Chapter 8 #2
Her answer presented itself when, a few moments later the door opened and Broc reentered. He walked to her and held out a short scabbard which held a dagger.
Broc slowly pulled the weapon from its sheath, and Sonya found herself staring at a wicked, deadly-looking curved blade that came to a vicious point.
“This is for you,” Broc said.
Sonya took it, surprised to find that the dagger felt lighter than she had imagined. She studied, with astonishment, the detailed knot work etched into the wooden handle of the weapon. “Where did you find this?”
“I had Jean tell me where I could purchase a weapon for you.”
“You realize what’s on the hilt?”
He gave a small jerk of his head. “It’s one of the reasons I chose it. Its light, and though the blade isna long as a sword’s, it’s longer than some daggers.”
Sonya couldn’t stop looking at the weapon. “I’ll keep it with me always. Thank you, Broc.”
“If I didna have to leave, there’d be no need for you to have a blade. I’m no’ sure you should thank me.’’
She took his hand in hers and gave it a small squeeze. “No one has ever given me anything before.”
His warm fingers closed over hers. She lost herself in his dark eyes, wondering, wishing she knew what thoughts ran through his mind. There were times, like then, that she thought he might want her.
That he might desire her.
Then he would blink and it would disappear, as if she imagined all of it.
“I’ll return as soon as I can. The wyrran willna have gone far. Hopefully I’ll find it, kill it, and return before dark.”
“And if you don’t?”
“Jean already knows I have to leave. She’s going to keep an eye on you. There are a few men she uses to guard the inn, and they will be here tonight.”
Sonya nodded absently. “You will return.”
“If for some reason I doona, here’s coin,” he said, and handed her a small bag. “Use it to buy a horse and men to ride with you to the MacLeod’s.”
“You’ll return.”
He stared at her a moment. “Aye, but just in case. Promise me you’ll do as I’ve asked.”
“I promise.”
Sonya couldn’t imagine Broc not returning, but then again Deirdre was out for revenge, Broc would be one of the first on her list.
He released her hand and turned away. Sonya stood and followed him. She didn’t want him to leave, but she knew he had no choice. He had to kill the wyrran before it reported back to Deirdre.
“You will be careful,” she said.
Broc turned to her with a smile. “I’m a Warrior, Sonya. It will take more than a wyrran to kill me.”
“But you can be killed."
“No’ today. No’ by a wyrran,” he said, confidence filling his voice.
Sonya blew out a breath and shrugged. “I will worry until you come back.”
“Then I will return as soon as I can.”
She had left MacLeod Castle to be alone and as far from Broc as she could get. Now the thought of being by herself and without him terrified her.
How odd that things could change so suddenly in such a short amount of time.
“Doona fear for me. I’ve lived nearly three centuries avoiding Deirdre and her machinations. I will survive a few hours hunting this wyrran.”
Sonya believed him, and to prove it, she forced a smile. “I will wait and dine with you for supper.”
“I would like that.”
When he took a step closer, her heart began to pound. He lifted his hand to her face, making her breath catch in her lungs. His fingers slid into her hair and around her neck.
Sonya loved the feel of his calloused fingers, the way his large hand was gentle yet insistent when he touched her. She enjoyed looking into his eyes, seeing the emotions shift and fill his dark depths before he could close himself off to her.
Ever so slowly, he leaned toward her. His eyes held all the passion, all the yearning, she had ever hoped to see. His forehead touched hers, their breaths mingling as time halted.
Excitement blossomed and built within her, drowning her in the fervor of the desire that grew between them. It was palpable, tangible. Real.
She was afraid to move, afraid to speak lest she break whatever held her and Broc. For once, he was allowing her to see his feelings.
Her skin quivered and begged for more as his thumb stroked her cheek. He brought her closer, so their bodies touched, brushed together.
Sonya’s hands gripped his waist, unsure of what was going to happen and unwilling to release him.
She couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth, couldn’t stop thinking of kissing him. Of being kissed by him.
Then his hand lifted her chin and his lips covered hers. For an instant Sonya couldn’t breathe, and then she was flooded with a whirlwind of sensation.
His soft, warm lips were firm as he kissed her, coaxing her closer, ever closer. Her arms wound around his waist of their own accord. And when his tongue skimmed along her lips, begging entry, Sonya never thought to refuse him.
The first stroke of his tongue against hers, the first wickedly intoxicating taste of him, was her undoing.
The kiss intensified, taking her deeper and deeper into the passion that had been calling for her, a passion she knew could only be with Broc.
Desire grew, swelled as Broc’s arms tightened around her, holding her against him. Passion left a scorching trail through her as it wound in her blood and came to rest in the pit of her stomach, to build as their kisses deepened, the fire growing between them until it was an inferno.
All too soon, he ended the kiss and lifted his head. For long moments he stared into her eyes. Sonya waited for him to speak or to touch her.
His thumb grazed her bottom lip softly.
And then he was gone.