She scoffed. “Yet Edward of Caernarfon sends troops to my castle. Why?” she asked, her voice rising. “To kill Scots in the guise of aiding Lord Comyn in his bid to bring King Robert to heel.”
“’Tis traitorous words,” her husbandsoftly warned.
Fear curled through her. Aware she took a great risk, she couldn’t help but speak her mind about a king who’d so far proven untrustworthy. “However loyal I am to Lord Comyn, I canna trust England’s sovereign.”
Silence fell between them.
She awaited his displeasure, the roar of a threat.
Instead, the hard lines of the earl’s mouth relaxed. Without warning, the moment shifted, and his gaze darkened with awareness. “’Twould seem you are as courageous as youare beautiful.”
At the appreciation stroking his words, heat slid through her. Floundering at the flare of desire, and needing to shift to safer ground, Gwendolyn touched the cross hanging at her neck. “I have been known tospeak my mind.”
Her husband folded his arms across his massive chest. Genuine amusement flickered over his handsome features. “A trait Ihave noticed.”
Warmth crept up her neck as her gaze lingered on his muscles, noticing the raven-black hair on his chest peeking from beneath his tunic. Her fingers bit into the cross as she fought to smother the scorching sensations unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
Blast this man to Hades and back. She focused on their conversation, however dangerous, safer than her body’s traitorous yearnings. “Neither will I curb my tongue.”
“Nor would I expect such.” In a swift movement, he stepped forward and lifted her chin. His fingertips warmed the skin where he touched. “I canna tolerate a weak lass, nor one who blindly follows dictates.”
His somber admission swept over her like a caress. This close, she reveled in the mesmerizing depths of his eyes, the dark flecks of gold, sinking further into the emerald warmthreflected back.
He leaned toward her, his scent of man and heat wrapping her within their potent embrace. On a soft gasp, her mouth parted.
His shoulders stiffened. As if scalded, he lowered his arms and strode toward the door.
“W-where are you going?” she stammered as she struggled against her body’s traitorous recoil.
“To gather men to hunt,” he snapped.
“Bróccín?”
His intense gazeleveled on her.
A tremor ran though her as she remembered his request for an heir. Her breathing grew shallow and warmth swept her cheeks. Gwendolyn cleared her throat. “I… I pray you have good luck.”
Eyes narrowed, Bróccín strode across the room, each step stealing the air around her, caging her as if bound. “That isna what you meant to say,” he stated, his throaty challenge leaving her further off balance. “Where is your courage now?”
Her pulse slammed in her chest. “I was thinking,” she rasped, “that mayhap we can overcome our differences.”
Nostrils flaring, he scoffed. “Overcome our differences?” His gaze swept to her mouth, lingered. “Is thatwhat you wish?”
The raw need of his question slashed her defenses. Never had she been so aware of a man. Aye, she’d endured Luke’s touch, but never had he ignitedsuch longings.
In stunned realization, she stared at the warrior. For the first time in her life she craved to please a man, to garner his favor.
“Nay,” he continued in a sultry burr. “I think what you want between us is far more.”
Overwhelmed by her body’s intense response to him, she stumbled back. “Nay!” She had to get away from him before she did something foolish—like invitehim to her bed.
Eyes dark with heat, he stalked toward her.
* * * *
Aiden’s body roared its demand as he caught Gwendolyn’s wrists, stroked his thumb across the silkiness of her lower lip. “I think—” He skimmed his mouth atop hers in a soft caress, “that we could—”
“N-nay,” she breathed.
