Chapter 1 #3
The new sister did not return his gesture.
“You threatened to kill Catriona.” A hardness touched her almond-shaped eyes and she appeared more likely to run him through with a sword than allow him in her bed.
A massive dog came from behind her, a beast so tall, its haunches came higher than her waist. It regarded him with glittering black eyes from a face of drooping brown fur.
“He did what?” The other sister exclaimed from behind him.
“I dinna hurt her.” He held up his hands. If he wanted her in his bed that night and didn’t want to end up that beast of a dog’s supper, he'd need to approach the topic with diplomacy.
In truth, if Lady Marin hadn’t opened the portcullis when she did, the situation would have been a difficult one to navigate. He didn't hurt women or children. Ever.
His men had all been warned off ever hurting them as well, upon punishment of death. And it was one he would readily mete out. He didn't care if he took the life of a man, especially one who preyed upon the weak.
“You could have hurt her,” the younger sister said. She moved to his side. The curious interest in her eyes had frosted over with icy disdain.
“Come now if you want food, or don’t and starve.” The older one departed with her dog, leaving only her swirling hem trailing behind her.
Bran strode quickly to follow and found the younger sister at his side. “What are you called?” he asked.
“A scholar.” She lifted her chin. “And you?”
“A reiver.” If she wouldn't answer him with naught but a quip, he could do likewise.
Ahead of him, the older sister and her giant beast led at a ridiculous pace, her leather shoes far quieter than the wooden patens of his.
She did not slow, not until they reached the great hall where his men had settled in.
Conversations buzzed around him, heavy with the baritone of his reivers.
The inhabitants of the castle were easily detected by their soundlessness.
As if those who had dared to attend supper might remain safe by remaining quiet.
The ceiling of the great hall had similar paintings across the great wooden beams stretching out overhead. Unicorns and lions and flowers and graceful arcing whorls throughout. Had the sisters done them, or had they come at an exorbitant price as with everything in the castle?
Servants laid out trenchers filled with steaming food on the tables. So much food. Root vegetables roasted and steaming, thick slabs of meat drenched in gravy, and loaves of crusty bread as big as his forearm.
Never had he seen so much food in one place.
The younger sister disappeared from his side and the dog trotted off toward a servant who waved the beast over. The one who had led him there swept past him, intending to leave as well. He caught her hand. It was soft, her fingers slender and dainty.
She stopped and her lashes lowered as she regarded their joined hands. Her palm was warm, and she had a delicate floral scent about her. It was pleasant and he liked the thought of smelling her on his skin the next morning.
“What is yer name?” He brushed her wrist with his thumb, a suggestive caress to imply so, so much more, and released his hold on her.
Her eyes narrowed in a way that said Bran wouldn’t get her name, let alone her favors.
Rejection.
He’d expected nothing less. The wealthy always thought themselves so above everyone else.
“May I show you to your table?” Marin stepped from the doorway and wedged herself in front of her sister.
By comparison between the women, Marin held an authoritative demeanor and unquestioned confidence. A challenge. He decided then and there he liked her the best. Bran nodded for her to lead him to the table, and she did, skirting the edge of the great hall to the front. To the dais.
He wouldn’t sit at the head of the great hall, like some overprivileged noble. “Nay. This is fine here.” He indicated the bench as she turned to face him.
There was a strength about her, a fortitude which drew him. Everything about her indicated she would be supple and sweet, and yet her influence, her tone, all suggested she was nothing fragile.
“Will ye join me?” he asked.
Marin’s lips curled into a slow smile of obvious interest. “I was hoping we might dine together.”
She stood nearly a head taller than any of her sisters, her stance proud. Candlelight sparkled off her glossy hair and something enticing glittered in her blue eyes.
His gaze slipped to her full, kissable lips. No doubt they’d be supple beneath his mouth, sweet.
“I know what men like you want.” Her own stare dipped in assessment of his body.
He was sure of what she thought she knew. Mayhap of what she’d even seen living on the border. He frowned. “I dinna take women by force.”
She stepped closer, bringing with her the clean scent of lavender. “What if she comes to you by choice?”
Her face was flawless, lovely, most likely soaked each night in milk that could feed families instead. He should hate her for it, and yet he found all he wanted to do was stroke her to see if she would be as smooth as she looked, caressing such creamy skin, having her flush with passion…
“Depends.” He cocked his head to the side. “Is that woman ye?”
Marin's tongue darted between her pink lips, leaving them glistening. “Aye.”
“I was hoping ye’d say that.” He winked and her cheeks went pink. Aye, he would have the bonny lass tonight, after a meal fit for a king, in a castle he’d taken with only one death.
This was the best damn day of his life.