by Beth Mikell
“Darrius,” she breathed, arching into him. She gasped as he moved between her thighs, pulling her hips up to rest on his lap, draping her legs over his forearms
His hard length brushed her entrance.
A shudder ripped through him.
Darrius leaned forward, resting his hands on the floor on either side of her, holding the hypersensitive position without moving. His eyes bore down into hers. He longed to bury himself deep within her body, yet he held back. He pulsed. He wanted to hear his name slip over her lips. Never in his life had he ached for anything more than Brenna’s sweetness, her passion, and her scent to bathe him.
“I have waited so long for you, Brenna,” he rasped. “Say. My. Name.” He dragged each word out with low intensity until his jaw gnashed together.
Brenna shook her head from side to side. She lifted her arms to reach out for him, urging him closer.
Sweat beaded his brow as he waited, his body racked with flames. “Know who possesses you. Say it,” he growled.
“Darrius!”
He slid deep into the exquisite wonder of her body, groaning as her warmth enveloped his hard length. He may have died from pleasure.
****
Brenna’s body bowstringed, and she panted through the delicious feeling until he was completely sheathed within her. “What have you done… to me?” she whispered, her lips skimming over his bearded jawline.
A shudder ripped through him. “Made. You. Mine.”
Gasping, her belly tightened deep, tunneling her against hot sensations, and she held on. Every nerve ending was ablaze with sweet sensitivity as he edged her closer to release. She held onto his forearms as he set the rhythm, and fire burned deep inside her belly. She was near sweet death. Darrius took her breath, her heart, and her sanity with the strong force of his body. Both mindless, they rolled through a myriad of shudders in pursuit of heaven. They lunged higher through the labyrinth of skin over flesh—drawn closer than two people ever soared.
Her heart sang and her voice wept, “Darrius!” And she shook hard until she arched up against him, her body milking his shaft with rhythmic intensity.
****
Darrius grasped her hips in his hands and held on. His pace climbed higher. A guttural groan tore from his throat. “Brenna!” He jetted within her body—shaken and empowered. Hell no longer existed. Heaven was within reach. Nothing mattered… except her. He eased his pace to a sensual stop. He kissed Brenna’s lips one last time, rolling over and pulling her to lie across his chest.
He caressed a hand down her back.
He stilled.
Then he tensed. His stomach roiled as he ran his hand over her skin. The telltale signs of crisscrossed wounds were evident. He closed his eyes inside a painful realization: she had been beaten.
He ached for her. God, how he ached.
Her suffering was so great that he could only surmise her inflicted injuries came from her dishonorable father. Heartache ripped through his soul, and tears stung his eyes. And he had never cried for anyone before. Ever.
Brenna was beauty incarnate to him. To imagine anyone treating her with so little respect enraged the retribution beast within him. He held Brenna, closing his eyes. A sense of protection surged through him, and a peacefulness stole over his entire being.
****
The room grew cold sometime later that night after the fire dwindled to nothing. Darrius gathered Brenna in his arms and took her to bed, fitting her snug against his body. Though she had not fully awakened, Brenna sighed his name in her sleep, and he smiled.
“My little dove,” he whispered, tightening his arms around her.
Dangers still existed, but for the first time in years, contentment stole over the Imperial Arm, and he slept.
Chapter 10
Strains of sunrise peeked through the window, and Darrius stroked Brenna’s hair. The soft strands sifted through his hands—just as he imagined the first days after arriving. So soft. It was pure silk like the woman.
“Darrius?”
A smile curved his lips at the sound of his name, but he only made a deep, throaty sound. He was so blessedly content that he did not want to shatter the peace with words.
“How did you become an emissary for the king?”
His hand stilled out of habit. The need to conceal thoughts, form lies, and control his emotions twisted through him. It was an ingrained art of protection from years of service. “It would be best—” Darrius began.
“I know, not to tell me.” Brenna said and he chuckled. She raised up on one elbow, looking into his face. Then she reached to caress his beard. “Please?”
He took a deep breath. “I was in the king’s service as a royal bodyguard. Not to exaggerate, but my reflexes and weapon usage was above average.” He shrugged his shoulders at his skill. “It was like I knew the next move of my enemy before he could make it. I uncovered many plots against the king and saved his life many times, yet I always came away unscathed,” Darrius explained.
She stroked his chest hair, while he continued, “Five years ago, I took a potentially fatal arrow intended for the king by stepping in front of him, and the arrow caught me in the chest. The king took notice of the service. He ordered his personal physician, and a room at the palace. He made sure I was kept alive.”
Brenna gasped. Her fingers searched his chest for the scar. “Here.” Darrius drew her hand to the right of his chest above his nipple. “I was unconscious for days with fever.”
Tears glimmered in her eyes and she lowered her head, brushing a kiss over the scar. Her watery eyes surprised him. No one had ever cried for him. No one had ever showed him true compassion, except for his closest family, yet Brenna had. Her siren sensuality called to him even though it would be in his best interest to push her away. However, he accepted everything she gave him and allowed her to heal him.
Darrius cupped her face, leaning up to catch her tears with his tongue. “Shh… do not cry for me. It was a long time ago,” he whispered, his eyes soaking in her unmeasurable beauty.
“Nay, my love.”
Darrius stilled. He held her gaze and he forgot to breathe. “Brenna.”
****
Mortified and embarrassed, she tried to turn away, but his grip prevented her. “It’s too soon. Let me go,” she said, vying for her freedom, but he prevented her.
“Do not hide from me. Never hide,” he said gruffly, rolling her over onto her back. He settled against the center of her body. “Tell me,” he rasped.
She drew in a fast breath, her heart ramming against her ribs. She could not say it—should not—would not, but she did. “I love you.”
He ran his tongue over the seam her lips in a teasing promise and he pushed the tip of his shaft inside her body. The sting of pleasure pumped through her blood, taunting her. He had her open: mind, body, and soul. She savored the promise of what was yet to come.
“Tell me again,” he said.
Heat flooded her cheeks and she tried to hide. She treaded a hand through his hair, hoping to pull him closer to her, but he kept his mouth from her.
“Please. I need to hear it,” he whispered, his eyes glowing with pain. His expression was drawn tight. “I have been lost for too long, Brenna. Do not withhold your sweet words from me. I need your purity.”
“I love you, Darrius,” she breathed and his mouth took hers. A moan hummed her throat.
As if tasting heaven for the first time, their tongues met, exploring every hidden crevice and every sensuous curve. His beard teased her cheeks, rubbing softly against her skin. His hands stroked up and down her body, pulling her closer.
She tore her mouth from his lips, her breath heaving, “I am your woman, Darrius. Take everything that I am.”
“Oh God…” He trailed his lips down her neck and over her breasts. His mouth latched onto one rosy nipple, lapping the tight bud.
Brenna arched into his mouth, still not satisfied.
He shifted, his hand teasing down her flat
stomach. One finger slipped inside her, his eyes never leaving her face.
Her breath rushed out between her lips at his touch. “Darrius… please,” she begged, unsure what she wanted, but her hips writhed against his hand.
“Brenna… let go, little dove. Let go.”
She found a fast and sensual pleasure, shaking until she cried.
He gathered her in his arms, pushing deep into her softness. “Brenna. My sweet, sweet Brenna.” Darrius kissed her softly with the movement of his hips, taking them both higher and higher.
“Oh, Darrius,” Brenna moaned, arching up into him. Her hands joined his and he raised them up over her head, pressing down. He filled her completely.
Utter possession sang and they wept their release together.
****
Darrius and Brenna helped each other dress, snatching kisses and intimate caresses with secret smiles. She buckled his sword around his waist, her hands running up over his chest.
“Honestly, I did not know dressing a woman could be as entertaining as undressing one,” he teased with a playful wink, adjusting her gown around her shoulders. His hand traced down the Order of Blackstone, and pride filled him.
A soft giggle escaped her lips and she punched his arm. “You will pay for that!” She lunged forward to tickle his ribs, under his arms, and he tried to grasp her wandering hands.
Darrius knew he could over power his sweet beauty, but he did not try. Her laughter fed his heart like music to his starving soul. No sound ever trebled so wonderful or gave such pleasure. Finally, he drew her forward, winding both her arms around her back loosely. He took her mouth with his for several long moments, and then he drew back.
“Do you surrender, my lady?” Darrius held her captive.
“For you? Always. But, I will only truly concede if you promise I shall be the only woman you ever dress or… undress.”
He inhaled sharply, releasing her arms. “I pledge my oath to you, my lady, but only if you promise not to make me dress you too often,” he countered, a gleam of commitment reflecting bright in his eyes.
Brenna tilted her head back, her smile easy. “Absolutely, warrior.” She met his lips in eager response.
Their mouths clung softly, igniting another flame, yet the sound of panic and raised voices drew them apart. Stunned, Darrius let her go, and hurried to the window. He was greeted by the sight of a fire. Great clouds of black smoke billowed up into the morning sky.
“Dear God… Fire at the stables!”
Brenna ran to his side, peering at the flames as they licked higher and higher.
The people of the keep scurried inside panic. Knights, men, women, and children scrambled to get water and stamp down the flames and save the trapped horses. “I must go and help them,” Darrius said with urgency.
She grabbed hold of his arm as he turned to leave, her panic unmistakable. “Let me come with you, Darrius. Let me help!”
He drew her quickly into his arms. “No! Go to your sister, Brenna. The fire and horses will be out of control, and I will be worried about your safety,” he exclaimed. “Promise me, Brenna. Stay in the keep!” His blue eyes bore into hers with desperate meaning.
“I promise,” Brenna whispered, her hands twisting in his tunic.
He pulled her into his arms, squeezing her tightly into his chest. He drew back, and kissed her forehead, and then searched her worried eyes. “Keep your promise, Brenna.”
She nodded as he strode for the door. “I will,” she called out. “Be careful... my love.”
****
Darrius ran to the burning stables, as his retinue of knights barked orders at a line of people passing buckets of water. They were in a rush to stifle the flames, licking higher and higher. Covered in black soot and sweat, Rowan stood at the head of the line, dumping buckets of water on the spiraling fire with Angus the Strong as fast their hands could grasp the containers and heave.
“Rowan! What in the hell happened?” Darrius covered his mouth from the smoke, his eyes searching the chaos.
Rowan broke the line and gave his place to Nyle of McLeod, his brother. “I don’t know, my lord. ‘Tis like the devil opened his gates early!”
“Are all the horses out?” Darrius coughed from the acrid fumes.
“Nay, my lord. Dugan, Simon, and other knights are inside,” Rowan replied.
“And Ian? Where is he?”
“Down below the keep, my lord. Colin sent him there to fetch Thomas.” Rowan knocked Darrius out of the way as three horses barreled out of the blazing inferno.
“Holy hell! Where is Colin now?” Darrius searched the crowd of people running every direction, but instead of waiting for his cousin’s answer, he took a deep breath and ran inside the burning stable.
Darrius could barely see through the haze of smoke and he ripped open latches on the stall doors, moving quickly out of the way from the crazed horses. He found Dugan and Simon trying to free a breeding mare.
Beams overhead moaned in threatening demise. “Dugan! Simon! Get out of here!” Darrius yelled as a beam fell, clipping his left shoulder, pinning him to the ground.
His knights rushed to his side, lifting the beam. The knight’s evaluated the situation. It was a decision time: save the mare or their lord. The choice was obvious.
****
Brenna rushed into her sister’s chamber and found her dressing.
“Are we under siege?” Linnea braided her hair with quick motions.
“Fire in the stables!” Brenna ran to the window, watching the chaos of men, women, and even children help fight the fire. Her gaze searched for Darrius, following him with her eyes.
“Should we help them?” Linnea came to stand beside her sister.
Brenna shook her head. “Nay. We must stay here.” She remembered her promise to Darrius, yet inside her heart bled to know how he fared—if he was all right.
She chewed her bottom lip. Her heart drummed wildly against her chest for the man who captured her heart and turned it into tender love. Her love for him, took her by surprise, giving her hope for a future. A real sense of belonging filled her. She could only hope that the fire would not take him from her.
Darrius. Everything of him willed Brenna into love and purpose, unlike anyone she had ever known in her life. Not her beloved sister, not her dead mother, not even her power-greedy father. To lose Darrius would mean an end to her existence. Drawing in an unsettled breath, she pushed aside all unwelcome thoughts of him succumbing to injury.
“How could this have happened?” Linnea whispered.
Brenna shook her head. “I do not know,” she murmured softly, but her mind raced for some way to help. “Linnea, we should prepare bandages for anyone that is injured and fresh water. Make haste!”
Quickly, both sisters moved to the door, throwing it open. They both gasped in unison, as Colin rushed up to them in full combat armor, sword drawn and smeared with blood.
Both women jumped back from him.
“Lady Brenna,” Colin heaved. “Forgive the intrusion, but we are under attack! Lord Gunther asked me to take you and your sister to safety at once.”
“Oh, Brenna!” Linnea reached for her sister’s arm.
She arched an eyebrow, ignoring her sister’s cry of panic. “Attack by whom, pray?”
“It has not been determined, my lady,” he said, shaking his head. “Please, it’s imperative that you and your sister come with me. There is a bolthole below the keep and horses await us. Please, my lady, we must hurry!”
Brenna was unsure whether to leave or not, but she had to believe that Colin, being one of Darrius’s trusted knights, spoke the truth. Yet, her promise to Darrius not to leave the keep surged through her mind. Furiously, she tried to weigh out the right and wrong of the situation to see if deceit played a foolish game with her. She only knew she had to find Darrius first, even at the expense of his anger.
Without turning to her sister Brenna said, “Linnea, retrieve two mantles, quickly!”
; The young woman went as she was bid, handing one to her sister and then they followed Colin down the stairs. Brenna turned toward the great hall in her quest to exit the main entrance.
Colin’s sword came up to block her. “My lady, please come with me. We cannot exit that way,” he commanded, his cold, blue eyes unrelenting.
She bristled. “You will remove your sword from my path, Colin the Loyal. I would speak to my lord directly before I abandon my home and my husband.” She raised her chin in brave protest.
“I do not advise that,” he said with deadly calm, his face hardening.
“Brenna...” Linnea whispered.
“Turn around and we will exit the keep as I instructed.” Colin marked each word with distinct clarity. “Now move! I do not relish the thought of killing you both, but I will if I must.”
Brenna peered around the hall, looking for a servant or a knight, but the hall was empty.
“There is no one to save you, my lady,” Colin sneered as if reading her thoughts. “Move!”
The women backed away toward the direction Colin indicated. They moved by his terse directions down the winding stone stairs below the keep. The musty passage was dark, dank, and barely lit. The clipped sound of their footsteps echoed in their wake.
“Walk faster!” he demanded.
Linnea stumbled at his loud voice, while Brenna pulled her sister up to keep pace with her.
They came to a heavy door and Colin pointed his sword at Brenna. “Open it.”
She pushed the door, entering another dimly lit room with several cells lining the wall. An agonizing groan resounded heavily in the thick darkness.
“Who is that?” Brenna turned to her captor.
“Walk,” he said tersely.
As they strode past the last cell, the door stood ajar. A man lay in the doorway, his blood pooling underneath. Recognizing Ian, Brenna dropped her sister’s hand and moved to him. “Oh God, he is hurt, we must help him.” She dropped to her knees beside him.