Everything he felt for Brianna was right,
good, and wise. She was meant for him and he was meant for her. He
thought not how others would react, for their feelings did not
concern him. He would deal with her brother when the time came,
though he doubted he would meet resistance. Her brother sounded as
though he loved his sister very much and wished only for her
happiness. And by the time her brother found them or he returned
her to him, it would be obvious how they felt for each other.
It would all work out given time. He was
positive, therefore he ignored the nagging little voice that
reminded him that he should tell her more about himself. The fact
that she accepted him now as he was surely meant that she would
accept all of who he was.
“Royce.”
He looked over at her. She pushed her dark
hair away from her face and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She
looked beautiful, innocent, and sensual as she roused herself from
her slumber, and he felt an overwhelming urge to protect her and
make love to her.
He contained his emotion, difficult as it
was.
“I am so thirsty; could I trouble you for a
drink?”
“You never trouble me, Brianna,” he said,
moving about to fix a favorite herbal brew she had taught him to
prepare.
“I know and that continues to surprise me.
You are not like other men who think only of themselves. You have a
deeply caring heart. I find it difficult to believe you are a
warrior.”
“I fight when I must.”
“Aye, like many other men. They fight when
they are told to fight and follow their leaders without thought or
reason. All for more land and more power.”
He brought her the drink. “You do not
respect warriors.”
“I respect those who fight for a solid cause
or reason, but those who hunger to expand their purse or holdings I
find greedy and selfish.”
“A clan’s land needs defending.”
“Aye, but one clan swallows another when
they war, and the battles seem endless. And the land and people
often suffer.”
“The land and people need protection.”
“Then why do the people suffer if they are
protected?” she asked earnestly, searching for a reasonable
answer.
“It is the way of war and cannot be
helped.”
She disagreed. “It is the way of greedy
men.”
“Your brother, does he not war?”
“Only when necessary.”
“Sometimes what may seem necessary to one is
not to another.”
She nodded. “A reason to war, two factions
that cannot agree, so brute force determines the winner.”
“It is the way of things.”
After placing the cup on the chest, she
tugged at his hand so that he would sit beside her. “Do you like to
war?”
He gave her question serious thought, for he
had asked himself the very same question many times over. It was
the very reason that brought him to the solitude of this cottage.
He wanted answers, but feared he would find no definitive one; or
did he fear he would find an answer not to his liking?
“You give my question thought.” She hugged
his hand with hers. “It is not new to you.”
“Nay, I sought solitude in search of
answers.”
“I interrupted your search, I am sorry.”
“I am not.” He was adamant. “Your
interruption gave me more to think about.”
She laughed. “Is that a polite way of saying
I confuse you?”
He squeezed her hand lightly. “You gave me
new places to search.”
“Places you have not thought of?”
“Places I hid from.”
Her curiosity had her asking, “Why?”
He shrugged. “It is easier to hide than to
face our doubts and fears.”
She understood perfectly. “I hid from the
truth of my marriage out of doubt and fear.”
“What finally made you face the truth?”
“My sister-in-law and her friend Anne. They
are both very strong women and were very kind to me. They helped me
to see the truth of my marriage, and they helped me to discover my
own strength. Had you any time alone before my unexpected
arrival?”
“A brief time.”
“Not enough for you to make any discoveries
that would lead you to answers?”
“Answers elude me.”
“Perhaps you are not ready for them,” she
said. “I have thought that myself.”
“Then talk with me of what troubles you, and
perhaps we can discover the answers together.” She seemed excited
that she might be able to help him.
“I cannot talk of it with you.”
“Why?” She sounded disappointed.
“I will not talk of battle with you.”
“I talked with you of my battle.”
“It is not the same,” he insisted.
Her voice grew quiet. “My scars are as deep
as yours; they are just not visible.”
He admired her courage and tenacity.
“I heal as you do; why not let us heal
together?” She threaded her fingers with his as if showing him that
they could be one in this battle.
“Give me time.”
She remembered how difficult it had been for
her to face her own battle. She understood that it was not easy for
him, and only when he was willing to face his doubts and fears
truthfully could he emerge from the darkness to which he had
retreated.
“When you are ready.”
The thought that she did not insist but
would wait until he was ready and be there for him filled him with
a sense of peace.
“I appreciate your concern.” He more than
appreciated it, but those simple words would do for now.
“I care,” she said with a hasty smile as
though she surprised herself.
“Do you now?” he teased, leaning in closer
as if he was about to capture a kiss.
She raised a quick hand to his chest. “You
must not.
Your lip.”
“I have the urge to kiss you and cannot
resist. What am I to do?”
She grinned and giggled softly. “Let me kiss
you?”
She did not wait for an answer. She wrapped
her arms around his neck and drew his face slowly down to her lips.
She started with his cheek and made certain to cover every area of
his face. She had never known the joy of kissing a man when and how
she chose, and it simply thrilled her.
She stopped to tell him. “I love kissing
you.”
“I love you kissing me.”
‘Truly you do?”
He had to laugh. ‘Truly, and I will tell you
it often so that you will not need to question it again.”
‘Tell me as often as you like.”
“That I will. Now are you hungry?”
“Starving, but I would like to help with the
meal.”
“Nay, you will rest.”
She protested. “I have rested. I am tired of
resting.”
“Your back continues to pain you.”
“Because I spend too much time in this bed,
I need to move around more.”
Since he looked to digest her remark, she
continued to attempt to convince him. “I could sit on the chair by
the table if I tire.”
“Your word on that?” he asked.
A warrior’s word was his honor. He looked to
her for the same. She had no trouble giving it to him. “Aye, you
have my word.”
He reached for her leather slippers that sat
beside the chest at the end of the bed.
She hastily slipped from beneath the covers
to the edge of the bed. She swung her feet in eager
anticipation.
She reminded him of a young innocent girl.
Her skin was smooth and touched with a faint blush. Her eyes were
rounded in excitement, her lips softly puffed from kissing him. She
adjusted the comb in her hair, capturing the strands that refused
confinement, though one or two managed to escape. Her defined
beauty grabbed at his heart and twisted until he thought he had not
a breath left in him.
He quickly kneeled on the floor to place her
soft leather slippers on her feet and restrain his pounding heart.
His position only worsened his condition. He had to take hold of
each of her ankles when slipping on the leather slippers. They were
trim and so soft that his fingers itched to explore farther up her
leg.
He had touched her often when caring for
her, but his thoughts had always been for her well-being. Now,
however, his thoughts were those of passion.
“Are you finished?” she asked with a hand to
his shoulder.
The innocent gesture completely unnerved
him. It sent a rush of heat racing through his body and settling in
places that had him thinking that she was right where he wanted
her.
She had a different thought and urged him
along.
“Help me to stand.”
‘Take my arm,” he said, knowing that in a
moment she would be flying off the bed of her own accord if he did
not oblige her.
She was about to slip her arm with his when
he stopped her.
“Nay, place your hands on my arm and let my
strength help you stand. Then, if you require my assistance to
walk, I will help you.”
She was overjoyed at the thought of being
independent once again and determined to remain so. She did as he
directed, her hands grabbing hold of his hard, muscled arms. The
strength of him startled her. She was not certain why since she had
felt his strong arms many times before, yet somehow this time was
different. Very different. Her body reacted like a woman who
desired a man.
“Ready?”
She nodded, trying hard to ignore the tingle
in her fingers from the heat of his skin. She focused her attention
on the task at hand while the tingle crawled up her arm.
He stood close by her side, his body nearly
touching hers.
She stood with deliberate slowness, wanting
to make certain not to harm her back and not wanting to let go of
his arm. When she was certain she could stand on her own, she
removed her hands from him and looked up with pride into his
face.
What she saw excited and frightened her.
Passion brewed in his eyes.
He wanted her.
Brianna stared at him as if she were seeing
him for the first time. She did not scream or turn her eyes away in
fright. She did not see his horrendous wounds. Instead she saw the
depth of him. He possessed a loving heart and caring soul.
She placed her hand to his cheek. “I am not
afraid.”
“Good, for I would never harm you.”
“I know that now and do not doubt it.”
“Then tell me where we take this, Brianna,”
he said softly with a kiss to her palm, “for I want nothing more at
this moment than to make love to you.”
He left it for her to decide; he always left
her with a choice. She had made a mistake the last time she had
thought she loved a man, but then her husband had hid behind his
charm. Royce hid nothing from her. He was who he was, a wounded
warrior with a gentle heart.
Her choice was easy. “I would like the
same.”
He went to kiss her, but she stopped him
with a gentle finger to his lip. “You will disturb your wound.”
“I do not care.”
She faintly touched her lips to his. “I
do.”
Her caring words heightened his passion. He
had had many women over the years, and a few had expressed their
feelings for him, but he never felt that any of them truly cared
for him. The thought that Brianna did made him realize how very
special she was to him and how very much he loved her.
He gently scooped her up into his arms. “In
time you will come to know my lips on you. For now I will show you
what my hands can do.”
Gooseflesh ran over her warm skin. He had
touched her so often when he tended her, now he would touch her
differently. The thought excited her and she was as eager as he to
return to bed.
He removed her slippers and then eased her
out of her night shift. He did not take long to shed his own
garments and lay beside her on the bed. They had seen each other
naked, they had slept side by side, and they had touched.
There was no unease between them, only an
eager anticipation for what was to come.
She stroked his chest, loving the feel of
his warm skin and the strength of his muscles. “I can kiss you,”
she offered with a smile.
“Aye, you can, and I would like that, but
first I wish to touch you as only a man in love can do.”
She heard him correctly, did she not? He
spoke of love, loving her. She could not believe what she had
heard. She had thought that he cared for her, but love? They had
known each other for such a short time. Was it possible to fall in
love so easily?
He tapped playfully at her nose and
understood and voiced her concern. “Why question that I love you
when you know you love me as well.”
“You are certain?”
“Aye, I am certain that we love each
other.”
She laughed softly. “Not a doubt?”
He was serious. “Nay, not one.”
She grew serious. “Why? Why do you love
me?”
With the tips of his fingers he lightly
stroked her face. “Because you are you.”
She looked at him strangely, as if his words
made no sense, but then his touch was doing maddening things to her
senses. And she sighed with the pleasure of his fingers lightly
traveling down along her neck and over her shoulders.
He attempted to answer her unasked question.
“I love you for who you are, a gift that I will cherish
forever.”
She felt the same of him, but she could not
speak the words, for he touched her in a way she had never been
touched before. His fingers drifted with a lingering slowness along
her chest and over her breast. With two fingers he teased her
nipple, and when it grew taut, he brought his mouth down to
lovingly stroke it with his tongue. Her sighs grew to moans when
his tongue began to flicker at the tight pink bud.
Ripple after ripple of pure passion spread
over her entire body, and she moaned from the pleasure he gave her.
He treated her other nipple to the same pleasure. He stopped after
giving each nipple one last lingering lick, and she released a long
sigh.
He rubbed his cheek next to hers. “I love
the feel of you and—the taste of you.”