Page 10 of Marin’s Promise

Marin shook her head. “I cannot attempt this with Piquette in the room.”

The dog watched the exchange with dark eyes, his floppy ears perking at the second mention of his name.

“This is foolish.” Even as Anice spoke, her fingers were at work plucking at Marin’s fabric and fiddling with her jewelry to make it all just so. “You cannot let the reiver have you. No man will marry you after that.”

“Have her?” Catriona flopped down on a cushion on the ground near them. “Why wouldn't a man marry you?”

At only sixteen, Catriona had remained blissfully ignorant of what transpired between a man and a woman. That all the sisters had been able to remain innocent in such dangerous times was a testament to their father's diligence to their care and the stronghold that was Werrick Castle. But the older three had heard stories of what happened to captured women and had tried their best to keep the younger two sheltered.

Bran had said he would not take a woman by force, but what of his men?

“You know I have no intention to marry.” Marin ran her fingers through her long hair to ensure no tangles remained. “It’s why you’ve been able to become betrothed to your Timothy before any engagement was announced for me. Besides…” Marin lowered her voice. “It will not come to any of that.”

“Any of what?” Catriona grinned impishly.

Piquette, who apparently realized he was no longer part of the sisters’ conversation, rested his large head back on the floor.

Ella gave an excited gasp. “What if we can find poison to apply onto your dagger? Leila, can it be done?”

Leila, who had watched everything with her small lips tucked against themselves, shook her dark head. “I’m unaware of a poison that can coat a dagger. At least one to kill a man.” Her mouth screwed to the side. “And I chance it to say, it might not be good to have him dead.”

The sisters all went still and stared at her.

“Because he’s a good person in his heart?” Cat guessed. “And this will truly become the greatest love story of all time?” She put her hands dramatically over her chest and pretended to swoon. “Ella, you must write all this down.”

Marin laughed, her nerves making the sound high-pitched. In truth, she knew exactly what she was getting into. Not through experience, but through knowledge gleaned. It had been she, after all, who had caught their Master of the Horse with the maid in the stables.

It had piqued her curiosity. And while she did not anticipate getting to the point of…of…copulation, the anticipation of a kiss held great appeal.

Because she would have to kiss him and touch him. A trill of excitement shivered through her, no matter how much she tried to tamp it down. He was handsome in a wild way, those dark eyes intense as they devoured her.

She shivered and the tips of her nipples tingled. But she could not think such things. Nay, she would need to focus on him as the opponent he was. He was clever; he’d proven that by how he’d gotten into the castle. And he was strong, at least in her summation based on how his visible forearms and neck were corded with muscle.

What would it be like to touch such a strong body? What would he feel like under her fingertips?

Death.She reminded herself with the word in steely resolve. For she would need to kill him.

“I do not wish you to hurt him,” Leila said with finality.

Of everything said in Marin’s preparation, this was the one that gave her pause. Leila saw things others didn’t, felt things in ways others could not.

Anice carefully slipped the dagger into the front of Marin’s belt where the length of gold metalwork fell in the fashionable “Y.” It perfectly concealed the dagger, which was why she'd borrowed the belt from Anice. Likewise, the dress she'd borrowed had been one of the latest styles with a lower-cut neckline, hopefully a better distraction than her own more modestly cut gowns.

She only wished it was as easy for Anice to lend her effortless charisma and confidence.

“If not his dagger, then we could poison his wine,” Ella offered, ignoring Leila. “I read in a text once where a bit of belladonna could be added to his cup. Anice was right; he drank quickly at supper. He would never know until it was too late.”

“And if he makes me drink it again?” Marin said. “Nay, I must kill him if we want them all gone. His reivers are not loyal men. No reiver is. His men will be easily dispatched when they no longer have their leader to guide them.”

“What if he's a good man?” Catriona asked. “Did you see something, Leila?”

Leila simply shrugged, either unable or unwilling to share what she might know. Oftentimes she did not see everything fully. It was a skill Marin did not encourage either, not when it was so dangerous.

Anice scoffed and set to work brushing Marin's hair over her shoulder and pinching her cheeks to give them color. Marin waved off her sister's preening. “He's taken over our castle, Cat. He's not a good man.”

“Yet he did so without killing any soldiers other than Eversham and that was because Eversham—” Cat’s voice caught. “Eversham wouldn’t have let anyone take me.” She pursed her lips and gently shook her head. “But Bran didn't once hit me, even when I hit him. Nor did he leave a mark from his dagger on my throat. He was careful. Intentionally so. I could tell.”

It was true. Cat had emerged without even a scratch on her. Marin had noticed as much. Most men would have struck Cat back when she hit him, but the reiver had not.