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“Arianna,” he called out. “Do you want a turn at the sweat chamber?”
Brad looked at Arianna.
She was focused on him, clearly upset and concerned. What a mess.
“Oh, no thank you.” She forced a smile at Mason. “I’ve got too much work today. I’m glad you could both get out. I need to head back to my room.”
She turned to go, and Brad let out a breath. “Care if I take the first shower?” he asked Mason.
“Be my guest.” Mason bowed slightly. “I’m certain you smell more foul than I ever could.”
“Many thanks.” Brad was grateful for Mason and his easy humor. He turned.
“Curses,” Mason yelped. “What happened to your back, friend?”
Brad paused. Instead of looking at Mason, his gaze slid to Arianna who had paused in her doorway. Their heavenly exchange of a few moments ago played across her face. He had to be stronger. He couldn’t let himself be alone with her or touch her. Heaven would agree with him.
He focused on Mason, spreading his arms and smiling. “A few friendly whipping sessions. No worries.”
Arianna gasped and stormed into her room, slamming the door behind her.
Mason’s brows rose. “I’m sorry, friend, on all accounts. There is nothing friendly about your scars, and now you’ve ticked off the beautiful lady. Guess she’ll be kissing me by nightfall.” He winked, and Brad’s stomach churned. Then he grew serious, as serious as he’d been in the general’s office yesterday. “I am truly sorry. Captured and tortured?”
Brad nodded. Mason understood. Of course he did. It was part of their military training, the information on capture, torture, and how to respond to it. The real experience was nothing like the training. Brad wouldn’t wish it on even the men who’d done it to him. Well, maybe on them.
“There is much more depth, experience, and pain to you than I would have believed two days ago,” Mason said, his blue eyes full of compassion.
Brad shrugged. “We all go through hard things.”
“Nobody I know has gone through enough lashes to be permanently scarred.” Mason dipped his head respectfully. “Nobody I know has given eight years of their life to protect and serve a people not their own. I’m in awe of you, my friend.”
Brad shifted uncomfortably. It was too high of praise. The service had been his penance at first, but God had blessed him and those people had become his own.
“Thank you,” Brad managed. “I can’t tell you how I appreciate your acceptance and good humor.”
“Well … thank heaven above that Arianna will choose based on the most good-looking and fun-loving man, not on the most self-sacrificing and battle-tested.” Mason’s broad smile returned.
Brad chuckled. He turned to head for the shower. Heaven above would definitely shove Arianna in Mason’s direction. He needed to as well.
The very thought of Arianna in anybody else’s arms, even the happy, kind Mason, sounded like worse torture than another round of whipping.
ChapterSeven
Arianna could not sort outher feelings for Brad. She was angry at him, still in love with him, in awe of his toughness and dedication, sickened by what he’d gone through, and wished she could kiss him for much longer than the brilliant but brief touch of their lips earlier today.
Had he seriously asked for forgiveness for kissing her and said it wouldn’t happen again? Curses, as Mason would say. How could he?
She paced her room and couldn’t focus on work. The only explanation that made sense was Brad was wounded by his mum’s death, had left to find himself, and then had been wounded time and again by the awful battles he’d been a part of. He couldn’t let himself love Arianna because of that.
But there was another explanation, one she tried to push away but it crept back in. He still loved her as a little sister, not the romantic feelings she had for him. She was the one who kept pushing herself on him. How awkward.
Why, then, did he look at her the way he did? When he’d said he thought of their kisses eight years ago ‘only every other minute,’ she’d swooned completely.
Her watch beeped a warning. She had a video chat with Brioni in five minutes. Yikes.
Arianna raced into the bathroom, freshened her makeup, and then slid into a blue Giorgio Armani wrap dress. She almost put her heels on but realized the men’s suit designer rep would never see her feet. She hated video chats. If only she was striding into the business establishment dressed to impress with her heels on and accomplishing her work with a confident smile on her face. She loved what she did, and she loved people.
The computer beeped at her.
