“You didn’t know.” He knew she’d only wanted to help.
Her hand moved against his hair, fingering the edges. “We’ll leave in the morning. If any of the other women want to come back with us, I’ll ask—“
He caught her hand, bringing her palm to his mouth. With his lips, he reverenced her skin, bringing it over his roughened cheeks. But when he heard her slight gasp of air, he released her hand and sat up. He didn’t want to push her too quickly or frighten her. To distract both of them, he pointed out a gown draped over one of the chairs.
“Lord Locharr left that for you,” he remarked. “He bought it for my mother, but she refused to wear it.”
Made of silk in the Norman style, the kirtle was deep purple, with narrow sleeves and a sleeveless surcoat to be worn over it.
“I don’t need a gown—“ Nairna started to protest, but Bram cut her off.
“I haven’t seen you wear any colors since we came from your father’s house. I’d like to see you in it.”
Nairna didn’t speak for a long time. When she did, she asked, “Do my plain clothes bother you?”
Jesu, he wasn’t intending to criticize her. “It doesn’t matter to me what you wear. But you used to wear colors and I thought you might like it. That’s all.”
She sat up, as if considering it. When she looked back at him, her face was crimson. “I have no ladies’ maid to help me dress. But if you’ll help me, I’ll . . . try it on.”
The very thought of undressing his wife brought a surge of longing and the desperate need to touch her.
Nairna turned her back, reaching for the silk gown. The fabric felt smooth, and the weave was so fine she knew instantly how costly it was.
She loosened the laces of her gown, only to feel Bram’s hands upon her. He stood behind her, and when she lifted her outer woolen gown away, there was nothing but a thin shift to cover her bare skin. His fingers stroked over her shoulders, down her bared arms.
The length of his manhood pressed against her backside, as he kissed her neck. His arm slid around her, then he brought it higher to rest over the mounds of her breasts. Her nipples tightened against his forearm and the needs rose up inside, clouding her mind.
Bram turned her to face him. The hunger on his face was undeniable, as if he were holding back by a mere thread. Upon his face she saw the strained control and it bothered her, knowing she was the cause of it.
Hot-headed, Grizel had called Bram. Undisciplined and rebellious, ruled by his temper.
But that wasn’t Bram at all, she realized. Not anymore. If anything, he’d reined in his emotions, locking them away. He wouldn’t release anything, and the tension was taking its pound of flesh from him.
He’d imprisoned his spirit, as surely as the chains had imprisoned his body. A dark loneliness seemed to dwell inside him, after his own family had abandoned him.
Grizel’s accusations infuriated Nairna. How could she blame her son for the unfortunate turn of fate? Bram wasn’t responsible for Tavin’s death, or Callum’s imprisonment. And until he could accept the truth of it, he was caught in shackles of his own making.
His hands moved back up to her shoulders while his mouth explored the skin of her neck. Nairna held herself motionless, unsure of what her husband had started. Or even what she wanted next.
He turned her to face him and his eyes were heated with need. She stood on her tiptoes, wondering if she dared to kiss him. When she did, his reaction was immediate, his mouth claiming hers in a frenzy, as though he wanted to absorb her into his skin.
The more she tried to satiate the desire, the worse it grew. He caressed her bottom, and as his tongue delved inside her mouth, she felt the heat building inside her.
He seized the hem of her shift, pulling it up until he bared her womanhood. Embarrassment pooled inside her, but it dissipated a moment later when his hands moved to part her legs. He cupped her intimately, as if learning the shape of her body. With his fingers, he traced the seam that led to her entrance, and she moaned as his finger passed over a sensitive spot.
She tried to move his hand away, but he explored further, dipping his fingers against her opening. With his thumb, he pressed inside, and she felt the gentle invasion.
“I want you, Nairna,” he murmured against her mouth. “I want to claim you. As your husband.”
She shuddered as he withdrew his thumb and pressed it inside again in silent imitation of the way he would join their bodies together, if she yielded to him.
Though her body was ready to accept him, her mind tangled up with apprehension. Bram was so different from Iver, and she was afraid of the feelings he’d stirred within her. To grant herself a little more time, she whispered, “Tonight.”
His dark eyes grew heated and he stroked her one more time before withdrawing his hand. “Tonight,” he agreed.
Nairna eased her shift down to cover her nakedness. Her body ached with frustration while Bram helped her don the purple gown. The soft fabric felt good against her skin, just as Bram’s hands had felt sensual upon her body.
With every touch as he dressed her, she felt herself falling a little deeper into the spell of his arousal. Her breathing was unsteady when he laced the gown, and she tried in vain to calm her heartbeat.
