Brand leaned closer to her. “Is the food not to your liking? Do you want me to order something else?”
She gave him a wan smile. “The food is fine. I’m not especially hungry.”
“Not hungry?” said Lucas, as though Catherine spoke in a foreign tongue. “Can’t believe it. Actually another thing I can’t believe, the sheer number of Blacksmiths in Guildford. Clearly too many long, cold nights in this town with naught to do but f— Ow! Who kicked me?”
“Can’t imagine,” Brand said, with a warning glare.
“Well,” said the lad, looking vastly offended, “I shall venture into the taproom and see if I can find out anything further under the guise of relieving ungodly card players of their ill-gotten gains. Anyone without unruly donkey limbs care to join me?”
His men looked to him for permission, and he sent them away with a handful of groats and a stern warning against drunkenness or brawling. The last thing they needed was the townspeople hauling them away to the local noble magistrate.
Catherine yawned delicately. “Oh, dear. Excuse me.”
“It’s been a very long day. Shall I escort you to your chamber?”
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
He nodded and guided her from the room, up two sets of narrow wooden stairs and along a candle-lit hallway to the last door on the left. The chamber was small but clean, with a roaring fire, quilted bed, two wooden tables with lit candles atop, several iron hooks for clothing, and a screened-off corner probably containing a chamber pot and washing water. His satchel sat on the bed, an undershirt and Catherine’s nightgown spread out next to it.
“I’ll take that,” he said quickly, stepping forward. “The innkeeper’s wife must have assumed we were married.”
“Brand…”
He turned his head, frowning at her unsteady tone, the way her hands were twisting her gown. “What’s wrong? You’ll be perfectly safe, I promise. Lock the door, and I’ll sleep outside on a pallet—”
“Please…” she whispered. “Don’t leave me alone tonight.”
His doublet suddenly too tight around his neck, Brand looked anywhere but at her. Another night with her so close? He couldn’t.
“Catherine—”
“I beg you.”
“Damnation, I…very well. I’ll sit here, just until you fall asleep.”
“Thank you,” she said, her cheeks pink. “Could you…also unlace me?”
Swiftly, impersonally, not daring to linger, he withdrew his small boot dagger and cut the end of the ties binding her sleeves and sides then lifted the blue woolen gown over her head. The garment was thick with dust, the hem caked in mud, but she’d not complained once. Next he unfastened her corset, until it fell forward into her hands and she put it to one side.
Snatching up the nightgown, Catherine disappeared behind the screen and soon he heard the small splashes of a hasty sponge bath.
After removing his boots and cloak, Brand stretched out on top of the bed and closed his eyes as a powerful wave of weariness surged through him.
“Does your head ache?” said Catherine, as she slid under the quilts beside him.
“No, I’m fine. Rest now, you’ve earned it.”
“All right. Good night, Brand.”
“Good night.”
How long he dozed, he wasn’t sure. But when he opened his eyes again, only one candle remained burning and the fire had halved in size. Yet he wasn’t cold. Mainly because, like the previous night in the tent, Catherine lay curled against him, one arm flung over his chest and her lush breasts pressed closely to his side.
His cock hardened, throbbing painfully. He needed to get out of here or cool his raging blood at least. Carefully extracting himself from her embrace, Brand padded across the room to the screened corner, removed his doublet, undershirt and hose, and washed himself with the pleasantly tepid water. Unfortunately the slightly rough sponge around his cock did not have the desired effect, the light friction only making him harder.
He groaned softly, reaching down and encircling his erection. The need to come was now an urgent, desperate thing, then perhaps he could sleep peacefully for the first time since he’d met Catherine Linwood. No other woman had affected him as much, her laughter, her tears, her frankness, the perfection of her body.
Closing his eyes, he squeezed and rubbed as he remembered her rose-tipped breasts, the soft, dark hair between her thighs, the slick, swollen nub he’d played with until she screamed her pleasure…
“Brand?”
He jerked at the too-close soft voice, one hand bracing on the wall as he spun away.
“Damnation,” he half snarled, half gasped, his hugely swollen cock nearly resting on his stomach. “What is the matter, Catherine?”
“Are you all right? I heard sounds, and you weren’t on the bed.”
“Fine. Just…bathing. I’ll be there soon.”
There was a long, long pause, and he inhaled unsteadily. His cock was so painfully engorged that veins were visible even in this low light, and drops of moisture were trickling from the head to ease the path of his hand. Just a few more minutes would end the pulsing, unbearable ache.
Go. Please, for the love of God, go.
Yet instead of retreating footsteps, the next sound he heard was water dripping from a lifted sponge. Then it brushed softly against his back.
Brand tensed, gritting his teeth.
“What are you doing?”
“I thought that might be obvious. Washing your back,” she replied, dragging the wet sponge up the length of his spine, across his shoulders, then down, down until it caressed the top of his backside.
More warm seed spilled from his cock at the innocent torture. “Good. I’m fine,” he choked out eventually. “Thank you. Now go back to bed.”
Again, the longest of pauses.
“No,” she whispered, raising a cool hand to give him a gentle push. “Turn around.”
Would he do it?
Every part of her silently begged him to. Not even the fading light of the unstoked fire or single remaining candle disguised the beauty of his male body. She’d
