Legacy of the Mist Clans Box Set (14 page)

Then she saw his jacket in his hand and groaned. “Not another one.”

Beth looked up in confusion.

Catriona gestured to Branan. “He ripped his last good inar.”

Beth looked over her shoulder and froze. Catriona saw her hands tremble and fought down a smile. Branan would have that kind of effect on any woman. Beth quickly turned back to her work, her cheeks rosy. Catriona almost burst out laughing, suddenly feeling as if she had a comrade in arms. She wasn’t the only one who Branan addled.

Catriona looked back to him, but Branan’s eyes had remained locked on her, as if he never even acknowledged Beth’s presence. A strange feeling knotted Catriona’s stomach and she battled to force it down.

Branan stopped before Catriona, giving a brief nod to Beth, but otherwise ignoring her. Catriona rose as he held up his inar. His expression changed from intense to rueful. The right side dangled, attached by only a few threads. “I fear I have more work for ye, lass.”

Catriona sighed then dug through the mending she had just completed. “Here,” she said, handing him a leint. “And try to keep this one intact for more than a few heartbeats.”

His lips tugged upward and he inclined his head. “I shall do my best.” For a long moment, Branan just stood there, gazing at her in the most disconcerting fashion.

A deep tremor echoed through her body, as if she could feel his hands touching her, his lips soft brushing over hers, his...

Branan’s lashes lowered slightly, giving him a hooded look. His muscles tightened, standing in sharper relief under his tanned skin. His sensual lips parted imperceptibly and his nostrils flared, as if he could scent the betrayal of her body like a predator. And Catriona suddenly felt like prey locked in his hypnotic gaze.

The muscles in his arm contracting subtly, he reached out and lightly ran a fingertip across her cheek. The contact sent a blaze of hot energy coiling through her body, so intense she almost flinched. His lips tugged upward in a tiny smile that was absolutely wolfish. Suddenly, he dropped his hand and spun on his heel, striding smoothly away.

Catriona remained rooted, trembling like a leaf and fighting to regain her breath.

“Catriona?” Beth called. “Are you all right?”

She blinked at her. “Aye.”

Beth scowled and shot a glance at Branan as he departed.

Catriona’s gaze was drawn to him again, locking on his back. Sweet Mary, have mercy, even his back was pleasing to look at. Long powerful muscles moved with strident grace. His buttocks were tight, in perfect proportion to the size of his body.

Abruptly, Catriona spun and walked away.

“Catriona?” Beth called again.

Catriona ignored her, increasing her pace until she was running back to her shelter.

HHH

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!
Branan’s thoughts raged. It had taken every ounce of control not to pull Catriona into his arms and kiss her senseless.

He had never seen such raw, impassioned desire in a woman’s eyes. She had gazed at him brazenly, seemingly unaware of her impropriety. To call the action innocent was completely inappropriate, but Branan knew, after watching so many women calculate their advances and responses to him, Catriona’s actions were wholly opposite from theirs. Unfettered, unplanned, uncontrollable.

That had sent the blood roaring to his loins. He was abruptly grateful he carried his leint, for leastways no one else would see his swollen cock standing upright and feeling as if it would burst. Damnation, the intensity of the throbbing need within him nearly drove him brainsick. His blood thrummed between his temples. A light sheen of sweat formed on his body and he abruptly turned away from the tower. He didn’t want anyone to see him, not in this madly aroused state.

It was cold outside and Branan wandered half-naked, but the heat from his body made small wisps of steam rise from his skin. If he didn’t think he’d catch a lung fever, he’d jump in the icy stream—that would shrink his bloody bollocks.

He paused, leaning against a tree, trying to force the lovely vision of Catriona from his mind. Branan had to get his body under control. But her face remained emblazoned in his thoughts. Her blue eyes wandering over him in blatant appreciation, turning darker with unfeigned desire as she stared at him. The subtle, unconscious straightening of her back, which had lifted her soft, round breasts ever so slightly, as if they were longing for his touch. How her lips had parted slightly and her tongue unwittingly dampened them in a lightning-quick movement.

“Sweet Jesu,” he snarled, feeling himself grow even harder. He was on the verge of doing something insane. To bloody hell with the lung fever. Abruptly, he turned and stalked toward the stream.

HHH

This is madness
, Branan thought as he moved silently toward Catriona’s shelter. It was late at night and everyone was abed. After dunking himself repeatedly in ice-cold water that should have frozen his cock clean off, he had barely managed to get through the day in a state of agonizing half-arousal. He couldn’t take it any longer. Perhaps he should send her back to de Courcy before he lost control.

A man’s pride and his cock could only take so much.

But the thought of sending her away sickened him.

Christ Almighty, why was he doing this to himself? Perhaps he should seek relief with one of the whores in camp. And there were whores already, make no mistake. Branan had turned to a few in his youth, first out of curiosity, and later, very rarely, out of just plain need. But the thought of taking a whore doused his arousal almost immediately. Branan hesitated. Now that may be an idea. If thinking of a whore eased his state, he might be able to survive.

But the image of Catriona surged forward again. This was ludicrous.

Branan realized he stood before Catriona’s door, his hand half-raised to knock. It was time to put an end to this madness. He had to send her back to de Courcy, no matter how much he detested the thought, before he ruined her honor.

Summoning his courage, he rapped lightly, regretting waking her.

The door opened much more quickly than he expected. Catriona stood before him, wearing only a chemise, a blanket wrapped around her, and her gorgeous red-gold hair unbound.

Branan,” she whispered in surprise. “Is everything all right?”

“Aye,” he lied. “I...I just wanted to talk.” But he studied her face, noting a sadness in her eyes. She certainly didn’t appear as if she had been sleeping. “Catriona, are ye all right?”

She nodded, but her shoulders slumped in a telling fashion. Branan’s arousal faded as his concern grew.

“Come in,” Catriona said and closed the door behind him. Branan spotted a chair near the hearth with a cup full of wine on the table.

“I’m sorry to wake ye.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” she replied, confirming his suspicions. She sank into the chair. “Pull a chair to the hearth and pour yourself some wine, Branan.”

He obeyed, sitting closer to her than he probably should. “What’s wrong, lass?” Gently, he took her hand in his. Branan’s plan tangled with his concern. Something troubled Catriona, and right now she needed a friend, not a beast in rut, nor a foolhardy male ordering her away.

“Nothing,” she whispered. “Everything.”

He swallowed hard and caressed her hair with his free hand. She bowed her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Without realizing what he was doing, he pulled her into his lap and held her. Branan pressed her tightly against him, murmuring soft words into her hair.

He felt tears dampen his skin and his heart twisted. Was she still grieving her parents, or agonizing over her betrothal, or both?

Nothing, everything.

Sorrow rose within him. He closed his eyes and rocked her gently as he allowed her to give vent to her anguish.

Catriona cried for a long time then gradually fell silent. Branan continued to hold her, staring into the hearth as its flames snapped and popped. She grew so still, he wondered if she had fallen asleep. Moving cautiously, he looked down, bending his neck until he could see her face. Her eyes remained open, staring at nothing.

“Do ye wish to speak of it?” he asked softly.

“Nay.”

Branan scowled, but decided not to push. “I should let ye rest.”

“Nay,” Catriona said, her voice stronger. Her arms tightened around him. “Don’t leave, please. I don’t want to be alone right now.”

His concern grew into worry.

They remained silent for a long time, then Branan became aware of a peculiar sensation. Abruptly, he realized her fingers were toying with the opening of his jacket. His throat worked as he swallowed hard.

As if taking a cue from the movement of his throat muscles, Catriona’s fingers lightly caressed his skin, then slowly descended to the small hallow at the base of his throat, brushing over his collarbone.

Branan closed his eyes and shivered. His arousal blossomed again, but he battled it back, still concerned about what troubled her.

Catriona’s fingers slid up his throat again and Branan suddenly felt weak. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, allowing her free access. His pulse quickened as she continued to lightly caress and explore. Dear God, never had such a simple action felt so intimate.

Her fingers descended again, touching his chest as far as the opening of his jacket would allow. Branan’s breath caught. He wanted nothing more than to haul the bloody thing off and allow her fingers to explore all she wanted.

Gently, Branan took her fingers in his and kissed them. “Catriona...”

Her expression fell and Branan wanted to kick himself. Without command, his hand released hers and moved to her chin, gently tugging upward. He felt his loins tighten as he gazed at her. Branan lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers, intending only a light kiss. But her fingers suddenly fisted into his jacket. His mouth eased onto hers, fitting so wonderfully. His tongue lightly traced over her bottom lip. So delicate, so soft.

He moved gently and slowly, gradually increasing the strength of his mouth against hers, coaxing her to respond, vowing if she did not encourage him, he would not continue.

But respond she did, timidly returning his kiss at first, then growing more confident and instinctive. He lightly slid his tongue between her lips, hinting at his desire for her to open them. With a soft gasp she did, and Branan plunged inside, a riot of sensation exploding within him.

He cupped Catriona’s face in his hand, his fingers weaving through the silk of her hair. Her sweet taste dizzied him, the velvet softness of her mouth ignited his blood. She responded to his gentle ministrations, encouraging the deepening of his kiss. Branan joyously obliged, his body acutely away of hers pressed against him.

His hands traveled over her, pulling her closer. Catriona released his jacket, laying a gentle hand on his chest, sending a wave of fire across his skin.

A tiny moan curled up in the back of her throat and Branan’s arousal was complete, reaching deep within him. The blanket slipped from her shoulders. Branan’s hand trailed over her back and under her arm. His fingers lightly caressed the soft swell of her breast. Gently, he followed its form, his thumb brushing the hard bud that formed under his touch. He teased it lightly, feeling it tighten even more. Catriona suddenly took the initiative in their kiss, her tongue battling with his.

Abruptly, Branan tore his mouth away, sliding his lips along her jaw and fighting to catch his breath at the same time. He had experienced pleasure before, but never had he known such intense, exquisite sensations. Catriona lifted her head and Branan kissed the tender flesh of her throat, he nibbled with his lips, lightly brushing her skin with his teeth. Delicate strands of her hair caressed his face. His hand cupped and fondled her breast while his other hand moved lower, down her back, feeling the soft curve of her buttocks and pulling her even closer.

Catriona’s leg moved against his shaft, sending brilliant glory through his body. “God,” he growled, his voice sounding primitive and feral even to himself. “Catriona...” He could barely think to form the words. “I need ye...touch me please.”

Her hand caressed his chest with a greater purpose. Branan gently took her hand and guided her to firmly stroke her palm over his shaft, still painfully trapped in his trews.

Catriona gasped in surprise, but her hand slid over him with exquisite pressure. Branan threw his head back, fighting to breathe, his eyes squeezed shut as he savored the perfect torture.

“Branan,” she breathed. She buried her face in his hair, nuzzling his ear.

Branan shivered in delight as her hand kept moving.

“What are we doing?” Catriona murmured.

His hands moved to her breasts, teasing her nipples into a wonderfully hard response. “What we both have always wanted,” he growled.

She shuddered against him. “Branan...please...we can’t.”

A low growl rose in his chest. Branan slid one hand down, his fingers trailing over her ribs, her waist, her hip, then her thigh, where he caught the hem of her chemise and moved under it. He caressed her soft skin, slowly tracing his fingers upward to her hip.

“Branan, we must stop.” But her hand kept stroking him.

“God forgive me, I cannot.”

Suddenly, Catriona lifted her head, her eyes a deep sapphire reflecting her desire. “But I must be a...” she stammered, fighting to find the words which they both already knew. “Richard will...I mean...you will lose everything, Branan.”

He cupped her face, trying to pull her to him for a kiss. “I care not. I have all I want right here. I will give up everything for ye.” He found himself surprised at the desperation he heard in his own voice.

That was the wrong thing to say, Branan belatedly realized. A slight stiffening of her body destroyed the wonderful connection between them, replacing it with enraged tension. Catriona’s eyes sparked angrily and she hauled herself back. “I won’t let you,” she snarled with the power of a lioness defending her cub.

Branan battled to sort his thoughts through the tangled haze of lust surging within him. “I care not,” he repeated stubbornly. “I want ye, Catriona. We were meant to be together.” He seized her arm and drew her to him for a powerful kiss. He would brook no refusal. She was stiff against him, but as he teased her lips with his own, Branan heard her tiny pant and Catriona relaxed, surrendering to him and returning his kiss. Branan’s heart soared; she may be able to refuse his words, but she could not refuse his body. “I will make ye mine,” he growled.