Romancing the Rogue (185 page)

~~~~

“Marek, was that…?”

“Aye, Ronan, it certainly was.” Marek raised his mug to his lips. Those Archaean words had rolled off her tongue like fresh cream. She had learned to survive, and that slight lilt of hers was seductive as could be.

A bard played his tunes in a corner, and Brynn tapped her feet with the music, ignoring the fire in Marek’s eyes. It only made her that much more irresistible.

“How the hell is she still here?”

“I don’t know, Ronan, but I aim to find out.”

“The only thing you’ll be aiming is your cock. Just let me know beforehand when you get to murdering people. So I gather that barmaid is off limits, aye? A damn shame.”

Marek brushed off his brother’s comment but still couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in his gut. He thought it wise to pay his weasel of a friend, Daman, a visit. But for now, he was plenty content watching Brynn circle around the room, swaying those curvy little hips, and waiting for the most opportune time to approach.

That opportune time happened to present itself hours later when most patrons had cleared the tavern in search of a place to plop their drunken selves for the night. Ronan and the others more than willingly left Marek to seek out a woman.

Before leaving, Ronan squeezed Marek’s shoulder and drunkenly whispered in his ear, “Bed her well, Marek. Bed her well. I am thoroughly jealous you are the bastard lucky enough to fuck that.”

If Ronan hadn’t been so drunk, Marek would have given him the brotherly thrashing he deserved for his daring brazenness. Instead, Marek chuckled and told Ronan to find his own woman.

~~~~

“Is he still there, Abby?” Brynn had never scrubbed the bar surface with as much fury as she did now.

“Aye,” Abby answered, clearing a table. “He is still there.”

“What am I to do?” whispered Brynn.

“You do not need me tellin’ you what to do, girl.”

“
Yes, I do
!” Brynn followed Abby behind the bar to the kitchen, hesitant to be left alone for even a moment.

“Just talk to the man. There isn’t any harm in talkin’, now is there?”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Brynn untied her apron and tossed it into a corner. “I am so angry with him I fear the words that might exit my mouth. I am afraid to speak with him after what he has done.”

“Brynn, the rest of us are wanting to get back. Just get out there and finish your duties so we can leave.” One of the other girls spoke, awaiting their departure.

Sighing, Brynn picked up a rag and toed the threshold. Relieved to see Marek had relinquished his corner seat, Brynn let herself breathe a bit easier now that he had at last broken his fixation for the evening. Tugging up the cinches on the sleeves of her chemise, Brynn threw herself into her work scrubbing the woodwork, ignoring the few stragglers conversing quietly near the entrance.

How her heart ached. She had wanted more than anything to see his handsome face just once more, and now there he was, sitting, waiting… watching. And what had she done? Waited for him to leave like the scared little child she was, afraid to confront him after their terrible parting. Even after the passing of so much time, she still found herself furious with him.

When the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, all notions of servitude soared through the roof alongside her very heart. A callused finger traced a line on her nape, following the curvature of her chemise. She gasped at the unexpected touch, and her body went rigid, surprised by sensations she was sure she would never feel again. One little touch and her knees began to tremble. Supporting her wobbling legs, Brynn dug white-knuckled fingers into the bar top.

Fingers dug into her fleshy hips, whirling her around to face those fiery eyes. Marek stared at her for a few awkward moments, and Brynn bit her bottom lip. Soon she found herself grinning when he hoisted her to sit atop the bar.

Marek wedged in between her legs and her knees spread to accommodate his width. His palms clutched her hips, his unwavering stare tracing her features. Bits of cloth gathered in his fists as he pulled her hem higher.

Brynn had seen that look in his eyes once before and knew exactly what it meant. He wanted nothing more than to touch her, taste her,
lust
for her.
“Hello, Marek.”

“Brynn, you have… grown.” He paused, his eyes drifting to the full breasts pressing against the hem of her chemise with every breath. “You are so beautiful.”

Placing a finger under his chin, Brynn raised his eye level from her chest to her face as his palms caressed the milky skin of her thighs. She knew his hunger all too well, and it angered her. “Why are you here, Marek? You made your intentions perfectly clear when you left me to rot.”

He didn’t respond.

She continued. “Did your wife uncover your shameful little secret?” Brynn raised a wary eyebrow while swatting his wandering hands from her middle. “Did she cast you aside and now you want to settle for what you could not have in the first place?”

Marek’s eyes narrowed and his mouth sloped into a deep frown. Grabbing her chin, he held her firm. “Do not speak of things you know
nothing
about!”

“Let go of me!” She cried out, pushing his hand from her face. Unable to do so, she raised her palm and swiftly planted it across the side of his jaw. “Do not
ever
grab me like that again!” she warned. “I am not your plaything!”

He tugged her frame closer.

“Nothing else to say, then?”

“I deserved that.”

“You deserve a hell of a lot more than that!” Brynn spat, pounding a balled fist against his chest.

“Give me the chance to redeem myself. On my honor, I will never harm you. I only wish…” His voice hushed, and his features relaxed. “I don’t know whether I should walk away or just… kiss the hell out of you,” he muttered.

Brynn hooked her heels behind his thighs, jerking him forward. All silent apologies accepted, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. She kissed his parted lips with such a force her insides tingled. Running her fingers over his shortened hair, Brynn shifted forward slightly, exposing her neck. His lips found the opening and he licked the salt from her skin, nibbling a trail to her breasts.

“I must have you, love.” His lips fluttered against her skin as he spoke. “By the gods, I must have you now.”

“Through the kitchen,” she whispered. “There is a place there.” She wanted him — wanted him more than she wanted life itself. She could no longer deny her body the pleasures only he could give her. Something twisted inside her belly, yearning for more. Much more.

His muscles flexed beneath her, his grip hard and sturdy as he lifted her from the bar. Brynn fumbled with the ties on his tunic, eager to reciprocate his touches. Marek backed his way through the kitchen door, paying no mind to the women still lingering behind. He muttered suggestively in her ear all the expletives he had planned for her, and a wash of heat crept over her.

“Over there. Up the stairs.” Brynn nodded her head toward a steep little stairwell hidden behind ale barrels.

“As you wish.” Marek charged at the staircase. “Hang on tight, my lady.”

Brynn happily complied as Marek let go of his grip on her and used both arms to heave up the steep steps to the loft. Upon reaching the top, he lowered Brynn to her feet, kicked the loft door closed, then bridged the distance between them to devour her in kisses.

Brynn continued her efforts to rid Marek of his tunic. He helped her by tugging it over his head. Brynn quickly grabbed it then threw it to the floor with frantic urgency. She placed her palms against his chest then traced the curvature of his pectorals inward to the charm dutifully hanging from his neck. “You kept it.”

“Of course. ’Tis all I had left of you.”

“Oh, how I have missed you,” she murmured, placing her cheek over the steady drumming of his heart.

“You are too kind to me,” he replied, kissing her head. “I have done nothing to deserve you.” He tangled his fingers in her hair, locking her in his embrace.

“You are here now,” she told him, brushing her palm down his chest.

The loft was small and cluttered — more of a storage area than sleeping quarters, but it would offer respite and privacy. Marek scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the undersized bed, placing her on the blanket.

“Brynn, I—”

She shushed him, placing her thumb to his lips. He took the tip of it in his mouth, gently sucking it in response. “Just love me,” she whispered, the longing and want in her voice thick like an evening fog. “Even if only for tonight.” She needed this — she needed him.

“I will,” He reassured, taking her lower lip between his and licking it with tip of his tongue. “I will love you more than any man has ever loved a woman.”

Curving her palm around his nape, she lowered his head to hers. She explored his mouth, his neck, and the hard lines of his jaw. His earthy taste filled her senses. His stomach clenched tight when her hands wandered to his middle, leaving no crevice undiscovered. Her innocent kisses didn’t seem to satisfy the burning under his skin — he wanted more.

“You have no idea how I have longed for you to touch me, love.” Marek played with the ties on her bodice, entwining his fingers in the lacing and loosening them. With no objection from Brynn, he let his lips linger on her collarbone, exploring the new found wonders around the edging of her chemise.

A blip of hesitance overcame her. Brynn knew the path that followed such actions — but with every cooling kiss upon her smoldering skin, the line she wasn’t absolutely sure she wanted him to cross blurred into oblivion. Her body tingled with excitement, craving his next touch. She could only gasp as he grazed a nipple with his thumb before allowing his lips to taste it. Rolling his tongue around the rising bud he caught it between his teeth, curling his lips around it and suckling it taut.

Something inside her clenched and she sucked in a breath, arching beneath him. His callused fingers brushed over her breastbone, caressing the sensitive underside of her breasts and sending sparks skittering through her belly.

“What tortures you bestow upon me.” Brynn moaned, as he moved to the other eagerly awaiting bud to bestow the same lascivious torture.

“Oh, you know nothing of the tortures I have planned for you.” Devilish eyes taunted her, dared her to object. He removed her chemise, and as the cloth boundary slipped from the corner of the fraying bed to the floor below, Marek smoothed his hands up the long length of her thighs, unraveling the ties keeping her on the brink of ecstasy. Brynn watched as he cupped her calf in his palms and kissed her knee before dragging his tongue up the length of her inner thigh, stopping just short of her womanhood. She closed her eyes and arched toward his touch, a silent plea for more. Sinning against the gods had never felt so good.

Marek reveled in her nakedness, telling her repeatedly how beautiful she was. She shied away, only to have him grab her backside and slide her closer. He gently turned Brynn to her side, and in silence he traced the scars marring her back. He kissed each one with a tenderness she had never in her life been shown. When Brynn could stand the quiet no longer, she flipped to her back, wriggling her body beneath her lover.

“Such beauty.” He adorned, threatening her with empty words when she attempted to move. “You will not run away before I have had my fill of you, and you will take each compliment that I have to give. I have never seen such perfection lying before me in all my days, and I will look upon such beauty for as long as I live, and you will like it.”

“Is that so?” She cocked her head to one side. “Such bold words seeing as I am the only one stripped of clothing in this room.”

With one hand on his belt, Marek skillfully released the hold on his trousers while kicking off his already loosened boots. Wriggling himself free from his restrictions proved difficult with Brynn creeping across his chest kissing and touching what she could, but as soon as he was free, he wrestled her to her back, pinning her beneath him.

Marek growled low in her ear, “There is no use in fighting me, woman. I
will
win,” before flicking his tongue along the curve of her ear.

“You aim to ravage me then, warrior?” Brynn giggled.

“Aye, I do.” He smirked before silencing her laughter with his mouth.

She felt him against her — strong and solid — his need and want as great as her own, and she parted her knees allowing him full access, the ache within her persistent and deep. His hand skimmed across the flat skin of her belly, over her hip, and down to the innermost part of her thigh, tracing incoherent patterns on the tender skin. She cried out, his name parting her lips. The delight of him had her breath coming in uneven pants. Twisting her fingers around his neck, she pulled him to her chest, needing him to release the unrelenting pressure building inside her.

“Please,” she begged, writhing beneath him, her hips grinding against his callused palm, seeking the pleasure he so freely gave. “Make this torture end,” she pleaded.

She felt him part her, felt him glide and circle his fingers against the most sensitive part of her flesh, felt him kiss the column of her neck, bringing her to the edge of sweet oblivion. Brynn knew he could not deny himself pleasure much longer.