Marin's Promise (Borderland Ladies Book 1)

by Madeline Martin

  “I'll no' take my chances.” He nodded to Anice. “Eat.”

  She glowered at him. Marin gave a little laugh, as though this was all some silly thing and pulled the trencher toward her. She sliced off a piece with a knife from her belt, plucked it free with her fingers and slid it between her lips.

  Bran swallowed. He was so bloody hungry that he would probably eat the food even if it was poisoned. Hell, he wanted to lick her fingers clean.

  Marin chewed the small bite, then slid the trencher before him. She lifted his goblet and put it to her sensual mouth. He did not once take his eyes from her, watching as her slender throat squeezed in a swallow. His own throat burned, desperate for the flow of rich wine.

  “Not poison.” She set the goblet in front of him. Her fingers slowly released the cup, the movement almost a caress. His blood went hot. A fine meal and a finer lass. All his baser needs would be sated tonight.

  He let his gaze slide down her in appreciation, making the effort to keep from looking as desperately hungry as he truly was. And dear God, he was ravenous. “Thank ye.”

  Her mouth lifted at the corner, coy and welcoming. His stomach gave a savage growl. He only hoped the din of the room was such that she hadn’t heard. Leila, however, grinned impishly up at him.

  He raised his brows at her and waggled them. The grin widened.

  Bran sliced a hunk of venison with his blade. Thick gravy dripped from the meat and his hand began to quiver with near desperation when he pulled if off his eating dagger.

  These women had doubtless never gone a day without eating. Despite the bitter thought, he forced his movements to slow as he ate the first bite.

  The morsel was tender, and his teeth sank through it without having to even chew. The herbs hit his tongue with more flavor than he'd ever tasted in his life, something pleasantly savory with a hint of earthiness. Exquisite.

  He took a second bite and third, then noticed the sisters pointedly watching him. He popped a fourth into his mouth and regarded them as he chewed. Ire rankled him. He’d tried to follow all the rules of the table for the ladies and still his eating had somehow caused offense.

  He hadn’t wiped his mouth on his sleeve; he’d pulled the meat from his eating dagger rather than biting it directly off the blade. He hadn’t even used the blade to pick his teeth. A bowl of water sat beside him. Shite. Rich men always washed their hands before eating. Damn their ostentatious and foolish ways, and damn him for trying to appeal to the lot of them.

  His eyes narrowed.

  “My sisters were wondering at the cause of your arrival and questioned the length of your stay,” Marin said sweetly. “They also would like to know what has happened to our soldiers. I was uncertain how to answer.”

  In truth, he didn’t know how long he’d be there. At least until Warden Kerr could get enough troops over to take the castle. All of it would be based on how events played out at Berwick. A war was brewing between England and Scotland, and this land was a crucial piece in the chess game of wealthy men.

  Like all those without a title, Bran was simply a pawn.

  “The soldiers are alive.” He put another bite into his mouth. It was exactly as good as the first few. He could happily become a fat man on food such as this. “They’re in the dungeon, but we dinna intend to harm them.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Anice asked. “Why would you threaten to hurt Cat, and bring your men in here? What do you want from us?” She glared at him openly now, no longer fearing Marin’s wrath.

  Marin, for her part, did not tell her sister to stop this time.

  “I took this castle intentionally without harming more than the one unfortunate soldier and I’ve no intention to hurt any of ye or yer guards.” He took another bite and waited until he swallowed before speaking again. “That’s all ye need to know.”

  It was ridiculous to put on such airs for the benefit of these ladies. But then again, to do so, to win their affection, would make the people of Werrick Castle more compliant. He’d heard too many tales of the people rising up against usurpers. And who knew how long Kerr would take to come for Werrick Castle?

  His gaze skimmed over Marin's face, noting the lusciousness of her lips, the fairness of her skin. He could only imagine her flushed with pleasure, her mouth and cheeks red, her blue eyes heavy lidded.

  Aye, having the lovely noblewoman would be the perfect bit of sweetness after so filling a meal. He cut another piece of venison for himself and noticed none of the sisters had taken any for themselves. Now he was grateful he’d made them test it for poison.

  “But surely you will not harm our soldiers.” Catriona offered a tentative smile, even as hurt flashed in her eyes, despite the optimism of her words. She looked away, no doubt recalling the man Bran had cut down .

  He ate another slice of venison and drank deeply from the goblet of wine at his side. He didn't have the opportunity to drink wine often. Even when he had, it was usually sour with age and of poor quality, certainly nothing so fine as the rich spiced wine in his cup. He drained it in one gulp and found his starved stomach already overly full.

  “We will discuss yer soldiers when I speak privately with Lady Marin.” He rose from the table and winked at the eldest sister. “I’m ready to retire.”

  Her face went red. Aye, like that. He wanted all of her flushed exactly like that, under him and moaning in passion. His cock began to swell with longing.

  “What does he mean?” Ella asked. “Are you going to have a private discussion without us?”

  Marin put up a hand to cease her sisters' complaints and got to her feet. She turned from her sisters and lightly bit her lip. “I'd like a moment to prepare first.” Her voice was low, sultry; it teased over every nerve in his body and left prickles of gooseflesh, raising the hair on his arms.

  Most likely she wanted to wipe her body off and apply more of her clean-smelling lavender water to her intimate places, the very places he intended to explore.

  But, if Lady Marin of Werrick Castle needed a few minutes, he'd give her the time she needed. For soon, she would in his bed. And in the meantime, he had a missive to pen for Kerr. Bran’s end of the bargain had been fulfilled.

  Marin was going to kill Bran.

  Her decision had seemed so easy earlier in the evening when she’d seen him with Anice, when he had reached out and caught her hand. Marin had wanted to kill him then, but when his men outnumbered her own two to one, it was wise to be prudent.

  Nay, it would be best to do it alone, when there would be no surrounding army. And there was no better way to get a man alone than to seduce him.

  Marin's hands shook so badly, she could scarcely fasten the jeweled belt around her waist.

  Anice pushed Marin's hands aside and deftly fastened the clasp before readjusting it into place. “Is there nothing else we can do? Entertain him, get him drunk. You saw how fast he drained his wine. It would be easily done.” Her gaze was desperate when she looked up at Marin, desperate and scared. An uncommon look for the sister who was always so effortlessly composed. “Please, Marin.”

  “I must do this.” And Marin would. She had to. In order to protect her sisters, her home. This was her mistake to make right, and she would do so without putting anyone else at risk.

  “At least take Piquette,” Anice said. The large dog lying next to the hearth lifted his head at the sound of his name. “He’ll keep you safe.”

  Marin shook her head. “I cannot attempt this with Piquette in the room.”

  The dog watched the exchange with dark eyes, his floppy ears perking at the second mention of his name.

  “This is foolish.” Even as Anice spoke, her fingers were at work plucking at Marin’s fabric and fiddling with her jewelry to make it all just so. “You cannot let the reiver have you. No man will marry you after that.”

  “Have her?” Catriona flopped down on a cushion on the ground near them. “Why wouldn't a man marry you?”

  At only sixteen, Catriona had remained
blissfully ignorant of what transpired between a man and a woman. That all the sisters had been able to remain innocent in such dangerous times was a testament to their father's diligence to their care and the stronghold that was Werrick Castle. But the older three had heard stories of what happened to captured women and had tried their best to keep the younger two sheltered.

  Bran had said he would not take a woman by force, but what of his men?

  “You know I have no intention to marry.” Marin ran her fingers through her long hair to ensure no tangles remained. “It’s why you’ve been able to become betrothed to your Timothy before any engagement was announced for me. Besides…” Marin lowered her voice. “It will not come to any of that.”

  “Any of what?” Catriona grinned impishly.

  Piquette, who apparently realized he was no longer part of the sisters’ conversation, rested his large head back on the floor.

  Ella gave an excited gasp. “What if we can find poison to apply onto your dagger? Leila, can it be done?”

  Leila, who had watched everything with her small lips tucked against themselves, shook her dark head. “I’m unaware of a poison that can coat a dagger. At least one to kill a man.” Her mouth screwed to the side. “And I chance it to say, it might not be good to have him dead.”

  The sisters all went still and stared at her.

  “Because he’s a good person in his heart?” Cat guessed. “And this will truly become the greatest love story of all time?” She put her hands dramatically over her chest and pretended to swoon. “Ella, you must write all this down.”

  Marin laughed, her nerves making the sound high-pitched. In truth, she knew exactly what she was getting into. Not through experience, but through knowledge gleaned. It had been she, after all, who had caught their Master of the Horse with the maid in the stables.

  It had piqued her curiosity. And while she did not anticipate getting to the point of…of…copulation, the anticipation of a kiss held great appeal.

  Because she would have to kiss him and touch him. A trill of excitement shivered through her, no matter how much she tried to tamp it down. He was handsome in a wild way, those dark eyes intense as they devoured her.

  She shivered and the tips of her nipples tingled. But she could not think such things. Nay, she would need to focus on him as the opponent he was. He was clever; he’d proven that by how he’d gotten into the castle. And he was strong, at least in her summation based on how his visible forearms and neck were corded with muscle.

  What would it be like to touch such a strong body? What would he feel like under her fingertips?

  Death. She reminded herself with the word in steely resolve. For she would need to kill him.

  “I do not wish you to hurt him,” Leila said with finality.

  Of everything said in Marin’s preparation, this was the one that gave her pause. Leila saw things others didn’t, felt things in ways others could not.

  Anice carefully slipped the dagger into the front of Marin’s belt where the length of gold metalwork fell in the fashionable “Y.” It perfectly concealed the dagger, which was why she'd borrowed the belt from Anice. Likewise, the dress she'd borrowed had been one of the latest styles with a lower-cut neckline, hopefully a better distraction than her own more modestly cut gowns.

  She only wished it was as easy for Anice to lend her effortless charisma and confidence.

  “If not his dagger, then we could poison his wine,” Ella offered, ignoring Leila. “I read in a text once where a bit of belladonna could be added to his cup. Anice was right; he drank quickly at supper. He would never know until it was too late.”

  “And if he makes me drink it again?” Marin said. “Nay, I must kill him if we want them all gone. His reivers are not loyal men. No reiver is. His men will be easily dispatched when they no longer have their leader to guide them.”

  “What if he's a good man?” Catriona asked. “Did you see something, Leila?”

  Leila simply shrugged, either unable or unwilling to share what she might know. Oftentimes she did not see everything fully. It was a skill Marin did not encourage either, not when it was so dangerous.

  Anice scoffed and set to work brushing Marin's hair over her shoulder and pinching her cheeks to give them color. Marin waved off her sister's preening. “He's taken over our castle, Cat. He's not a good man.”

  “Yet he did so without killing any soldiers other than Eversham and that was because Eversham—” Cat’s voice caught. “Eversham wouldn’t have let anyone take me.” She pursed her lips and gently shook her head. “But Bran didn't once hit me, even when I hit him. Nor did he leave a mark from his dagger on my throat. He was careful. Intentionally so. I could tell.”

  It was true. Cat had emerged without even a scratch on her. Marin had noticed as much. Most men would have struck Cat back when she hit him, but the reiver had not.

  Marin swept her hands over the length of her borrowed gown. “I'm ready.” At least as ready as she might ever be.

  Anice set her slender hand on Marin’s forearm. “Please don't do this, Marin. What if you are caught?”

  Marin met her sister’s eyes. “I won't be.”

  Ella rushed forward and hugged Marin with all the strength in her seventeen-year-old body. “I do wish you'd try the belladonna.”

  Cat came next and threw her slender arms around Marin in a hug. “Please give him a chance.”

  Marin knelt in front of Leila, who had watched and listened with her customary pensive silence. “You needn't worry, Leila.” She smoothed the girl's dark hair from her face.

  The youngest sister nodded with sage wisdom. “I know.” Her smile was shy and secretive. She did not protest Marin’s departure again, making Marin wonder at what little Leila might be foreshadowing with her sight.

  Regardless, her assuredness helped quell some of the anxiety rattling through Marin. With a final kiss on each sisters’ head, the way their father always did before battle, Marin departed.

  Her nerves returned as she traversed the darkened passageways and tried not to hear the echo of strange men's voices around her. The candle in her hand trembled and cast a wavering light over her path as she headed toward the chamber Bran had claimed–her father's chambers.

  She had never even kissed a man, and yet she was intent on seducing one. What sort of a fool was she to assume she could?

  He was an attractive man; she would give him that. The thought of his lips on hers made her pulse race a little faster with anticipation. Would his dark beard prickle against her mouth? Would it be bristling, or downy? Would he touch her body?

  The thought left her breathless.

  These musings made her question her decision to have her father refrain from contracting any betrothals for her. Clearly, she had interest in a husband. Or at least copulation.

  And mayhap Catriona was right. He might be kind.

  Marin paused in front of the door and her heart slammed against her ribs. This man would touch his mouth to hers, put his hands to her body, at least until he was cajoled into a sense of complete unawareness and then she would attack.

  She had killed men in battle on many occasions. This would be no different. Bran's strength would outmatch hers, aye, but she had the benefit of proper training. His skills would be rough and hers refined.

  Suddenly, she found herself hoping he would not be kind after all. For if he touched her affectionately and gave her consideration, how could she watch the light fade from his eyes as he died?

  Her breath came out in a shaky exhale. If she had so many advantages in her favor, why then was she so nervous? If he had taken the castle, how could he truly be a good man?

  Yet if he was, could she bring herself to kill him?

  “Are ye going to stand outside my door all night?” The masculine voice came from the other side of the door. “Or are ye going to come in?”

  Marin started. This was it. She would need him to put down his guard with her, to lull him into a sense of comfort. She h
ad to be a seductress.

  She pressed the latch on the door. It creaked open, the sound low and ominous as it scraped over her nerves. Light from the hearth glowed orange gold in the room, transporting the familiar room into a place of sin and temptation. He stood just before the flames, his dark hair combed sleek and his stance wide with authority. The man she intended to kill.

  3

  Bran forced himself to remain by the fire as Marin entered. The woman looked like an angel with her blonde hair swept becomingly over one shoulder. She'd put on a new gown, this one cut lower over her chest, revealing the rounded tops of her breasts. His heart pounded in a hard, steady rhythm of lust.

  “Close the door and approach,” he ordered.

  The lass did as he bid, gently closing the door behind her and sauntering toward him. Her hips swayed back and forth enticingly. He wanted to skim his hands over them and up her narrow waist. His cock was already beginning to thicken at the very thought. She stopped in front of him and looked up, taking him in.

  He'd bathed. For her. The bath had arrived without his orders, the suggested request apparent. He’d resented it, knowing he wasn’t clean enough for the likes of her, that he wasn’t good enough. But he’d done it, and now it was time for his prize.

  His dark hair still dripped at the ends and soaked through his shirt. The heat of the fire had dried his skin and kept the chill of the night at bay. Of course, with this beauty in his bed, he would not feel any bit of the cold.

  He touched her cheek. God's bones, her skin was impossibly smooth. He swept his thumb over her full bottom lip. Her breath whispered over the back of his hand. Every part of his body seemed to be on a level of heightened awareness and soaring sensitivity. He regretted having not rubbed away his longing earlier, to ensure he did not lose himself too quickly with her.

  He lowered his face and brushed his mouth against hers. Aye, she was sweet. He gently swept his tongue inside the heat of her mouth. A little moan sounded in the back of her throat.