Briana

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  look at him. "What little lie, Briana?"

  "About...the vow you made." She licked her lips. "That bargain with

  heaven."

  He nodded. "What about it?"

  She hesitated, then squared her shoulders. "I told you that Mother

  Superior said a vow wasn't really binding unless it was made in

  church in front of witnesses."

  His eyes narrowed. "And that was a lie?"

  "Aye." She bobbed her head. "The truth of it is, Mother Superior

  never mentioned vows. Those made in church or otherwise. I just

  thought that using her name would carry more weight with you."

  At his long look she ducked her head. "I'm sorry. I know I should

  always tell the truth. But you were so determined not to touch me.

  And I was desperate to find a way to change your mind."

  "Briana O'Neil. What a devious little vixen you are." A laugh bubbled

  up from deep inside him, then rumbled free. He threw back his head

  and roared. Oh, it felt so good. His heart hadn't felt this light, this free,

  in years. And all because of this amazing little female.

  She smiled, feeling such relief at his reaction. "You're not angry with

  me?"

  "Oh, Briana." He pulled her close and kissed her squarely on the

  mouth. "How could I possibly be angry when you're such a delightful

  surprise? Although, I suppose I should be suffering from at least a

  little guilt for breaking my vow."

  She pulled back a little, studying him closely. ' 'Are you? Suffering

  guilt?"

  He laughed again. "Not a bit of it. The happiness I'm feeling at this

  moment can't be spoiled by guilt."

  "Ah." She sighed, clearly relieved. "Then you're not sorry?"

  "The only thing I'm sorry about is the fact that I was so rough with

  you." With his finger he traced the outline of her mouth and felt the

  sudden tightening in his loins. "But 1 wanted you so desperately. And

  I'd waited so long."

  "I didn't mind. Though..." She paused, loving the feel of his rough

  fingers against her lips, "...if we're, going to make love again, we

  might want to think about using your big bed."

  He looked up at her. "Are you saying you'd rather not spend the night

  on my floor?"

  "That would depend on how you're planning to spend the rest of the

  night, my lord."

  The look he gave her was so smoldering, she felt her heartbeat

  quicken. "I thought I might show you that loving doesn't always have

  to be so...ferocious. It can also be slow and gentle and tender." As if

  to prove his point, his fingers traced the curve of her cheek, the slope

  of her jaw.

  She moved against him like a kitten. Her smile grew. "Could we?

  Now? So soon? Is such a thing possible?'

  His laughter was quick. And though it seemed incredible, he was

  already thoroughly aroused again. "I'm starting to believe, my sweet

  Briana, that with you anything is possible." He pulled her down

  against his chest and began nibbling kisses along her throat, across

  her collarbone to the swell of her breast.

  Against the softness of her flesh he muttered, "Are you certain you

  aren't a witch?"

  "My mother's family were Celts. It's said there were many witches

  among them."

  "Ah." He dipped his head lower, and heard her little gasp. "That's it

  then. I've been bewitched. I only pray this spell is never broken."

  "Aye. I'll add my prayers to yours. If ever there was a spell that I

  welcomed, it's this one." She sat up and traced the long, thin scar that

  ran from his hip to his ankle. "What is this?"

  "An old wound. It's nothing."

  "Nothing? From the looks of it, it's a wonder you can walk." She

  pressed her lips to his thigh. "I hate to think how much pain you must

  have suffered from this. Oh, how I wish I could erase all your pain."

  Her concern for him touched him so deeply, he could, hardly speak.

  When he could manage, he drew her up and whispered against her

  mouth, "You already have, Briana. Your love is all I need to erase all

  my scars."

  "Let me kiss them all away."

  As she moved over him, pressing her lips along his chest, his

  stomach, the length of his scar, he felt desire rise like a tide until he

  thought he would go mad.

  "Are you doing that just to see how much I can take before I lose my

  senses?"

  She levered herself on her elbows and stared down at those dark,

  narrowed eyes. How had she ever thought him cold and cruel? All she

  could see now was warmth. And need. And seething, burning

  passion.

  "Tell me, my lord. Just how much can you take?"

  He moved so quickly, she had no time to react, as he rolled over and

  kissed her with a thoroughness that had her gasping.

  And then there were no more words between them, as his touch

  gentled and his kisses softened. His warm breath whispered over her

  face. He drew out each kiss like thick, sweet honey, trickling lazily

  over her forehead, her cheek, her jaw.

  This, she realized, was another side to Keane O'Mara. A tender side

  he kept hidden from the world. He kissed her, touched her, as though

  they had all the time in the world. For indeed, they did. Now that the

  storm of first passion had blown over, they were free to taste, to touch

  to their hearts' content.

  Their sighs mingled, as did their breath, as they lost themselves in the

  wondrous pleasures of slow, easy love.

  "What are you doing?" Briana looked up to see Keane leaning up on

  one elbow, staring at her face as though memorizing every line and

  curve.

  Sometime during the night he had carried her to bed, where they lay

  among the tangled bed linens. Their lovemaking had been at times all

  heat and light and speed. Rough with need. Demanding. At other

  times it had been as slow, as easy, as if they had known each other for

  a lifetime. All long, lingering kisses and soft, gentle sighs.

  "I'm watching you. Do you know how lovely you are?"

  "Nay." She gave him a lazy, satisfied smile. "Why don't you tell me?"

  "There's this." He traced the outline of her mouth with his finger.

  "Some might say your lips are too full."

  "And what would you say, my lord?"

  "That they're perfectly formed for my kisses." He kissed her mouth

  lightly. "And your nose." He pressed a quick kiss to the tip of her

  nose. "For something so small, you manage to lift it in the air with

  great disdain when you're angry."

  "Which isn't often, praise heaven."

  "Often enough." He ignored her little snort of disagreement. "And

  those eyes." He kissed one lid, then the other. "I've never seen eyes

  like yours, Briana. One look from them can melt my heart. Or just as

  easily shoot sparks that would singe it until it was nothing but a

  charred cinder."

  She pressed a finger to his lips to silence him. "Never your heart, my

  lord. Only the heart of my enemies."

  He, caught her hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. "And then there's

  this skin. So soft. And covered with all these fascinating freckles."

  "I hate them."

  "Never say that. I love them. In fact
..." He began to press soft moist

  kisses along the parade of freckles that trailed from her shoulder to

  her hip. "I may have to kiss each and every one of them."

  She chuckled and began to wriggle under the assault. "Stop, Keane.

  That tickles."

  A moment later her laughter turned into a moan of pleasure, as his

  lips moved lower, then lower still.

  "Oh, sweet heaven." Dazed at what he was doing to her with that

  clever mouth, all the breath seemed to leave her lungs.

  He glanced up. "Oh. Did you wish me to stop, my lady?"

  She saw the gleam of teasing laughter in his eyes. "If you do, my lord,

  I'll have to retrieve your sword and force you, under threat of death, to

  continue."

  His words were warm with laughter. "Now that I know just how

  skilled you are with that sword, I'd be a fool to tempt you, wouldn't I?

  So, to save my life, let's see where I was. Oh yes. I recall. I was

  following the trail of freckles."

  As the night air was filled with her giggles and sighs of pleasure, he

  muttered, "Ever your obedient servant, my lady."

  "Look. Over there." Briana pointed to the hazy outline of the moon,

  which was quickly fading into the dawn sky.

  The two lovers were huddled on the balcony beneath a blanket,

  watching as the stars began to disappear one by one. In their place

  were ribbons of gold and pink and mauve, and clouds gilded by a

  rising sun.

  "I used to lie in the damp grass of the meadow with Innis and watch

  the sun rise over Croagh Patrick."

  "I hope you were a bit more modestly attired with Innis than you are

  right now."

  She turned her head and looked down her nose at him. ' 'And why

  would I have to be modest with Innis? He was practically my

  brother."

  He burned a trail of kisses across her back that made her shiver. "I'd

  prefer not to think of you naked with any man but me, my love."

  "Spoken just like a man. You make love with a woman and think you

  own her."

  "I don't want to own you, Briana. Just your heart." He wrapped his

  arms around her with a possessiveness that had her breath hitching in

  her throat.

  She turned to face him. "And does that mean that I own your heart as

  well?" She pressed her lips to his throat and heard his quick intake of

  breath.

  "Aye, my love. You own me completely. Body and mind. Heart and

  soul."

  He uttered the words with such intensity, she felt tears spring to her

  eyes and had to blink them away.

  "Tears?" He tipped up her chin. "Over me, lass?"

  "Oh, Keane. I do love you so. I still can't believe you love me, too."

  One tear welled up and slid down her cheek. He kissed it away with

  such tenderness, she felt her heart swell with love.

  And then, without a word he scooped her up and carried her across

  the room to the bed, where he showed her, in the only way he could,

  the depth of his love.

  "My lord."

  At a loud knock on the door, and the sound of Vinson's muffled voice

  from the hallway, Keane opened his eyes. Briana awoke beside him,

  shoving hair from her eyes.

  "My lord." The door was thrust open. Vinson, carrying a tray, crossed

  the room and, as he always did, deposited it on the night table. "The

  servant Cora is in quite a state over our lass. She's missing from her

  chambers and..." The old man's voice trailed off at the sight that

  greeted him.

  The lord was lying in a tangle of sheets, his face a mask of surprise. A

  figure beside him gave a groan of dismay and pulled the bed covers

  up, leaving only a cap of red curls visible.

  "I...Forgive me, my lord. I wasn't...I didn't..." Vinson stood so

  straight, it looked as though he'd swallowed a poker. Then, stiffening

  his spine, he spun away from the bed. Over his shoulder he managed

  to ask, "Will you or the lass be requiring anything, my lord?"

  "Nay," Vinson. Nothing at the moment." Keane's voice was warm

  with unspoken laughter. "But you may want to close the door on your

  way out."

  "Of course, my lord." The old man beat a hasty retreat.

  When the door closed, Keane watched as Briana timidly sat up.

  "Are you blushing?" He tipped up her face for his inspection.

  She slapped his hand away. "Of course I am."

  "You mean you're ashamed of what we did?"

  "Of course not. But I didn't expect to have that dear old man walking

  in while we were...while I was..." She stopped, then said with

  exasperation, "How did he know I was in your bed?"

  ' 'It may have been that lump he spotted beside me. The one with all

  these..." He caught a handful of her hair, "...red curls sticking out of

  the bed covers."

  "Oh, no." She brought her hands to her burning cheeks. "Oh, Keane.

  Why didn't you pull the blankets higher?"

  "It would have been too little, too late, my love." Then he was unable

  to hold back the laughter any longer. When he finally could control

  himself he added, "I thought poor old Vinson's eyes were going to fall

  out when he realized you were here."

  "Oh, Keane." Despite the fact that she was blushing, Briana couldn't

  help giggling. "The poor old dear. How will I ever face him?"

  "The same way you're going to face the rest of the household."

  She gave him a look of shock.

  He couldn't help laughing as he drew her close and pressed a kiss to

  the top of her head. "By now, half the household knows you spent the

  night in my bed. And within the hour, half the village of Carrick will

  know, as well."

  When he heard her little sigh of dismay, he merely grinned. "I did

  warn you, love."

  "Aye. You did."

  He brought his lips to her temple, and nibbled and nuzzled a path to

  her ear. "I know of one way we could avoid seeing anyone."

  "You do?"

  "Uh-huh." He brought his mouth lower, to the sensitive hollow

  between her neck and shoulder.

  She shivered, and he drew her down among the tangled sheets. And

  as he began to explore all the now- familiar places of her body, he

  muttered, "In fact, if you're feeling strong enough, we could hide

  away here all day."

  * * *

  "They're coming."

  The word was passed from scullery maid to cook, from serving

  wench to Mistress Malloy, who stood at the base of the staircase.

  Lord Alcott, looking handsome in black breeches and riding jacket,

  led Briana, wearing a new riding outfit of russet velvet, down the

  stairs.

  "Good morrow, my lord. My lady. Will you be wanting to break your

  fast before you leave?"

  "Nay, Mistress Malloy. Briana and I have decided to ride first. We

  will want something when we return though."

  "Aye, my lord. I'll see to it."

  "Thank you." He glanced toward the front door, where Vinson stood

  staring straight ahead. "Good morrow, Vinson."

  "My lord." The old man softened his tone. "My lady."

  "Vinson." It was the first that Briana had spoken, and the word

  sounded breathy to her ears.

  She'd noted that neither the housekeeper nor th
e butler had looked at

  her. Nor did the many servants they passed on their way to the

  stables.

  "Good morrow, my lord," the stable master called as he led two

  horses, saddled and ready, from their stalls.

  "Good morrow, Monroe. I see you've saddled Eden for Miss O'Neil.

  A good choice."

  ' 'Thank you, my lord. I thought, seeing the way our lass handled

  Peregrine, she'd be wanting a mount with a bit of fire."

  "Aye."

  While the old man held the horse's bridle, Keane helped Briana into

  the saddle.

  As Monroe handed her the reins he gave her a wide, gap-toothed

  smile and tipped his hat. "If you don't mind my saying, you've a good

  bit of fire yourself, my lady."

  Keane saw the slight flush that touched her cheeks as she ducked her

  head and followed his lead toward the distant meadow. As soon as

  they had left Carrick House behind, he slowed his mount and caught

  her hand, lifting it to his lips.

  "You see? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

  "Nay." She took a deep breath. "I suppose it will get easier as the days

  pass."

  Keane squeezed her hand and continued holding it as their horses cut

  a slow, steady path through the lush grass of the meadow. The

  thought of the days and weeks and months of loving that lay ahead

  warmed his heart as nothing ever had before.

  As they crested a hill, he turned and glanced back at the roof of

  Carrick House, gleaming in the sunlight.

  His voice was hushed with the enormity of his discovery. He turned

  to her, loving the softness in her eyes. "Do you know that this is the

  first time since I've returned to Ireland, that I feel as if I've truly come

  home. And it's all because of you, Briana O'Neil."

  Chapter Seventeen

  "What are we to do?" Mistress Malloy twisted her apron between her

  hands as she prowled the library, pausing to wipe at imaginary spots

  of dust.

  When she heard no response from the butler, she turned.

  He was staring out the window at the lovers, who were enjoying tea in

  the garden. "You said you could keep an eye on the master, and

  prevent this from going too far. And now look."

  "Aye." The old man watched as Keane fed a bran- died cake to

  Briana. "But I've never seen him happier."

  "That isn't the point. What about our lass? What will happen to her

  when she learns the truth?"

  Vinson shrugged. "Perhaps she loves him enough to forgive."