Page 20 of Marin’s Promise

“In that case, I need yer help. I dinna want the order of things to fall apart. Nor do ye, I am certain.” In truth, he needed her support with more than simply the accounts. He needed her to stop bloody fighting him, lest the people eventually rose up against him. Then he would need to flex his force, as fleeing was not an option. Not with so much at stake.

Marin tilted her head toward him. “It's difficult to perform such a task from my current location.”

Bran grunted.

Marin crossed her arms.

“I'll let ye out today to help me,” Bran offered. “But if ye cross me, there will be consequences.”

“And I want a bath drawn for me in my room.”

Her airy disregard for his threat rankled. In fact, everything about this woman left him in a state of agitation. And yet, he found himself tempted to offer the bath only if he could join her. “Ye have to promise to try not to kill me,” he said instead.

“Try not to, or don’t actually, kill you?” She gave him a feral grin. “If I try again, I will be successful.”

His cock twitched. Damn but this woman stoked desire deep within him. “Dinna kill me, or even attempt to, and I'll let ye have yer bath.”

“In my own room. Alone.”

The thought of her naked in a tub of water filled his mind. The mirrored surface reflecting her image back to her, the curve of her creamy shoulders, her breasts round and high on her chest. Her skin slick and glossy in the firelight.

“Verra well. Ye'll have an hour.” He pulled the dungeon’s only key from his pocket and unlocked her cell door. She carefully eased it open, came around to the other side of her prison and bent to lift her sister.

Bran opened his arms to accept the girl’s weight, but Marin shook her head, choosing to carry her sister instead. It was familiar, the undying loyalty holding them together. The same as what he shared with Ena.

A twinge pulled at his heart and he jerked away from the two sisters. He was tempted to tell Marin of Ena’s plight, and yet feared her knowing his sister’s name. With the Earl of Werrick being a warden, he could bring down punishment upon Ena, and Bran would be right back where he started. Another pawn in the rich man’s quest for power.

He strode from the dungeon to see about coordinating Marin’s bath. Being here, surrounded by wealth when he had so little, reminded of sisterly love as his own sibling clung to the edge of life, it was more than he could bear. Surely Kerr would have received the missive by now, or at least would get it soon, and would arrive to claim this coveted castle.

It was only a matter of time.

* * *

Marin had wantedto linger forever amid the perfumed steam of her bath. After a night in the dungeon, among the darkness and the things moving within, she had craved such luxuries as her daily bath.

While down there, she had noticed the captured guards were not her entire force. Sir Richard had been able to discreetly convey some were in hiding. Not all was lost, then. For a plan could be devised with those in hiding.

Anice helped Marin into a simple gray kirtle with a side-less surcoat of deep sapphire blue, while Piquette snored on the floor.

“I wish you’d killed Bran,” Anice said. Her fingers flew deftly over the lacings. “Ella said she found him pawing through Papa’s journal today. No doubt to read through our accounts.”

Marin put her fingertips to her temples and applied pressure to the thrumming pain there. She wanted a trencher of hot food and the embrace of her comfortable bed.

“He has refrained from harming our people,” Marin said.

“And what of you?” Anice whispered, despite them being alone in the room together. “What did he do to you before he dragged you through the castle and threw you in the dungeon?”

Marin’s cheeks went hot with the searing memory of his mouth on hers, the power of his naked torso. How he’d put his thumb to her lips, and she’d sucked the blunt tip. The eager heat of lust pulsed to life between her legs at the memory. She swallowed. “He kissed me.”

“Are you still a maiden?” Anice hissed.

“Aye.”

Anice’s expression relaxed as she affixed a gauzy veil over Marin’s hair and secured it with a gold circlet. Perhaps it was foolish to wear such a modest headdress indoors when she considered the intimacy she’d shared with Bran the prior evening.

Anice’s gaze skimmed over her in a final survey. “You look beautiful, my dear sister.” She settled her hands on Marin’s shoulders and met her eyes levelly. “Be careful with him.”

“I thought I was supposed to be the mother to us all,” Marin said in jest.