Page 63 of Marin’s Promise

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Bran woke the following morning to an empty bed. The place beside him was cool under his palm. Some time had evidently passed since Marin had risen and departed.

Daylight streamed in through the windows. He had slept far later than intended.

He dragged himself from bed, refreshed himself with the remaining water in the ewer and pulled on a pair of gray hose and a dark doublet. He'd been about to stride from the room when he caught sight of the rumpled bed and the brilliant white of their sheets.

Her missing maidenhead niggled at the back of his mind again. He growled in frustration and pulled the sleeve of his doublet and shirt upward. With his forearm over the bed, he dug the tip of his blade into the inside of his elbow and squeezed out a couple drops of blood. The deep red droplets hit the sheets exactly where he’d aimed. He patted the mess about with his fingertips, smearing it in a way he assumed would happen naturally through the act of intercourse.

When he finished, he took care to use the crumpled linen he'd cleaned her with to remove the blood from his hands, further securing his intentional proof. It would not do to have anyone question her maidenhead.

He glanced once more at his handiwork, pulled the sleeve of his shirt and doublet down and quit the room to find his wife. Bixby sat in the hallway and leapt at Bran's arrival.

“Have ye seen yer mistress?” Bran asked the cat.

Bixby blinked up at him. The little blighter probably wouldn't tell Bran even if he did know. Bran gave him a pat on the head anyway and proceeded to the places he was most likely to find her. In the kitchen, he discovered Nan setting about the first meal of the day with clear instructions already delivered by Marin. Next, he went on the battlements where Sir Richard had the caste soldiers already scurrying about to fulfill her orders. Finally, he made his way to the solar and found her discussing the schedule with a thin, brown-haired woman.

He nodded to them both upon entering, walking closer when Marin waved him over. “Bran, this is our chatelaine, Rohesia.”

The woman had a long, narrow mouth that stretched longer still with her smile. She bobbed a quick curtsey. “Will that be all, my lady?” she asked of Marin.

Marin smiled. “Aye, thank you, Rohesia.”

Ah, yes, the woman who refused to even discuss cleaning and laundry with him when he first took Werrick Castle. Still, he nodded in greeting as she departed and closed the door behind her.

Marin’s hair had been plaited into long braids and wound atop her head where a glittering gold caul secured them into place. Having her hair up exposed her long, graceful neck and he found himself aching to press his mouth to her perfumed skin. To hear her cry out once more at his touch.

“Marin.” Her name came out in something of a groan.

She swallowed and turned her gaze to him. “Good morrow, Bran.”

“Ye were up early.” He closed the distance between them and ran a hand lightly down the side of her pale blue cotehardie. The silk was cool and slick, and his hand glided over her waist and the swell of her hips, easily skimming over her curves. He deemed she ought to wear silk every day for the sheer purpose of him running his hands over her.

She stepped back slightly. Away from his caress. “There is always much to do.”

He didn't reach for her again, but he couldn't tamp down the frustration at her obvious rejection of his advances. He thought the night before had burned away her hesitation.

“I believe much of the responsibility of the household ought to be mine, aye?” He gave her the half-grin most ladies went silly over.

Marin's frowned. “Do you seek to take my position as well as my castle?”

“I seek to be yer husband, woman.” He said it firmly, in a tone he hoped brokered no argument. “Ye canna take all this on yer own.”

“I have for years. I do not intend to stop now.” She spoke lightly, but he knew there was a greater depth to her words.

“Marin,” he said her name again, this time more gently. “I dinna seek to take anything from ye—”

“But you have.” She shook her head as tears burned in her eyes. “You took my castle and my people and my father’s fortune.”

“Did ye no’ enjoy last night?” He braced himself for her answer and combed through his memory of the night before. He only remembered their pleasure.

Marin’s cheeks went pink. “Aye, but it doesn’t change what I must now face. I have given you everything, even my maidenhead. Please do not also take my tasks from me. I beg of you.”

“Ye dinna have a maidenhead,” he said slowly.

She stared at him and her mouth fell open before closing and falling open soundlessly once more. “Of course, I had my maidenhead.”

“There was no blood.”