“How could ye have heard them?” she asked. “I have only just done so.”
“I have excellent hearing, a gift from both my father and my mother. Although my father claims that my mother’s hearing is enough to make him hang his head in shame.” Heming smiled faintly. “He says she can hear a butterfly sneeze in London.” Heming was pleased when Brona smiled fleetingly.
“One of those gifts ye mentioned, eh?”
“Aye, one of those. Will ye come with me to Cambrun, Brona Kerr?”
It was probably not the wisest thing to do, but Brona nodded. “Only until I can return to Rosscurrach without fear of being forced to marry Angus. I truly cannae abide the mon. I ken it sounds foolish but I believe marriage to that mon would slowly kill me in spirit and mind if nay in body.”
“It doesnae sound foolish. He would destroy a woman with your kindness and compassion.” He smiled when she blushed but before he could say anything else their companions had returned.
“‘Tis verra near dark,” said Colin as he entered. “Are we to leave now?”
“Aye,” said Heming even as Brona moved to start packing her small bag of belongings. “Brona will go with me to Cambrun until it is safe to move back here.” Since he did not have many belongings to pack, Heming moved to pack up the food and wine.
As Brona settled Havoc into a large woolen sack so that she could carry him, she became aware of a thick silence around her. She turned to look at the men and they were all staring at her or, more exactly, her cat. Brona had the feeling that she was soon going to be involved in a lengthy argument.
“I cannae leave my animals here,” she said. “Hervey or Angus would kill them.”
“Ye cannae take the cat, Brona,” Heming said gently.
“He kens how to travel—“ she began, even though it was the whole truth, for she had never traveled very far.
“Nay. If we had horses, I might consider it, but we will be walking, mayhap have to run and hide at times. I believe Thor will do just fine, but nay the cat, nay when ye have to carry him all the time. If naught else, ye could lose him along the way and that would grieve ye, aye?”
“Aye, but I cannae leave him here. If he was caught by my cousin, all of Hervey’s anger would fall upon Havoc.”
“We will leave him with my mother,” said Colin. “The laird willnae recognize one cat from another outside of the keep. The beastie will be weel cared for, I promise ye. My sister Fiona will be that pleased to have him and care for him.”
Knowing what a sweet girl Fiona was, Brona reluctantly agreed. When they slipped up behind Colin’s home just outside of the village, his mother hurried out to greet them and readily agreed to care for Havoc. Feeling a little foolish for her urge to weep like a bairn, Brona ignored the men as she explained to Havoc why she had to leave him behind and advised him to stay close to Fiona until she returned for him. She then stiffened her spine and walked away with the men, silently promising herself that she would return even if it was only to collect her cat.
Brona turned her thoughts to what she now faced. She was about to go on an adventure at the side of a man who made her blood run hot. She would see things she had never seen and might even have to flee danger a time or two. A part of her was terrified while the greater part of her was excited. When Heming took her hand in his and smiled down at her, Brona decided that whatever she faced in the days ahead, it would all be worth it for she would be sharing it all with him.
Six
“I miss Havoc.”
Heming smiled as he latched the door to their room. It was going to be very fine indeed to spend the next few hours until sunset cloistered in a locked room with Brona. Feeling that they were safely secured inside, he walked over to the small table where Brona sat staring at the food the maid had brought them. They had only been traveling for two nights and as much of each day as he could withstand without weakening. Except for a few short respites from the company of the others, this was the first time he and Brona had been left completely alone and Heming had every intention of taking full advantage of it.
Glancing at the heavy blanket Brona had hung over the window as he sat down, Heming realized that he was still surprised at how accepting of him the Kerrs were. He knew the trust of the men was still a little tenuous, but, to his delight, Brona appeared to fully accept him just as he was. With every step they took toward Cambrun the feeling that he was walking beside his mate grew stronger.
“Havoc will be fine,” he said as he helped himself to some of the still warm bread. “Ye could see that Colin’s wee sister liked the animal.”
“Aye, and he liked her.” Brona smiled faintly. “I ken that he will be weel cared for, but I am used to having him about.”
“Ye will again have him leaving piles of fur all o’er your gowns verra soon.”
Brona laughed and nodded, but quickly grew very serious. “Aye, once Hervey is gone. I understand that ye must end the threat to your clan, but Hervey is my cousin—“ She stuttered to a halt when he placed his hand over hers.
The fact that his slightest touch could affect her so was a little embarrassing. Since leaving Rosscurrach he had kissed her again, several times, and each time she had felt far more than her body heat and melt at his touch. Her wits appeared to do the same and it was always Heming who knew someone was approaching, ending the kiss before they could be caught acting so wantonly. Each kiss left her aching for him more than she had before. Brona knew what that aching meant, what her body wanted from him, and the fact that she was not terrified by that both stunned and worried her.
Sir Heming MacNachton was not just some knight she might be able to have a future with. He was so different from her it made her head spin simply thinking about it. It was not just the fact that he drank blood, either, or had the fangs to do so. He could hear better than anyone, could see in the dark like a cat, could heal so fast she still questioned the truth she had seen with her own eyes, and he would undoubtedly still look much as he did now when she was bent and wrinkled. The fact that he would not age while she did was one reason she knew it was foolish to fall in love with him. Unfortunately her heart did not seem aware of that one particularly large problem and seemed to be setting itself right into his elegant hands.
What she feared now was heartbreak, utter devastation when they finally parted ways. Such a coward she was, she thought with disgust. Brona was sure many women had faced such a thing, had even suffered it, and survived. When he held her in his arms, she felt as though she could conquer the world. If there were even the smallest chance of holding onto that, would she not be a complete fool not to try and grab hold of it?
She inwardly shook her head over her own inability to decide what to do about Heming and her rapidly growing feelings for him. Brona suspected she had spent far too many years cowering before Hervey’s rages and had lost whatever daring and courage she might have once had. Each day they drew nearer to the end of their journey and she really did not have the time to wrestle with all of her fears and doubts. Unfortunately, if she decided to be brave and daring and reach for what she so badly wanted, she was not sure she knew how to do so.
“Brona,” Heming said, resisting the urge to ask her what she was thinking about so strenuously that her eyes were a little cloudy, “I will confess that there is a verra large part of me that wants to cut your cousin up and feed him to the carrion birds, but there is also a verra good reason aside from that. He threatens my whole clan. He is part of a group of men who wish to see all MacNachtons dead—mon, woman, and child. I cannae let him continue on that path and I see no chance of talking him into stepping off of it before he does more than what he did to me.”
“And that was bad enough,” she murmured.
“Aye, and I wake in a sweat from dreams of him or men like him getting hold of one of my family.”
She nodded as she began to eat some of the thick mutton stew the maid had brought them. “I but weakened for a moment. He is a wretched mon. Cold and cruel. Yet,
every now and then all I can think of is that I have so few kinsmen left. I can count them on the fingers of one hand. ‘Tis sad that good ones have died yet a mon like Hervey lingers to make so many miserable.”
“I also wish him dead for what he has done to ye.”
“Me?”
“Aye. He has made your life a misery, given ye a fear that ye will be a long time shaking free of, and beaten ye. From what ye said about his wanting ye to marry Angus, I think he has also stolen from ye.”
“My dowry,” she murmured and felt the stab of anger. “I didnae e’en ken I had one. Hervey certainly has done nothing to try and see me married yet I am two and twenty. Now I think some of that is because he didnae wish to have to give away whate’er my dowry is.” She sighed and helped herself to some bread to sop up the thick sauce of the stew. “I believe I shall just nay think on it any more. Hervey has set his own fate and ‘tis nay longer my concern.”
“Good. Now eat and then we can rest so that we are fit and strong to travel tonight.”
Brona nodded, knowing she needed to eat her fill, for the two nights of traveling they had already accomplished had shown her that she was not quite as strong as she had thought she was. So far the journey had offered her a lot to see and the good company of Heming, but no real adventure or danger. Hervey was hunting for them, however, and she needed to remain strong enough to fight or escape him if the need arose.
By the time they had finished the meal, Brona was yawning. The fact that she was about to share a bed with Heming, even fully dressed, should have made her nervous, but she was simply too tired to care. And that was very sad, she thought with a faint smile as she crawled onto the bed, closing her eyes the moment she settled her head on the pillow.
Heming grimaced as he yanked off his boots and climbed onto the bed. Brona muttered something as he pulled her into his arms but he could tell that she was already more asleep than awake. He was tempted to take advantage of that, but pushed the temptation aside. When he made Brona his he wanted her to be wide awake and fully aware of every kiss, every touch. For now it was enough just to hold her close as he slept. Before they left the room, however, Heming was determined to make her fully his, for there might not be another chance to get her alone before they reached Cambrun.
Brona smiled as lightly calloused hands stroked her. She was a little surprised that her dream had grown so explicit considering her lack of experience and knowledge. Heat flowed through her with every touch of Heming’s hands and she savored it, drinking it in like the finest of wines. The touch of his warm lips upon the side of her neck made her shiver with pleasure. She reached back to thread her fingers through his soft hair even as she tilted her head back to give him greater access to her throat and murmured her delight when she felt the scrape of his teeth against her skin.
His teeth? a slowly waking part of her mind asked. Brona frowned, certain that she would not have put that in her lovely dream of sharing a passionate moment with Heming. It was true that letting him take her blood had made her feel all hot and needy. But she was still not sure she was comfortable with that need of his. Brona was fairly sure she would not have dreamt of such.
“Brona, love, ‘tis time to wake up,” said a familiar deep voice, soft lips moving against her ear in a way that made her stomach clench with want.
“I think I may already be awake,” she murmured but did not open her eyes.
Heming laughed softly and lightly nipped her ear. “Then look at me.”
“Must I?”
“Aye, for I wish to kiss ye.”
There was a soft rumble to his voice that Brona realized was a sign of his desire. It fed her own desire almost as much as his touch did. Considering her utter lack of experience with men and desire, she was surprised she could recognize his so easily and feel it increasing her own.
Slowly she turned around to face him, making no move to slip free of his embrace. His golden eyes were dark and warm as he looked at her, the heat in them slipping into her blood. Brona knew what he wanted, knew she was wrong to want it too. He spoke no words of love or a future for them. Men did not need any deep emotion to feel lust. Brona felt deeply, however. Her passion came straight from her heart.
Give in, a voice whispered in her mind as he brushed soft kisses over her face. Just once take what ye want. And, oh, how she wanted, she thought as he teased her lips with soft, nibbling kisses. It was the voice of temptation whispering in her head and she knew it. Brona also knew she should ignore it as it was the sort of thing that destroyed all too many women.
When he slid his tongue into her mouth, stroking the inside in a way that had her trembling from the strength of her desire, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. Brona knew it was probably a big mistake, would probably cause her a lot of pain in the future, but she was going to give in to temptation. There had been so little joy in her life since the death of her parents and she was hungry for some, no matter how fleeting that joy might prove to be. If she had to do a penance for it, she decided it would be a small price to pay for all the sweet, heady memories this beautiful man would give her.
“Brona,” Heming groaned as he kissed her throat, “do ye ken what I want?”
“Aye, I ken it,” she whispered, not surprised to hear the tremor in her voice. “I want it too, although I will confess that I am nay all that sure of what it might be.”
Even as Heming began to unlace her gown, he said, “It is me deep inside ye, love.”
She swallowed hard, amazed that such blunt talk should make her womb clench with delight. “Will that include a lot of kissing and touching?”
“Och, aye, loving, as much as I can bear ere I go mad with the wanting of ye.”
“That sounds lovely.”
“Are ye sure ye are awake, love, and aware of what ye are agreeing to?”
“Verra awake and verra aware.”
Slowly tugging her gown down, Heming followed the line of her collarbone with soft kisses and light sweeps of his tongue. “I just dinnae want ye to have any regrets.”
“Do ye ken? I ne’er thought a mon would work so hard to talk a lass out of what he wants.” Brona spoke with a touch of humor in her strangely husky voice, but she did want him to stop trying to make her think twice about her decision. She feared he just might succeed in making her change her mind.
Heming grinned against her skin and then finished tugging off her gown. As he began to unlace her shift, keeping them both dazed with kisses, he decided she did know what he wanted and what she wanted. If she did suffer any embarrassment or guilt after the loving ended, he felt he would be able to soothe it away. In the way she gasped and trembled, even in the heady scent of arousal on her soft skin, he could tell that she wanted him nearly as much as he wanted her. He wanted far more than her desire, however, but he would work for that prize later. Every instinct he had, from both sides of his family, was demanding that he take possession of her now.
The moment he had her stripped of her clothing, he sat up just long enough to throw off his own. Even in the short time that took him he could see that her desire cooled a little. Heming quickly returned to her arms, feeling himself tremble with the strength of his need for her as their skin touched for the first time. She fit him perfectly and her every rise and hollow called to him to touch and kiss the soft skin he could feel pressed so close to his.
Brona gasped as she felt the warmth of his skin press against her. Her hands trembled as she reached out to put her arms around him. A little tentatively she stroked his broad smooth back, savoring the feel of taut warm skin stretched over hard muscle. Feeling him tremble beneath her hands made her bolder, reassuring her that he liked her touch as much as she liked to touch him. Holding him like this felt so good she feared she might do something very foolish like swoon.
When his kisses reached her breasts, she tensed and then shuddered from the force of the desire that tore through her body. Brona arched into the caress of his tongue, whispering her
pleasure. When he slowly covered one hard, aching nipple with his mouth and suckled, she arched up off the bed as fire shot through her to set a blaze in her womb.
Heming feasted upon her full breasts using his hands, mouth, tongue, and even teeth to make her writhe beneath him. It was difficult to keep his wits about him as she turned to pure fire beneath his touch, but some small still sane part of him kept reminding him that she was a virgin, that he needed to be absolutely sure she was ready for him before he plunged into her hot depths as he ached to do. Sliding his hand down her flat belly, he slipped it between her thighs. For one brief moment she tensed and he feared he might have shocked her right out of her desire. Then as he lightly stroked her, her body softened and heated beneath his stroking fingers.
For as long as he could, Heming stroked her and kissed her, murmuring words of need and desire against her skin as he tried to prepare her for his entrance. Finally, knowing that he would spend himself upon the sheets like some untried boy if he was not inside her within the next few heartbeats, he slowly began to enter her. He was shaking from the strain of going slowly when all he wanted to do was thrust into her and keep on thrusting until they both reached paradise. When he reached the shield of her innocence, he took a deep breath and then thrust forward as hard as he could, bursting through and settling himself deep inside, and covering her mouth with his to catch her cry of pain.
Brona fought the urge to shove the man right out of her arms and off the bed. That had hurt. It took her a minute of thinking how disappointing this was before she realized that he was not moving. After kissing her so that she would not rouse everyone at the inn with her screech, he had buried his face in her neck and was very still. His breath came hot and fast against her neck and the slow caress of his hands began to restore the desire the pain of losing her innocence had caused.
After another moment of enjoying the way his mere touch could warm her blood, Brona realized she felt no more pain. It was being replaced with a very strong need for him to move. Cautiously, she moved her legs and wrapped them around his trim hips. A soft groan escaped him as that drove him even deeper inside of her. He thrust forward a little but stilled again. Brona had savored that short movement and decided that was what her body was now crying out for.
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