Ena’s Surrender Page 12
Bran turned toward the feminine voice and found yet another golden-haired sister. She was older than the one he currently spoke to, a woman more his age, and stunningly beautiful. Her hair was lighter and hung in glossy waves, her eyes larger, her lips fuller, her curves more apparent.
She waved him toward her, the movement graceful and beguiling. There was not the steely exterior about her that Marin had possessed. This one might be a good lass for bed sport, if she was willing. It’d been longer than he liked since he’d had a woman in his bedroll.
He drew off his helm and grinned at her. He knew his smile to be one of his finer attributes, not just for enlisting new reivers to his side, but also winning over ladies. His teeth were white and strong, and he still had them all.
The new sister did not return his gesture. “You threatened to kill Catriona.” A hardness touched her almond-shaped eyes and she appeared more likely to run him through with a sword than allow him in her bed. A massive dog came from behind her, a beast so tall, its haunches came higher than her waist. It regarded him with glittering black eyes from a face of drooping brown fur.
“He did what?” The other sister exclaimed from behind him.
“I dinna hurt her.” He held up his hands. If he wanted her in his bed that night and didn’t want to end up that beast of a dog’s supper, he'd need to approach the topic with diplomacy.
In truth, if Lady Marin hadn’t opened the portcullis when she did, the situation would have been a difficult one to navigate. He didn't hurt women or children. Ever.
His men had all been warned off ever hurting them as well, upon punishment of death. And it was one he would readily mete out. He didn't care if he took the life of a man, especially one who preyed upon the weak.
“You could have hurt her,” the younger sister said. She moved to his side. The curious interest in her eyes had frosted over with icy disdain.
“Come now if you want food, or don’t and starve.” The older one departed with her dog, leaving only her swirling hem trailing behind her.
Bran strode quickly to follow and found the younger sister at his side. “What are you called?” he asked.
“A scholar.” She lifted her chin. “And you?”
“A reiver.” If she wouldn't answer him with naught but a quip, he could do likewise.
Ahead of him, the older sister and her giant beast led at a ridiculous pace, her leather shoes far quieter than the wooden patens of his. She did not slow, not until they reached the great hall where his men had settled in. Conversations buzzed around him, heavy with the baritone of his reivers. The inhabitants of the castle were easily detected by their soundlessness. As if those who had dared to attend supper might remain safe by remaining quiet.
The ceiling of the great hall had similar paintings across the great wooden beams stretching out overhead. Unicorns and lions and flowers and graceful arcing whorls throughout. Had the sisters done them, or had they come at an exorbitant price as with everything in the castle?
Servants laid out trenchers filled with steaming food on the tables. So much food. Root vegetables roasted and steaming, thick slabs of meat drenched in gravy, and loaves of crusty bread as big as his forearm.
Never had he seen so much food in one place.
The younger sister disappeared from his side and the dog trotted off toward a servant who waved the beast over. The one who had led him there swept past him, intending to leave as well. He caught her hand. It was soft, her fingers slender and dainty.
She stopped and her lashes lowered as she regarded their joined hands. Her palm was warm, and she had a delicate floral scent about her. It was pleasant and he liked the thought of smelling her on his skin the next morning.
“What is yer name?” He brushed her wrist with his thumb, a suggestive caress to imply so, so much more, and released his hold on her.
Her eyes narrowed in a way that said Bran wouldn’t get her name, let alone her favors.
Rejection.
He’d expected nothing less. The wealthy always thought themselves so above everyone else.
“May I show you to your table?” Marin stepped from the doorway and wedged herself in front of her sister.
By comparison between the women, Marin held an authoritative demeanor and unquestioned confidence. A challenge. He decided then and there liked her the best. Bran nodded for her to lead him to the table, and she did, skirting the edge of the great hall to the front. To the dais.
He wouldn’t sit at the head of the great hall, like some overprivileged noble. “Nay. This is fine here.” He indicated the bench as she turned to face him.
There was a strength about her, a fortitude which drew him. Everything about her indicated she would be supple and sweet, and yet her influence, her tone, all suggested she was nothing fragile.
“Will ye join me?” he asked.
Marin’s lips curled into a slow smile of obvious interest. “I was hoping we might dine together.”
She stood nearly a head taller than any of her sisters, her stance proud. Candlelight sparkled off her glossy hair and something enticing glittered in her blue eyes.
His gaze slipped to her full, kissable lips. No doubt they’d be supple beneath his mouth, sweet.
“I know what men like you want.” Her own stare dipped in assessment of his body.
He was sure of what she thought she knew. Mayhap of what she’d even seen living on the border. He frowned. “I dinna take women by force.”
She stepped closer, bringing with her the clean scent of lavender. “What if she comes to you by choice?”
Her face was flawless, lovely, most likely soaked each night in milk that could feed families instead. He should hate her for it, and yet he found all he wanted to do was stroke her to see if she would be as smooth as she looked, caressing such creamy skin, having her flush with passion…
“Depends.” He cocked his head to the side. “Is that woman ye?”
Marin's tongue darted between her pink lips, leaving them glistening. “Aye.”
“I was hoping ye’d say that.” He winked and her cheeks went pink. Aye, he would have the bonny lass tonight, after a meal fit for a king, in a castle he’d taken with only one death.
This was the best damn day of his life.
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Author’s Note
I realize the events in this book sound like a lot of back and forth fighting between the English and the Scottish, but, unfortunately, this was how life was. With the borders being so far from the kings of both countries, it was a wild area with very few laws. In an attempt for kings to maintain a modicum of control of these ‘wild border people’, March Wardens were enlisted. The English and Scottish both had three March Wardens: one for the east territory of their land, one for the west and another for the middle.
Reivers came from both the English and Scottish borders, though both had members of the opposite country living among them. With the border in such a state of fluctuation with land being taken and stolen back, it was impossible to have a clear, permanent line drawn between the countries. Living on the border was dangerous, hard and predatory where one side stole from the other in an attempt to better their own life.
The March Wardens were able to tame this wildness to a certain extent, but leadership was often corrupt, which did nothing to help matters. Complaints could be made to the opposing country’s March Warden and Truce Days were held to discuss punishment/recompense for offenses committed. These were some of the only times both sides were at relative peace, which only lasted for the single day.
These were difficult times to live in and certainly fascinating to write about. I think it takes a certain kind of person to survive in a land like this, and makes for fascinating characters. It’s what inspired my Borderland Ladies and Borderland Rebels series. I hope you enjoy reading both series as much as I’ve enjoyed writing and researching them.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my amazing beta readers who helped make this story so m
uch more with their wonderful suggestions: Tracy Emro and Lorrie Cline. You ladies are so amazing and make my books just shine!
Thank you to Janet Kazmirski for the final read-through you always do for me and for catching all the little last minute tweaks.
Thank you to John Somar and my wonderful minions for all the support they give me.
Thank you to Erica Monroe who saves my life time after time for doing an amazing job with edits and is always there for whatever I need. I swear, you add more years back onto my life with all the help and laughter you bring me.
Thank you Teresa Spreckelmeyer who never ceases to amaze me with her stunning covers!
And a huge thank you so much to my readers for always being so fantastically supportive and eager for my next book.
About the Author
Madeline Martin is a USA TODAY Bestselling author of historical romance novels filled with twists and turns, adventure, steamy romance, empowered heroines and the men who are strong enough to love them.
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She lives a glitter-filled life in Jacksonville, Florida with her two daughters (known collectively as the minions) and a man so wonderful he's been dubbed Mr. Awesome. She loves Disney, Nutella, wine and could easily lose hours watching cat videos.
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Find out more about Madeline at her website:
http://www.madelinemartin.com
Also by Madeline Martin
Borderland Ladies
Marin’s Promise
Anice’s Bargain
Ella’s Desire
Catriona’s Secret
Leila’s Legacy
Borderland Rebels
Faye’s Sacrifice
Clara’s Vow
Kinsey’s Defiance
Drake’s Determination
Regency Novellas and Novels
Earl of Benton
Earl of Oakhurst
Mesmerizing the Marquis
Harlequin Historicals
How to Tempt a Duke (Harlequin Historical)
Highland Passions
A Ghostly Tale of Forbidden Love
The Madam’s Highlander
The Highlander’s Untamed Lady
Her Highland Destiny
Highland Passions Box Set Volume 1
Heart of the Highlands
Deception of a Highlander
Possession of a Highlander
Enchantment of a Highlander
The Mercenary Maidens
Highland Spy
Highland Ruse
Highland Wrath