by Nicole Locke
‘I can feel your eyes on me, lass,’ Bram said, his voice lowering a tone as if in warning.
‘You asked me if I find anything pleasing about you.’
‘Nothing came readily?’
‘Nae.’
He tilted his head back a little. A grimace, a wince before he released his hands from his hips and took a step away. ‘I deserved that, nae doubt.’
‘Doona move.’
He stopped as if surprised and looked over his shoulder.
She stood. ‘I’m still considering.’
Bram turned and held still. If possible, he held more still than before and there was no sense of humour in his eyes. Instead, his eyes were somewhat...heated. ‘This negotiation is becoming difficult.’
‘You’re merely standing there. How is that difficult?’
‘It’s your eyes, Lioslath. Your eyes are going all over me.’
‘Nae one can feel someone’s eyes looking at them.’
‘I could feel yours if they were on the other side of the ocean.’
‘Are you jesting?’
‘’Tis romantic sentiment. I’m wooing you.’
‘We’re married.’
‘Aye, but it appears you doona like anything about me, so I have to use words.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I can’t keep to my bargain.’ He clasped his hands and rolled back on his heels. ‘I know I’ve made our agreement difficult because I’m asking to renegotiate our terms, but I made a mistake. You standing there like that, and knowing what I now know, I realise that I made a mistake. If you keep looking at me like that and not stating your current position on our terms, I’m going to break...’
Bram threw his arms in the air. His hands, long, lean, strong even in his frustrated state, noticeable to her before he put them again on his hips.
‘Nae man could keep to...’ His voice trailed off. Words stuck in his throat. Or at least it seemed like it when his eyes went wide and he stared at her.
‘Your eyes, love. They’re on me.’ His voice was low, almost hoarse. ‘Are you still considering if there’s something pleasing about me?’
‘Aye,’ she said. His hands, his fingers along his hips. They drummed his agitation and there was a certain strength and grace in the way they moved...
‘You’re looking where nae maiden should be looking unless—’
Did he think, did he believe, she was looking at— ‘Your hands,’ she blurted out. ‘I like your hands.’
‘My hands.’
He felt closer to her, although she hadn’t seen him move. ‘I like your hands.’
‘Lioslath.’ A different question to his voice, as he truly stepped closer until she could touch him. Until he could touch her. ‘Is this your counter? My hands, are you adding my hands to this...marriage?’
She was aware of the heat from his body, but she was also aware of his size and indomitable strength. Too much strength and too close. The awareness inside her was almost painful. Far more than when she held still for his kiss.
‘Aye,’ she said. Of course she added his hands to the marriage, as well as the rest of them. Were they to negotiate on every body part? She already pledged her body, but now couldn’t remember if he pledged his.
‘You...drive a hard bargain, Lioslath. You do. I have underestimated you. Again.’
But Bram didn’t care. In this, he couldn’t care. She agreed to new terms. Agreed to something physical between them. And she added his hands, which were suddenly sensitive to the very air around them. Greedy to feel the softness of her skin, the heat and the give of her curves. His hands. Not even touching her, his hands felt the palpable heat of anticipation.
Oh, she surprised him. She was complicated, like his desire for her. They must have a temporary marriage, he warned himself. But one that might no longer be hell. He was allowed to touch her, to find pleasure with her.
‘This may be more difficult than before, but I’m a desperate man. You’ve made me desperate with your—’
‘Crease between my brows?’ She could feel it herself with this strange conversation.
‘Aye, exactly that, but I accept your terms.’
Bram took her hands in his, slowly walked back until they reached the bed and sat her down next to him.
She didn’t remove her eyes from the way he held her hands together almost casually. But it didn’t feel casual. Not the way Bram was fluttering his fingers around hers. Her hunting had scarred and roughened them, but held by his they looked small, almost delicate. And they felt that way as Bram’s thumb pressed and caressed along her palm.
‘What is it about my hands you like?’ he asked.
The scrapes and cuts he earned today were already healing. Scars so deep, they must have needed stitching. Calluses from the sword and shields. From the different ways he trained over the years. From throwing thatch on rooftops, from carrying benches into courtyards.
‘They’re...capable,’ she said.
Bram’s fingers caressed again, long sweeps of his fingers as his thumbs pressed and swept over her inner wrists.
Then he released her hands, but she didn’t release hers. She felt and heard the hitch to his breathing as she started to trace his fingertips. She couldn’t say anything and apparently neither could he. But other sounds filled the silence. Like the cadence of his breath, which increased and matched her own.
As he held his hands in front of her, it didn’t feel like Bram’s teasing approach to her in the forest. There, she’d been certain Bram wanted to kiss her. Now she wasn’t certain at all what he would do. Bram was doing nothing but holding his hands out to her.
Before she knew what she would do, she leaned down and kissed the back of one hand. Then the other.
She felt the tension in him now, alive, and against her. Felt the little shiver go through him at her kiss and her own body mimic his. She felt it increase as he turned his palms upwards. Waiting. Feral. Like her forest with its beckoning wildness. It compelled her to him. She might not know about marriage nights, but she knew how she felt and she wanted more of it, wanted more of Bram.
He was beckoning and dangerous with his warrior-roughened hands, and she kissed the centre of each palm. Slowly, wanting and yet startling at the heat of them, the smell of leather, ale and Bram. Heart thundering in her chest, she straightened to see Bram’s hands slowly furling. As if enclosing her kisses in his palms before he rested them against his thighs.
‘Lie down.’ Two words roughly said. As if the words escaped before he could stop them.
‘Bram,’ she whispered. ‘Will you...? Are you lying down with me?’ She wanted that now. Wanted to kiss more of him. Feel his kiss. Why hadn’t he kissed her yet?
He quickly looked away and roughly exhaled. Inhaling, he bent to throw off his boots. ‘You’ve added my hands to this marriage, Lioslath. Do not worry, but do not ask for more. I will not break our bargain.’ Reaching to her shoes, he quickly untied them and threw them to the corner as well. When he straightened, his eyes went past her to the bed. ‘Lie down, lass. Please.’
She didn’t know why she obeyed him now. Maybe it was his talking of bargains and she knew he didn’t break his word in negotiations. Maybe it was his voice, or how he held still for her touch. He was always moving, she didn’t know he had that stillness in him.
‘Aye, that’s it, place your head there. Like that.’
Bram might have said he’d use only his hands, but he used his voice as well. She knew it because she moved just as he had told her.
‘I’ll keep to your bargain. You’ve added my hands to this marriage. But it’ll be you directing them.’
She started as he placed a hand under hers and then somehow linked his fingers with hers.
A huff of breath left him, a sound deep, primal,
his fingers flexing, her fingers flexing along with his. When his thumb moved, so did hers.
‘Take my hand, Lioslath.’
She lowered her eyes again, riveted by her hand over his. She had the control, and yet he supported her.
‘Bram...’ she said, certain she didn’t know the way of this.
‘I cannot do more than this. Not tonight. It’s the way you look, lass. It’s that spot above your lip, the ones I can see behind your ear. It’s the fact I need to ask for more, but I know I can’t offer more tonight or I’ll break our agreement. But...there’s a need. I feel it in you. I see it in your eyes. It’s there for me, too. So take my hands. Make them capable. I won’t do anything more.’
She didn’t understand his need for agreements. But she understood the urgency behind them. It was the way he used his words. She wanted him to keep using them. ‘Tell me how.’
‘Oh, lass, you can’t—’ He breathed in deeply, lying down next to her. On his side, she felt the width of his shoulders and his legs against hers. Such little points of contact, but they were enough. Too much. They held hands and that was too much.
‘Where are your moles, Lioslath?’
What did spots have to do with his hands? ‘Along my body.’
‘And your legs?’
‘Maybe.’
A shudder from him. ‘Lie on your side. Like that.’
She did and felt him adjust along her back. His breath was warm against her neck. His legs were kept away from hers, but the bed was small, and she felt those as well as his arm over her. The unfamiliar weight anchored her to the bed. She liked him anchoring her to the bed.
‘Do you know what you need? Do you know what you want?’
‘Nae.’ She knew nothing of husbands and wives. She certainly didn’t know of this odd languidness flowing through her from Bram’s touch. Or her crisp awareness of the room surrounding them with dimming candlelight, of the bed’s softness, of Bram pressed behind her, of the cadence of their breaths.
‘I’m rearranging your gown, lass, just a bit, just enough.’
He drew her gown’s layers slowly above her knees. But it wasn’t only her skirts he touched. She felt his fingertips caressing along her leg as well, the back of her knee, along the outside of her thigh. ‘Is this what you want?’ he whispered. ‘Here, like this?’
It was and wasn’t. The feeling of his fingers she touched, kissed, had started a feeling...but rearranging her gown wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted more. ‘Nae.’
A soft ragged chuckle as he clenched her skirt again and tugged a bit more. So she felt more.
Cool air against her legs, the heat of his body behind her and the rough and unfamiliar cadence of his breathing.
‘Bram, what do you do?’
His weight shifted against her. She felt the ephemeral brush of his lips against her hair as he pulled her closer. Like this, she was curled against him, her clothing seemingly covering her, but her legs lay open; his hand between her thighs like a secret.
‘Do you want to know what my hands are capable of?’ His voice at her ear sent shivers through her.
‘Aye,’ she whispered in the dark. She did. Whatever it was she felt, she wanted to feel more of it.
‘Then take your hand and place it over mine.’
She moved restlessly. ‘My hand?’
‘Aye, rest your hand on top.’ He laid his hand flat against her thigh, and she tentatively rested her hand on his. She felt the slight shudder that went through him, the low growl of sound he made that somehow she understood.
Only then did he move his hand. Yet this time it wasn’t only Bram’s fingertips, but her own against her skin. Unexpected, frightening...and yet somehow complete. In the darkening room, she watched his hands and hers. Watched as they skimmed higher on her leg to where she wanted him to be and yet...
‘Open your legs for me.’
She couldn’t.
‘Just a bit, just a little. Only my hands, nae more.’
Had they bargained for his hands? If so, she didn’t know how it came to this. Her hand on his felt wicked; her widening her legs even more so. It felt wicked, but wanted. And so she did.
‘That’s it.’
More grazing touches. The skimming became sweeping caresses. His palm rough with calluses was gentle, urgent. Her hand on top of his trembled.
‘More,’ he whispered, flattening his palm along her thigh. Closer until he swept his roughened fingertips against her curls; until his fingers dipped a gentle swipe against her.
A sound from him, a sudden movement of his hips against hers until he stilled. He stilled, but everything inside her was restless. Her breaths, coming in fast, sounded desperate in the quiet. She felt a want before, but this was an ache. Worse than an ache. She curled her hand on top of his, desperate to be released, desperate to continue.
‘Nae, keep your hand on mine. Feel what my hand can do.’
His voice, his words. So she did.
His fingers glided easily between her folds. She kept her fingers against his, but she couldn’t think of her hand when all she felt was the heat of his, the rough calluses, the gentle slide.
‘What you do to me,’ Bram whispered.
‘What I...do to you?’
A broken chuckle. He rolled his hips deliberately against her. ‘This is what you do to me.’
She shuddered at his low words, at the feel of him. She tried to remember how he looked, hands on hips for her inspection. Had his body been like this? Hard, unyielding against her curves. For a wild broken moment, she wanted to look.
‘I’m needful, I’m hurting and you lied about spots on your legs. They’re there, lass, they’re there. But this is your bargain, not mine. Please let me.’ He adjusted his fingers, opening her up even more. Her own fingers curled against his knuckles. ‘Place your fingers between mine.’
‘Between?’
‘Entwine them.’
If she did that, she’d be touching herself...while he touched her. Incapable of words, she shook her head.
‘Do you want to know what my fingers are capable of? Show me how you need to be touched.’
Trying to change their positions, she moved her hips. But he anchored her with his arm, which was holding her gently, firmly, reassuringly. Just as his fingers swept down and held still.
She couldn’t stand it. Not when he swept his fingers over her, not when she felt his ragged breath that matched her own. Not when she felt this...need. Caressing the back of his hand, feeling the hot heat of his palm against her, his long, blunt-tipped fingers already there, she lowered her fingers on top of his.
‘Aye, lass, aye...’ he breathed.
Unable to continue, she couldn’t move her fingers, couldn’t lower them. It was too much. Too much. He held agonisingly still. Beckoning. And, oh, so feral. ‘Please,’ she said. ‘I can’t. I want...’
Then his fingers entwined with hers and swept the glistening skin he exposed. ‘Like this?’ he whispered. Wicked words. Urgent words. ‘Is this what you need, my fingers like this, my hand like this?’
Shivering with need, she nodded. Barely perceptible, but her answer was there. And he answered in turn. She felt surrounded by his need. By her need escalating under his stroking fingers. Entwining and tightening between her fingers. More gliding, purposeful caresses as one finger pressed just at her entrance, then her world broke apart.
* * *
Bram ached. An agony he had never known and he didn’t want to take away. Not when Lioslath slept in his arms. Not when a part of her resisted him even now. It was the way she held her body away from his. A defiance and tentativeness he didn’t expect, but should have.
He’d seen it himself. How she held herself proudly apart but still longed for her clan and siblings. And just now the wa
y she couldn’t hold herself apart any more and he couldn’t either.
And it was... He couldn’t think of the pleasure now.
He also couldn’t feel satisfaction on keeping to their terms. No doubt, he’d experience a marriage night like none other. One that was heaven and hell. She linked her fingers with his and lovingly kissed his opened palms. All of that could never be unfelt. Though their marriage was temporary, he knew how he felt about this night was permanent.
His arms flexed to pull her close and he restrained himself. This was the first night of many that could not be consummated. It wouldn’t do feeling this closeness with Lioslath. And yet it was there. He blamed it on that almost-kiss.
Chapter Fifteen
‘Wake, Lioslath,’ he whispered. ‘I’ve come to take you hunting.’
‘Hunting?’ She sat, not in eagerness as he hoped, but in wariness, and then her wariness became suspicion. ‘Nae one takes me hunting.’
This didn’t bode well. ‘Doona you want to go?’
‘Why?’
He should have been expecting that question, but he wasn’t. Nor was he expecting the look she gave him as well. But he couldn’t blame her. After all, it was early and things between them were in a constant state of push-and-pull.
‘I want you to show me.’
‘Show you what?’
She gripped the blankets tight around her. As if she wasn’t fully dressed, as if she was bared to him. Then he couldn’t smile at all as his thoughts went from spending the day with Lioslath in the forest to...spending the day with her indoors.
‘How you hunt,’ he said.
‘I thought you believed me.’
‘I do. I know you hunt and I want to share it with you.’
‘Is this because of last night?’
Last night, this morning, it didn’t matter. Her confession and truths from the stables continued to disquiet him. But last night, and how she responded to him, shattered all the protectiveness he felt and wrapped it tightly with desire. Untried, he thought their hands entwined and touching her skin would overwhelm her. But each response she gave only fed his own until she cried out in pleasure and he was consumed. Theirs was a temporary marriage, but a part of him would never be free of her.
