Chapter 2 #2
He hadn’t wiped his mouth on his sleeve; he’d pulled the meat from his eating dagger rather than biting it directly off the blade.
He hadn’t even used the blade to pick his teeth.
A bowl of water sat beside him. Shite. Rich men always washed their hands before eating.
Damn their ostentatious and foolish ways, and damn him for trying to appeal to the lot of them.
His eyes narrowed.
“My sisters were wondering at the cause of your arrival and questioned the length of your stay,” Marin said sweetly. “They also would like to know what has happened to our soldiers. I was uncertain how to answer.”
In truth, he didn’t know how long he’d be there.
At least until Warden Kerr could get enough troops over to take the castle.
All of it would be based on how events played out at Berwick.
A war was brewing between England and Scotland, and this land was a crucial piece in the chess game of wealthy men.
Like all those without a title, Bran was simply a pawn.
“The soldiers are alive.” He put another bite into his mouth. It was exactly as good as the first few. He could happily become a fat man on food such as this. “They’re in the dungeon, but we dinna intend to harm them.”
“Why are you doing this?” Anice asked. “Why would you threaten to hurt Cat, and bring your men in here? What do you want from us?” She glared at him openly now, no longer fearing Marin’s wrath.
Marin, for her part, did not tell her sister to stop this time.
“I took this castle intentionally without harming more than the one unfortunate soldier and I’ve no intention to hurt any of ye or yer guards.” He took another bite and waited until he swallowed before speaking again. “That’s all ye need to know.”
It was ridiculous to put on such airs for the benefit of these ladies.
But then again, to do so, to win their affection, would make the people of Werrick Castle more compliant.
He’d heard too many tales of the people rising up against usurpers.
And who knew how long Kerr would take to come for Werrick Castle?
His gaze skimmed over Marin's face, noting the lusciousness of her lips, the fairness of her skin. He could only imagine her flushed with pleasure, her mouth and cheeks red, her blue eyes heavy lidded.
Aye, having the lovely noblewoman would be the perfect bit of sweetness after so filling a meal. He cut another piece of venison for himself and noticed none of the sisters had taken any for themselves. Now he was grateful he’d made them test it for poison.
“But surely you will not harm our soldiers.” Catriona offered a tentative smile, even as hurt flashed in her eyes, despite the optimism of her words. She looked away, no doubt recalling the man Bran had cut down .
He ate another slice of venison and drank deeply from the goblet of wine at his side.
He didn't have the opportunity to drink wine often.
Even when he had, it was usually sour with age and of poor quality, certainly nothing so fine as the rich spiced wine in his cup.
He drained it in one gulp and found his starved stomach already overly full.
“We will discuss yer soldiers when I speak privately with Lady Marin.” He rose from the table and winked at the eldest sister. “I’m ready to retire.”
Her face went red. Aye, like that. He wanted all of her flushed exactly like that, under him and moaning in passion. His cock began to swell with longing.
“What does he mean?” Ella asked. “Are you going to have a private discussion without us?”
Marin put up a hand to cease her sisters' complaints and got to her feet. She turned from her sisters and lightly bit her lip. “I'd like a moment to prepare first.” Her voice was low, sultry; it teased over every nerve in his body and left prickles of gooseflesh, raising the hair on his arms.
Most likely she wanted to wipe her body off and apply more of her clean-smelling lavender water to her intimate places, the very places he intended to explore.
But, if Lady Marin of Werrick Castle needed a few minutes, he'd give her the time she needed. For soon, she would in his bed. And in the meantime, he had a missive to pen for Kerr. Bran’s end of the bargain had been fulfilled.
Marin was going to kill Bran.
Her decision had seemed so easy earlier in the evening when she’d seen him with Anice, when he had reached out and caught her hand. Marin had wanted to kill him then, but when his men outnumbered her own two to one, it was wise to be prudent.
Nay, it would be best to do it alone, when there would be no surrounding army. And there was no better way to get a man alone than to seduce him.
Marin's hands shook so badly, she could scarcely fasten the jeweled belt around her waist.
Anice pushed Marin's hands aside and deftly fastened the clasp before readjusting it into place.
“Is there nothing else we can do? Entertain him, get him drunk. You saw how fast he drained his wine. It would be easily done.” Her gaze was desperate when she looked up at Marin, desperate and scared.
An uncommon look for the sister who was always so effortlessly composed. “Please, Marin.”
“I must do this.” And Marin would. She had to. In order to protect her sisters, her home. This was her mistake to make right, and she would do so without putting anyone else at risk.
“At least take Piquette,” Anice said. The large dog lying next to the hearth lifted his head at the sound of his name. “He’ll keep you safe.”
Marin shook her head. “I cannot attempt this with Piquette in the room.”
The dog watched the exchange with dark eyes, his floppy ears perking at the second mention of his name.
“This is foolish.” Even as Anice spoke, her fingers were at work plucking at Marin’s fabric and fiddling with her jewelry to make it all just so. “You cannot let the reiver have you. No man will marry you after that.”
“Have her?” Catriona flopped down on a cushion on the ground near them. “Why wouldn't a man marry you?”
At only sixteen, Catriona had remained blissfully ignorant of what transpired between a man and a woman.
That all the sisters had been able to remain innocent in such dangerous times was a testament to their father's diligence to their care and the stronghold that was Werrick Castle.
But the older three had heard stories of what happened to captured women and had tried their best to keep the younger two sheltered.
Bran had said he would not take a woman by force, but what of his men?
“You know I have no intention to marry.” Marin ran her fingers through her long hair to ensure no tangles remained. “It’s why you’ve been able to become betrothed to your Timothy before any engagement was announced for me. Besides…” Marin lowered her voice. “It will not come to any of that.”
“Any of what?” Catriona grinned impishly.
Piquette, who apparently realized he was no longer part of the sisters’ conversation, rested his large head back on the floor.
Ella gave an excited gasp. “What if we can find poison to apply onto your dagger? Leila, can it be done?”
Leila, who had watched everything with her small lips tucked against themselves, shook her dark head. “I’m unaware of a poison that can coat a dagger. At least one to kill a man.” Her mouth screwed to the side. “And I chance it to say, it might not be good to have him dead.”
The sisters all went still and stared at her.
“Because he’s a good person in his heart?” Cat guessed. “And this will truly become the greatest love story of all time?” She put her hands dramatically over her chest and pretended to swoon. “Ella, you must write all this down.”
Marin laughed, her nerves making the sound high-pitched. In truth, she knew exactly what she was getting into. Not through experience, but through knowledge gleaned. It had been she, after all, who had caught their Master of the Horse with the maid in the stables.
It had piqued her curiosity. And while she did not anticipate getting to the point of…of…copulation, the anticipation of a kiss held great appeal.
Because she would have to kiss him and touch him. A trill of excitement shivered through her, no matter how much she tried to tamp it down. He was handsome in a wild way, those dark eyes intense as they devoured her.
She shivered and the tips of her nipples tingled.
But she could not think such things. Nay, she would need to focus on him as the opponent he was.
He was clever; he’d proven that by how he’d gotten into the castle.
And he was strong, at least in her summation based on how his visible forearms and neck were corded with muscle.
What would it be like to touch such a strong body? What would he feel like under her fingertips?
Death. She reminded herself with the word in steely resolve. For she would need to kill him.
“I do not wish you to hurt him,” Leila said with finality.
Of everything said in Marin’s preparation, this was the one that gave her pause. Leila saw things others didn’t, felt things in ways others could not.
Anice carefully slipped the dagger into the front of Marin’s belt where the length of gold metalwork fell in the fashionable “Y.” It perfectly concealed the dagger, which was why she'd borrowed the belt from Anice.
Likewise, the dress she'd borrowed had been one of the latest styles with a lower-cut neckline, hopefully a better distraction than her own more modestly cut gowns.