Chapter 9

“Ilyssa, I –”

“Bran!” she screamed at him again.

Bran turned on the spot, his whole body feeling as if it was raging with fire as he turned to look at her again. Her body was now covered in the thickened material of the dressing gown, but he couldn’t remove the image from his mind.

The curves, the smooth skin, the roundness of her rear and the hint of breast he had seen. Even her slender, elegant back was driving him mad. He shook his head, looking away from her again as she continued to shout at him.

“Ye dinnae knock, ye just barge in here as if it is yer own chamber. What on earth dae ye think ye are doing?”

“I came tae speak tae ye.”

“Aye? Speak then!” She railed, fastening the dressing gown together with frantic hands. “A second later and ye would have found me completely bare in this bathtub.”

At her words, he turned sharply back to look at her. She seemed to realize the sexual tension at the same time, for she baulked and took a step back.

“Bran… ye should go.” She pointed at the door. “Go, now.”

Yet he didn’t. He remained firmly where he was with his feet rooted down to the ground. Her lips slowly parted as if in understanding as he refused to move.

“How much did ye exactly see?” she asked, her voice breathless. He cocked an eyebrow, and she wailed turning away. “Och, Bran!” she hissed. “Why did ye nae knock?”

“Because I had tae see ye.” He glanced at the door, praying it would remain firmly closed as he walked toward her. She walked around the bathtub, and they ended up in a strange cat and mouse game around the copper bath. “Ye went riding with Cillian? Aye?”

“Aye, what of it?” she asked.

“Alone?”

“Aye,” she said again, nodding. “Was it nae ye and me braither who wanted me tae act a part?” She was challenging him again, her chin lifted high. That sign of strength wasn’t helping. He was picturing kissing the curve of that neck, beneath that perfect chin as he pulled loose the belt of that dressing gown. “I acted the part. I went riding with him, aye.”

“Ye shouldnae go alone with him.” He continued to pursue her around the bath. They ended up both moving faster. “It is nae safe, Ilyssa.”

“Aye, and ye ken what’s safe fer me, dae ye? Ye have a say in what I dae or where I go? Ye are nae me braither, Bran.”

“Believe me, I bloody ken I’m nae.” His gaze shot down her body again. He couldn’t help it. His mind was mad now.

He saw the two of them in his mind’s eye in this bath together. He saw her straddling him, her legs on either side of his hips as he reached down and slipped his fingers inside of her. He could picture the way she would arch her back and moan his name perfectly. He could practically hear now the way she would say it.

“What does that look mean?” She moved faster around the bath. “Bran, what does that look mean?”

“Nothing.” He tore his gaze back to her face. “Just dinnae go riding with him alone again. Yer braither has a plan tae get ye out of this. Fer now, let that play out and dinnae go anywhere alone with Cillian.”

“Why nae? Are ye jealous?”

“What if I am?” His sudden declaration made them both stop. They halted on either side of the bath, staring at one another, both gripping to the rim of the bath.

Bran watched as her full lips fell open wide in shock and color flooded her cheeks.

I shouldnae have said that.

He wished he could claw back the words from the air, stuff them into his mouth and pretend it had never happened, but they had erupted from him uncontrollably.

What dae I dae now?

“Bran…” she whispered, her voice suddenly delicate and quiet. “When ye say jealous…” She closed and parted her lips, clearly uncertain how to finish the sentence.

“Well, we are down the rabbit hole now,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. He rubbed the brow of his nose, closing his eyes tight as the question that drove him wild with jealousy suddenly broke from his lips. “Have ye let him touch ye?”

“Bran!” she declared in outrage and moved around the bath again. Only this time, she seemed to be the one pursuing him, racing after him, as they moved the other way. “How can ye ask me that? How can ye even think –”

“I need tae ken.” He waved his arm madly, as if somehow, it explained everything. “Has he touched ye?”

“Of course, he bloody hasnae,” she said wildly. “Dae ye think I have thought of letting any other man touch me after what ye and I… I mean, what ye…” She waved between them, her feet coming to a stop once more.

They halted, now having swapped positions around the bath.

She is thinking of last night. The way we had nearly kissed.

She covered her face with her hands, hiding from him.

“After what we…?” He pushed her on, desperate to hear the words.

“After what we nearly did.” She lowered her hands and spoke in a rush. “Ye think I could fantasize about letting any other man kiss me? Other than ye?” She gestured toward him.

All walls are down between us now, arenae they?

Bran’s heart thundered in his chest. There was nothing left to be said. All his fears of rejection melted away as he saw the way she was looking at him. Everything had changed.

He moved around the bathtub and this time, to his great relief, Ilyssa made no intimation to move away from him.

“Ilyssa –”

“Bran. Please,” she begged. He heard the plea, certain he knew what it was for.

He took hold of her waist at once, practically encircling it with his fingers, then crashed his lips against her own in a kiss.

Ilyssa was nearly knocked backward by the strength of Bran’s kiss. The knowledge that he was at last kissing her, and the skill he showed, were driving her wild. She was backed up to the edge of the bathtub as their bodies began molding together.

Her breasts strained against the covering of the dressing gown, pert and dying to be touched by him as he looped one finger around her belt, holding her close. He angled their heads together, taking command and dominating her tongue in the kiss. She responded, letting him control, letting him move her body so that she was practically bent backward over the fire.

Dinnae stop…She pleaded in her mind as he kissed her.

The feeling of his lips against hers, the way his hand was now moving up her back, trailing his fingers across her body, was greater than she had ever imagined it would be. An ache pulsed between her legs. She dreamt of satisfaction, of knowing something more of Bran now that they had crossed this line.

She rubbed her thighs together, a little friction satisfying her need momentarily. He must have felt it, for he moaned into the kiss, the growl animalistic and possessive.

He pulled back a few inches, staring into her eyes. That look she had never seen before on his face – there was something fierce in those eyes, as possessive as that growl had been.

“Dinnae stop,” she begged.

With one firm pull, he tore off the belt from her body and she gasped in surprise.

“Dae ye think I can bear the thought of any other man touching ye?” he asked, his voice deep and gravelly. “It drives me mad,” he whispered against her neck, trailing his heated lips down her neck and to the curve of her collarbone. “It makes me blood run fast.” He slipped a hand beneath the dressing gown, his fingers firmly caressing the bare skin of her waist and hips.

She gripped the rim of the bathtub behind her, anchoring herself to it as she gasped and moaned at his touch.

“Hold on tight,” he urged.

“Wh-what?” she managed to stammer.

“Hold ontae that bath,” he urged again, suddenly dropping to his knees. “After this, I dinnae want any other man touching ye. Ever.”

The possessive jealousy made her wild, made her want him all the more. She looked down in incredulity as he flicked her dressing gown open, revealing her whole bare body. He slipped his hand around her thighs and separated her legs.

What are ye doing?

Yet she didn’t have the strength to speak. Her body was jittery and excited, just wanting him to continue what he was doing.

He set one of her thighs over his shoulder, making her grip all the more to the bath, then he bent toward her.

The first touch of a man Ilyssa knew was Bran’s lips. Now, he kissed the most sensitive part of her body. She threw her head back in amazement, gasping, her body responding at once. She arched her back, shocked at the sheer sensation of pleasure now erupting inside of her.

Bran grew bold with his tongue. It slipped down to her center, plunging inside of her in such a way as to mimic what else their bodies could be doing. One of Ilyssa’s hands slipped and fell in the water behind her, though neither of them stopped. She kept arching herself toward him as he claimed her with his touch, making her completely his own.

She reached down with her other hand, tangling her fingers in his hair, holding him to her. His other hand came up. It teased her for a second, the fingers playful and light across the inside of her thigh, then suddenly, with firm purpose, they slid toward her center and slipped inside of her.

He reached a part of her body she did not know it was possible to feel. She stared down at him in wonder, unable to catch her breath as he dominated her body, and then –

“Ilyssa?” Tad’s voice came from the corridor, heavy footsteps accompanying his voice. “Are ye in yer chamber?”

Bran leaned back as Ilyssa looked at him, wide eyed.

They both leapt back from one another in fear of discovery. Ilyssa splashed more water, gathering the dressing gown around her body as quickly as possible and Bran raced across the room. He hastened to stand by the door, wiping his mouth and leaning against the wall by the door as Ilyssa managed to hide her body from view. She nodded at Bran, but he waved at his own head, showing her silently that her hair was a mess after what they had done. She hadn’t even noticed pulling at it in their pleasure.

She reset it just as Bran opened the door.

“Ilyssa – ah, Bran.” Tad’s expression didn’t even darken in suspicion as he stepped into the room. “I’m glad ye’re both here. I need tae talk tae ye.”

Ilyssa nodded, unsure her voice would stay level. She exchanged a silent look with Bran, one of fear of discovery but they seemed to be safe. Despite the illicitness of what they had just shared, at a casual glance, there was nothing obvious to show they had done anything in this room, apart from the damp patches on the rug that Ilyssa now stood over in order to hide them from her brother.

“Have ye told her?” Tad asked.

“About the offer? A little,” Bran said by way of explanation.

“I am going tae make another offer tae Laird Gilroy this evening when he returns,” Tad said hurriedly to Ilyssa. “All being well, the betrothal will be broken then.”

“I pray so.” Ilyssa looked down into the bath, staring at the water and thinking what had just nearly happened between her and Bran.

“Bran, there is something ye need tae hear too.” Tad took his shoulder. For one second, Ilyssa thought Tad knew and he was about to warn Bran off, then he offered a sad sort of smile. “Cillian has asked tae see us both. He says he is looking for good sparring partners. He wants us.”

Bran’s eyebrows shot up as Ilyssa gripped the edge of the bathtub until her knuckles turned white with the strength of her panicked grasp.

Why them? Why pick them!?

“Come, I need a good match. Will ye two deny me?” Cillian was marching toward them across the training lawn of the soldiers, wielding his broadsword like it was a light foil.

Bran looked uneasily at Tad, only to see that Tad was showing no fear at all. Tad, the consummate fighter, had enough experience to dwarf any man’s ability. Though Bran had his own experience, he was the politician of his brothers, not a fighter.

I would give anything tae have Evander’s skills now.

Bran looked about the training lawn. Along one side of the grass, close to the barracks, some of the soldiers had gathered to watch the son of their laird fight. Bran couldn’t help feeling like it was a setup.

Cillian was out to impress his men and embarrass both Tad and Bran.

“This isnae a good idea,” Bran hissed so quietly that only Tad could hear him.

“We cannae refuse without being humiliated and called cowards. Ye ken that.” Tad pulled out his own sword, using the cover of the sound to continue to whisper to Bran. “He is offering tae spar us fer practice.”

“And ye really think that is the point of all of this?” Bran nodded to where the other soldiers were.

“Well, I didnae say that.” Tad agreed with a nod.

They both turned back to face Cillian as the man removed his shirt. One of the maids who had come to join the soldiers now whistled, prompting some of the men to laugh. Cillian waved his hand and laughed with them.

“Is it that warm?” Tad asked, nodding at the frost-covered trees nearby.

“I dinnae want tae sully me shirt with sweat.” Cillian shrugged by way of explanation. “Come, Bran, ye first.” He pointed his sword at Bran. “Spar with me.”

Bran thought of refusing as images raced through his mind. He saw himself with Ilyssa again, thought of the way that minutes ago he had been tasting her, living out a fantasy that had consumed his mind the last few days. That image was juxtaposed against the memory of Cillian racing after her on his horse.

Bran raised his sword and turned to face Cillian, just as Tad removed his jerkin and waistcoat for him, leaving him in his shirt.

“Dae me a favor,” Tad whispered in his ear. “Dinnae die.”

“That’s quite a favor. I thought ye said this was just sparring?”

Tad raised his eyebrows.

“On yer guard.” Tad jumped back as Bran turned to face his opponent.

Already, Cillian was running toward him with his sword outstretched.