Page 64 of Marin’s Promise

Her brow furrowed and she glanced around the room as if she might find an explanation floating in the air. “I don't…understand…”

“Mayhap when ye were taken?”

Her gaze flicked to him. “What?”

“When ye were taken, mayhap ye dinna understand what happened…” he trailed off at the incredulous expression on her face.

“I think I would know.” Splotches of pink showed on her neck and the bit of her chest that was visible.

“But if ye dinna, if ye were too young. How old were ye when it happened? Was it the Grahams?”

“I wasn't taken,” she shot at him.

“Yer sisters said—”

“I know what they said.” Marin drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “They're only repeating what I told them, as well as my father, and anyone else who needed answers.”

He shook his head. “If ye werena taken, what happened?”

The confident squaring of her shoulders wilted, and she turned her face away, a clear indication she did not want to look at him. Or did not want him looking at her. “I wasn't taken. I ran away.”

* * *

Marin had never spokenthe truth aloud. Her new husband was the last person she would have expected to tell. Shame burned her face and kept her eyes averted.

“Ye ran away?” His tone was slow with disbelief. “Ye, who do everything for yer sisters, yer people, yer home.”

She folded her arms over her chest, a flimsy shield to staunch the agony thrumming in her heart. Her gaze slipped up to his face and she found him watching her with guarded curiosity. He stood too close to her, and his very presence seemed as if he were trying to press for the truth.

She looked away again, not only to keep her embarrassment from being so painfully transparent, but also to avoid remembering the lurid details of the night before. In truth, leaving that morning had only partly been due to the tasks needing to be seen to. The castle knew well enough its own functions and each person responsible was aware of their routine. Most had not been expecting to see her about that morning.

The larger part of her leaving had been sheer cowardice, to avoid facing the awkward discomfort of waking up curled in his naked arms, her body so intimately pressed to his own, their deeds laid bare in the light of a new day.

There had been wonder between them the night before, a heart-pounding magic that robbed her of thought and modesty. But now, with their clothes on, going about their daily lives, when only hours before a part of his body had been buried within her most intimate place. Only hours before he had licked his fingers after…he had…

He leveled his gaze with hers. Sunlight streamed in through the thick glass window and made the dark irises of his eyes glow a warm brown with small flecks of black in them. She hadn't noticed those before.

“Will ye tell me why ye ran away?” he asked earnestly.

She folded her arms over her chest. “Do you believe me that I was truly a maiden when you had me last night?”

He studied her for long enough for her to assume the answer might be no. “In truth, I dinna care if ye were a maiden or no’. But I want to know if someone hurt ye. And I want to know why ye felt ye needed to run from yer own home.”

With the crook of his finger, he lifted her face higher and he gazed down at her with such consideration, she thought he meant to kiss her. Her traitorous body hummed to life with anticipation and sent whorls of hot, sensual memories flitting about in her mind.

“You want the truth,” she surmised. He nodded.

She hesitated and his hand gently swept down her neck, making her skin tingle.

“I'm yer husband, Marin,” he said in a seductive tone. “Ye know my past. Isna it fair for me to know yers?”

“I ran because…” She winced. Thinking the words was hard enough; speaking them was like tearing her heart from her chest and baring for him to see. “I ran because it was too much.”

His callused palm cradled her jaw and the gentle sweep of his thumb whispered over her skin, too near her mouth. “What was?” he said encouragingly.

“My mother died when Leila was born.” It was too easy to remember the weight of mourning as it settled over Werrick Castle and shrouded all their hearts. The laughter and joy had ceased, though in truth it had already been much muted through the months that her mother’s stomach swelled with life. “There had been an attack on the castle before we had a curtain wall. They broke through our defenses. No one was safe.”

Bran lowered his hand from her face. “The Grahams.”