Chapter Ten #2
He took the note out of her hand. “Look at ye, ye’re still shaking. What am I to do with ye?”
“I have no idea. I think I am hopeless.”
He quickly perused her note, which was supposedly from him and asking for her assistance.
She sighed. “I assumed you needed help with your cuff links. I suppose I was meant to find you in a compromising position with Lady Trowbridge.”
“Aye, and as I said, a stupid game.”
“Well, she’s won this round.”
“How can ye believe this? I was never going to let her in. Can I say this any clearer, Miranda? I will always choose ye over her. If I am the prize, then she can never win.”
“I know…at least, I think I know it.”
He growled. “I would never dishonor ye. No’ with her or with any other lady.”
She merely nodded.
Bollocks.
Would she never grow to trust him?
“Do you think you can make a hardened soldier out of me in the hour we have until our supper reservation?” she asked, casting him an imploring look that seemed to beg for his patience.
“It’ll take more than one hour to toughen ye up. I would no’ do it even if we had all the time in the world.”
“Why not?”
“Ye are already fierce, but in a good way. Why would I train ye to become hard as nails, like that she-cat? No, ye already know how to stand up for what’s right. But I also like this soft and vulnerable side to ye, this side that finds pleasure in books such as Stitching with Wool.”
She gave a gentle laugh and shook her head. “I like to knit.”
“I know that ye do. And I like that ye do. Need I repeat myself? Ye already have fire within ye, but perhaps ye are sometimes afraid to light it. Lady Trowbridge is successful in spreading her malice because she understands yer weakness and aims straight for it. This is why she wasted no time in striking at yer heart.”
“My heart?”
“Aye, that is what I represent. She thinks we are about to become betrothed, and she hopes to wreck our plans by coming between us, just as she purposely wrecked your marriage all those years ago.”
“But it is Gwenys and Douglas who are the lovebirds, not us.”
He sighed. “Ye are the only one who refuses to see the possibility of love between us. Do ye think Gwenys’s stepmother failed to notice the way I looked at ye when we first encountered her? Was I no’ obvious?”
“Perhaps you were, but I was too busy worrying about Gwenys to notice.” She glanced up at him and her eyes suddenly widened. “Do you think they will try to hurt Gwenys? Oh, dear heaven.”
Her resolve hardened before his very eyes. But this was Miranda, a tigress when fighting for those she loved.
If only she loved herself as much.
“I’ll come after them with a holy vengeance and burn them to ashes if they dare make her cry,” she declared.
“Aye, there’s the fiery lass I first met. See, ye already have this fierceness in ye. So, why are ye strong for everyone else? Ye need to apply a little of that strength to yerself.”
“It is different for me.”
“Only because ye let it be different. Ye stood yer ground with Mongo. Why are ye letting those biddies get to ye? Who are they other than a couple of conniving hags that ye bested in the courts? Ye won that battle. Ye are the victor, so why are ye behaving as though ye were the conquered one and no’ the conqueror? ”
She was once again looking at him and giving him that soft smile that broke his heart to pieces every time.
“I’ll protect ye, of course,” he said, sighing. “But ye have to stop thinking of yerself as that twenty-year-old girl who endured their humiliation. They are masters at this game and will savage ye the moment I am no’ around, but only if they still sense yer weakness.”
“This is exactly the reason I wanted to have supper in the dining hall tonight. I refuse to hide from them.”
“Merely coming out of hiding is no’ going to do it. Ye need to be a warrior, fierce as ye were when hurling those objects at Mongo and his companions.”
“All right. I think I can do this. No weakness,” she repeated with a determined nod.
He tucked a finger under her chin. “There’s my lass. Ye’ll show them nothing less than the warrior queen in ye. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” She arched an eyebrow and smiled at him again. “You had better put on some clothes before another of the inn’s guests comes down the hall and sees you in your Roman god glory.”
He glanced down at himself and laughed. “Aye, I’ll put on some clothes for ye.”
She shook her head and gave a mirthful chuckle. “For me? My sensibilities are not delicate at all. In my opinion, you look perfect just as you are.”
“My, my. I’ve never been described as a Roman god before. Are ye certain ye’re no’ running a fever?” he teased.
“It is possible, for the butterflies in my stomach have not stopped fluttering and my body has not stopped tingling since I set eyes on you.”
“Aye, then ye must be running a high fever.” This was all he had hoped for since first encountering her, too.
His one wish was that she might grow to care for him deeply and come to think of him as the mate to her soul.
He had never thought of himself as romantic before, and probably had not given sufficient thought to marriage, since he was still a bachelor at his age.
But Miranda had him thinking seriously about his heart and about finding his perfect, true love.
He knew she was the one. He knew it to the depths of his soul.
“Yes, I must be burning up.” She playfully placed a hand on her brow. “I’m sure Lady Trowbridge’s fever spiked as well. Her eyes must have popped out of their sockets when you opened the door and she saw you.”
“And yer eyes?”
“Oh, they are still rolling somewhere down this hall,” she said with a light laugh.
It pleased him that she liked his body. “Och, dinna say anything more or ye’ll tempt me to do something naughty to ye.”
“Bram…”
“Aye, love?” What did she wish to tell him? Something important, no doubt. Perhaps she wanted to indulge in a little naughtiness with him and did not know how to come straight out with it.
She also had to know that anything they did in the bedchamber would be a step toward marriage on his part, never a mere dalliance.
“Oh, I had better wake Gwenys or we’ll be late to supper.”
She made to scurry away, but Bram grabbed her hand. “Gwenys is asleep?”
Miranda nodded. “She was tired after our jaunt to the marketplace, so she lay down to rest for a few minutes.”
“Dinna wake her.” He drew Miranda into his quarters, pleased when she did not resist.
She cleared her throat. “Um, why am I in here?”
“I told ye I was going to give ye an improper kiss. There’s no time like the present.”
Her lovely, glistening eyes widened. “Now?”
“Aye, any objections?” She did not appear to have any, and was no doubt eager to end this fifteen-year drought of any man touching her. That she would choose him to bring an end to this dry spell filled him with pride. Yet he understood the responsibility that came with being the one for her.
It was not merely about giving her a good kiss. It was also about expunging the shattering hurt of mockery and rejection she had endured in the past.
Her cheeks turned fiery as he drew close enough so that their breaths mingled. “Miranda, do ye want me to let ye go?”
“No.”
“Good.” He shut the door behind them and gently pressed her back to it, trapping her between his arms. “Close yer eyes, my sweet lass. I’ve been aching to give ye a long…” He placed a feather-soft kiss along her neck. “Deep…” And another kiss along her throat that elicited a soft moan.
“Bram, perhaps—”
“Hot…” He kissed the swell of her bosom, which was rapidly rising and falling with her every breath. “Highly improper…”
He captured her warm, sweet mouth with his, pouring his wild longings into their second kiss, which he wished could last into forever.
He captured her hands in his while kissing her with all the raw ache he felt inside, and kept them grasped because he needed his hands to stay put and not roam wildly along her lithe body because he yearned to undress her.
But that wasn’t working too well, because Miranda was now rubbing her body against his, causing flames to erupt inside of him. His blood turned thick as molten lava.
Blessed saints. The lass was delicious, and he hungered for all of her.
He released her hands to let them roam all over him while he plundered her mouth with wanton need. His hands roamed all over her exquisite body that responded pleasurably to his touch.
He cupped her nicely rounded bottom, wanting to lift her up against him, but that would hurt her ribs and bring a rude end to this moment of rapture that he had no intention of ending anytime soon.
Her hands slid up and down his arms and along his shoulders, as though she needed to memorize the contours of his body as desperately as he wished to memorize hers. Her fingers lightly brushed along the spray of hair across his chest.
He cupped her breast and felt the bud of it swell in response as he slid his thumb across it.
“Bram,” she moaned, suddenly pressing herself so tightly against him that he could not maintain a proper handhold, although he surely felt the pillowy softness of her ample mounds against his flesh, and they felt awfully good.
That she yearned for this closeness delighted him, but what he truly wanted to do was get his mouth on every delicious inch of her, taste her and make her quiver against his tongue.
The bong of a hallway clock penetrated his inflamed senses and had him putting an end to this kiss before it spiraled out of control.
“Miranda…” He could not put a sentence together, just grunted and groaned like a bull in heat.
She sighed in response. “I know…and I had better get back to my bedchamber before your towel falls off.”
He chuckled as he released her, and then gave her cheek a light caress before he stepped away. “Let me make certain no one is in the hallway.” While she waited, her eyes big and soft on him, he cautiously opened his door. “Aye, all clear.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, casting him a delicate smile.
“Thank ye, lass,” he replied, and immediately wanted to kick himself.
What sort of a response was that? It sounded as though he would toss a few coins her way before sending her off.
But she had him turned upside down, his breaths still ragged and his skin too hot.
“Sorry, I’m no’ smooth with this sort of thing.
But I liked kissing ye. Hope to do it again soon. ”
She choked back a laugh. “Oh, Bram. Stop or you’ll have me swooning.”
“Dinna mock me. I’m no good with flowery words.”
Her eyes were alight and her smile was gentle. “I do not need flowery words from you. You are perfect just as you are.”
He gave her a soft kiss on the lips. “So are ye, my sweet lass.”
She slipped under his arm and hurried next door.
He watched her go in. Only then did he close his door and prepare to dress.
“Blessed saints,” he said, whipping off his towel and reaching for his trousers. “I need to marry that girl.”