From Undone: A Storm of Love, A Novella

by TERRI BRISBIN

  “I . . . ,” he said, pausing as he tried to put the words together for the rest.

  “I . . . ,” she said at the same time, pausing as he did.

  Breac laughed at the simple irony of it and she smiled.

  Holy God in Heaven! When she smiled . . . he lost his breath and his mind at the splendor of it. Though none of her features, other than her eyes, could be called beautiful, when those did sparkle, they lit up her face with a radiance he could feel in his own heart.

  “I know you are confused and have many choices to make about your life, but would you consider coming with me to care for my sister?” He blurted out the whole question at once. Breac could not remember feeling so nervous about anything as he did over this. His stomach tightened, his mouth dried, and he held his breath as though her answer would determine his next one. “I can pay you,” he added, as though it would help.

  She smiled again at his offer and nodded. “You have paid me more than enough already,” she whispered. “I would come and care for her, as long as you have need of me. ’Tis the least I can do for you, Breac.”

  His body reacted then, both to her smile and to her words and to the sound of his name on her lips, as visions of their two bodies, sleek with heat and sweat, entwined in passion, flitted through his thoughts. He could feel his thrusts into her womanly flesh, hear her cries of completion, and even taste the saltiness of her skin as they coupled. Breac cleared his throat and pushed those thoughts away. He was not asking her to be his leman, only a companion and caregiver to his sister.

  “Can you walk?” he asked. “We have far to travel.” His question sounded stupid even to him, but he needed to say something to banish the images of heated embraces that still threatened.

  “I am feeling much stronger now,” she replied. “I do not think I can keep up with your long strides, but I will try.”

  The silence between them as they began was companionable, and he did not try to comprehend the improvements in her condition. He just accepted them because they could not be explained. He did need someone to help with Fenella and he sensed she would be able to help in ways he could not yet understand.

  “Tell me of Fenella,” she said after they’d walked for another quarter hour or so. He noticed that she kept her voice low and in one tone, but pushed away any thought of questioning her about it.

  Breac felt his spirits lightened as he spoke of Fenella, her kind personality, the responsibility he had of her since their parents’ death, the sweetness that everyone remembered about her, and many, many other things. When he thought he was finished, she asked about the illness and he went on. Some of the revelations were easy things to speak of, some were not, but he continued until he had no more words to use about Fenella.

  Aigneis had not spoken other than to ask him more questions; the rest of the conversation had been one-sided. For the first time since she’d fallen ill, he’d spoken to someone else about his beloved sister and shared his hopes and his fears.

  The miles moved by quickly and, although he slowed his pace, they made up much distance over the hours. Though clouds built in the sky, it did not rain, and Breac offered a prayer of thanks for that. If the weather held clear for another two days, he could be home.

  After stopping for another meal break later that afternoon, Breac began planning for the coming night. As they moved north of the glen and further inland away from the coast, the air grew a bit drier, giving him hope for an easy night. Watching as the sun dipped lower in the sky, he began searching for a sheltered place where they could sleep.

  The road followed the path of the stream and they walked uphill as it meandered into the highlands toward the lake that would lead to his village. When the road leveled once more, he found a clearing in front of an outcropping of rocks, almost like a small cave, and decided to use it for the night. Within a short time, as the day’s light faded, he’d built a fire, cleaned out their stone shelter of remnants of brush, and prepared a place to sleep within it.

  Aigneis offered to set out their food, so he decided to take advantage to the closeness of the water. He’d not washed in days, not his usual custom, and his skin itched from the dampness of the rain and the dirt of the road. He took the soiled shirt she’d worn along with him and, after explaining his task to her, he headed for the stream.

  Chapter 6

  Aigneis watched as he strode away from the shelter. Deciding not to take out their food until he returned, she did sort through it and choose something for them to share. She noticed that one of their skins was empty, so she made up her mind to fill it before it was full dark. Following the path he had but turning uphill just as she reached the water’s edge, she dipped the leather skin into the rushing water and let it fill.

  She only then realized that it felt good to be needed and useful. After so many years of being made to feel like a burden to others and forced to know she was unwanted, knowing that she could help and would help, brought her a satisfaction she’d not felt in a very long time. And by the time she was not needed by Breac and his sister, her mind would sort through her choices and accept one.

  Aigneis stood with the heavy skin in her hand and lost her balance, stumbling and landing on her bottom. She managed to keep her grasp on the skin so it did not float off downstream in the water. Laughing to herself, she began to climb to her feet but the sight before her stopped her. Some yards downstream, blocked by some brush, Breac stood.

  Naked.

  He walked out of the bushes to the water’s edge and crouched down to wash his body.

  Aigneis’ own body reacted to his male form by sending waves of heat then ice through her veins.

  His strong arms connected to a wide muscular chest that was covered with black hair, which tapered down below his narrow waist and hips before covering his prick. His thighs were like tree trunks, even more muscular than his chest. She thought his body closer to the Sith prince’s, when in a human form, than to her husband’s, and her entire body warmed as she thought about touching the curls on his chest and stomach and . . .

  He turned then and she glimpsed his back. It was no less impressive than the other part of him, with each limb and back and buttocks covered in muscles that rippled as he moved. Her mouth went dry as he bent over, splashed water on his skin, and then rubbed it to clean himself. She’d felt those muscles, that strength, as he’d lifted her, held her on her feet, carried her from the stream, and then when he’d lain with her in the night.

  What would it feel like to couple with such a man? To feel his strong hands running over her skin and to have him push his hardened . . .

  Shaking herself free of such gawking and fleshly thoughts, she scrambled to her feet and walked back to the shelter. Her face grew heated and the place between her legs grew both heated and wet as she remembered his form, his flesh, and his strength. That heat threatened to burst into flames when he walked back from the stream wearing only his trews.

  Aigneis tried not to notice the way that garment lay loose over his hips, or how his stomach rippled as he leaned forward and tossed his other wet clothes over bushes to dry. Or how his arms flexed as he reached up and tied his hair back with a thin strip of leather. He finished and approached and Aigneis realized the food was not ready!

  She quickly opened a cloth on the ground and placed the roasted meat, cheese, and last chunk of bread there. He reached down for the skin she’d dropped and hefted it in his hand. She could tell the moment he noticed it was filled and then when he realized what she had done and where. The heat of embarrassment crept further into her cheeks and it was all she could do to keep from covering them with her hands.

  They ate in silence, as she considered about this situation. She’d coupled with a man, well, a male, when she thought it was for love and with her husband when she knew it was for duty, but her thoughts today involved neither of those. Donnell’s disavowal of their marriage was accepted by everyone, except her, and it meant they were no longer man and wife. But Aigneis had been
faithful to her vows and had given her oath to remain his wife until death.

  Men of noble status always had a leman, and ’twas not unusual at all for them to couple with women other than their legal wives. Some of higher and royal status even had concubines, but women were expected to do their duty, accept their husbands’ attentions, and bear his children.

  She gazed across at Breac as he ate. She’d not asked him about a wife. She never thought to ask such a question of him, with his attention focused on his sister. He wanted her, ’twas clear in the way he looked at her, but would it be as leman? Would she supplant someone else in his bed? Somehow, she could not imagine him taking a mistress while married.

  “Do you have a wife?” she asked. Better to know than to be surprised later.

  He choked on the food in his mouth and had to cough several times to clear it and be able to breathe. “Nay,” he finally said. Drinking some water, he finally felt as though he could speak. “Though once my sister is well, ’tis something that Lord Malcolm would like to see accomplished.”

  Breac could see her thinking on his words and wondered what she would ask next. He thought her silence through dinner had been out of embarrassment that he knew she’d spied on him at the stream. But this question bespoke of more personal matters.

  “Is your lord interested in your marriage because you are serf? Or family mayhap?” she asked as she tossed the last of her bread in her mouth and chewed it.

  “Family,” he answered. “Though a distant connection, I am cousin to his wife and serve him as a freeman. He would like me to marry and settle permanently with him.”

  Some indefinable emotion passed over her face for an instant and then it was gone. She settled back into silence as they finished their food and packed the rest away for their journey on the morrow. He never claimed to understand the way women behaved or thought, but he suspected she wondered about the coming night.

  As did he.

  He saw her as she ran away from the stream and knew she’d been watching him there. Her perusal since his return and through their meal included moments of plain scrutiny as well as secret glances at his body and his face. ’Twas her body’s reaction that told him she thought about tupping—for each time she looked at him, a blush crept into her cheeks or her breathing grew shallow or, more telling than those, her nipples tightened into peaks he could see pressing against the gown and tunic she wore.

  Breac turned his attentions back to preparing for sleep. He banked the small fire so that it would continue to burn low for a bit longer and then took his cloak and spread it next to the fire, under the cover of the rocks. He sat down and watched her fidget with the sacks of supplies and food and the skins until she’d arranged them and rearranged them several times. Holding out his hand, he made his offer.

  “Lie with me,” he said softly.

  The first reaction she had was that her blush grew stronger until he thought she might burst. Then, she glanced from him to the cloak and back again three times. Her question made him laugh.

  “To sleep?”

  “We did so last night and you came to no harm,” he said.

  Though his body and especially his cock clamored for more than sleeping next to her, his honor would not permit him to demand her favors. He did not force himself on women. And this woman had been forced too much already by too many men and he did not want her to count him among them and their ilk.

  Aigneis walked over to him and took his hand. He assisted her as she sat, then again as she lay down next to him on the cloak. The last thing she did was to pull the kerchief from her head, freeing the mass of curls that he wanted to touch. Holding himself under control, he moved in closer to her and then drew the free edge of the cloak over both of them.

  Within moments it seemed, she fell into a deep sleep, barely moving, barely breathing, as he lay behind her with his body afire with desire for more than sleep. If she were awake, she would have no doubt of it from the size and hardness of his cock, so mayhap ’twas best she slept.

  But it took a long time, with much effort, for him to quiet the raging need within his body and force it to sleep. All the miles walked and sheer physical exhaustion could not compare to the enticement she offered, if she offered, and his body stood ready for any sign from her. The soft snore that escaped her though was not the sign he’d hoped for; it served to calm him down quickly.

  When next he knew it, the night’s darkness was full upon them and he could feel that she’d rolled away from him. Then he noticed that she watched him through eyes that seemed to glow and glimmer. The soft touch of her hand on his face surprised him, but her words shocked him to the core.

  “Lie with me, Breac.”

  If he mistook her meaning, the way she caressed his face, touching his mouth and outlining his lips, and then sliding her hand down his jaw and neck onto his shoulder, convinced him she did not mean to sleep. Her fingers slid onto the bare skin of his chest and she swirled them in the hair there, teasing and tickling in a playful way. But once she spoke again and her voice pierced through him, he did not feel playful at all.

  “Couple with me, Breac,” she said in a breathy voice that spoke of desire and pleasure and need and passion.

  How did she make him feel it in his blood with just words? How was it that the sound of his name on her lips drove him to madness? Her fingers now traced the edge of his trews and, with as loose as they were, she could have slipped inside to touch the length of him easily. His hips thrust forward toward her before he could decide to do it. He prayed her hand would slip inside.

  She moved closer then, leaning up on her elbows and nearer to him. He struggled to control the growing beast within, but her scent and the nearness of her body let it break forth. As though she knew, she laughed softly and the throaty sexual tone made him growl in reply. And then he moved.

  First he guided her hand where he wanted it to be and then he pulled the rest of her into his arms and took her mouth in a kiss that inflamed him more rather than satisfying his need. She responded by wrapping her fingers around his flesh and sliding it as he slid his tongue into her mouth and tasted her deeply. He nearly lost his breath as she slid her hand lower and touched his balls. Cupping them, she massaged the length of him and then encircled his cock with her fingers once more.

  Breac drew back then, releasing her mouth and hearing her draw in a ragged breath. Before he reached over to loosen the laces of her tunic and gown, for he wanted to feel her skin against his, he paused.

  “Do you do this out of obligation?” he asked, while his thoughts could still be coherent. “Is this because I saved your life?” The rational part within him did not want her gratitude and the irrational part only wanted to bury himself to the hilt in her heated flesh.

  “Would it matter to you?” she asked, her voice surrounding him and making his skin heat.

  “Aye.” His answer an honest one, for he did not want her gratitude. He wanted her desire.

  “This is for pleasure, Breac, not gratitude,” she assured him. Then she leaned her head back and laughed softly, the sound of it echoing through their shelter and out into the night. “Pleasure me, Breac.”

  Chapter 7

  Aigneis meant it.

  For once in her life, she desired a man not her love, not her husband, not someone who could claim her life or her heart, just someone with whom she could share a moment or two of pleasure. When he disclosed his plans for a wife, a burden was lifted from her, for she was neither interested nor able to be such a woman for him.

  First, she was married. Though abandoned by her husband and family and expected to accept the decision, Aigneis knew she could never again take marriage vows with another man until Donnell died.

  Second, she was too old for him. Protected yet from the ravages of age, Aigneis would soon show signs of her true age as the touch of the Sith wore off and she became what she was—a woman of nigh onto thirty-and-five years old.

  Third and worst for a man seeking a wife, she
could never bear him children. If her true age did not soon prevent it, something done by the Sith prince would. Aigneis knew in her soul that she would never bear any man’s children again since she had born those of the Sith.

  Once those matters had sorted themselves out in her thoughts, she knew that she could provide for him something he needed and would need in the coming days—a place to release his torment and grief and passion while he dealt with his sister’s coming death. And in exchange she could share some moments of pleasure before she left him to the life he must have and she to whatever fate intended.

  He moved quickly then and she found her garments not unlaced and loosened, but pulled as one over her head, leaving her only in her shift and stockings. Then, but a moment later, even those were gone, and she felt the heat of his skin against hers and moaned at the intensity of the feeling.

  And he was only just beginning.

  Aigneis smiled then as he stripped off his trews and covered her with his now-naked body. Wrapping her arms around him, she ran her hands over the strong muscles of his shoulders and back and then down farther, cupping his buttocks and holding him tightly. Instead of quickly spreading her legs and entering her as Donnell did, Breac began to ease down her body, suckling and licking her neck and shoulders and on and on until he reached her breasts.

  She gasped at the touch of his mouth on the tip of one and then the other. She arched as he drew it into his mouth and teased it with his teeth and tongue. Aigneis lost control, holding his head close and urging him to do it over and over and over. He laughed now. The masculine deepness of it made her ache within for his flesh to fill hers. Still, he crept lower until she could feel the heat of his breath on her stomach.

  What did he mean to do? Surely not . . .

  She felt his large hand slip between her legs and then the touch of a calloused finger along the throbbing cleft there. Her legs opened for him and he slid one and then two fingers deep within, rubbing against a sensitive spot near the top that made her cry out in pleasure.