The Devil of Jedburgh (21 page)

“You don’t—” Her voice cracked and she had to swallow hard before she could continue. “You can’t know for sure.”

He slammed a fist into the wood above her head. His other hand slid past her waist to the door behind her. When he lowered his head toward her, Breghan tried to shrink away. There was nowhere to go. His eyes were threaded through with red from lack of sleep and gave him the look of a demented man.

“Beneath the surface of each man is a savage beast, m’lady, and ours have been roaming wild for days,” he whispered hoarsely at her ear.

The next moment, the door fell away from behind and she was being hauled inside the kitchen. He bundled her into the arms of a stunned Gardie with the order, “Lock her in a chamber in the servants’ quarters and guard the key with your life.” He swept a look across the lads backing away from him with wide-eyed terror. “If any of you breathes a word of her whereabouts to anyone, including the laird, I’ll skewer you through the gut and roast you alive in yon hearth.”

They’ve all gone mad, thought Breghan as she was dragged down the steps leading past the larder and into a dimly lit passage.

Broderick was coming up the steps leading from the kitchen when Arran barged through the iron-studded door that protected the main entrance.

Arran made a direct path for him and barked, “Where is she?”

“Some place you cannot get at her.” Broderick braced his shoulders for the onslaught and raised his fists in defence.

“You would defy your laird?”

“I would defy a friend,” Broderick said quietly, “and save him from himself.”

“You take too much upon you,” Arran roared. He barrelled straight into the wall of Broderick’s defence and the two men went crashing through a trestle table.

Broderick was the larger, but Arran matched him with honed strength and black fury. They scattered the heather scented rushes as they grappled and rolled. When Arran jumped to his feet, Broderick wasn’t a moment behind. The two adversaries prowled around each other, breathing hard and staring deep. Head tucked in, Arran charged and they went down again, pounding into each other until the last ounce of anguish and rage that had been festering for days was spent.

By the time they were done, four trestle tables had been ruined and the beautiful carved armchair Thomas had finished the previous day lay in pieces before the hearth.

Broderick pushed to his knees on a cursing groan. Arran reached out, finding purchase on rough stone and pulling himself to his feet beside the hearth. He dragged himself to the winding stairway and used the railing to haul himself to the top, one step at a time. His body was only slightly more battered than his soul.

“Breghan,” he bellowed, bashing doors open along the landing as he went, splintering wood and rattling locks loose from their casing. “Breghan, come to me.” He returned to her chamber and scowled into the corners.

When his gaze landed on the sturdy wardrobe, he advanced slowly, dread mixed with anger. He yanked the wardrobe door open and scooped aside the voluminous skirts hanging from the pegs. But she wasn’t cowering in the darkness. She was nowhere to be found.

He turned abruptly and his image blurred across the mirror hanging inside the door. He stopped, turned back and stared at himself.

His lip was badly split, blood dripping down his chin. His left cheek had been sliced open and…he leaned closer to pull a thick splinter from the jagged wound. Christ! His shirt and plaid was torn to rags, exposing more than it covered. He pushed his hair from his forehead to reveal blood caked on his scalp. Dilated black pupils stared back at him, swirling pools of rabid hunger.

Arran staggered backwards. The backs of his legs connected with the bed and he fell back, allowing himself to submit to exhaustion.

Breghan was perched beside him on the bed.

He blinked and looked again through narrowed eyes. “You’re here?”

“You slept straight through the night.”

His legs were still dangling to the floor. He shuffled up along the bed so he could sit with his back against the wall.

He looked from his ragged apparel and bruised flesh to the fresh innocence of her dewy complexion and growled, “Have you something to say to me?”

Breghan shifted a little closer. She tilted her chin and looked at him with eyes as blue and turbulent as the ocean, a hint of warmth with determination swirling beneath. “I won’t hide from you again.”

He hadn’t really expected an apology. He probably should have expected this. He dropped his gaze to shield the sudden sense of loss. “You’re leaving.”

“That’s up to you.”

His gaze flickered to her suspiciously.

“I want your word that no matter what wrong I do, no matter how furious you are or how righteous you believe that fury to be, I want your word that you’ll never lose control.” She set her shoulders back, her eyes never leaving his. “I refuse to be afraid of you.”

Then and there, Arran admired her every bit as much as he did his bravest soldier. He took time to consider his reply and knew he spoke true when he said, “Broderick didn’t save your life.” He reached for her hand and held it between his. “He did, however, save your pretty backside from a good tanning,” he warned lightly.

She lowered her lids demurely. “Perhaps I would have deserved it.”

“There’s still time for that.” He gave one hard tug and brought her facedown across his lap, then in the next moment allowed her to wriggle free. Her breasts dragged heavily across his groin and his reaction was instant, his blood warm and thick and pumping.

A smile played on her lips as she danced out of reach. Her gown clung softly to her woman’s curves and the pale blue enhanced the sparkling vitality in her gaze. Her hair fell like a river of black silk to her waist and the contrast with her creamy skin was like night and day.

Breghan was passion, courage, beauty.

She was everything he didn’t deserve.

“Many of the rumours you once feared about me are true, Breghan. I would have protected you from the brutality of man’s nature, of what and who I am, but what you saw yesterday can never be unseen.” Arran swung his legs to the floor. “I can’t afford to be compassionate or lenient to Scotland’s enemies.”

“I’m appalled by what must be done.” Breghan held out a hand toward him, then dropped it when he didn’t take it. “I’m not appalled by you.”

“You should be,” he said dully. He’d long since given up dwelling on that which couldn’t be changed. “I am beyond redemption.” He ran his hands over the ragged remains of his plaid and grinned at her. “And I stink.”

“Is that your way of asking for a bath?”

“An icy swim would be more beneficial to my current condition.”

She made a moue with her lips. “Too bad, I was going to offer to soap your hair.”

“I accept.” He watched those lovely lips part and knew exactly what was coming. Her small jest had grown two heads and she wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“I instructed Bryan to ready your bath before I woke you.” The smile she gave him hit a spot low in his abdomen and swept downward to his lower regions. “Give me a moment to braid my hair so it doesn’t get in the way.”

“You never fail to surprise me.” Arran stood there, drinking in her vibrant sensuality, the light flush of innocence brushed across her cheeks, the delicate hollow at the base of her throat and the slightest glimpse of ivory skin swelling above the bodice of her gown. He shook his head to break the spell and said hoarsely, “I’ll be waiting.”

In his chamber, Arran stripped his clothes and tossed them into the hearth. He packed logs around the rags and set the whole lot ablaze. Then he grabbed a bar of soap and a linen towel and headed down the outside steps to his favourite swimming hole.

Breghan waited until he’d left before she sat down on the bed and scooped the full length of her hair over one shoulder. Her breaths were coming shallow and ragged, and that was just from his heated gaze. Their connection was so intense, his look had touched her like a physical caress.

But it was more than that.

When she looked into his eyes, she felt as if she could see all the way down to his very core.

While her fingers worked her hair into a single braid, Breghan wondered what in hellfire she was doing. She’d seen the weariness eating at his soul and felt the ache echo within her own. She’d wanted to pamper him, both inside and out. She’d wanted to soften the hard edges where and how she could. Her offer to bath the man, however, had little to do with catering to his needs and everything to do with exploring his body on neutral ground, on her own terms. All it had taken was one scorching look from him to imprint her bones with the combustion of their desire.

There would never be anything close to neutral when it came to her and Arran.
Damn my curiosity.

Breghan took a deep breath and contemplated her predicament. She realised her sudden anger stemmed from a natural shyness and nothing else. Her skin tingled at the prospect of his touch. He’d taken her to a place where diamonds shattered the night and chased her shallow dreams from their shadows.

Shyness might be natural to Breghan, but so was courage. Instinct told her that what she and Arran shared was rare and precious, a gift that would devalue if left to gather dust behind self-imposed barriers.

She grabbed a vial of rose oil on her way out. When she found his chamber empty, she lowered herself beside the wooden tub and scented the cooling water with a few drops of oil. She heard a door open and turned. Her throat went dry at the sight of Arran with the small towel wrapped low around his hips.

“Stay right there,” he drawled, flicking the towel aside as he came up to her and stepped into the tub.

She shot her gaze downward and didn’t look up again until she heard the sucking sound of water being displaced. His hair was bound at his nape, his jaw bearded with three days growth. The whole of him was damp and clean and irresistible. “You’ve already washed.”

“There’s plenty of me in dire need of attention.” He dropped the bar of soap into her hand with an audacious wink.

“Let’s start with your back.” She moved around and lathered the soap in her hands. Then she pressed her hands to the granite-hard twin blades of his shoulders so he would lean forward. Her fingers spread across the massive width of his back, massaging flesh that was thickly corded and coarsened with a smattering of dark blond hair. Even the knots of his spine seemed to be individually wrapped in muscle.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Arran said, his head bent forward and his chin tucked in, “but to what do I owe this unexpected welcome home?”

Her fingers dipped below the water line, all the way down to the base of his spine, eliciting a groan from him. She fanned her palms flat across the flanks of his back and moved up, over his shoulders and along the thick muscle of his upper arms. A tremor of excitement fluttered her pulse at the pure bulk and power of his masculinity.

She put her lips close to his ear and murmured, “Perhaps I missed you.”

He grabbed one hand and pulled her around the tub to face him. “It was my body you missed.”

She blinked into his eyes. “Is that not one and the same?”

“Male and female bodies are designed to give each other pleasure for the sake of procreation, sweeting. Don’t mistake physical desire for emotion.”

Breghan knew that admitting emotion of any sort would be anathema to him. Men such as Arran spoke with actions, not words.

She put both her hands to his chest and threaded her fingertips through the short curls. She looked into his eyes and saw raw hunger had replaced the weary emptiness. Her skin tingled beneath his gaze and the thrill of discovering her own power acted as an aphrodisiac. Fire swept through her blood as her hands explored the ripples of his chest.

“Jesu, Bree…” Arran grabbed her hands and brought her up with him as he leapt out of the tub. “When you look at me like that, I have to touch.”

He heaved her up into his arms and carried her to the edge of the bed. He stood in front of her, completely naked and wedged between her thighs. Breghan found herself staring at the marble length of his shaft until he reached over, blocking her view as he tugged the remainder of her clothes and undergarments free and flung them across the room. His slate gaze explored every inch of her body.

“You’re so beautiful.” His voice was gruff and smooth and deep, honey heated over crushed oats and stirred with whiskey. He slid an open palm along the inside of her thigh and her legs parted naturally. “Your skin is all satin and cream.” When he reached the triangle between her thighs, he twirled a finger in the tight curls. “Your woman’s hair is all silk and black sin.”

The ebb and flow of desire pulsed through her entire body. Not only his touch, but his heated gaze sent an erotic thrill to her blood. Her fingers spread across the covers and gripped as a moan rumbled up her throat.

His gaze came up to meet hers, dark and stormy with hungry passion. He dipped a finger inside her, then rolled the wetness into her folds and around the pebble where every nerve ending in her body had gathered into a pulsing throb.

“Arran,” she moaned wildly, lashing her head this way and that, unable to contain the burning energy inside. Her grip tightened on the bed covers as her entire body writhed in ecstasy. “Please…”

His jaw was clenched into a grim smile that looked almost painful, but before Breghan could wonder at his anger, she was pulsating around the finger he plunged deep inside her again and again. She rode the swelling tide to the highest cliff, then every muscle inside her clamped around his finger and she flew off the edge into that abyss of black madness.

Before she got her breath back, Arran was on top of her, kissing her mouth, her throat, her shoulders, her breasts. He rolled to the side and brought her up against the full length of him, flush from their chests down to their hips. His swollen shaft was rock hard and throbbing against the tender skin of her abdomen. His mouth and hands went everywhere, stroking, licking, massaging. She felt the heat build inside her again and knew they were far from done. She put her lips to his throat and tasted the mix of salt and male. When she nipped his shoulder with her teeth, she felt him grow even longer against her belly. Her hands moved over slabs of muscle to his lean hips.