‘You ask a great deal of me,’ Breanne said at last. ‘I do not know you, and I do not trust you at all.’ He was no better than a mercenary, and she had no doubt that there was a great deal he had not revealed. But then, what choice did she have? She needed an escort to bring her home.
‘I have not forced myself upon you,’ he pointed out. ‘This, I could have done many times. I could also have given you to my brother.’
She reddened at his words, for they were true. He had treated her with honour, though he had kept her bound. She would not have trusted him either, were their situations reversed.
‘I am grateful,’ she said honestly.
‘If you do not run away, we will take you home to your father. But if you defy me, you will face consequences.’
She stiffened at the overt threat. ‘If you beat me, he will know of it. And you will not be rewarded.’
‘I never said I would harm you.’ His voice had gone deep, almost seductive. She took a step back, fully aware of her nakedness beneath the drying cloth. Never had a man looked at her in this way, and she could hardly breathe. His hand moved to her face, drawing an invisible line down her jaw. Beneath the drying cloth, her breasts rose up, almost aching to be touched.
And suddenly, she realised that this man was dangerous in ways she’d never even imagined.
Chapter Two
It took an effort not to react to Breanne after her bath. Her skin was rosy from the heat, and damp tendrils of hair framed her face. He had watched as a droplet of water had spilled down her throat to the shadowed hollow between her breasts. He’d wanted nothing more than to push the drying cloth away, revealing her body. She is the foster daughter of your enemy, he’d reminded himself. He needed to gain her trust, and leaving her untouched was necessary.
Alarr had turned his back to allow her a measure of privacy while the maid dressed her in Caragh’s gown. While they were occupied, he ordered another servant to bring him a length of silk. After Breanne was dressed, Alarr bound her wrist to his with the silk, ensuring that she could go nowhere.
‘Is that truly necessary?’ she asked. ‘I cannot leave the fortress.’
‘It is. You have not yet earned my trust.’ He did not want her to even imagine thoughts of escape. Her hair was wet and combed back, dampening the edges of the green gown. It fit her waist perfectly and clung to her curves. There was no denying the beauty of Breanne Ó Callahan. Her gown brought out the green in her eyes, and the soft rose of her mouth. He wanted to taste her lips, to make her understand how badly he wanted her. Having her hand bound to his only tempted him more.
As they passed among the others to walk outside, he saw the men glancing at her with interest. He glared in response, warning them not to look, and most turned away. She was not theirs to admire.
Alarr led Breanne to the longhouse where Caragh had offered them a place to stay. Inside, there was a sleeping pallet and a long curtain that could be drawn across the space. Breanne appeared uneasy about the private space and tried to step back from it. He took her hand and drew it closer to his. With her wrist bound in silk, she could pull back a short distance, but nothing more.
‘We have journeyed for over a day without stopping,’ he said to her. ‘I intend to rest with you at my side.’
‘I am not tired,’ she started to protest, but he pulled her closer.
‘You will lie beside me.’ He didn’t trust her not to run, and he was weary from lack of sleep.
The fear on her face revealed her suspicions, but he added, ‘Have I not said it is not my intention to claim your innocence? If I give you back to your foster father untouched, it is worth more to me.’
She still appeared uneasy, but he pulled her near and forced her to lie down on the pallet. He curled his body against hers, and her hair was wet and cold against his face.
‘Sleep,’ he ordered. He only intended to rest for an hour or so—long enough to get through the day.
But with her body nestled close, he grew aware of her light scent. She tried to keep her distance, but he saw that her skin was prickled with gooseflesh. Despite her words, she was not immune to his presence. But perhaps that was only her fear, not an answering desire.
Beside him, he could feel her tension. She was not about to fall asleep, no matter how much he might want her to.
‘What is it?’ he demanded. ‘I have said I will not harm you.’
She hesitated for a time. The silence stretched out until at last she whispered, ‘You knew who I was in the slave market. How is that possible? I’ve never seen you before.’
He wasn’t about to give her the truth. ‘It does not matter.’
She refused to relent and continued her questions. ‘Aye, it does. I want to know your purpose.’
He gave her no answer, for he owed her nothing. And still, she remained persistent. ‘What of my foster father? Do you know him?’
Never would he forget the man who had cut him down, causing his limp. Nor the man who had plotted to murder his father. The taste of vengeance was bitter upon his tongue, but Alarr held no pity towards the man. Even after over a year, his leg often ached from the phantom pain
