“Umm, good.” Reaching into the bag, Brigham palmed a small packet. He smiled, wicked intent in his eyes, and stood. Grip firming, he shifted her in his arms and turned toward the sunlit pool in the middle of the glen.
Realizing his intent, Aurora twisted in his arms. “Brigham. Nay…do not…let me go, you big…oh, nay!”
No doubt enjoying her outrage, he continued toward the pond, his ground-eating strides in no way hindered by her attempts to climb him like a tree. Arriving at the water’s edge, he grasped her mantle and pulled it off her body. Unable to believe the sheer nerve of him—or his boundless capacity for mayhem—Aurora grappled, wrapping herself around him to avoid the inevitable. She might as well have banged her head against a stone wall for all the good it did her. A brute to the end, Brigham denied her an inch while giving himself a mile, defying reason—and her strength—defeating her with little effort. Holding her at arm’s length, he dangled her over the surface of the water.
“Nay…Brigham, don’t you dare. Put me down this instant, you beast!”
Calling him names while swinging from his fingertips was no doubt the wrong course of action. Aurora couldn’t help herself. The brute thought to fling her headlong into the cool abyss. So aye. Forget diplomacy. ’Twas full battle mode for her. The sneaky clod. He had no shame. Would do whatever he wanted to whomever he pleased. God’s teeth, the man was a walking menace as far as she could tell, and the fact she was once again the recipient of his antics should no more have surprised her than the sun rising in the east.
Holding her aloft, Brigham’s gaze traveled the length of her body.
She writhed, plans of revenge already forming as she tried to reason with him. “Unfair, Brigham. You are much stronger than I am. ’Tis only fair you give me a chance to defend myself. Or at the very least, allow me an attempt at escape.”
He grinned. “Hold your breath.”
Aurora yelped as she hit the water.
Battling the urge to maim him, she kicked out with her legs and swam toward the light. As she broke the surface of the water, Aurora sputtered in outrage. Sucking in a much needed breath, she bobbed amid small waves a moment, mind racing, pride demanding she deliver a blistering set-down the likes from which Brigham would never recover. A verbal thrashing. Absolutely. No question in her mind. He deserved no less. But just as she opened her mouth to start the lecture, Aurora realized something important.
She blinked. “Oh! ’Tis warm.”
“Aye, little heart, ’tis warm,” Brigham said, eyes twinkling. “’Tis fed by an underground stream. It stays warm all year round. I have swum here often enough to know.”
“Aye, well, ’twas still a dirty trick.” Aurora squinted up at him. “And I shall get even for it when you least expect it.”
Tossing a bar of soap in her direction, Brigham dove in after it. She backpedaled in hopes of avoiding him. A futile attempt at best, but after being thrown into the pond, she refused to give in and allow him his way. In the end, she gave in far sooner than planned. Her defenses, battered by the intimacy of the afternoon, crumbled in the face of his endearing playfulness. He frolicked with her, swimming and splashing the afternoon away until Aurora began to believe he was pure heaven. Never would she have guessed he possessed a boyish side. But once it had been unleashed, she was helpless to deny him.
Only after they’d played—and he’d tossed her into the air time and again, listening to her shrieks of laughter as she landed in great rolling splashes—did they settle down to bathe. ’Twas another revelation. So much fun, so little time for shyness. And as she washed him, reveling in the sculpted planes of his body, running her soap-stained hands over him—again and again—Aurora discovered true camaraderie. True affection and harmless teasing. Brigham taught her each one, elevating her education to new heights before he draped her over the bank of the pond and made love to her all over again.
Excellent in every way. Humbling too…that such a fierce man could want her so completely.
With the afternoon light fading, Aurora sighed when he announced it was time go. The others waited near the twin oaks a short distance away. Beyond replete, she dressed slowly, tying her chemise with clumsy fingers. Or mayhap ’twas naught clumsiness at all. Mayhap it was Brigham. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Unease prickled through her. Aurora frowned. Odd but…she didn’t know what she was feeling. Confusion? Uncertainty? She shook her head. Nay, neither of those. ’Twas an odd sensation, one she hadn’t experienced in a while.
Happiness. She was happy. So content, it frightened her.
Swallowing, she turned to Brigham and helped him fasten the clasp of his brooch. After securing his mantle, she rested her hands, palms flat, on the wall of his chest. “Thank you for bringing me here. ’Twas lovely. I enjoyed myself.”
The backs of his fingers coasted along her cheek. “’Twas my pleasure, Aurora.”
Her lips curved. “Well, not all yours, my lord.”
Laughing at her saucy remark, Brigham shook his head. With a gentle swat to her backside, he set her atop the grey and turned away, telling her plainer than words the interlude was over. Why that made Aurora’s heart sink, she didn’t know. Mayhap because she must now return to the real world. One in which the Lord of Mornay ruled instead of the playful man who’d loved her all afternoon.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Ambush: Real and Imagined
Bloody hell, he was screwed. Brigham knew it. He sensed the impending doom. Understood the disquiet. Recognized trouble when he saw it. Had it been the normal amount, he could’ve shrugged it off. Too bad there was naught normal about the situation he faced now. He was in trouble…the absolute worst kind. The kind that made a warrior vulnerable and foolish. The kind that leached the wits from a man’s mind and turned his innards to mush. The kind that could only be caused by one thing…
A woman.
’Twas fact, not fiction. Only a woman held the power to confuse him. The fallout was messy, making him feel beleaguered, set upon…besieged. ’Twas astounding, and he didn’t like it. He loathed the very idea that one small, innocuous—and all right…beautiful—woman could upend him so thoroughly.
Swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth, Brigham clenched his teeth and wondered—not for the first time—how it had gotten so complicated. It started out simple enough. One man, one woman, a wedding where she agreed to honor and obey him, thereby agreeing by default to warm his bed, bear his children, manage his household, and stay out of his mind the rest of the time. All neat and tidy so far as he could tell. Too bad the plan had gone miserably awry. In completely incomprehensible ways.
Bloody hell, he was a double-damned, thrice-cursed idiot.
Brigham snorted, disgusted by the fact he hadn’t seen it coming. Warrior-honed senses be damned. Each one had failed him, masking the danger, keeping him oblivious, allowing Aurora to sneak beneath his guard. He hadn’t understood the magnitude of the breach until she’d thanked him in the dell. A flooding tide of tenderness had overtaken him. And as he’d looked into her upturned face, the truth had become appallingly clear: he would move heaven and earth to make her happy.
Her well-being trumped all else.
Damn it all to hell. ’Twas not good news…a disaster of epic proportions. It made him prickle in irritation.
With a scowl, he glared over his shoulder at the source of his bad temper. His anger eased, then disappeared altogether. Goddamn it, she was adorable. Riding several lengths behind him, she sat relaxed in the saddle, unaware of the turmoil she caused him. A dreamy expression on her face, she looked delightfully disheveled. Left unbound after their bath, her hair tumbled in a glorious cascade, giving her the appearance of a woman well-pleased by her man.
Satisfaction surged. Possessiveness thundered hard on its heels, and he remembered. His need. Her response. The incredible generosity of her passion. Brigham’s chest went tight. God save him. Had he said trouble earlier? It went beyond that, slipping into insanity. Still, the tru
th remained to taunt him. No other woman had ever reacted to him in such a way. No other had matched him so well, then asked for more. No one else would do.
Not now. Or ever.
The realization bore deep, gouging his heart and…
Brigham blinked. Mayhap he was going about it all wrong. Instead of unease, mayhap he should embrace it. His eyes narrowed. ’Twas no doubt the key. The path to success and the answers he sought lay in her physical response to him. Brow furrowed, Brigham faced forward once more, turning the discovery over in his mind.
Aye, it made sense.
No woman could give of so much of herself—respond to a man if she did not, at the very least, have deep-seated feelings for him. Trust was part of it. Knowing was another. But it was more than that when he touched her. Experienced in pleasure, Brigham knew what he shared with Aurora was unique. Fierce passion aside, ’twas no simple joining of bodies or the need to slake a lusty urge that drove their desire. Driven by something more—rooted in something deeper—he sensed a profound connection he’d never experienced with another woman.
He understood it well enough. But Aurora? She’d been an innocent. No experience. No knowledge. Nothing in her past to draw on for guidance. So the real question…in her inexperience, would she believe what they shared was normal? Would she recognize their passion for what it was and surrender to him? Hmm, certainly something to ponder. Indeed, even something to expand upon, for in the exploration lay pleasure and satisfaction.
Verily, ’twould be no hardship at all.
She was a gem—a rarity with a passion so strong he craved more from her. All she required was a wee bit of instruction. ’Twas the perfect foil. A sound plan, too. As her husband, he could slake his lust with her as often as he wished…all while making her understand the depth of what they shared.
Brigham grinned. Why had he not thought of this sooner? He would use their physical attraction like a catalyst. Would wield it like a weapon, cut away the layers until he found her woman’s heart beneath. After that, he would claim her—all of her. Not just her body, but her soul as well.
Blowing out a long breath, Brigham nodded. Good. At least that was settled. Now he could get back to more important things. Castle Mornay lay a couple of days’ ride away. He would be home soon. Which meant he needed to— The clash of metal sounded.
Brigham frowned. What the hell was that? Brigham jerked and drew rein. Immobile in the middle of the trail, he tilted his head and listened hard, separating the faint sounds. Men shouted. Steel clanged against steel. Horses screamed. Realization hit him at chest level. Bloody hell…sounds of battle, coming from the direction of the twin oaks. Rage rolled in on a wave, tightening muscle over bone, preparing him for a fight.
Baring his teeth in a snarl, Brigham swung the black around and headed straight for his bride. He must reach Aurora without delay. Before the battle boiled over, spilled onto the trail, and his vixen got caught in enemy crosshairs.
EPISODE EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
A Time to Dream, a Time to Play…and No Place for Battle
Eyes closed, a finger-hold on the reins, Aurora sat boneless in the saddle. The mare’s gentle gait rocked her, making her body sway and her mind wander. Muted sounds floated up to surround her. Leather creaked, the sound drifting to join the quiet plod of horses’ hooves on compact earth. Pushed by a gentle breeze, branches rattled and leaves rustled, adding to Nature’s lullaby, lending a secretive air to the day, cocooning her in splendor along the narrow forest trail.
So lovely. A world apart, and she hadn’t a care in the world.
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Aurora sighed. The mare blew softly in answer and, head bobbing, followed in the black’s wake, allowing Aurora to slip into another daydream.
One in which Brigham featured front and center.
Her lips curved. Such a surprise. He was a surprise. So kind. So gentle. So much more than she’d expected, considering the rumors whispered about him in dark corners. Awful things. Untrue things. Naught but a pack of lies. Aurora knew that now. Even so, she got the feeling Brigham preferred it that way. His reputation figured into every move he made. He liked to hide behind the legend. Enjoyed the misperception—and keeping others off balance—along with the freedom it provided. No one, after all, dared tangle with the Monster of Mornay. Which left Brigham with what he wanted most…
Little interference from King and court.
An excellent strategy. Especially when the political climate amounted to little more than a feeding frenzy. Her father had done the same, allowing only a select few into his inner circle. Her mother had been one of them, and Aurora another. He’d talked to her the way Brigham did, asking her opinion, encouraging her ideas, praising both.
Which was how she knew. Was able to recognize the signs along with the fundamental shift in Brigham’s thinking. She now sat in her husband’s inner circle—just as she had in her father’s.
The realization said a lot and meant more. It encompassed everything: his esteem, his affection…his trust.
Very few could say the same.
Instinct, and the time she’d spent with him in the dell, told her so. The memory made pleasure spiral deep. Aurora shivered, shifting in the saddle, the hours spent making love with him raising goose bumps on her skin. Lord above, he was incredible. She’d never imagined a man could be so needy…or so giving. Now her body ached in the best possible way…and her heart? Well now, it hummed, thumping a little harder when she opened her eyes and caught sight of Brigham. Black cloak harsh against the muted green of the forest, he rode several horse lengths ahead, leading while she followed…as was his way.
She ran an appraising eye over him from behind. Happiness grabbed hold and hung on tight. Hard-bodied. Wide-shouldered. Beautiful, incredible man. Oh, how she liked the look of him. But better still? She relished the way he touched her. How he fit and felt in her arms. All the pleasure he’d shown her while surrounded by field grass alongside a sunlit pond and…
Aurora huffed. Aye. Well. There were definite advantages to being married. Ones she’d never considered before meeting Brigham, but now held her attention in every way. Her husband, for all his gruffness, was— A low snarl rippled along the trail, brushing over lowlying branches. A nasty curse followed.
With a mental yank, Aurora dragged her mind away from her brute and his extraordinary bed-play. Senses sharpening, her focus narrowed on the source of her daydream. With a yank, Brigham wheeled his warhorse around. The black reared, looking every bit a monster as he pivoted on his hind legs and...
Her gaze landed on Brigham’s face.
She sucked in a quick breath. Lord save and keep her. Not good. His expression said it all, and as he galloped back toward her, Aurora tensed. Her knees tightened against Seyber’s sides. The mare protested, sidestepping on the path, bringing them close to the trail’s edge. Jagged branches jabbed the side of Aurora’s thigh. She ignored the discomfort and applied steady pressure instead, slowing her mare to avoid colliding with the black.
Breath locked in her throat, she waited for Brigham to reach her. He reined in and came abreast of her. She met his gaze. A chill rolled down her spine. Prickles exploded across her skin, raising the fine hair at her nape. Fury…plain and simple. He wore it like a scent. Held the promise of it in the depths of his eyes. Owned it in the way a warrior did violence and…
Aurora swallowed, the urge to flee in the other direction warring with the need to stay put. Running wouldn’t help. His rage was nothing new. She’d seen the expression he wore now once before—at Alvars when he confronted her uncle. It had frightened her then. Terrified her now as well, but logic piped up, telling her his fury was not meant for her.
Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
Keeping her gaze pinned to him, Aurora listened. She frowned. All quiet. Naught but the creak of tree limbs. Nothing to indicate what drew his attention.
He reached for her.
“Bri
gham, what is it?” Alarm banging around inside her head, she gripped his forearm. “What’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer. Brigham scooped her out the saddle, instead. She landed with a thump in front of him. Surprise slammed through her. The black snorted in protest. Aurora didn’t blame him. Dear God in heaven, what the devil was going on?
She didn’t get the chance to ask.
Quick as a lightning strike, Brigham grabbed the mare’s reins. A quick tug. A faster pivot, and he spun his warhorse full circle on the trail and headed into the surrounding forest. Riding hell-bent, he sped through the woods, using his hands and arms to shield her from branches that tried to pluck her from the saddle. Heart in her throat, Aurora curled up in his lap and, cheek pressed to his chest, hung on for dear life.
Minutes later, the black leapt a fallen log into the small clearing beyond. Reining in hard, Brigham halted beside the base of a huge oak tree. Branches spread in all directions, the canopy dipped down to embrace them from above. Panting, Aurora clung to Brigham. She needed to calm down, catch her breath and ask— She flinched as Brigham’s grip on her shifted. Without mercy, he uncurled her fingers from his cloak-front. As her grip loosened, she gasped his name. He ignored the entreaty and, gripping her upper arms, drew her away from his chest. With her perched on the saddle front, he held her steady, dark eyes boring into hers.
“Aurora.”
She took a shaky breath. “Please tell me what is wrong.”
“I want you to climb.”
Surprise hit her like a blow to the chest. She opened her mouth to argue. Brigham cut her off with one of his “don’t argue with me” looks. “Climb, little heart. And do not come down until Camden or I come for you.”
Climb? A tree…just like that? No explanation. No reassurance, just— With a quick shift, Brigham adjusted his grip and propelled her upward.
Warrior's Revenge Page 26