“Eat,” he whispered quietly, leaning toward her. “You’ll need your strength.”
The meal couldn’t have ended quickly enough for Rynne. She was shaking by the time they reached the door to the room she would occupy during her night at Locktonhurst. Lord MacCailín had commented on her state several times, asserting that she must be exhausted from her ventures.
Rynne confirmed that she was, hopeful it would stop any untoward thoughts he might have, but when he entered the chamber instead of simply depositing her at the threshold, she thought she might lose the scant food she had managed to eat.
Brendan frowned when he looked at her and when he placed his palm against her forehead, he laughed at the way she jumped.
“It appears you run no fever, at least,” he stated, taking her chin in his hand.
He tipped her head this way and that, squinted, nodding after a moment, then leaned toward her. “You’re quite safe within my walls, my lady. I assure you.”
His voice, so low and close, reverberated through her and she shivered, even though she wasn’t cold. She could see the fire in his eyes and she closed her own, waiting for the kiss that would begin her undoing.
With a pat on her arm, Lord MacCailín walked away from her and she wheeled around, watching to see what he was doing. Contemplating the room, he finally grabbed the chair from the small writing desk and walked back to place it against the connecting door, jamming it beneath the knob securing that no one would enter the chamber without someone on the inside releasing it.
Rynne narrowed her eyes, trying to anticipate his next move.
With a slow chuckle, he crossed to the door that would lead him into the hallway and removed a key hanging on the wall beside the jam. He held it up, then opened the door before slipping the key into the lock on the inside.
“Hilde will be here shortly to assure that you have everything, though most of what you need for a good night’s rest has already been laid out for you, my lady. I suggest you do your best to use the hours of darkness wisely for it is bound to be the most restful night you’ll have for the next two days.”
Brendan bowed and wished her goodnight before vanishing behind the closed doors.
Rynne’s feet seemed rooted to the floor, her mouth threatening to remain in a perpetual state of openness until she managed to clamp it shut. Uttering a low growl, her nostrils flaring, she spun around and walked to the bed. She picked up a small pillow and threw it toward the door. Curse him! Curse her. Had she truly been about to hand him her virtue with little more than a sheer veil of weak fear?
She plopped down on the edge of the bed and plucked at a loose bead on the lap of her borrowed dress.
“What’s happening to me?”
She looked up then back down as the first teardrop fell, oblivious of the black feather that lay near the chair that Lord MacCailín had used as a barrier between them. She knew he had blocked the door to ease her concerns and she should be thankful for his courtliness. Why then did she feel so bereft?
Brendan stood in the hallway just outside the door of the room that would one day belong to the lady of Locktonhurst. Walking away from the actual lady inside had been one of the hardest things he had ever done, especially knowing the two ladies were one and the same. Seducing her now would have been so easy. He knew her head was in a spin and that part of her wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her. He could feel the pull.
With heavy steps, he walked to his room. The discipline he’d garnered from his training as a knight was the only reason he’d be able to sleep, especially knowing a chair and his honor were the only things separating them.
Chapter 7
Brendan bolted upright. He heard the storm outside beating down on his castle, but that wasn’t what awakened him. He listened until the noise came again—a quiet tap against the door that connected the room of the master of the house to that of his lady. He’d barely managed to slip into his britches when he heard the chair scratching against the floor and the door creaking open. It had been a long time since the seal had been broken and the hinges protested. He squinted against the darkness, his heart racing as an ethereal figure appeared.
“My lord.”
His thoughts exactly. Tendrils of lightning shot through him every bit as strong as those beyond his windows.
“What do you need, my lady?” He swallowed loudly, his own need making the simple task difficult. He heard the unsteadiness in her voice when she spoke again from her position between the rooms.
“The r… rain has extinguished the fire and my candle has grown too short…” She paused overlong. “I’m sorry to have to say that I am in need of the chamber pot and… I cannot navigate an unknown place in the dark.” She added the last when he didn’t answer.
His eyes adjusted and he could see her biting at her bottom lip. He only hoped she couldn’t see that he was fighting laughter. Then his brow crinkled. How in the world had the rain affected the room’s fire?
He started toward the door then remembered the chamber pot. Moving to the hearth, he stooped down to light a tender from the low-burning fire, touching it to the two candles that sat on his mantle. When he crossed back to where she stood, he handed her one and pointed to the screen in the far corner of his own room.
“I’ll see to the fire,” he told her when he tried to brush past.
Rynne stepped back, her eyes narrowing, her mouth slightly open as if to speak even though she didn’t.
“You’ll find what you need there,” he waved his hand again, “and you’ll have your privacy while I’m in the other room.”
She nodded and skirted past him on her tiptoes, obviously hoping to keep from touching him in the close proximity of the doorway. Brendan had to bite his own lip to keep from laughing again.
From his squatted position in front of the fireplace, Brendan looked over his shoulder when he heard the whisper of her slippered feet returning from his room. Brushing his hands together, he stood, enjoying how the multiple candles he’d lit washed her in their glow. He’d never considered the idea of copper hair to hold intrigue, but she had proved him wrong.
The thick plait that draped over her shoulder drew his attention to breasts that invited a cuddle. The tendrils that had sprung free begged him to push them behind her ear with petal soft caresses. The locks complimented her, completing her beauty instead of taking away from it.
Brendan smiled, noting that she maintained her distance.
“I trust you feel better.”
She nodded her head and he chuckled.
“Unfortunately, there’s no such easy answer to the extinguished fire. It appears birds have, at some point, found their way into the chimney and the rains have caused their nests to disintegrate, dumping waterlogged debris and feathers into the fireplace. It's too dangerous to send anyone up in this weather. It will have to wait until the storm stops.”
Brendan watched as she took in the feathers and bits and pieces of mud and grass that had once been nests now strewn in front of the fireplace. He hoped she wouldn’t become as anxious as his sisters thinking the black feathers were some sort of omen.
Instead, she uttered a quiet oh that allowed him a chance to direct her attention away from any telling foreshadow she might be conjuring up in her head.
“But… I did find additional tapers for you. Perhaps if you leave one burning behind the screen you’ll be able to find your way…”
Even in the low light of the few candles he could see her cheeks growing red. No doubt discussing bathroom needs with a man was not something she was accustomed to. He stifled a chuckle, surprised to see her offer a tentative smile.
“You are most kind, Lord MacCailín. Your superlative hospitality rivals your reputation.”
Brendan raised a single brow. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised at her formality any more than he was her distance. She was, after all, a maiden alone in a bedroom with the lord of the keep.
“You have heard me well-spoken of, then? I
suppose that is most ardently desirable to the contrary,” he answered in light jest.
When he mocked her formality, attempting to put her at ease, they both laughed, hers ending in a shiver. Brendan frowned, especially when she closed her arms about herself.
“You’re cold, my lady.” He noted and was already pulling the shawl from the back of the chair near the fireplace. “Perhaps you should take my room. The fire is low, but it remains warm…”
His words trailed off as he wrapped the throw around her shoulders, sucking in a too loud breath when he looked down to find her lips slightly parted, her eyes boring into his.
“Especially with the lady already sharing the Master’s quarters,” she repeated the words Johanasin had spoken at their meal.
“Especially then,” he whispered, lowering his mouth to hers.
With deliberate slowness, he brushed his lips across hers before pulling back.
“I’ll not force myself upon you, my lady. I told you before, you have nothing to fear from me. I’ll not do anything that you do not desire.”
She shivered again. “Then I fear for my reputation upon the greeting of the morning light.”
Chapter 8
Rynne fought through the dream that someone was beating down the gates with a battering ram. She woke to realize it was someone at the chamber door. Sitting too quickly, she winced at how sore she was and in places she wasn’t used to being sore.
Squinting, she looked up, her mouth gaping at the sight of Lord MacCailín’s bare backside as he jumped and shoved his legs into his britches. The memory of the night before flooded her mind, her body reacting at the thoughts of his hands, his mouth on her, their bodies entwined, uniting… She turned her head to the side, the red streak on the bedsheets rising up as a blatant indictment.
Dear Lord, what had she done? Her trip through time must have muddled her senses more than she’d thought. She looked up as he went toward the door, her eyes going wide. She wasn’t addled enough to let someone see her so brazenly in his bed no matter what he had promised her. She also wasn't so naive to not know men promised ladies many things that evaporated with the darkness.
Rolling, Rynne slid to her feet with the bed sheet tangled around her and scurried across the floor, skirting through the connecting door and closing it just as she heard the plank scraping open in the Master’s chamber. Her ear to the wood, she could hear the anxious rise of Hilde’s voice. Though she couldn’t catch every word, she heard enough to know the maid had stopped by her room first and was concerned that she hadn’t answered her knocking.
Rynne looked around. She could feign that she’d been in a heavy sleep, but her nightdress was nowhere to be found. She scrambled to remember at what point it had been discarded, feeling quite wicked at the tingling between her legs that the memory produced. Never in a million years would she ever have imagined that the happenings between a man and woman could feel the way the Lord of Locktonhurst had made her feel.
She ran a hand across her breast, naked beneath the sheet. His mouth upon her there had been a slice of heaven and hell rolled into one with the way he’d made her ache, begging for release with little more than his tongue and teeth. And when he’d rained kisses down her belly… even now, the thought made her breath come more quickly.
Rynne closed her eyes, the vision of him smiling up at her just before he touched his tongue to her sex would forever be imprinted in her mind, as would that moment when he’d pressed himself into her, joining them together as one for the first time. They’d repeated the act twice before sleep pulled her into its depths… until the knocking on the door had wakened them.
She shook her head, realizing the knocking was no longer in her memory. She could hear Hilde telling Brendan to try again, which he did, calling her name this time.
She started for the door then remembered her nightdress and changed directions. When the hinges creaked on the connecting door, she winced but continued her mission, quickly discarding the sheet on his bed and pulling the gown over her head. With silent steps, she returned to her room.
“Coming!” she yelled, just as another round of pounding ceased at the door to the hallway. “My goodness!” She fanned her face as she opened the door.
“Oh, thank heavens.” Hilde crossed herself, pushing past Brendan and wrapping plump arms around her. “You gave this old heart of mine quite a fright. Are you well?” She stepped back, turning Rynne in a circle as she looked her over.
Rynne gave a little laugh, her eyes finding those of Lord MacCailín. “Yes. Quite well, actually. Just tired and… well, I had need of dealing with delicate matters.”
“Of course, dear.” Turning toward Brendan, Hilde shooed him away with the waving of her hands before linking her arm in Rynne’s and leading her toward the wardrobe. “Master Brendan has afforded you full access to these fine garments, my lady, though if you will allow, I believe I know the perfect gown for your trip.”
Rynne bobbed her head toward the older woman. “I would be honored and truly appreciative of your assistance, Hilde. In fact, if I could, I would take you home with me.”
They laughed and Hilde gave her a bit of a side hug while looking over her shoulder and winking at Brendan. When she turned back, Rynne dared a peek at the door. Brendan inclined his head in her direction before turning away. It was filled with enough warmth to cause her cheeks to flame as she listened to him humming—a sound that continued beyond the door that connected his room to hers.
Light steps took Brendan back to his room. The bright smile Lady Katrynne had flashed at him caused another surge of arousal. He’d never imagined a night so magical as the one they’d just shared. Not that he was a stranger to the magic found when sheathed in a woman’s warmth. But this had been different, so right in every way.
Walking to the bed, he ran his finger beside the crimson swatch on the linen before he began to fold it so that no one would find it and he might preserve her dignity on their wedding night. He breathed through another wave of raw desire. He’d imagined she’d be a passionate lover from the kiss they’d shared, and she hadn’t disappointed. The thought of her soft skin pressed against him had his body growing harder still.
He turned, pulling the rope that would summon his squire. The sooner they left for Honorcrest, the better it would be for all of them.
Chapter 9
Rynne was surprised by the number of men assembled in the courtyard when Brendan escorted her out so that they could get on their way.
“Do you leave anyone to defend your castle?” she asked him quietly when he moved to assist her onto the palfrey that had been chosen for her.
Brendan chuckled. “There are men aplenty who will stay behind, though your safety is my main focus.” He laughed again as he swung into the saddle of his destrier. “I assure you, I have no fear of anyone getting through my gates.” Straightening his shoulders, he began to move, her horse falling in beside his and his men closing in around them, all without a word being spoken.
He smiled at her as they moved through the gate, awe causing her jaw to slacken when she realized why he had little worry. Locktonhurst had not only been built on the side of a sheer cliff that they had to wind their way down, but another wall had been erected below, complete with moat and guards. It would have taken a massive army to get into his fortress.
“My family has owned these lands for a long time. We've fought many battles and had more years to learn how best to protect what we hold dear.”
Rynne nodded, swiveling in her saddle so that she might take it all in. She noticed the Dragons on the portcullis as they passed under the arch and into the unprotected lands of Karthmere. She felt no fear though. This man, she sensed, would give his life to protect hers if he had to. And anyone wishing either of them ill would have to go through his men to get there. She found it hard to believe there were those out there who would be dumb enough to try.
The day passed without event, though Rynne had stayed close by Brendan’s side. Ev
en in those moments she’d needed to relieve herself, he’d insisted that her safety was more important than her privacy. He had, at least, preserved some of her dignity by turning his back and commanding his inner circle of men who were charged with her care to do the same, even as they encircled her at a respectable distance. Rynne had rolled her eyes at first, but as darkness began to overtake them, she was glad for his attentiveness. The scurrying of small animals sounded much larger and was more unsettling in the fading light.
When the low-burning fire they’d used to cook their meals was extinguished, nothing but the stars and moon to light the woodsy area where they had all begun to make their beds, Rynne felt true concern for the first time. She was bone tired and sore from riding for so long… not to mention the previous night’s activities. All of that adding to the fact that she’d never spent the night without a roof over her head, set her emotions on edge.
Brendan had told her when they set out that it would be a much faster trip and they’d pass through with less detection if they stayed clear of all towns and abbeys. Wanting only to get home, she had agreed wholeheartedly without thought to where they would sleep or the inconveniences of traveling in a way the knights were accustomed to but no lady ever would be.
Now, she looked up at the sky growing steadily darker and felt a tear forming in the corner of her eye. She willed it away. Emotional outbursts weren’t routine for her and she certainly didn’t want any of these men to think her weak. Wishing for a soft pillow, she turned her face into the rolled blanket beneath her head so that no one would hear, only to feel a warm body sliding under the blanket that covered her.
“Fret not, my love.”
Brendan’s voice tickled the back of her ear, his breath warm as it fanned across her cheek.
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