“Bryn Lindane,” he said in his hoarse voice. “I asked you to marry me once. I’ve endured seeing you married to one brother and posing as the wife of the other. Now you’re wearing the engagement ring of my enemy. When are you going to be mine?”
“Now,” she whispered breathlessly. “And forever.”
“I want it official. I want my ring on your finger. I want to call you wife.”
She nodded against his forehead, her gaze locked to his. “I’ll marry you, Rangar Barendur.”
He kissed her with a passion matched only by her own as their hands drifted and caressed and squeezed, and Bryn felt the premonition that tonight might be her last as a maiden.
Chapter
Thirty-Eight
THE THIRD GIFT . . . jealous of those who came before . . . a trip to the water shrine . . . fire and ash
Alone in the secret passages, lantern light flickered over Bryn and Rangar’s bodies entangled together.
“Your wedding night with Trei . . . ” Rangar started gruffly.
Bryn shook her head quickly. “We didn’t consummate the marriage. Trei could think only of Saraj, and I . . . ” She wet her lips, chest rising and falling fast. “I couldn’t bear to be touched by anyone but you.”
His eyes simmered with desire. “And the nights on the road with Valenden? Do you know how it tortured me to think of you sharing beds in roadside inns with him?” His hips shifted under her with urgency.
“Believe it or not, Val kept his hands to himself.”
“He knew I’d murder him if he touched you.”
She leaned back, taking him in, and gently brushed her finger over her lips.
Rangar gripped her by the back of the neck, and thoughts of his brothers vanished from her mind. His body’s desire for her was becoming more and more obvious as she straddled his waist, their hips pressed together.
She brushed her lips close to his ear. “I’m innocent if that’s what you’re asking. No man has taken my virginity by force, and I haven’t given it to anyone.”
“Virginity isn’t prized in the Baersladen.” His voice was guttural. “It’s backward to demand women not enjoy themselves when men are free to.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I take it you’re quite experienced, then?”
Her words were flirtatious, but in truth, her heart was pounding. She knew Rangar was hardly a virgin. Trei and Valenden had both told her of Rangar’s sexual prowess. She couldn’t stop thinking of Aya, the falconer. Such a strong, beautiful girl—how many times had she been in Rangar’s bed?
“One of us should be.” His voice was low as he stroked a curl off her face. “Does it bother you?”
She tried to banish the thought of Rangar and Aya from her mind, but it lodged there like a stubborn thorn. “No. Yes. I don’t know—I suppose I’m jealous of the girls who came before.”
A wicked smile crossed his face as he adjusted her in his lap. “Every one of them knew my heart belonged to the youngest Mir princess. I’ve been ridiculed for a decade for being in love with a girl I barely knew. I’ve endured it enough. I want you, Bryn.”
There was a question in his words, and she felt an overwhelming wave of nerves. She licked her lips again, then met his eyes.
She nodded.
He took her lips in a slow, stirring kiss. He tasted of salt and bitter herbs, and her stomach rumbled. He slid his arms aroundher waist in a claiming gesture, his fingers pulling at her dress’s fabric.
“The buttons,” she whispered, feeling breathless. “They’re in the back.”
He helped her turn around on his lap and then bent her down as he went at the buttons. Though she could feel his urgent desire in the tightness of his muscles, he took his time. He freed her from the cloth, then drew it down over her back.
She tugged the sleeves down her arms, wriggling free of the garment. She raised her hips to let him slide it over her curves.
As soon as she was free of the dress, left in only a scrap of a chemise that barely covered her hips, she tried to turn around to face him again, but his fingers splayed over her backside, thumbs pushing up chemise’s hem.
