Irish Moon (27 page)

Both exhaled and Quinlan’s gasp struck her as
sounding quite relieved. She wondered on what count. Had it gone
better than he hoped for or was he just as glad as her that it was
over?

She didn’t ask. The warm smile he bestowed on
her was answer enough.

“I’d say that is significant progress,
wouldn’t you? I must say I found it rather nice.”

Breanne pinched her lips together, resisting
the urge to wipe the wetness he’d left there for the wind to chill.
She nodded. It was an improvement after all. It hadn’t brought her
to her knees with desire but mayhap that was better. With Quinlan
she would never have to fear losing all thought and wits.

And it hadn’t turned her stomach. If she
allowed, there was a small warmth there now. She was right to have
agreed to this trial and it must have been meant for if they each
considered the test separately.

Quinlan stepped forward, his smile suddenly
eager. He bent his head. Breanne closed her eyes and braced herself
when a throat cleared behind them. They jumped apart and turned to
see Ashlon and Rhiannon joining them.

Rhiannon had her arm linked through Ashlon’s
and her gaze was so consumed with watching him that she certainly
didn’t see Quinlan and Breanne about to kiss or how quickly they
came apart. She also couldn’t see the flush of red heating
Breanne’s cheeks.

Looking at Ashlon’s half smile and cold
stare, however, left Breanne with no question as to whether he’d
witnessed it.

“Do you promise, Sir Ashlon?” Rhiannon said,
fairly clinging to him. The wind fit her gown to every perfect
curve and she seemed to know it by the way she arched her back
before looking prettily at Quinlan.

“Promise what?” Quinlan asked and stepped
away from Breanne.

The wind pushed her cloak and gown against
her back, furrowing it in front of her so well that she had no
doubt every line of her was obscured and padded. Gathering the
material close was useless and only seemed to attract more of
Ashlon’s cold gaze onto her.

“He has promised to join us tonight for
dining,” Rhiannon said and stepped apart from him so that she was
evenly spaced between the two men. “And for dance after.”

What was he so upset about and nearly glaring
at her for? She wouldn’t for a second entertain the possibility of
it stemming from jealousy. He couldn’t have seen more than the two
of them about to kiss, and what could be wrong with that?

“Wonderful. You will be able to witness how
lovely a dancer Lady Breanne is. Oh, forgive my rudeness, Sir
Ashlon. Have you two been formally introduced as of yet?”

“No, we have not.”

Ashlon bowed deeply as Quinlan made
introduction.

Breanne curtsied equally deeply and didn’t
miss the flash of emotion in his eyes as they peered at her. Did he
need to speak with her then? Of course, he must have been searching
her out to ask of her progress, having finished his round in the
games.

Silly of her not to realize it sooner.
Quickly, though, she remembered that she had nothing to tell
him.

“You are masterful in the art of movement,
Lady Breanne?” Ashlon asked. His eyes flashed again.

“I can be, given the proper setting and
music,” she said.

“And partner,” Quinlan said, giving her
shoulder a brotherly nudge. “Even as a girl, she could go through a
dozen partners, wear each one out and be ready for the next, so
much stamina she has.”

Breanne smiled tightly and hoped the wind
could be blamed later for the incontestable color blooming again in
her cheeks.

Ashlon raised both eyebrows in an expression
that looked both accusing and amused. Breanne bit down the jabbing
barb that prodded her tongue.

Quinlan had not intended the double entendre
and blast Ashlon Sinclair for making her feel wrong about kissing
Quinlan. Who was he to be so amused when he was the one who
couldn’t keep his hands or lips to himself? Why he’d probably
already given Rhiannon a taste of his wares in the short time
they’d spent together. She knew firsthand how quickly he moved when
the notion took him.

“Oh, I can hardly wait,” Rhiannon said,
clapping her hands. “Breanne, would you like to join Rose and me in
my chamber to ready this evening? Rose promised to put my hair in a
twisting braid coiled around like so and she has gold baubles that
Ryan brought back for her. I imagine they would look ever so nice
in your hair.”

Quinlan cleared his throat. “Shall we return
and view the remaining fighters, ladies?” He bent an arm for each
of them to take.

Ashlon followed behind. Close behind. Breanne
could smell him on the wind. And as they descended the stairs she
fought to ignore the distinct tugging of her cloak. He wanted to
ask her about the book and she had no good news and if she paused
or turned, she’d be forced to confess that.

Breanne struggled to appear graceful as the
three, linked, attempted the stairs together but Rhiannon kept
losing her balance and falling into Quinlan who in turn almost
knocked Breanne over.

After the third time, Quinlan shrugged
Breanne’s arm loose and offered an apologetic look. Breanne
shrugged and waited for them to pass.

Ashlon waited, too, a step behind. Rhiannon
and Quinlan passed the curve. She didn’t know why she’d stayed
there. She could easily have simply continued after. But, she
didn’t. And now they were alone and the corridor became warm around
her. Her belly fluttered as Ashlon stepped down and faced her.

She couldn’t look up at him and her breathing
became difficult with the fluttering sensation growing. Would he
ask her? Would he remain silent?

He reached his hand out and laced his fingers
into her hair, his thumb soft on her throat. He grazed over the
faint mark no one had commented on and she had forgotten about
until he touched it.

Rhiannon’s laughter floated up from the
window she imagined they had returned to. Breanne’s heart started,
she looked up.

The ice in Ashlon’s gaze had melted away and
left a steaming heat in its wake. Breanne’s breath caught in her
throat. Before she could think or move, he kissed her.

And her body sighed with welcome. Ashlon
backed her against the wall and slipped his hands inside her cloak.
A thrill ran through her. His hands were cold through her gown, but
hot to her skin beneath. They roved from her waist upward to her
breasts, cupped both and thumbed over her nipples.

From somewhere deep inside, Breanne moaned
into the mouth assaulting her senses. His touch was so sure, his
lips so perfectly fitting for hers, his tongue magickal. She arched
into his palms, grateful for the wall supporting her watery
limbs.

Warm, wet wonderment spread between her
thighs and she parted them to feel him there. He accommodated her
body's wish, pressing her exactly where she craved. Her mound
throbbed and the ache and warmth climbed. His very contour seemed a
blessing against her, tall and erect, stunning her with
accuracy.

Ashlon lifted the edge of her gown and hooked
his arm under a bare thigh. His arm aided in opening her body to
him, so close to her need. She arched toward it. His hand grazed
her rear then gripped the flesh there, pulling her impossibly
closer. Breanne might have gasped, "Aye, please. Aye," could she
have spoken past his ravaging mouth. He lifted her up as though
weightless. He pressed his prick to her sex making short, divine
turns.

He broke his kiss and found her neck. Breanne
leaned her head back as his exquisite mouth teased her throat. Her
breaths were short flutters that matched the same strange beat as
each time before. Like a heartbeat within her, but of need rather
than blood. Each touch brought pleasure beyond the prior,
escalating her sensibility into an abyss of bliss.

Deft fingers tugged aside
her undergarment. Her mind begged him not to cease. His forefinger
traced a line up her inner thigh, close, oh so close to her moist
heat.
Please
.
Breanne pressed her hips forth, driven to feel him touch higher.
Yet he remained achingly slow in his assault. Her body wept and
beat in want. Somehow, she knew his touch, his hand would fill the
dizzying need.

Ashlon granted her body’s wish, slowly
slipping his finger into her slick sheath. Pleasure washed through
her as his teeth dug into the flesh below her earlobe. His erratic
breathing danced on her skin. He whispered her name and it sounded
nigh painful to say. Breanne wiggled. Ashlon complied unbidden. He
stroked his finger out of her, then back in, twisting and delving
deeper. The sound of her wetness seemed to echo off the stones and
much to her shock, deepened her pleasure. This is what her body
wanted. His touch. And each delicious stroke brought her closer to
something she could not name but might die without. All matters of
where and who they were had long ago escaped relevance. Desire
roared in her veins and, as suddenly as it started, Ashlon stopped
and broke away. Her hem fell to the floor as quickly and silently
as the spell he'd wrapped her in.

“Go now,” he said. He sounded in keen
pain.

Breanne could scream, she felt such a loss.
Her body ached for more, but her mind penetrated the charm he had
cast upon it. The risks they had just taken, the gamble, was not
lost on her.

Go, now. His words reverberated through the
haze.

Breanne balanced and stepped downward,
feeling stunned as Rose peered about the curve and called up,
“Think you they lost their way, Quin?”

Chapter Sixteen

It had been too close a call. Rose had
immediately noticed Breanne’s flushed color and imbalance. She’d
used her only ready excuse, feeling suddenly ill, to explain their
delay. While a deep part of her longed to, Breanne couldn’t very
well tell Rose that Ashlon had been ravishing her for the brief
moments they went missing in the stairwell, could she?Leastwise not
yet.

Rose had believed her without question.
Thanking St. Bridget for such a boon, Breanne was happy to be sent
straight back to her chamber to rest. With her mother’s wedding in
three days, and Ashlon needing to leave Tir Conaill before he
either got killed or ruined her, rest sounded heavenly.

She couldn’t count herself safe near him
after the instant overwhelmed reaction he’d given her with a single
kiss that lasted no more than a moment but suspended time.

Thank goodness he’d stopped. Rose would have
kept it secret had she come upon them, Breanne knew, but would then
feel absolutely betrayed on her brother’s behalf or become Ashlon’s
proponent and start a campaign for her to marry him.

Neither suited Breanne. And so she was
grateful to Ashlon Sinclair for that single save, although she
didn’t forget he was the one she needed saving from and so it
didn’t very well elevate his character in her mind.

Finn was in the window, watching the scant
view of the men in arms and gave her no more than a cursory glance
when she walked in, kissed Rose goodbye and locked the door.

“Hiding out are we?” Finn said over his
stripey shoulder.

“Aye, I’ve much work to do and those silly
games should not have taken me from it.”

“How did your knight fare?”

“He is not my knight and he did quite well if
you must know. But, that is not why I left to watch as I’m sure you
are about to imply. I simply wondered. I was curious. And he was
fighting Quinlan, whom we both know is not highly skilled.”

“Or was not when he was but sixteen, the last
age you saw him practice in arms.”

“Yes, well, even so. I got distracted and now
I am back and ready to solve this damned code of Heremon’s before
the day ends.”

“The knight has found a friend. Interesting.”
Finn leapt down.

“It is not surprising that the two are
companionable. Quinlan found him--.”

“Not Quinlan. Another knight, it looked to be
from the similar swords and unusual greeting they just gave each
other.”

Breanne scowled at Finn and opened the book
she’d retrieved. What was that beast trying to bait her into saying
now? Well, whatever his aim, she’d be sure he missed. She would not
inquire his meaning regardless of how much she now wanted to know.
She wouldn’t even go to the window.

She would stay where she was at her trestle
desk and focus on discovering the hidden meaning in the script.
This was more important than any ally of Ashlon’s down in the yard.
Ashlon Sinclair needed to leave Tir Conaill before something
terrible happened between them.

She might not have liked the idea of marriage
but that did not mean she spit in the face of a union. She desired
a happy marriage built on love and trust. Whatever uncontrollable
magick existed between Ashlon and her, it threatened to consume
her.

If she did not keep her bearings when near
him long enough to see him safely gone, she risked not only shaming
her family but ending the chance for a solid future with her
husband, whoever she chose.

Quinlan was still an option. A safe option to
boot. Their second kiss was a measurable improvement. Why, if they
made as much progress with every one, she’d be soon melting in his
arms rather than in Ashlon’s.

Breanne sighed. Damn it but his mouth and
hands could enchant her. She didn’t like how much it changed her or
how masterfully he could accomplish her total mindless consent.

Finn returned to the windowsill when she
buried her attention in the book, or at least appeared to.

There was also Gannon to consider. He was
charming and smart and were she to pay him a visit, she might find
her heart a little more inclined his way. He might be lovely to
kiss. Not a whirlwind like Ashlon, nor procedural like Quinlan.
Perhaps his kiss would fall somewhere safely in the middle.