Page 49 of How to Heal a Highland Heart
Thirteen
Where the devil were William and Patience? Brodee wiped the sweat from his eyes. He tried to stifle the rising tide of worry within him, but it was near hopeless. He still couldn’t believe she’d slipped Fergus’s guard. His mouth tugged into a smile of genuine appreciation at her clever tactic of having Mari distract Fergus while Patience fled the kitchens unnoticed.
He glanced to the castle door again, which remained closed. He definitely should have gone to search for her himself. But then they’d be alone, which was something he had taken great pains to avoid since the night in the woods when he’d realized how weak his resolve to keep his wife at a distance had become. She’d awakened feelings and longings he’d locked away after the pain of Arabel’s death. He was a man of control, but Patience seemed to rob him of it. He couldn’t allow that. Control kept the possibility of more pain away. And until he could gain back control, he had to keep distance. Space. Someone with them at all times, so he did not reveal things about himself, nor ask her about herself, about the things he’d learned. Each fact they could share was like a string that would bind them together, and the more he learned, the tighter they would be bound. And then what if he lost her?
He wanted to simply protect her and be good to her without caring too much. It was too late for not caring at all.
Suddenly she was coming through the castle door, a vision in green with her dark hair flowing around her shoulders and a flower tucked behind her ear. His heart tugged, and he groaned. She strode toward him, purposeful, proud, like a warrior queen. His little wife had changed in the blink of an eye, and for her, he was glad of it. For himself, he was afraid of it. She was even more enticing in her new boldness.
“Where’s William?” he asked as she approached.
“I asked him nae to come with me,” she replied, not looking apologetic in the least.
“I wish ye would nae have done that. And I wish ye would nae have slipped away from Fergus.”
“He’s nae in trouble for that, is he?” she asked, looking and sounding suddenly worried. “It was nae his fault; it’s mine. If ye must punish someone—”
“I told ye before I dunnae have a propensity to punish.” The fact that she was more concerned for Fergus than herself was a fresh reminder of why he was having such a hard time keeping his guard up around her. She was kind, gentle, and fragile. Yet she had a strength she did not even realize. He wanted to tell her that. But he could not, there were too many strings—the kind that bind, the kind that only a woman could tie around a man. Those kinds of strings could kill a man when he lost the woman who had tied the knots.
Brodee inhaled deeply, trying to clear the jumble of thoughts that were normally so orderly, but that this slip of lass in front of him set into chaos every time she was near.
She set her hands on her hips and glanced up at him. “Are ye scairt to be alone with me?”
“Dunnae be nonsensical,” he said. “I’m the Savage Slayer.”
She arched her eyebrows. “From what I’ve observed, ye’re more tender than savage.”
“I told ye that ye dunnae call warriors tender,” he grumbled. “I’m nae tender.”
She held up her hand. “Ye punished Father Bisby for me. Ye punched Ulric for me. Ye fought Cul for me. Yekilleda man forme.” She frowned as she glanced from her four fingers to him. “Oh. Yearesavage. But only when ye have to be, and always to protectme.”
Devil take the lass. The tiny bit of control he felt he’d gained in the last week was fast slipping away. She reached out and touched his arm, the feel of her fingertips like a feast for the part of him that hungered for her. “I want to ken ye, Brodee, and I have nae ever been able to say that about a man I’ve been wed to before.”
Christ, she was cleverer than any warrior he’d ever encountered. She seemed to know his weakness, though he’d been certain he hid it. She cleared her throat, revealing her nervousness, and the protectiveness inside him rose. How was he to protect her when he was trying to shield himself from the hurt only she could cause?
“I was wed to a man who beat me,” she said. The words were the most blunt she’d ever spoken to him, and his gut twisted with her raw revelation. He’d known, of course, since the night in the woods, but to hear her say it so matter-of-factly brought all the rage he’d initially felt on her behalf storming to the forefront.
“I was then wed to a man who belittled me, who made me think I’m worthless.” Her voice had dropped to a suffocated whisper, and he knew then that she still doubted herself. He understood it far too well. Her eyes bore into his, searching, he realized, for a sign from him.
“Ye make me feel I can hope,” she said.
He was at once high and low. He wanted to give her hope, and yet she would not stop with that. He knew it. “Hope another person fills ye with is dangerous,” he replied after a beat, feeling like a complete beast for the way her shoulders fell with his words, but he pressed on. He had to. “When they are gone, so is it, and all ye are left with is guilt and regret.”
She notched her chin up, his beautiful warrior wife. “I would rather have that than never experience the happiness I can taste when ye’re near.”
God’s teeth. There was no resisting the desire she ignited. He wanted to take her. Make her his. Claim her body. He trembled with the need to do so. That’s all he would do. No sharing of his soul, only his body. He would stay in control. His heartbeat roared in his ears, and his blood pumped through him like it did before battle. He reached for her then, and when his fingers grazed her silken skin, he knew he was lost.
She couldn’t even say how they got to the bedchamber. All she could remember was her entire being filling with yearning, anticipation, and a surety that he would refuse her. Then something seemed to flare within him and he’d touched her, making her her body grow tight with wanting. Then he’d pulled her against his chest to wrap her in his embrace.
His mouth, hot and searching, had covered hers, and all she could recall was the slide of his tongue along hers, the graze of his hand down her back, over her bottom, and under her legs. The feeling of being feather light as he carried her up the stairs. And then they were at the bedchamber door, and she became aware of everything at once. Her heart pounded so hard that her chest hurt. Her ears roared with her rushing blood, and fear and expectation fought for dominance inside her.
His lips touched her ear, causing swirling sensations of painful desire. “I surrender,” he said, his hot breath gliding over her sensitive skin as triumph flared bright within her. Then, to her utter astonishment, he reared back and kicked open the door to the bedchamber. It opened with a slam against the wall, and he carried her into the room, pausing only long enough to kick the door shut behind them.
A look of raw hunger came to his face as he bent his head to her and parted her mouth for a kiss. Urgent need gripped her as his warm, velvet kiss stole all her fear and replaced it with heart-pounding curiosity of what was to come. His tongue tangled with hers and sent her senses reeling and pushed her toward reckless abandon. He broke the kiss, making her moan her despair, but then his lips came upon her once more to trace a fiery path down her neck to her breasts. It was divine ecstasy. It was going to make her truly mad with how needful it made her feel to have his lips everywhere on every part of her. Parts no lady should even dream of having a man’s lips, but she was going to do more than dream. She would take, and very soon, if he did not kiss her all over.
“Brodee,” she moaned, praying that he understood without the need for her to say it. Suddenly, his hands glided to her breasts, and he freed one, as if the gown she wore did not even exist. She cried out with pleasure as he took her nipple in his scorching mouth to suckle the sensitive bud.
The way he worked his mouth upon her skin was magical and maddening at once. Long pulls and tiny nips caused a pulsing that started in her belly and moved between her legs to her core. She needed more. “More,” she said between pants, bring her hands to his broad back to give him a not so gentle nudge. When he continued to tease her with a wicked chuckle, she dug her nails into his skin, and he released a sound of guttural pleasure that made her feel she could conquer anything.
