by Amy Jarecki
Heather pushed between them. “He rescued us from thieving Gypsies.”
Enya flung her legs over the side of the bed. “Please, Father.”
Lord Ross sliced his hand through the air, his eyes trained on Bran. “You’re dismissed to quarters. Remain there until I decide what is to be done with you.”
A flush spread up Bran’s face. “Someone needs to patrol—”
“I’ve had quite enough of your insolence.” Ross pointed to the door. “Get out.”
“Bran!” Enya tried to hobble after him, but Robert clipped her shoulder and forced her back on the bed. “He rescued us. If it weren’t for him, Heather and I would be tied up and shipped away as slaves.”
Father marched to her bedside. “If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t have been left alone at the Armstrongs’ cottage.”
Enya crossed her arms. “’Tis my fault. I told him we would wait.”
“And when he came storming into the library, I told him you would not.” Father paced. “Damn it, Enya, are you to be the death of me? Come, Robert, we must alert the guard.”
Lady Ross wrung her hands and stepped to the foot of the bed. “Enya has had quite a scare. Heather, give her a tincture to calm her nerves.”
“Yes, m’lady.” Heather curtseyed and headed for the kitchen.
“You’re the one who needs the tincture, Mama.” Enya lay back and stared at the canopy above. “I’m fine, truly. I just twisted my knee.” She wasn’t about to mention the two men she’d shot. Lady Ross would swoon on the spot.
“You could have been killed. What were you thinking, leaving the Armstrongs’ cottage?”
Enya tugged the plaid over her lap. “No one has ever been hurt on the grounds before.”
“You think not?” Mother paced to the head of Enya’s bed. “You are very young, and not privy to everything that happens on the estate. Why do we insist you travel with a guard?”
“I always thought you were overly protective.”
“’Tis only for your safety, and you go about as if you can conquer the world with that silly bow of yours.”
“But—”
Lady Ross held up her hand. “I’ll hear no excuses. You’ve had your taste of danger and are lucky you came out of it with a mere twisted knee. In the future you shall use your head and act like a proper lady.”
I stopped two with the bow. I am not as incompetent as you believe. “Yes, Mama.” Enya reached for her hand. “Please don’t let Father punish the Highlander. He fought with the heart of a lion. Without him, things could have ended very badly.”
“I may mention leniency to your father. But he’s right. The Highlander should never have been guarding you. That is the responsibility for the captain of the guard.” Mother walked toward the door and stopped. “If it were up to me, I would punish them both.”
Enya sat bolt upright. She wanted to scream, but the door slammed closed. “Blast you all. Can no one in this household see reason?”
***
Griffon clamped his talons around his perch and watched Bran as if he knew something was amiss.
“Ye can stop looking at me with that glint in yer eye right now. The lassie is poison to me. ’Tis as if I canna even think when she’s near.” Bran rolled to his back and laced his fingers behind his head. “It grows worse when she touches me—and when I saw those bastards on top of her, I could have killed a hundred of them.”
He sat up and looked at the eagle. “’Twas as if they attacked me own kin—but worse.” He pulled the dagger from his hose and threw it into the floorboards. “God’s teeth, I’m smitten by a highborn woman. At least Calum was a laird when Lady Anne caught his eye. Me? I’ve only a sword and an eagle to me name.”
Griffon squawked.
“I’m no’ saying it’s bad. I like being free of burdensome responsibilities.” He yanked his dagger up and sheathed it. “Bloody hog’s breath, could ye see me sitting in the laird’s chair listening to the clansmen moaning all day? Och. I was born for a quieter life.”
“Bran?” Malcolm called from below.
“In the loft.”
Malcolm poked his head through the trapdoor. “I thought I’d find you here.”
“Where else? Ross banished me to quarters.” Bran waved him up. “Did ye send out a patrol?”
“Aye.”
“I dunna think there are any more of the bastards, but we need to be certain.”
Malcolm took a seat beside him. “I’ve come to dish out your punishment.”
Bran crossed his arms. “Help me understand exactly why I’m being punished. Miss Enya and Mistress Heather would be on a ship headed to purgatory by now if I hadn’t arrived when I did.”
“Lord Ross doesn’t see it that way. You never should have left the women behind.”
Bran’s shoulders slumped. “So what did Regent Moray’s soldiers want?”
“They’re looking for rebels.”
“Did anyone tell them they’re the mutineers?”
“I’m sure Lord Ross would have liked to.” Malcolm thumped him on the arm. “You got me off task, Highlander.”
Bran laughed. He’d grown a fondness for Ross’s captain. A worthy warrior, his mastery of a two-handed sword rivaled his own. “Wouldna ye try to postpone the torture?”
“It could have been much worse.” Malcolm stood, planting fists on his hips. “First, you will never again guard Miss Enya and you are not allowed to set foot in the manse.”
Bran nodded. A tic twitched below his eye.
“To ensure you comply with Lord Ross’s edict, you will be assigned to permanent patrol.”
“I can bear me arms?”
“Ross said nothing of disarming you, especially since he needs your muscle. But once this business with her royal highness is over, you will be banned from returning to Renfrewshire.”
“All of Renfrewshire? That’s a bit harsh, wouldna ye say?”
Malcolm held up his hands. “Take this as a warning. Lord Ross will see you hanged if you show your face on his lands. He’ll do it. I ken him well enough.”
Bran ran his hand across his throat. An imposed separation was probably a good thing. God knew he couldn’t resist Enya Ross when left to his own devices. “I start the patrol in the morning, then?”
“I need your muscle for our ride to Renfrewshire in the morning. But when we return, you’ll be sleeping on the rocky ground with your plaid over your shoulders.” Malcolm cast his gaze to Griffon’s perch. “I’d say you’re lucky to get off so easily. Ross could have escorted you to the Firth of Clyde and made you swim home.”
“I’d be good with that. If I hadna pledged me fealty, I’d be heading for Raasay anon.”
Malcolm clapped his shoulder. “Well, I’m glad you haven’t. There’s a battle coming, and I’d be proud to have five of you standing next to me.”
“It better happen soon, else I’ll be bent over a walking stick afore I see me cottage again.”
Malcolm stepped down to the first rung of the ladder. “Get some rest. You’ll need it.”
“One last thing.” Bran scooted toward the trapdoor. “How is Miss Enya?”
Malcolm frowned. “You must block the lassie from your mind. To you she does not exist.”
Chapter Ten
Bran loved to dream, and tonight his dream became so surreal, the sweet rose bouquet of Enya’s scent flooded through his senses with every breath. Without tiring, he walked for miles with her soft body cradled in his arms. She tucked her head against his chest, and her delicate fingers toyed with the laces on his shirt, slipping beneath and caressing his bare flesh.
The fluttering of her fingers against his chest made his skin erupt in gooseflesh. And something else rose. He moaned, delving deeper into the dream.
Bran glanced down, admiring her delicate features and that teasing splash of faint freckles across the bridge of her nose. Enya watched him with those emerald-green eyes, studied him, as if she wanted to remember every facet of his face. He like
d it when she looked at him that way. It made him feel like a man—mayhap a king. He bent his head and brushed his lips across hers. Oh, how marvelous this dream. The warmth of her lips melted into him.
His cock thrust to a full erection when he tasted her. Sweet as molasses spiced with cloves. He swirled his tongue in harmony with hers.
His dream took him back to his pallet. Bran lay on his back kissing her, his hips rocking. Her kisses grew frantic, her hands caressing his face, running down to his chest. Bran arched his back. He must feel her body over him, pressing against his. He reached up and grasped her shoulders, drawing her atop him like a blanket.
Her body enveloped him in warmth and she mewled with pleasure. Moving like a cat, her mons slid across him with enticing friction. Bran’s cock throbbed.
“Please kiss me again,” she pleaded.
Bran searched with his mouth and brushed his hips against hers. A dream had never been this vivid. His seed would soon spill.
“Bran?”
His eyes opened. And though the light was dim, there was no mistaking the outline of her beauty. Enya actually lay atop him while his cock pressed into her skirts. “Am I dreaming?”
Enya covered his mouth and kissed him with fierce passion. She slowly slid her hips down and then up, caressing his aching manhood. She pulled back, the white teeth of her smile stretching all the way out to her dimples. “Now do you think you are dreaming?”
Holy Mother Mary and all the saints, he scarcely could believe she was over him. Bran ran his hands along her back. Her weight upon him, natural as if she were meant to always be there. But she wasn’t—she shouldn’t. “Merciful Jesus, Enya. Why did ye come here?”
Enya arched up, looking suddenly hurt.
Unable to bear to see her unhappy, he clutched her against his chest. “Not that I’m upset ’bout it. Ye just shouldna come. ’Tis too dangerous.”
“I wanted to see you.”
He ran his hand across her silken hair. God, it smelled like a garden of roses. “How did ye get here with yer sore knee?”
“’Tis not all that bad—just a tad swollen, but I can walk on it.”
“If ye’re found missing, yer father will string me up for certain. The only reason I’m still alive is because of the war.” He inhaled her scent again, hoping the memory would last a lifetime. “I’ve been forbidden to see ye ever again.”
“But I am not prevented from coming to you.” She swirled her lithe fingers down his shoulder and squeezed his arm. “I cannot stop thinking about the attack and how you fought—you risked your life for me.”
He kissed her forehead. “Aye, lass. I would do anything to see ye safe.”
Enya rested her head on his chest. It made him feel powerful, protective. She rocked her hips. He wanted to explode.
Bran arched his back and moaned. “Do ye ken what that does to me?”
She didn’t stop. “Nay, but it rains fire across my sacred woman’s place.” A low chuckle escaped her throat. “It turns me wild with yearning.”
Bran was past becoming consumed by lust.
All he had to do was hike up her skirts and slide inside her. In a blink of an eye, he could relieve the throbbing that had tortured him for weeks. And Enya wanted it as badly as Bran did. He covered her mouth and moved his hand over her breast. Another jolt shot through the tip of his cock. His palm filled with succulent unbound flesh. “Ye have no undergarments?”
“I slipped away in my shift and dressing gown.” She ran her hand over his chest and kneaded him as he did her. Holy falcon feathers, she was wanton.
Bran pulled the bow at the nape of her shift. God forgive him, her pert breast was too ripe to be ignored. He had to taste it. Swirling his tongue across her skin, he drew the cloth aside and trailed kisses downward until her nipple teased his lips. Moaning with need, he took her breast in his mouth and suckled her.
Tantalizing her nipple with light flicks of his tongue, Enya mewled and rocked her hips harder. “I want to lie with you.”
Seed leaked from the tip of his manhood. But he could not take her innocence. Not like this. He squeezed his bum cheeks to quell his yearning. “It would ruin ye.”
He cupped her face directly above his. Her eyes glistened, almost black in the darkness.
She turned her head and kissed his palm. “But I choose you.”
Bran could scarcely see the outline of her face in the dim light. “Ah, Enya, if this were another time, it might be so, but this can never be. Yer father would see me hanged.”
“But I have come to you. Surely he will punish me.”
He brushed his fingers across the petal-soft skin of her cheek. “Ye ken he will punish us both.”
Sighing, Enya rested her head upon his chest. “Let us steal away—go someplace far from here.”
Bran cradled her, as if the Holy Father created her to lie atop him. “’Tis a fanciful thought. But ye would have to give away all yer precious things, yer gowns, this stable full of fine horses.”
“I care not for finery.”
“And what of…what of yer father’s wishes? He will no’ allow ye to choose. Will he?”
Enya groaned. “He only cares to use me to increase his wealth.”
Bran caressed his hands along her spine. “That’s the lot highborn lassies must endure.”
“I would rather be ruined than wed Claud Hamilton.”
He could scarcely swallow. “Do ye ken what ye’re saying?”
“Aye.” She ran her lips along his jaw line. “Kiss me, Bran.”
His ballocks were on fire. He loved how his name sounded when she uttered it, her voice deepened with desire. Bran wrapped her in a tight embrace and took her deep into his mouth. Her body perfectly molded against his. Only Enya’s shift and dressing gown separated them from joining. His cock thick with lust and aching to take her, he was on the brink of losing control.
Bran ran his fingers through her silken hair and squeezed his eyes shut, willing his strength to return. “Ye are so fine to me. But ye must go before the stable boy wakes.”
“I will come again tonight.”
“I’ll no’ be here. I’m off to Rutherglen with the guard.” It was best to keep quiet about the patrol—at least for now. She’d have him betraying his oath of fealty, which would bring unmitigated shame to his clan. That, he could never abide.
“I want to stay—”
Bran tapped his finger to her lips. “Enya, I must take ye back.”
***
Bran helped Enya down the ladder and she showed him how to creep around the gardens to the hidden passage. “This is how I steal away for my morning jaunts. Heather almost never misses me.”
“Where does the passage lead?”
“The solar—’tis on the same floor as my chamber.”
Bran turned full circle. Though the entrance was shrouded with ivy, using the passage was still a risk. “Anyone could see ye once ye’re in the open.”
“You mustn’t worry. I always wait until ’tis clear and then I skirt through the shadows.” She twirled in a circle. “I’ve done it countless times.”
“And why doesna that warm me heart?”
“Kiss me and bid me goodnight.”
Bran’s concerns melted away when he took Enya in his arms and gave into her sweet lips. “Will I see ye in the window when I next spar with the guard?”
“I wouldn’t miss a chance to watch you.”
“Ye are as precious as a hundred golden eagles.” Closing his eyes, he touched his lips to her forehead. “Go now, afore I lose me resolve.”
Enya kissed him one last time and disappeared into the wall of vines.
After Bran returned to the stable loft, he fell on his pallet and groaned. He was still as erect as a Pict standing stone. Sampling her forbidden fruit ignited a fire within he’d never experienced before. Enya Ross had been every bit as enticing in the dark as she was in full daylight. Simply touching her skin sent him mad with longing.
He closed his
eyes. Her scent still lingered on him. If only their love had a chance. But he knew his unquenchable desire for Miss Enya Ross could never be satiated.
How could a highborn lassie like her look twice at the likes of him? He had no lands, no riches. She had risked much coming to him in the wee hours of the night. Had she learned nothing from her altercation with the Gypsies? A drunken guardsman could have crossed her path, or worse. Enya’s disregard for her personal safety worried him. Many a man would not think twice about taking her to satisfy his own pleasure.
Bran shoved his fingers through his hair. He’d been warned. Lord Ross already distrusted him. And what had compelled Enya to come to him? She said she’d chosen him, yet she was so innocent. Did she know what that meant, or had she simply wanted more delectable kisses? She must be aware their love could never be. So young and inexperienced, Enya had no inkling of what life would be like with a henchman. He had little to give her but his protection.
He must not encourage her advances—no matter how much pushing her away would tear shreds from his heart.
***
Adept at slipping in and out of the manse undetected, Enya crept through the same secret passageway she used for her early morning jaunts. Not even Heather knew how often she slipped away and stole time for herself. But this was the first time she’d ever actually done something sinful.
As if floating on air, she had no idea how what had just happened could be a sin. Bran was nothing like any man she’d ever met. He accepted her as plain old Enya without scolding her and launching into a chain of prattle detailing all the reasons why she needed to change.
Whenever he placed his hands on her, Enya’s body quivered, her breath quickened and heat pooled in her sacred place, coiling so tight, she wanted to burst. She could not breathe in enough of him. Every waking moment her mind was consumed with thoughts of Bran. Enya imagined him kissing her in her chamber, even on her bed. Yet the more she kissed him, the thirstier her body became.
And oh how delectable he had been this night. Enya should never have spirited away to the stable loft, but she had to ensure he was all right. No one had told her what his punishment had been for leaving her with the Armstrongs. She balled her fists. It was her fault they had set out. If she had only stayed at the cottage, the whole debacle with the Gypsies never would have happened.
