyes. He lost the battle with amusement. His lips curved against his will.
Aurora’s eyes narrowed on him. “’Tisn’t funny, you big brute. You are forever embarrassing me. ’Tis the truth, my face is so often red whenever you are about, I am likely to burst into flame at any moment.”
Unable to help himself, he laughed. Several of his men glanced his way. Not surprising. He didn’t blame them for their interest. Other than Camden, ’twas rare for anyone to see him amused. Laughter was all but foreign to his nature. Odd, but that had changed of late. His vixen forever elicited unusual responses from him.
Brigham jerked as something brushed over his mouth. He glanced down at Aurora. She caressed him again. “I like it when you laugh.”
“Do you?” She nodded. Trapping her hand in his, he turned his head and kissed her palm. He heard her breath hitch. Nipping her fingertips, he tugged her closer. “And I like it when you answer my questions.”
She groaned. “Are we back to that?”
“We are.” He gave her a stern look. “Now answer this…are you tender? Can you ride today?”
“Ride?” She sighed in what might have been resignation. “Blast, I forgot my purpose in seeking you out.”
“Now, I am curious,” he murmured against her skin. “What purpose could you have other than wishing your husband good morrow?”
“Aye, well, that too, but I want to speak with you.”
“Answer my question first, little heart and then I will answer yours.”
She made a face and tossed her head. “There is some tenderness, but I’m certain I can ride.”
Brigham nodded. “Good, I wish to leave within the hour.”
“Within the hour? But…” she trailed off, her voice faint with indecision.
He waited for her to continue. When she said naught and started fidgeting, he took pity on her. “But what, Aurora?”
A crease between her brows, she dropped her gaze. Her eyes level with his chest, she chewed on her bottom lip, no doubt de
ciding how best to present her argument. “Brigham, I am not ready to leave yet. Quinlyn and I…well, you see…with the wedding and all the commotion, I’ve not spent enough time with her. I hoped we might stay a few days more.”
Tipping her chin up, he forced her to meet his gaze. She obeyed and, meeting him head on, waited for his answer. Brigham wanted to grant her request, but knew he couldn’t. He’d made the decision to leave Alvars for a reason. Several, in fact, even though he recognized it would be hard for his bride to leave her friend. Not surprising. ’Twas clear the two loved each other. But that didn’t change his purpose or the game plan. He wanted the pair separated for a while. The sooner Aurora accepted her new life—and came to rely on him for support instead of Quinlyn—the easier her adjustment would be.
“We leave today,” he said, bracing for her reaction. Dismay flared in her eyes and, upon seeing her disappointment, Brigham almost folded beneath the onslaught. Reinforcing his will, he gave a wee bit, doing something he almost never did: he explained. “The weather grows cold, Aurora, and soon the snow will fly, making the roads impassable. I want you safe in Mornay Castle before that happens.”
“But Brigham, surely a few more days will not make such a difference?” Aurora said, her eyes huge in her small face.
He shook his head. His stomach clenched as she blinked back tears. A quiet voice murmured inside his head, urging him to indulge her. He took a deep breath and killed the inclination. “Have you eaten, Aurora?”
“Nay,” she said, pouting.
Amused by her sulkiness, Brigham brushed his mouth over hers. “Go, break your fast, loving. Say goodbye to Quinlyn. I will fetch you when ’tis time to go.”
She grumbled as he turned her toward the keep. Enchanted by her show of anger, he grinned and gave her a little push. She frowned and threw a black look over her shoulder. He got the message, loud and clear…she would not forgive him for taking her from Alvars and her friend. He retaliated by swatting her bottom as she mounted the staircase.
“Oh!” She swung around to glare at him from the second step.
Warrior's Revenge Page 22