Her heart clenched. A terrible ache followed, rising behind her breastbone. As the pang echoed inside her, Aurora stood stock-still, staring at Camden, envisioning the horror…wishing she couldn’t. Grief for Brigham rose, threatening to overwhelm her. Compassion followed. God, she wanted to hold him. To give him a hug and tell him it would be all right. Absurd, really. A man of the warrior caste, he didn’t want sympathy.
Which meant he would never accept it from her.
“He blamed himself, didn’t he?” Rubbing her upper arms, Aurora tried to chase her sudden chill away. It didn’t work. The awful reality sank deep, touching her heart with icy fingers. “He blamed himself for the abuse suffered by his people and for her death.”
Camden nodded. “He felt he should have known. Should’ve paid closer attention to the dealings inside the keep, and Maria’s part in them. He has not viewed women…or marriage…the same way since that day.”
“Not since he discovered her betrayal,” she whispered, feeling as though she’d been dealt a lethal blow for the second time in one day. “I understand now…why he…I mean, the reason Nigel and Tobias follow me everywhere.”
Seeing her upset, Camden sought to soothe her. “Aurora, I know what I said…but it is not the same with you. Believe me when I tell you, he is different with you. I have never seen him like this—”
“Thank you for telling me, Camden. It explains a great deal and…I understand now,” Aurora said, refusing to let him smooth out the truth. She didn’t want lies. Naught he said would make her feel better about what she’d just learned.
“Aurora,” Camden said, concern in his tone.
Shaking her head, Aurora turned and walked away. She wanted to be alone for a while. Mayhap to cry, but mostly she needed to think…about everything. Her throat went tight. Dear God, she was a first-rate fool. This whole time she’d believed they could make a strong future together. Even hoped he would eventually come to care for her. That her importance to him—as his wife and the future mother to his children—would give rise to emotional connection, to a bond so strong Brigham would need her on another level altogether.
All the heartfelt hope only to find out he didn’t trust her…refused to love her. His disastrous first marriage had damaged him in indefinable ways. Now he refused to risk vulnerability. And although she empathized—understood the depth of his hurt—Aurora realized that with his defenses up, the chances of her owning his heart were slim to none.
Pain expanded inside her chest. Drawing a shaky breath, Aurora acknowledged it. Felt it bone-deep as the enormity threatened to overwhelm her. She loved him…nothing could change that damning fact. Not even his inability to love her in return. His refusal to become entangled walked hand in hand with his mistrust. ’Twas the reason his men followed her around, treating her like a common criminal. Brigham feared her betrayal, believed she would do as Maria had done and go off with another man. God’s teeth, he was no better than the servants scrubbing his hall. Everyone expected the worst from her, taking the necessary precautions to ensure self-protection.
Heartsick and wanting to cry so badly she hurt inside, Aurora wandered, taking no note of her direction, too deep in thought to care where her feet took her. Head down, she kicked at a pebble in her path only to flinch when she heard her name being called. Glancing up, Aurora started. Goodness, she’d walked all the way to the village. Now a group of women stood in front of a small stone cottage hailing her. Each one waved in greeting, welcoming her with an openness that made her chest tighten.
Seeing their smiling faces, her bruised heart rallied. Anger stepped into the breach, crushing her bout with self-pity. Well good. ’Twas about time she came to her senses. Taking a deep breath, Aurora waved back and started toward the townswomen. She needed to quell her rising temper along with the urge to find Brigham and club him over the head with something substantial.
He deserved it. Along with a kick to the backside.
“For shame,” she said with a grumble, for the first time understanding other women’s complaints against their idiot husbands.
Aye, no question. Men were an exasperating bunch, dimwitted to the core. How dare Brigham compare her to Maria—to an unfaithful viper with a liking for hurting others? No matter what her imperfections and Brigham’s painful past, she refused to allow the comparison. God’s teeth, there was something truly wrong with him if he didn’t realize her value. Aurora frowned. What the devil was the matter with him?
A lot…apparently. Which meant an adjustment was in order.
Her husband required a lesson. An important one that—unfortunately for him—she was about to deliver. First, however, she needed to think, formulate a strategy that would upend Brigham, surprise him into revealing his feelings. The key to his heart involved gaining his trust, which meant she now knew the path to follow. She would lead him to confidence, assure him of safety, and entice his warrior’s soul into surrender.
Chewing on her lip, Aurora’s eyes narrowed. She played a dangerous game, reaching higher then she had any right. But then, the prize loomed large. One that required a bit of a gamble to win. A visit with the townswomen would help. If naught else, it gave her a reason to stay away from the keep—and her husband—until she’d plotted her course and the plan of attack.
She refused to go up against Brigham unarmed. Needed every weapon at her disposal to win the battle. Otherwise, she would fail. And failure wasn’t an option with her heart on the line and her brute in the mix.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Truth or Dare
Brigham exited the stables satisfied and well pleased. Satisfied the hunt had gone so well. And pleased autumn had arrived, blowing in on a north wind that left the air fresh, crisp, and new. Snowflakes frolicked with the breeze, swirling in the late afternoon sunlight, landing lightly before dying a slow death, melting against the gray cobble of the inner courtyard.
Christ, he loved this time of year—when winter approached but the bitter cold hadn’t yet descended upon the land. Without their bounty, the fields lay bare now, rich earth quiet in slumber, awaiting another planting next spring. And yet the woodlands hummed, alive and full as wildlife prepared for the season to come.
Content in the chill, Brigham drew a deep breath. The brisk cold bit in his lungs. He reveled in the sting as he turned toward the keep. Foresight. Good planning. Hard work. All things he valued. And no wonder. Thanks to each one, the people of Mornay would be well fed this winter. Such abundance would ensure those under his protection flourished during the harsh months. And with their comfort assured, he could look ahead and begin preparing for next year.
A regular activity for him.
He liked a solid strategy and enjoyed making lists even more. So aye. ’Twas time to take stock. Scribble down all the things in need of change and get on with the business of repairing, building, or expanding before another spring rolled into view.
Reaching the stairs to the keep, Brigham took them two at a time, eager to reach the top and what lay beyond. Just before the supper hour, he knew Aurora would be enjoying her bath in their chambers. ’Twas an opportunity he couldn’t deny himself. Like a moth to the flame, he was drawn. Enslaved by anticipation. In thrall to the memory. In need of her soft skin—scented by lavender and mint—against his own.
With a low growl, Brigham wrenched the heavy door open and, stepping over the threshold, strode inside. He stopped at the entrance to the great hall. Bloody hell, would you look at that? A complete transformation. Clean. Tidy. Well arranged. The hall stood as a bright and shiny example of all things pleasant and organized. His mouth curved. His vixen had been busy in his absence. Nothing new there. She’d been working non-stop—tidying, scrubbing, making things pretty—since the moment she’d arrived at Mornay Castle.
On some level, he’d been aware of the changes. Noticed the improvements each day as she placed her mark upon the keep. Each small alternation added to the next, multiplying the effect, producing wondrous results. The
transformation was nothing short of incredible. Beyond amazing on all fronts.
Contentment spiraled deep.
Brigham huffed. ’Twas madness. It must be, to derive so much satisfaction from the fact Aurora cared enough to improve his home. But then, pleasure was a running theme with him when it came to her. Pure idiocy, but he couldn’t help it. Didn’t want to either.
Which no doubt made him a first-class fool.
Shaking his head, he dragged his gaze away from his wife’s handiwork and headed for the stairs leading to the chambers above. Fool or nay, he must remember to thank Aurora for her efforts. She deserved the praise, and well, after that? He would be busy showing his appreciation in another manner altogether. His favorite way…
Bar none. Hands down. Forever and ever…amen.
With a grin, Brigham raced up the stairs, eager to reach his bedchamber. A month ago, his haste to be near her might have troubled him. Little by little, though, he was learning to accept what she made him feel even as he admitted he had no wish to explain it. No need to categorize or understand it either. Most of the time, he refused to acknowledge its existence at all. The subject was too sensitive. The vulnerability made him itch with discomfort.
Brigham scowled, realizing he dabbled in an area in which he refused to play. He walked too close to the line. Thought about her too often. ’Twas unseemly. Not something a warrior ought to do. Love, after all, was a woman’s concern. So aye. It was quite all right for Aurora to become stuck in an emotional quagmire, but he wouldn’t permit it for himself. Bloody hell, he was a baron. A warrior who didn’t tolerate weakness of any kind. Strength and responsibility. Steadfastness and true intent. All walked hand in hand, were qualities he needed to do his duty and lead his people. So somehow…some way…he must resist the allure…
Along with the pull and threat of emotional connection.
A niggle of doubt settled deep, telling him his reasoning was absurd. He resisted it and, ignoring the tight sensation in the center of his chest, quickened his stride, urgency riding him hard. Irrepressible, necessity and desire collided, exploding in a kaleidoscope of spark and color. He felt out of control. Was in definite need of an outlet for the confusion and turmoil before it transformed into physical aggression.
He halted in the hallway outside his chamber. His eyes narrowed on the door handle. Brigham flexed his hands, wanting to reach out, needing to cross the threshold, but…
Instinct stopped him.
He was wound too tight. And honestly? Charging into the room to take what he wanted wasn’t the best strategy. Not with Aurora. She deserved better than savage need and an out-of-control husband. But…God. He was already fully aroused. Right on the edge. Almost past the point of no return. Sucking in a deep breath, he filled his lungs to capacity and, reaching deep, found a tendril of discipline. It wasn’t much, but…
He exhaled in a rush. In. Out. Breathe and release. How long he repeated the process, Brigham didn’t know. After a time, his body calmed and his muscles relaxed, bringing him back into safe territory. He inhaled again. Better. Good. Still needy, but in control. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. And if he charged in, seized and spread her beneath him? He would…guaranteed.
That last thought steadied him completely. No way would he ever hurt her.
Reaching for the handle, Brigham told himself to go easy—to be gentle—one last time. He watched the door swing inward. Anticipation flicked him with its barbed tail as he stepped over the threshold. His gaze swept the front of the hearth. No Aurora. Just an empty tub and a well-tended fire. A soft mutter caught his attention. His focus snapped left and— “The idiot.” Hair piled atop her head, arms swinging like an angry soldier’s, Aurora paced in front of the window seat. “Dumb conniving clod.”
He blinked. Well, hell. She was in a snit. Brigham swallowed a snort of laughter. He knew the signs well enough. Pacing was one of them, muttering to herself another. Someone vexed her, and now she fought to either reason her way out of it. Or cool her rising temper.
And just like that, he possessed the necessary diversion. One that helped tamp down rampaging lust. Thank the saints.
The door clicked closed behind him. He leaned against it, content to watch her sashay back and forth. Still muttering, she cut a path across the soft wool rug underfoot. A glorious sight, she moved with natural grace and rhythm. Firelight reached out, caressing the fiery tendrils escaping her topknot. Each strand curled against her nape, then tumbled down to touch her shoulders. Shoulders, he noticed, clad in naught but a silk robe rendered nearly transparent by the fire scant few feet away.
He resisted the urge to adjust the front of his trews. “What has you in such an uproar, little heart?”
With a gasp, his vixen whirled around. Both hands pressed to her heart, she gaped at him. “God’s teeth! When did you get here?”
“Just now,” he murmured, enjoying the fact he’d sneaked up on her. Not hard to do. Aurora liked to believe she paid attention, but the truth? She was lost in a world of her own most of the time. “Who is the unfortunate you have in your sights?”
Blue eyes narrowed on him. “You.”
“Really?” Brigham clenched his teeth to keep from laughing. Christ, he was her intended target. He lost the battle and, knowing his amusement would send her temper rampaging, allowed her see it. “Why?”
She growled at him. “Don’t you dare smile at me, Brigham. Have you any idea what I have been through today?”
Bloody hell, she was glorious. He loved her temper. The sheer unbridled heat of it almost scorched him. No other woman possessed the courage to stand up to him—to look him in the eye and threaten him with her displeasure.
“Not a clue,” he said, more growl than word in his tone. He couldn’t help it. Was once again wrestling with a heat of his own. Not surprising considering the amount of skin she unwittingly revealed. In her pique, her robe had parted, presenting him with a delicious view of her. “Care to enlighten me?”
“Don’t laugh at me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, vixen.”
A lie. Blatant and boldly stated.
But he refused to argue with results. Particularly when the falsehood walked him closer to where he yearned to go. Which was where exactly? To bed. With Aurora. Her legs wrapped around his waist. His skin against hers as he stroked deep, got what he needed while pleasing her in return. So aye. Lying might make him a bastard, but pit that against urgent need, and it was no contest. The faster the conversation ended, the better off he would be.
Both hands balled into fists, Aurora pursed her lips and tried to look angry. It was a stretch. Especially considering she wanted to fall over in relief. Thank God…her plan was working. ’Twas a simple strategy. One she imagined many women used with their men. She intended to bewitch him, to keep him distracted and off balance, more interested in her body than the conversation.
Completely unfair. Diabolically underhanded.
Aurora didn’t care. Ambushing him was the only way to safely broach the subject of his first wife. If she approached him head-on, he would shut her down. So aye. Losing her temper while taunting him with a bit of skin seemed the best approach. The one with the greatest chance of success. Which meant the moment of truth had arrived. Bait. Lure. Hook. She needed each one—along with a bucketful of courage—to see the plan through.
No matter how painful.
So best get on with it. No time like the present.
Nerves got the best of her. Butterflies took flight in the pit of her stomach. Aurora leveled her chin and, shoulders squared, met Brigham’s gaze. “I made an important discovery today. One I would like to share with you.”
His gaze narrowed a fraction. “I’m listening.”
“I have come to the conclusion that …” she trailed off. Fiddling with the sash of her robe, she pulled one loop free. Watching her with predatory intent, his eyes darkened with desire. She swallowed a smile. Excellent. She’d landed the hook. Now all she need
ed to do was yank.
Playing the siren, she twirled the sash around her fingertip.
Gaze riveted to her, his nostrils flared when the silk at her shoulder slid to her upper arm. “Right…a conclusion.”
“Would you like to know what sort, Brigham?”
He blinked and nodded in a distracted manner.
Taking a deep breath, she ambushed him. “You don’t trust me.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” Rotating her shoulders back, she adjusted her stance. The robe parted another inch. His focus splintered as he watched her reveal more skin.
“Aurora—”
“You don’t trust me, Brigham…you don’t!” She stomped her foot as he shook his head. “’Tis the reason Nigel and Tobias follow me…even in the keep. I wondered, not understanding, but now, ’tis all clear. After what I learned today, I shouldn’t blame you, but I do. You ought to know better. And to let me find out like that…I…how could you?”
She choked, so close to tears she tasted them. Refusing to let them fall, she reinforced her defense, unable to stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth, out of her heart. “I am not her, Brigham, I am not—”
“Careful, little heart.”
“—Maria. And I will not be punished for her crimes.” Her shout echoed through the chamber. She didn’t give a damn. His mistrust hurt, and before she finished, he would understand how much. “How could you possibly think that I would…I love you, you dimwitted brute. I will never betray you with another!”
The words lashed, cracking through the quiet.
Brigham snarled.
A moment later, his arms wrapped around her. Aurora yelped as he lifted her off the floor. Two steps. One fast spin, and he pressed her back to the wall beside the hearth. She sucked in a startled breath. Good God, he was fast. So quick she hadn’t seen him move. That, however, was not the most immediate problem.
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