There was still a little youthful plumpness to Maren’s face and the folds of her armpits where her dress hung off her shoulder, and she was bursting out of her dewy skin as if her sensuality and lust for life could not be contained. Yet she seemed wise and old beyond her years, as though life had already chipped away the edges of her smooth, youthful optimism. She was poor, yet Maren boasted a keen mind and a sharp tongue. What a delight it was to duel with her wits, knowing full well they were both circling around their attraction, for it was undeniable, like the pull of a magnet, and Bryce was sure she was aware of it too.
Maren did not seem to like him, and that irked Bryce. And there was also the small matter of her saving his life, which meant he was in her debt.
‘Lass, I thank you for what you just did for me, and I will repay the debt a thousand times over when….’
‘Never mind that,’ she snapped. Ah, there was that sharp tongue again. ‘Are you coming, or are you just going to stand there gawping at me?’
Bryce mounted up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
‘Not so close,’ she hissed. ‘Get your hands off me.’
‘I have to hang on, what with my wound and all.’
‘Nonsense. ‘Tis but a scratch, or you’d be wailing like a bairn.’
‘If we huddle close, we will both be warmer,’ offered Bryce.
‘I am warm enough. So get back.’
‘You should get used to it as we will soon be newlyweds, and then I’ll have even more reason to put my hands on you.’
‘And when you do, think on the fate of the last man who did, Bryce Cullan. Now which way?’ she said.
‘South, for a few miles, and then head west at the crossroads,’ he replied. ‘We will never make Inverness before nightfall but I know an inn where we can take shelter from this storm.
Maren kicked the horse, and they bounced onward at a reckless gallop.
Chapter Nine
The inn was a shabby place, a haunt of drovers and poorer travellers heading south to Edinburgh. Bryce had to wrap his plaid around Maren to cover the bloodstains on her dress. But the room he secured in the attic boasted a fire and a bed, and as she stood before the hearth to the sound of sleet clattering against the window, Maren seemed glad of it. But she also looked discomfited, which must be on account of being in a confined space with a man. The lass had put on a brave face but was clearly shocked at the events on the road. She was also soaked through and shivering, her brown hair darkened to black in the rain and plastered all over her face.
‘The landlord will bring us food in a bit, but first, make haste and get out of your wet things. You are shaking, lass,’ said Bryce, reaching for his plaid that covered her. It was heavy with rain, and the wet wool smelt unpleasant.
But Maren pulled it around her like a shield. ‘No.’
‘Die of a chill, then, lass. That fire will not keep us warm all night, and I’ve no desire to get into damp clothes in a cold dawn.’ Bryce drew the bolt on the door and began peeling off his clothes, shedding his boots and breeches hastily.
‘What are you doing?’ she exclaimed.
‘Getting naked,’ he replied with a grin. He peeled his shirt off over his head, and Maren glanced at his chest before her gaze veered lower. Bryce looked down and realised that he was at half-mast. Damn the thing. It seemed to have a mind of its own when it came to Maren. Her eyes had widened, but whether in alarm or awe was hard to say.
‘You’ve seen a cock before, haven’t you?’
‘Aye, but I’m not seeing much of one now,’ she replied.
Not awe then, but he laughed at her insult. Bryce turned around, hoping his buttocks would be less offensive. ‘I think you are lusty enough, lass, and that you like what you see more than you let on,’ he called over his shoulder.
‘No. I don’t like you at all, and if you think flashing your wares at me like a fisherwoman in a marketplace will tempt me, you are very much mistaken.’
Bryce marched up to her and stared down into her warm brown eyes. ‘Am I now?’
‘Aye. You just want a warm body in your bed. That is all.’
‘And what is wrong with that, lass?’ Those chestnut eyes of Maren’s were hard to look away from, being so wide, hinting at innocence but with a fire burning underneath. She was lovely, so why not take a chance?
He thrust his fingers into her wet hair and brought her lips to his. They were cold and unyielding but sweet as honey. Bryce tried to be gentle, though he was suddenly raging with desire. He pulled Maren to his chest as his mouth plundered hers, and to his great surprise, she gasped and softened a little. Her mouth seemed made for him as Bryce deepened his kiss, sliding against her full lips, wanting more, everything she had to give. Did he imagine it, or was Maren pressing herself against him? She clutched onto his arms, her breasts jutting against his chest, and his throat became choked with tenderness and longing.
‘Bryce, no,’ she murmured, pushing him off and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
