Page 36 of Marin’s Promise

10

Marin would not fail again. Bran had ducked to avoid the hurtling dagger. She took advantage of his new position and launched a solid kick into his chest, pushing him backward. His sword clattered to the ground, too far for him to quickly grab. He coughed out an exhale and widened his stance in preparation for a fight.

A swift glance at the floor did not reveal the dagger or sword within her reach. Damn.

She threw a fist at him, but he batted it aside with his forearm. The strike of his solid arm jarred her. She swung again, and again he deflected. Each blocked hit resulted in a jab of pain shooting through Marin's hand.

Her gauntlets were in her chambers with the rest of her armor. Though she regretted their absence now, slipping quietly into Bran’s room had been more important than protection. At least it had been before she realized she’d be engaging in hand-to-hand combat with a man twice her size.

Bran grabbed her wrists in his large hands and restrained her with impossible strength. She wrestled against him, twisting and turning, her legs kicking at him seemingly without effect. No matter what she did, he did not lighten his grip. She arched back in preparation to smash his forehead with her own.

“Nay, lass. No' this time.” He knocked her feet out from under her.

She fell back, unable to stop herself, and landed atop something downy. The bed.

Bran's weight fell on top of her and set her heart beating wildly.

“Stop attacking me.” His gaze searched hers. “Stop trying to kill me. I dinna want it to be this way.”

“What way did you want it to be?” She didn’t bother to stifle her incredulity. “Did you expect us to allow you to come into the castle and welcome you?”

His brow furrowed. “Mabrick Castle,” he muttered.

Marin stiffened. The soldiers and her sisters were on their way there now. Why would he mention it?

“What of it?” she demanded.

Had he known? Damn her for taunting him. And still, even if he left now, he would not be able to catch up with her sisters. Nay, they would be within the walls of the stronghold by then, safe.

“Ye dinna send them to Mabrick Castle, did ye?” There was a hesitation to his tone that made her skin prickle with a wave of apprehension.

“Why?” she whispered.

“The castle was taken by the Grahams two days past.”

Her veins ran cold with horror. The Grahams. The fiercest and most brutal of all the reivers to strike the borders. They attacked without discretion, killed without mercy—men, women, children. And what they did to the women…

It had been a Graham who had attacked her mother a decade before. He’d raped her in the attack and left her for dead, leaving before he could be struck down. Aye, the Grahams were the cruelest, and Marin had sent her sisters and the remaining brave soldiers directly in their path.

Marin shook her head. “Nay.” Tears blurred her vision. “Nay, you lie.”

The earnestness on his face, the gravity in those dark eyes spoke for him. He was not lying.

“My sisters…” her throat choked off the remaining words, unable to even form the thought.

“May already be dead,” he finished for her.

“Nay.” Marin thrashed against him. “Let me be. Let me go to them. Let me—”

“Marin.” He spoke gently in her ear, his voice soothing.

She jerked and stared up at him. “You. You can help. You and your men. You must save them, Bran.” Her words came fast and frantic, for she was mad with hope.

He smirked. “I have what I came for, as well as the eldest daughter of the Earl of Werrick. The Grahams have no qualms with me as yet, nor I with them.”

She shook her head. All she could see in her mind was her sisters marching out with the meager army of soldiers, the brave group moving steadily over the rugged terrain of the borderlands toward what they thought was safety. Only it wouldn’t be safety—it would be a slaughter.

Desperation rose with her panicked heartbeat. She blinked away her tears and gazed imploringly at him. “Please, Bran. Please.”