Page 14 of Mist Warrior (Legacy of the Mist Clans #1)

Ch apter Thirteen

Lady de Courcy

Branan wrapped his arms around Catriona and lifted her from her feet. “Praise be,” he whispered. “Ye are safe.”

She clung to his neck and breathed a ragged sigh.

He released her just enough to return her to her feet. “Ye still amaze me, lass. Ye were bloody fine with that bow and turned the battle for us.”

Branan waited a moment and frowned when Catriona didn’t respond. His fingers gently tugged on her chin until she looked up at him. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

“Richard...” she choked.

He sighed softly. Catriona was not callous or cold, of course Richard’s death while defending her would hurt her heart. “Lass, I ken yer heart burdens ye, despite yer grief ye kept yer head, gained a weapon and rained death on the tosspots.”

Her arms tightened around him. “Please, Branan, I just want to go home.”

Home? He gazed down at her stunned. “To Thistlewood?”

“Aye, Branan. Thistlewood is my home, and by the rood, I can’t bear to be away another moment.”

The anguish he had suffered this day vanished in a heartbeat. “Aye.” He turned to find Jamie still standing next to him. “Jamie, lad, ye did well today. I thank ye for defending Catriona.”

He made a strange noise in his throat. “She didna need much defending.”

Branan laughed. “Aye. But we are still unstable here. I will return Catriona to Thistlewood. Tell Duguald to keep as many men as he needs to defend this place and send the rest home.”

“Aye, MacTavish.” Jamie hurried away.

Branan lifted Catriona into his arms and carried her to his horse .

His heart fairly sang as Branan returned with a small armed escort to Thistlewood. Those who had remained behind gathered around the riders as they dismounted, fearful because of the call for mercenaries to defend Brackenburgh and confused as to why Catriona returned.

Branan said nothing, his attention solely on Catriona. He helped her from his horse and again lifted her into his arms. Instead of going to her shelter, he passed it by and headed for the tower—and straight into his own solar.

He knew she was exhausted and the day’s events wore heavily on her, but there were still things he needed to discuss with her and they would not—could not—wait until tomorrow.

Branan sat Catriona on the edge of his bed and crouched before her. “Lass, can I get ye anything?”

She stared at nothing, the haunted misery in her eyes twisting his gut.

“Wine?” he asked.

Catriona nodded.

He sighed and rose. The servants kept a carafe of fine wine and two goblets on the table for him. Branan poured them each a glass.

Catriona strangled out a cry.

Branan spun, expecting to see Strickland charging through the door, but there was nothing there. Catriona moved violently, hauling her over-dress over her head. “Get it off me! Get it off me!”

He set the cups down and lunged to her side. Before Branan could reach her, Catriona had hauled off her under-dress as well, wearing only a thin chemise. “The blood! Get it off me!”

Fear cut through him. What was wrong? Catriona was a healer, blood did not bother her. She stood, staring at her bloodstained hands, shaking violently.

Richard's blood—the blood of her husband. Suddenly he understood.

Branan gently gripped her hands. “Catriona,” he said softly but firmly, snapping her out of her panic. He guided her to a basin on another table and poured water over her hands from the ewer. Branan cleaned the blood from Catriona’s hands and his own, but her shaking did not ease.

“My ill wishes crossed him,” she whispered so softly he barely heard her. “’Tis my fault he is dead.”

“What? Catriona, nay, that no’ be true.”

“You don’t understand. Before Strickland attacked, Richard...he begged my forgiveness. He said he only acted as he did because he feared for me. Richard had realized his mistakes and was trying to correct them. Branan...all he wanted was to be a good husband to me...his only hope was that love might grow between us. Then he died defending me.”

Branan crushed her to his chest. “Nay, Catriona, if anyone crossed him, ’twas me,” he murmured and described his time spent in prayer the night before. “This was no’ yer doing.” She still trembled against him. He reached over with a long arm and snagged the cup he had poured for her, pressing it into her hands. “Drink, it will help calm ye.”

She did so, draining almost half the cup.

He snagged his own and guided her to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Richard told me all he owned was now mine, and that I was to help you in your cause. He said you would keep me safe because...because you love me.” Catriona looked up at him, her tear-filled sapphire eyes reflecting anguish, but also a spark of hope.

Branan wanted to turn away, but hiding from the truth had brought naught but pain—he had learned that today when he gave Catriona’s hand to another man. “Aye, my bonny lass, I love ye. Since the night ye found me bleeding in the forest, I have loved ye.” Branan lowered his head and kissed Catriona with the passion that had been burning for so long it had nearly torn him apart.

A soft groan escaped her and she relaxed, timidly returning his kiss. Her hand moved to grip his tunic. He pulled her closer, but at the same time moved her toward the center of the bed. His body covered hers and he gradually lowered himself, his swelling shaft pressing against her thigh.

Fire roared through Branan as Catriona’s lips parted and he swept his tongue across hers, exploring her mouth with wondrous abandon, savoring her sweet taste and the gentle scent of jasmine that surrounded him. Branan’s desire threatened to rage out of control, but he knew he had to move slowly, to counter each of her doubts with love and passion, to firmly put her fears away from her one at a time. Only then would he truly be able to touch Catriona’s heart.

Slowly, her hands slid up his chest, then languorously over his back. He pulled away enough to haul his tunic off and quickly returned to kiss her again. Branan shivered as he felt her firm breasts against him through her thin chemise. He desperately wanted to rid Catriona of the flimsy garment standing in his way, but feared moving too quickly for her. Branan slid his hand under its hem, caressing the soft silk of her leg. Lightly, he traced his mouth down her throat, pleased at the breathy sigh that escaped her and how she lifted her head to give him free access.

Catriona’s fingers continued to move over his chest, brushing his flat nipple and caressing each cut and curve of muscle. Despite his best intentions to move slowly, Branan discovered he couldn’t stand having anything between him and her bare skin. He backed away from the bed, standing, and tugged her chemise over her head. His breath caught as he gazed at Catriona’s beauty, her naked body on his bed before him, her red-gold hair fanned out around her. Her lashes lowered, her eyes dark and smoky with desire, her gaze wandering over him in blatant lust. The golden light of the hearth fire and the candles danced and shimmered over her skin. He quickly shucked the rest of his clothing. Her gaze fell on his upright, swollen cock and her eyes widened.

“Nay,” Branan said, before fear could replace her passion. He took Catriona’s hand and guided her to stroke him. His groan rumbled low and savage as she fondled him. Her hand moved timidly at first, but her confidence grew and she sat up. “Aye, Catriona,” he said, his voice so hoarse he barely recognized it as his own. “Explore my body as it pleases ye.”

Suddenly, her mouth closed on his cock and she powerfully drew on him. Branan threw his head back, strangling on a cry as shock and pleasure roared through him and his vision exploded with color. He nearly spilled his seed with the glory of her heated mouth suckling him. His hands touched Catriona’s head, his fingers weaving through the soft wealth of her hair. His body moved on its own, thrusting his hips forward, his fingers tightening in her hair. Damnation, never in his life had he experienced such pleasure. Branan’s lust grew to a fever pitch and he realized if he didn’t pull away from her, he would spill his seed in her mouth and be finished in moments, but Branan could not move, never wanting it to stop. Somehow, he found the strength to back away, only to return and bear her down on the bed. His mouth ravished hers, his right had found her breast and he pushed his right leg between her thighs, pressing against her mound of curls. He felt her damp heat, her femininity slick with desire.

Branan feared he would hurt Catriona when he breached her maidenhead, but her mouth on his cock had rendered him nothing more than a rutting beast. He had to be inside her, he had to bury himself, there was no way he could stop now. “God be merciful,” he growled.

Catriona grew more aggressive. Branan’s heart took wing as she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him forcefully, this time her tongue teasing his lips, requesting entrance. He happily acceded to her request, startled as she took full advantage of it. Catriona arched her back, pressing herself more firmly against him.

He trailed soft kisses down her neck and then her shoulder and moved away to gaze upon her. Branan’s breath caught at the wonderful sight before him. Slowly, reverently, he kissed her soft breast.

She gasped as he gently drew it into his mouth. Catriona pushed herself up a bit more on her elbows and Branan risked a glance up at her. Her head was back, her eyes squeezed shut, and her lips parted as she fought to catch her breath. His lips and tongue teased the delicate bud in his mouth, he lightly brushed his teeth over the sensitive skin, then it was his turn to draw on her powerfully.

“Oh!” she breathed, startled, but she did not try to pull away. Catriona simply froze under him, her only movement the uncontrollable quivering of her body .

Branan moved to her other breast and repeated his actions. This time when he drew on her, her body nearly convulsed.

He continued to feast on her body, his hands sliding downward. Branan reveled in the feel of Catriona’s soft skin and her graceful curves. He inhaled deeply the heady scent of her femininity, which seemed to grow stronger with each moment. Branan felt a light sheen of sweat on her skin, which fueled the searing fire burning in his loins. He released her breast and wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her ear. He slid his fingers down to toy with the thick curls of her mound. Catriona squeezed her eyes shut and moved her hips toward his hand.

Branan sat back slightly, unable to resist a smile of very masculine satisfaction, and firmly stroked her slick, hard nub.

She gasped her eyes flying open, not in fear, but in surprise and wonder. He leaned forward a fraction. “Let yerself feel, lassie. Give yerself to the pleasure. Offer yerself to me and I shall love ye like a goddess.”

Catriona moaned in response, a breathy, feminine gasp, her body instinctively opening to him. Branan simply savored the sight of her. The lust within him bordered on agony, his body demanded release, but he stayed his course with a savage resolve.

He stroked and caressed her, listening to her soft moans of pleasure. He moved his thumb over the swollen nub and carefully thrust his finger inside her.

She cried out, her hands reaching up and clutching the pillows; she lifted her hips, her body trembling. A second finger followed the first. Branan caressed her walls, gently stretching and molding, trying to prepare her body as much as he could. Saints have mercy, but she was gloriously tight, her body slick and heated. She moaned again, her control crumbling. Her fingers threatened to impale the pillows as her body writhed in response to his touch. Catriona murmured his name, her breath coming in tortured gasps.

Branan summoned every ounce of resolve he had left. He felt a tremor move deep within her. He stroked himself with his free hand, feeling moisture bead on the top of his cock. Not yet, not yet. He fondled her, he teased her, he brought her to the edge and left her suspended. Before he could question the wisdom of his actions, he placed himself between her legs, and with one quick, deep thrust, he tore her maidenhead asunder.

In the instant of Catriona’s pain, Branan’s thumb pressed hard on her slick nub and her fulfillment possessed her. She cried out as her body became a slave to her own pleasure. Catriona screamed his name as he buried himself hard and retreated only to thrust again. Branan’s control shattered and he pushed deeper and harder. He prayed she would forgive him, but he couldn’t stop himself, his need was a primal force so deep he could no longer deny it. Catriona’s body tightened around him as waves of pleasure rocked through her.

Her hands reached for him, her legs wrapped around him, her body eased, and he suddenly realized she didn’t want it to. Branan pushed hard again and shuddered as the tip of his cock crested the deepest part of Catriona’s body. He could go no further and instead ground his hips against her, his hands pulling her against him. Branan watched in amazement as Catriona cried his name and her pleasure struck a second time, a violent tempest, her body convulsing around him and demanding his seed. It ripped from the deepest part of his being, and he threw himself after her, calling her name and following her over the edge.

****

Branan awoke slowly, the hazy dawn in the room melting into clarity. It all seemed like a dream, but feeling Catriona curled in his arms with her head on his chest made everything wonderfully and powerfully real. An emotion rose within him, terrifying in its intensity. Was this love? He suddenly felt as helpless as he had as a child. As if he rushed headlong into something he could not hope to control, and it was more dangerous than his destiny. His arms tightened around Catriona and he rubbed his cheek against the top of her head.

There was one thing he could not deny.

The awful blackness within Branan had eased, replaced by a peace he had never experienced. He marveled at the change, that he had found the answers not in battle, but in Catriona’s arms.

Catriona stirred, sliding her hand languorously across his chest, then muttered something under her breath.

“Good morrow to ye too,” he said with a grin.

She burrowed closer, burying her face against his neck.

Branan sighed, not wanting to leave the bed, but knowing he had no choice. He gently disengaged himself, kissing her cheek, and wrapped his plaid around him enough to dart into the garderobe.

He returned a moment later, only to find Catriona buried under the blankets. He chuckled, moving them away to search for her face, but she remained lost in the mound. “Ye canna be that tired, lass.”

“Just incredibly sore,” she said, her voice muffled. Catriona moved the blankets away and pulled him to her, kissing him intensely.

It seemed now that Catriona was allowed to give her passion free rein, she took full advantage. Branan returned her kiss, feeling the first stirrings of desire grow again. He reluctantly pulled away. “Lass, I want nothing more than to stay in bed with ye, but there are things that need my attention. They canna wait.”

“Aye,” Catriona said reluctantly. Her stomach rumbled. “I need to eat. I didn’t touch any food yesterday.” Upon her words, Branan saw a shadow pass over her expression—the haunted look he had seen yesterday returned .

“Hey now,” he whispered, tugging her chin up so she saw only him. “Yesterday is gone. We canna do anything to change it.”

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly. “Yesterday...aye...but last night...I would never change a thing.” Catriona looked up at him, her sapphire eyes liquid. “It felt as if everything in the world was suddenly made right again.”

Branan’s arms tightened around her and he squeezed his eyes closed. She had just put to words the exact same thing he had felt.

Unfortunately, Catriona pulled away. She donned a robe and hurried to the garderobe as well. Branan dressed then glanced at the bed, stopping the moment he saw the evidence of their joining. He had not allowed himself to think on it last night. Catriona’s marriage had not been consummated. Although the man within him rejoiced that he had been the first and only man who had touched her, the warrior and laird knew it was a serious problem. Catriona was not truly de Courcy’s wife. Strickland could petition the bishop’s court and request the marriage be invalidated. She would lose control of de Courcy’s holdings and Branan would still lose his future.

An idea blossomed and he quickly stripped the bed. He called for a maid to redress it. Before Catriona returned, Branan thrust the linens into a small bag, then hurried downstairs.

Outside, he found Gavin and Jamie.

“Morrow,” Gavin said with a smile. “How is my sister?”

“Just fine,” Branan replied.

“Duguald stayed at the keep to make sure things are stable there. Now that Catriona is lady of Brackenburgh, we didn’t want anyone attempting to usurp her position.”

Branan was uncertain how much Gavin genuinely understood, but was not about to give him details of Catriona’s love life. Branan called for a page to fetch his horse. “I need to speak with Duguald, but I’ll be back shortly. After that, we need to plan our next step. Strickland thinks he has dealt us a grievous blow; I want to hit him so hard he will never attempt to do something like this again.”

Gavin’s humor faded, his blue eyes steely. “Aye, Branan.”

At Brackenburgh, Branan found Duguald and de Courcy’s steward, Edmund, along with the surviving servants, standing over a fresh grave. Branan dismounted and approached, crossing himself and whispering a quick prayer as he spotted the temporary headstone with de Courcy’s name.

Edmund looked up at him, grief-stricken. “I commissioned the making of my lord’s bier in the chapel. Until then, he rests in a plain coffin in the earth.” Edmund paused, his gaze searching Branan’s, questions he wanted to ask flitted across his expression, but he did not voice them.

Branan nodded and gently gripped Edmund’s shoulder. “How are ye?”

He shrugged, shifting his gaze to stare at the ground. “I pray the lady forgives me for this, but I had no idea when or if she would be able to return.” Again he looked up at Branan, his expression pleading. “How is my lady?” Branan had no idea if he suspected. Did he fear Branan would deny Catriona’s status as lady of Brackenburgh?

“She is well,” Branan said carefully. “Safe at Thistlewood, for now. Edmund, if I may, I need to speak privately with ye.”

Edmund nodded and guided them into the keep. The servants who were able carried bodies out and tried to scrub the blood from the floor. Edmund led him to de Courcy’s study and closed the door. Without a word, he poured wine from a carafe and handed a cup to Branan, keeping one for himself.

“I pray you forgive me,” he said. “But I need a drink.”

“Aye,” Branan replied, taking a drink of the fine wine. He moved to a chair near the hearth, avoiding de Courcy’s desk entirely. Branan needed to find out where Edmund stood. He took a second drink and examined Edmund closely. The man appeared not only exhausted, but heartsick and hopeless. No one had been more devoted to de Courcy than Edmund.

Praying he wasn’t misreading the signs, Branan drew a deep breath. “Edmund, I need ye to speak honestly with me, without fear of retribution.”

“MacTavish, I served my lord faithfully for years, just as my father served his father. He was at odds with you only because he feared you’d steal his lady’s heart.” A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “Her fiery spark discomfited him...he was beside himself at times...I’ve never seen him in such a state. She was exactly what he and this household needed, MacTavish: a breath of fresh air. All of us looked forward to this wedding, to see our lord happy...and he would have been as soon as he realized he would not be able to cage her free spirit. She would have opened new doors for him.”

“And now?”

Edmund’s returned his gaze to him, staring at him a long moment. “Brackenburgh awaits the return of our lady. We stand ready to follow her. We know she will never bow to Strickland. He is our enemy, MacTavish, and you belong in the Wardenship.”

Branan nodded, satisfied with the man’s words. “Edmund, has de Courcy’s solar been cleaned yet?”

“Nay.”

“What I have to tell ye doesna leave this room. I'd have yer vow on it.”

“I vow on the Rood to say nothing.”

“Ye may ken Strickland arrived before the marriage could be consummated.”

Edmund’s face lost all color. “Nay, that cannot be. If the lady be not my lord’s wife in truth, my lord had no other surviving family. Brackenburgh will fall under Strickland’s control.”

Branan swallowed hard; he knew too well how Strickland brought castles under his control. He lifted the bag he carried. “The contents need to be placed properly in de Courcy’s bed so none need ken the marriage was incomplete.”

Edmund gazed at the bag, his confusion obvious. He looked at Branan and sudden understanding dawned. “Then the lady’s marriage is valid and she controls my lord’s holdings.” He took the bag, tucking it safely under his arm. “I shall make sure this is in its proper place, MacTavish.”

Branan rose. “Good, Edmund. I wish the lady to stay at Thistlewood for a time, to ensure her safety. But ye and I will communicate by messenger. Ye will run the keep. Once we have Strickland on his heels and yer garrison here is stable, she will return.”

“Of course, my lord. My lady’s welfare comes first, and you, MacTavish, have my fealty in that regard.”

“Some mercenaries will remain until we recover from this.”

Edmund bowed, his eyes bright with new hope. “As you will, my lord. Now, I pray your pardon, but I must go afore someone decides to clean the solar.” He hurried off.

Branan dragged his hand through his hair then drained his wine cup, praying his ruse would work.

****

Catriona returned to Branan’s solar, surprised to find him gone and a maid redressing the bed.

“M’lady, may I get you anything?”

“Clothing,” Catriona replied. “I have no idea if any of my dresses are here or at Brackenburgh.”

“They are here, m’lady. I heard tell that Lord de Courcy sent your trunks back, saying he’d purchased new clothing for you.”

She arched an eyebrow, but that shouldn’t have surprised her at all. “Thank you.” Catriona paused and gestured to her dress on the floor. “I fear that one is ruined, see that it is burned.”

“Aye, m’lady,” the maid said and quickly scooped it up. She left the room, promising to return quickly.

Catriona shivered, trying to force down the horror of yesterday. She had thrown herself into passion with Branan, not only because she had desperately wanted it for so very long, but because the pleasure he granted her obliterated her guilt over Richard’s death.

Just the memory of what Branan had done to her...Catriona closed her eyes, feeling her heart race and a damp heat bloom between her thighs. Damnation, where was he?

The maid returned. Catriona dressed and descended the stairs to break her fast. She sat at the table, certain this meal was the finest she’d had in years.

“Good glory, sister,” Gavin said, grinning broadly. “You eat as a girl starved.”

She smiled up at him, relieved to see him hale and whole.

He approached and kissed her cheek. “How are you?” he whispered.

A memory of the death blow severing the vein of life in Richard’s neck shot across her vision. Catriona squeezed her eyes closed for an instant and forced it away, replacing it with the memory of Branan’s loving touch last night.

“Catriona?”

She looked at Gavin as he sat next to her, his blue eyes worried.

“I...I am fine...or I will be.” Catriona paused, biting her lip. What should she say to her brother about Branan? All knew she had spent the night in his solar. Hell, anyone with ears...

“Catriona, listen to me,” Gavin said, holding her hand tightly. “I am so very relieved. You are back where you belong...” He hesitated, gazing at her intently. “You belong with Branan. I know you do not need my blessing, but I give it anyway, wholeheartedly.”

A huge weight slid from her shoulders and she smiled. “Thank you, Gavin.”

His lips lifted, but then his smile faded. “I know you well, little sister, I know the circumstances weigh heavily on you, but please do not take this upon yourself. I thank the Almighty for correcting what would have been a terrible mistake.”

“I just feel so dreadful that Richard died defending me.”

“I know, sister, but God called him home.” Gavin paused, giving her a gentle smile. “Perhaps He needed de Courcy there. It would not do if someone sold the Pearly Gates out from under him.”

Catriona managed a sad smile and rested her head on Gavin’s shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her and hugged her. A maid brought him his breakfast and he released her to eat.

“After you finish,” he said, “we do need your help. Some of our men were wounded in the skirmish.”

“Of course, Gavin.”

A bit later, Gavin ushered Catriona into the barracks. Her gaze locked on a Scotsman, Simon, and she knew he was by far the worst off...and in trouble. A terrible sword wound in his side refused to stop bleeding and his face was colorless.

“Oh dear, Gavin,” she whispered, moving quickly to the man’s side. “I’m going to need help.”

She had no idea how long she worked. Catriona had to cauterize Simon’s wound, and she feared they would lose him to blood loss. But he clung to life with stubborn tenacity. She was so grateful for Gavin’s help .

Catriona bandaged, sewed, and cleaned wounds until she had no idea what time it was, only that she was absolutely exhausted. Finally, she sat in a rickety chair with a sigh, closing her eyes.

“Lass,” a soft voice rumbled. Catriona felt a gentle hand caress her cheek and she smiled. Opening her eyes, she focused on Branan as he crouched before her.

“I see ye have been working too hard again.”

“What time is it?”

“Late evening.”

She blinked at him. “I had no idea it was so late.”

“Come,” Branan said, pulling her to her feet. “Ye need to rest. Ye canna help them if ye drop, lass,” he added, forestalling her argument before she even uttered it.

He led her to the solar and closed the door, latching it.

“Forgive me,” he growled. Catriona’s breath caught in her throat as Branan’s gaze locked on hers. His sea-green eyes blazed with feral desire.

Suddenly, she found herself pressed against the wall. Branan’s mouth possessed hers, his kiss anything but gentle. His hands roamed over her, igniting a firestorm of unexpected passion within her. Catriona surrendered to it immediately and returned his powerful kiss. How had she ever denied him? How had she been able to control the desire raging through her whenever he touched her?

Branan’s mouth moved to her neck, where he mixed his kisses with soft nips. Catriona let her head fall back as she wrapped her arms about his neck. She shivered, moaning softly in delight. She felt his hands move again, but was uncertain as to what he was doing. Branan lifted her up and pressed her back against the wall.

“Wrap yer legs around me,” he said, his voice hoarse. He tugged her skirts up, his hand caressing her thigh.

She did as he asked then gasped as she felt his cock rub against her through the opening of his trews.

“I canna bear this,” he whispered, and with a hard thrust of his hips, he drove himself inside her.

Catriona cried out as colors exploded in her vision. Branan’s arms tightened around her, his strength holding her securely. His breath rattled in his throat and sweat dampened his body. Catriona found herself instinctively moving against him, her arms clinging to his neck. He groaned softly, his movement increasing.

“Dear God,” he gasped. “I must...”

A wave of pleasure seized her and she intensified her movements.

“Slow down, lass. I canna...” Branan groaned again, his entire body shuddering. He pushed harder, striving for greater depths, his tempo growing with urgency. “Forgive me,” he whispered again. Catriona opened her eyes and watched him. The exquisite rapture of his expression as he thrust himself desperately inside her and found his pleasure, only made him even more beautiful to Catriona. His body convulsed and he cried out her name, his arms so tight around her she could barely breathe.

Branan froze, leaning heavily against the wall, panting. His eyes remained closed and he buried his face in her hair.

“I am sorry,” his voice grated in her ear, still raw.

“Sorry for what?”

“I shouldna...I ended it too quickly and didna see to ye, lass.” Slowly, he backed away and lowered her to her feet. Branan’s body continued to quiver and she feared he might collapse.

She glanced at the bed they hadn’t been able to reach. Her lips twitched. “My lord...I am sure you can make it up to me...I do believe we have all night.”

Branan’s eyes ignited with the fire Catriona so loved but rarely saw. A delightfully wicked chuckle rumbled through him.

Hours later, Catriona lay curled in Branan’s arms in well-sated enjoyment. She toyed with his hair, running her fingers through the thick locks, admiring how it shone blue-black in the candlelight.

Unexpected tears clouded her vision. “Branan,” she whispered. “It nearly killed me when you left.”

He blinked at her, startled. “What mean ye, lass?”

“When you left ten years ago. I awoke that night to see you disappear into the darkness. You never said good-bye.”

“Lass...I...yer father said he would tell ye. Uncle Duguald arrived and John thought it prudent I go to Scotland immediately. Strickland’s spies were on the verge of finding me.”

It was her turn to blink at him, stunned. “My father never spoke of it. I waited for you to come home. I had been certain my father would betroth me to you. But as the years passed and you never returned, I thought he was angry with you for abandoning us.”

Branan shook his head, the thick locks of his hair tumbling around his face, making him appear more dark and roguish. “But it was he who sent me with Uncle Duguald. I never wanted to leave ye and the new home I had found. I canna believe he didna tell ye.”

Catriona gazed at him a long moment, struggling to comprehend her father’s actions and reasons, but ultimately failing. Gently, Catriona traced her fingers over the elegant sweep of Branan’s cheek.

“Please,” she said, disliking the desperation in her voice. “Do not leave me like that again. Please.”

He stared at her then took her hand in his, pulling it to his lips. “I vow on my soul,” Branan whispered. “I will never leave ye.”

*** *

A sennight passed and Branan received an urgent message from Edmund. He looked for Catriona, but did not see her. She was probably still in the tower. Moving away from prying eyes, he removed the scroll from its case and broke the seal.

Laird MacTavish,

A law cleric from the bishop’s court arrived this morning and delivered a writ. Strickland does not believe my lady’s marriage is valid and has petitioned the bishop’s court to have it set aside. As we feared, he requests that Brackenburgh, along with the remainder of the de Courcy’s holdings, come under his control as Warden of Inglewood.

The law cleric believes Strickland has also petitioned the king to award all of de Courcy’s lands, money, and holdings directly to him since my lord did not have any living family or heirs. It is doubtful the king will grant Strickland his request in its entirety, but most likely he will gain the majority, with the rest parceled out at the king’s pleasure.

I attempted to convince the law cleric that I have seen with my own eyes the proof their marriage was consummated, but he is unwilling to believe me because my lady is not here. He wishes to speak with her immediately. I told him she is touring her holdings, but I fear this does not sit well with him. As stubborn as my lord was regarding my lady’s adventuresome spirit, the law cleric is even more so.

The chambermaid who cleaned my lord’s solar found proof of their joining and brought it to me. Because there was no bedding ceremony, I thought it prudent to keep it in a safe place rather than allow it to be washed.

I fear we have sore need of our lady to return, forthwith. I strongly believe the largest issue to overcome is that my lady is not in residence. Once people see her, especially if she assumes her duties as chatelaine, this vile rumor of an invalid marriage will vanish.

I pray that you and my lady are well.

Your humble servant,

Edmund

Branan sighed heavily. Catriona was not going to like this news, but he turned and went to find her.

It didn’t take Branan long to locate Catriona, and he led her to the solar. It was quite difficult to remain focused on his goal when a few stolen kisses deepened into intense, passionate ones. He pulled away and rested his forehead against hers, trying to catch his breath.

“Catriona,” he said softly. “I dinna wish to tell ye this news.”

She started to lean forward, as if she intended to become the aggressor with her kisses, but stopped, hearing his words. “What’s wrong, Branan?”

“Strickland has petitioned the bishop’s court, challenging the validity of yer marriage.”

Catriona backed away, her face paling. “And he is right.”

Branan shook his head. “Nay. I found a solution.”

A frown creased her brow. “What in heaven’s name—” Abruptly, she stopped, her eyes widening. “So that’s why you were gone and the maid was redressing the bed when I returned. ”

“Aye, lassie, I didna wish to trouble ye over it.”

“But there was no bedding ceremony, no witnesses—”

“Catriona,” he said, caressing her cheek. “Dinna fash yerself. Granted, there was no bedding ceremony, but a chambermaid at Brackenburgh found the evidence the next morning when she cleaned her deceased lord’s solar. She brought the linens to Edmund and he has kept them safe away. There will be two who will vow the marriage was valid.”

Her cheeks burned bright red and she ducked her head.

“Catriona, forgive me.”

“Who...who knows the truth?”

“Edmund, and he is the only one who does. He vowed on the Rood to say nothing. Edmund’s terrified Brackenburgh with fall to Strickland’s control. He and the other servants would pay a terrible price if that happens.”

“Why? Is it not customary to keep the staff in place?”

“Not with Strickland, and not when it was someone who gave him grief. When I was nine, a landed seneschal died and his holdings fell to Strickland. He and Strickland were constantly at each other’s throats. Strickland made me accompany him when he rode to take control of the holdings, telling me it was time for me to learn for when I would be Warden.”

Branan paused and drew a deep breath, wondering why in the hell he was reliving this memory—one he had thought long buried. He didn’t want to tell her, she didn’t need to hear this. But as her hand stroked through his hair, Branan continued. “The lord was dead and beyond Strickland’s vengeance. So Strickland demanded it from the servants. The steward, constable, chatelaine, and others of moderate rank, he ordered hanged. Then he loosed his soldiers on the rest. They beat and raped the women, tortured and killed the men, and I willna tell ye what they did to the youths...” Branan closed his eyes and shivered. “Strickland forced me to watch the horror. I became violently ill…he laughed…”

“Oh, sweet Mary, Branan,” Catriona whispered and wrapped her arms around him.

He held her as tightly as he dared, trying to close the door on the awful memory, but he could not shove the horror back. “For three days after, I couldna keep any food down. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw them. In the silence, I heard their screams. If it hadna been for my mother, I would have thought it the way of things. But my mother told me it was all Strickland’s evil. She tried to allay my nightmares with her stories of the gallant knight. He would never do such a thing. On the contrary, it was his duty to protect those people and keep them safe from harm. He would have demanded Strickland’s blood.”

“Dear God, Branan, I am so sorry. I knew Strickland was a monster, but never had I— ”

Branan shook his head and rose, crossing the room to pour two cups of wine. “I shouldna have told ye. No doubt yer father didna, for a lady shouldna ken of these things.” He returned and handed one to her.

He took a long drink, trying to gather himself.

“Edmund, I know, is loyal,” Catriona said. “He was devoted to Richard.”

“Aye,” Branan replied, grateful for her change in subject. “And he adores ye.”

Her lips lifted slightly and he felt his own agony ease.

“So we know the servants would prefer I be their lady.”

“Aye, you must return, but I ken you’ll be safe there, and have the support of the household.”

Catriona downed the contents of her cup. “But you will not be there.”

Branan took her cup and refilled it, handing it back. “I canna, lass. We canna yet stand against Strickland in a full-scale battle. The only reason we are safe here is Strickland hasna yet found Thistlewood. But he will soon, ’tis only a matter of time. Honestly, I prefer ye behind the safety of the walls of Brackenburgh. It is much more defendable.”

She looked up, her eyes liquid with unshed tears, and there was a desolation about her expression that nearly unraveled him. “Branan, you promised. You promised never to leave me again.”

“I am no’ leavin’ ye, lass. Ye just be going to Brackenburgh for a time.”

“Without you.”

Branan sighed, his shoulders slumped. “Ye ken we canna risk it.”

“I don’t care about the risk, Branan. It tore my heart out when you left for Scotland—and I felt that same agony on my wedding day. I don't want to say good-bye to you again.”

“Ye willna say good-bye. I will be here. We will send messages. I will have Jamie act as herald.”

“You don’t understand, do you? You have no idea what that day did to me. You have no idea how much it hurt to watch you ride away with Duguald, never looking back.”

“Lass, I do ken, for that pain was, and still is, raw in my heart.”

“You never looked back! You never said good-bye. You just vanished into the mist that created you. How do I know you will not vanish again?”

Branan’s heart twisted, he struggled to shove his emotions down so he could think, so he could find the words.

“You gave me your word, Branan, and now you are sending me away.”

“Catriona—”

She waved him off and walked to the door.

“Catriona,” he said, his voice sharper.

Her hand fell on the door and she stopped, her head bowed.

“Catriona that night...I wanted to say good-bye to ye.” His voice thickened with remembered heartbreak. He could barely speak through the constriction of his throat.

She turned around and gazed up at him, wide-eyed.

“I wanted to promise ye I’d return.” Branan struggled to steady himself, the pain of this memory no less agonizing than the one of Strickland’s horror. “I didna look back because I knew...if I did...I’d never leave ye.”

Catriona choked on a sob and Branan knew she wavered between darting out the door and remaining. She flung herself at him, sobbing terribly. Branan held her and felt his own tears escaping. It was only now that he realized how deeply that night had wounded them both.

“I love ye, Catriona,” he whispered. He held his breath. Would she answer in kind?

She sobbed harder, but took a deep breath. “And I love you, Branan, that is why this hurts so much.”

Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. Branan gripped her left hand and sank to one knee before her. Her rejection not long ago remained raw in his heart and he prayed she would not reject him again.

“Catriona, I shall ask a second time, will ye marry me?”

So great was her shock, her tears stopped. She simply stared at him.

“I understand why ye denied me afore.”

She took a breath to speak, but his free hand moved and he held his fingers to her lips.

“Hear me out first, lass. I ken it willna be wise to marry now. Should Strickland hear rumor of it, he will attack Brackenburgh with all he has. But I ask for your promise to marry me with a tradition the Scots recognize as far more binding than a betrothal.”

“More binding?” Catriona asked in confusion.

“Tonight, before God, we shall have the priest perform a handfasting ceremony.”

“Handfasting?”

“Aye lass, ’tis a binding promise two lovers share, far greater than any contract written on parchment, and more precious than any amount of coin or land.”

Suddenly, she smiled through her tears. “Then a handfasting we shall have.”