by Ria Cantrell
When they had finished their breakfast, Drew took her hand and kissed it once again. He said, “Would you do me the honor and break your fast with me on the morrow?”
She stole a glance at the two guards and she said, “As long as they have to eat, I suppose I can share breakfast with ye’, too.”
And so it went. Drew met with Bronwyn to have breakfast. He did not know what was happening to him, but he cherished those few moments he had with the girl. His nights were spent tossing and turning and he did not want to admit that it was because Bronwyn had somehow changed him. He told himself he could bed any girl when he wanted to, but he strangely found he still did not want to. He convinced himself that it was because he was worried sick about Erik and that is what put the stops to him sharing his bed with a willing wench. He ignored the niggling voice that reminded him that he would be happy to fall into bed with the Scottish minx. He tried to ignore the stirring he felt when he knew he would see her in the morning. He told himself it was just a little crush, and he was just playing. He was just passing the boredom of waiting by flirting with the Scottish lass. If only, he could convince himself of this...
Bronwyn felt it too. She did not know what to think. She was engaged to marry Drew’s best friend. Drew kept insisting that Erik was completely married and as soon as Rhianna would arrive, the matter of their marriage would be resolved. Drew did not tell Bronwyn how Rhianna’s arrival would change their fates. Bronwyn actually did not want to think about marrying Erik. The idea frightened her. She did not know if she wanted to marry anyone, but she knew for certain she did not want to marry Erik Ragnorsen.
Bronwyn did enjoy talking with Drew. After all, engaging in pleasant conversation was an innocent way to pass her days confined in these English walls. A little pleasant conversation was not marriage. Drew had been so nice to her. She felt very safe when he was around. He made her smile, and he made her forget she was more or less a prisoner in the winter residence in England. Sometimes she yearned so much to go home. Her heart was heavy, and she was homesick, but when she was with Drew, she would forget her troubles and her heart would be less burdened and heavy. She looked forward to their breakfast time together. Besides being kind, Bronwyn thought Drew was so handsome. It was certainly more pleasant to engage in conversation with someone as nice to look at as Drew. Those odious louts that were her constant companions were disgusting and ill mannered. Drew was polite and caring, and handsome. Oh, why do I keep thinking about that. T’is no matter what he looks like. He is nothing more than a small diversion in this mess.
She wondered if he had a sweetheart somewhere, thinking that any girl would surely be taken with a man like Drew. While Bronwyn suspected Drew was just passing time with her as well, and because she was unable to know his whereabouts during the rest of the day, she was certain that he did not just lavish her with his attention. That thought was slightly disconcerting and she did not know why. He was just being nice, after all. Bronwyn should not care where or who Drew spent time with. He was her enemy, despite his kindness to her. It should not matter what he did between the moments they shared a meal together.
On the fourth such morning, Drew felt like a giddy youth because he just could not wait to see Bronwyn. He told himself it was because he had little to do during the day and the girl fascinated him. She offered him a respite from too many hours with nothing to do but wait. He just wished he could stop thinking about her between the moments they broke their fast together. He wished he could damn well stop thinking about kissing her. He really needed to share some time with a comely girl. He could not remember being chaste this many days in a row since he first bedded a woman.
He was confused why he actually had no interest in that sort of thing at all. Well, mostly not at all. He kept fancying being with the Lass. He knew those were dangerous thoughts to harbor, so he pushed them to the back of his mind. Instead, he just looked forward to talking to her…and looking at her. It seemed he could not get his fill of gazing at her. She was beautiful, after all, and what man would not want to fill his vision with such a beauty during his morning meal?
Drew saw Bronwyn coming to the trestle table where he was seated sipping a warm cup of tea. The morning had a real chill to it, that even the main hall did not prevent the cold from seeping into a soul. The steaming mug was, at least, warming his hands. He was glad to see her enter the hall. She took the chill out of his day, he thought, smiling.
His smile faded as he saw the two goons still present with her. Damn, how was he ever going to steal a kiss with this girl if she was always flanked by the king’s guard? Then he wondered when he decided that kissing her was a goal he intended to reach. As he saw her smile at him, he was brought out of his reverie. He flashed her with a disarming grin and he inquired how she fared. The king’s guards were anxious to get their breakfast and Drew took the opportunity to speak candidly to her. He took her hand to his lips and kissed it chivalrously, knowing in his heart he wanted to kiss other places on this Scottish little minx. He said, “You look beautiful today.”
She blushed and said, “I look the same every day.”
It was true. Unlike the colorful birds in court with their splendid silks and velvets, Bronwyn always wore her plaid. She wore it like a badge of honor. But today, she looked more beautiful than he had realized. He said, “You must be aware of it”.
“Aware of what?”
Bronwyn watched Drew swallow deeply. His knuckles brushed down her face in a tender caress.
“You are beautiful, my lady. I am sure you have had gentlemen a plenty to tell you so.”
Her eyes widened and her blush deepened.
“Only…brothers. It means something quite different coming from ye’.”
“No highland swains vying for your hand?”
“Nay. My brothers thought to shield me, being a daughter of a prominent laird.” Drew tucked a finger under her chin and lifted her face to look at him.
“Haven’t you been lonely, lass?”
“Nay, I have lots of brothers and friends amongst the clan.”
“I mean for a man.…”
“I had hoped to marry, but not like this,” she said quietly.
“No, of course not. This is not right. Nothing about this is right,” Drew stated and then he asked, “Has no man ever kissed you?”
Bronwyn thought she would die from embarrassment at that question. More than the question, her answer mortified her. She dropped her glance and whispered, “Nay.”
That innocent profession sent Andrew’s heart pounding wildly. He had not expected such an answer to affect him so.
“Such a pity…a beauty never touched; never kissed. Sweet Bronwyn, you must know I want to.”
Her eyes flew to his in shock or horror, Drew was not certain which. She stammered, “Ye’ want to kiss me?”
He let that slow sensual smile spread across his handsome face and he simply said, “Aye.”
He leaned closer and whispered, “Would you like me to?”
She thought for a moment, mayhap the briefest moment, and said, “Aye!”
Drew smiled at the rather definite and quick response and said, “Well, well, how can we arrange this? I certainly cannot kiss you here, not with those goons watching your every move.”
She looked down and she said, “This is quite embarrassing.”
“You shouldn’t be embarrassed. Everyone gets kissed sooner or later. You have been protected, is all. It is a natural thing and I have already stated my desire to kiss you first. I may as well be the man to give you your first good kiss,” he said matter-of-factly, but Bronwyn was not certain if he was making sport of her or just being a rake.
Bronwyn thought she should have been put off by his arrogance, but as she looked up at him, she saw he was grinning playfully.
“Ye’ are a blackguard,” she stated teasingly
“It is really fun to be kissed. I promise you. And, since you have agreed, rather whole heartedly, I might add, how shall we arran
ge this?”
He was still teasing her, but somehow, she was not really offended. She had to admit, she was rather enchanted. After some brief thought she said, “Tonight…after dinner…I can leave my door unlocked and before I leave the hall, let yourself in.”
He raised an eyebrow. Well, he gathered she was no longer horrified or mortified.
“Lass, it is one thing to steal a kiss but to hide in a lady’s chamber…”
She frowned. “Ye’ are right. That was most forward of me.” Blushing, she added, “What must ye’ think of me?”
He smiled and said, “Shshhh, I was playing with you. I will be there.”
He kissed her hand again and pretended to talk to her about other things as her body guards were coming back to the table. They finished their breakfast and Drew bid his farewells with the unspoken promise to meet Bronwyn later that night. He winked at Bronwyn to seal their secret liaison. Her heart fluttered at his outward flirtatious way. He really was quite the rake, but she seemed unable to resist his charms. Oh, this was a dangerous game and Bronwyn knew it.
Drew made his way out to the list field. He felt a pang of guilt thinking of Erik still imprisoned, while he was arranging a tempting liaison with the woman who was the cause of it. He needed to work off some of the tension by sword practice. He murmured, “Rhianna, please come soon…our beloved Erik is rotting in the cell and we need to free him.”
Drew would try to arrange a visit to Erik’s cell so that he could give him hopeful words to hold on to. In the meantime, he would work his muscles and burn off some of his restless energy.
Chapter Six
Bronwyn wandered back to her chambers. She was stunned at her own wanton invitation to this Englishman. When she thought of his heritage, she had a fleeting memory of that one from so many nights of heated dreams. She could still feel the heat burning in her cheeks when she thought about what she had done. She knew it was most improper to encourage a man to kiss her, let alone invite that very man to her chamber, but she could not seem to help herself, nor did she regret it. That was the worst part of all, she supposed.
She did not regret it! Not one bit. She was confused as to why she was so attracted to Andrew. It was like there was something so familiar about him. Something she had long forgotten, but something that was so comfortable. Deep down, she knew why there was the familiarity, but she absolutely refused to admit that.
Oh, he was handsome, aye, of that there could be no doubt. He had the most intriguing eyes she had ever seen. They were the shade of forest leaves. His hair, not as long as her brothers or the Viking’s, brushed against the back of his neck and she almost ached to run her fingers through it. He was big but not brutish. She did not feel frightened by his size. Highland men were all big. The Viking was big, but he terrified her. Drew did not terrify her. In fact, she really felt particularly safe when he was near her.
Like this morning, at breakfast, he had brushed his knuckles gently across her cheek. It was such a gentle touch, that she actually marveled at it because he was so large a man. And by large, she did not mean portly. No, his body was toned and muscled. She could see the way his muscles played under his fine linen shirt. His chest was broad, his shoulders wide. His powerful thighs were visibly toned beneath the close fitting trews. Oh, those close fitting trews, indeed they left little to the imagination!
His arms were strong, and Bronwyn was quite aware of how absolutely male he was. He had the most disarming smile that dimpled at one side of his cheek. When he teased her gently, instead of irking her, Bronwyn found herself enjoying his playfulness. Dark growth of a beard, even early in the day, shadowed his jaw line and framed that rakish smile in the most disarming way.
Bronwyn thought he was so handsome. She blushed, realizing he probably used that to his advantage with the ladies, and now she had invited him up to her chambers for kisses. She was not so naïve to think that innocent kisses would remain such for long, but with all the tension and fear she had lived with these past weeks in the winter residence of the English king, she needed the company of someone like Andrew. He was a knight, after all, and she was certain he was an honorable one. She was certain that when she wanted him to leave, he would, with her virtue intact; only she was not certain she would request him to leave after all. Bronwyn put a hand up to her face. She felt feverish. These new feelings were very much like a fever, indeed.
Drew had been nothing less than courteous when he walked her back to her chamber the other night. She remembered how he had draped his cloak over her, and how the warmth from his own body lingered and enveloped her. His clean, spicy masculine scent had been present on the wool, and Bronwyn thought she had never felt so safe and protected. When she was humiliated into being flanked by two guards, Drew had come to her rescue. He had offered her friendship and despite the fact that his friend, her intended, was imprisoned, Bronwyn somehow knew this man would not hurt her.
She was not certain she could say the same of that Blonde beast. She did not want to think about when she spit at that one. Not only had she spit at him, she had slapped him. Surely she would have to pay for that in the future if she was forced to marry him. Drew was emphatic that Erik was truly married. She wondered what sort of woman could love that scary Viking enough to marry him. No matter what would happen, she would certainly not marry the great Viking scourge, even if it meant she would be imprisoned, too.
Somehow, Bronwyn’s thoughts had turned from stolen kisses to how much she hated England and most of its inhabitants. Most of all, she hated that Norse nightmare. She hated him because he looked cruel. She hated him because he represented an end of her life and freedoms. And she hated him most of all because he frightened her. Bronwyn MacCollum did not like being frightened. She prided herself on being brave, but Erik Ragnorsen scared her to the depths of her soul. Drew did not frighten her. Not at all; well not like the Ragnorsen beast. She did not want to admit that Drew frightened her because he had the power to break her heart. Bronwyn certainly was not going to ponder about that.
Bronwyn paced to the small window in her chamber and looked out, longing for home. From her perch, she could see men practicing sword work in the list yard below. She had often watched her brothers do the same. She missed them so much. How could they have agreed to this crazy scheme? Why had they not come for her?
Bronwyn looked out of the window again and watched the parry below her. She could not see the faces of the men as they were armored. Somehow, though instinctively, Bronwyn knew for certain that one of those men was Drew. In fact, she knew by his stride, just which fighter he was. There was such a familiar feeling tugging at her, she was instantly drawn to the fighter that she was certain was Drew. It was like she was seeking out that familiar part of her that had remained locked and buried deep inside. Her heart fluttered as she watched his skilled approach to sword play. He was well trained and once again she was reminded of his powerful strength. She realized he was lethal, but somehow that did not unnerve her. She knew he would help her feel protected. She knew he was capable of great tenderness, fierce warrior though he was.
Strangely, while she was pondering the oddness of this feeling of familiarity, Drew looked up toward the window as if he had seen her there. Bronwyn knew he could not possibly see her all the way up to that towered room. Then she saw him remove his helm and he raised his sword in a salute to her. She smiled and waved to him, not sure he could see her. He put his helm back on. He did not know how, but he sensed her there behind that tiny window opening. He could not be certain until he saw her tiny hand wave. He felt a sense of pride swell in his chest, knowing she watched him training in the lists. What was it about this girl that was taking hold of him so? Drew knew he was treading on very dangerous ground and he just seemed not to be able to avoid plunging fully, headfirst, into this perilous abyss.
Chapter Seven
That night in the great hall, Bronwyn saw Drew. He did not join her for dinner, but offered her a smile and a nod. She felt butterflies i
n her stomach and suddenly did not feel very hungry. Food turned to ash in her mouth so that she could barely swallow it. She felt heat creep into her face as she thought of what it would be like to kiss him. Her guards did not notice. They were consumed with shoveling food into their disgusting mouths. They barely knew she was there while they ate with the grace of pigs. That was fine with her. She hated their presence. It wounded her pride to be laden with their odious company. Her heritage alone marked her as an enemy by many, but Drew did not make her feel that way. In fact, he had been more than kind to her.
When she looked back over, she saw Drew had gone from the hall. She felt her heart beat quicken, knowing he had possibly gone to her chamber. Bronwyn had left her chamber door unlocked as she had promised. Time seemed to pass slowly, and she did not dare return to her chamber sooner than was safe in order to protect Drew’s secret arrival there. She waited until her guards finished stuffing themselves, and she rose to go to her quarters. She walked slightly ahead of them with her head held high, despite how humiliating it felt to be under such heavy guard.
Bronwyn let herself into her room and slammed the door against those awful men, seeming to affect an air of temper. The room was warm and the dim flickering light from a fire in the brazier lit the room. Though she could not see him, she could tell he was there. Suddenly her legs felt limp and she braced herself against the door. She tried to steady her breathing, which seemed suddenly to be the hardest of feats. Even knowing in her heart that he was there, she jumped when his voice rang out of the shadows and he said her name. With trembling fingers, she slid the bar home to prevent any chance of discovery or disturbance. She could not command her feet to walk forward. So, he immediately stood and crossed the floor to her. She was shaking visibly.
“Are you frightened?”
“Aye,” she whispered. He brushed his knuckles against her cheek as he had done twice before. She looked up at him and seeing the intensity in his eyes, she amended, “Nay, I am not frightened.”