keep his daughter protected?
‘I like your father,’ Arturo said. ‘He seems like a good man. And he’s a strong fighter, despite his age.’
‘He is.’ A smile curved over her face in the darkness.
Arturo took her hands and drew her to stand up. When he moved closer, it brought him closer to her face. At the nearness of him, Brianna started to let go of his hands.
‘Stay?’ he asked quietly. Moving closer, she felt his cheek come and rest against hers. ‘If things were different, I would take a kiss from you now.’ His words were warm against her face, and every part of her body seemed to respond to him. ‘I would hold you close and taste your sweet mouth, belleza. But I suspect that it would only feed the hunger I feel for you, instead of sating it.’
‘You know it’s too soon for me,’ she whispered.
‘I know. But there is no harm in speaking words.’
He was wrong. His words were invisible weapons, slicing through her defences, and reawakening her. The darkness enfolded them, and in her mind, she struggled against the memory of her last kiss. Murtagh had been affectionate, and she’d enjoyed making love with him. So much, that she understood what Lord de Manzano was offering—the freedom to take him as her lover, to fill up the emptiness inside her broken heart.
Desperately, she struggled to find the willpower that was slipping away. Arturo’s hands moved to her waist, pulling her close until her hands rested upon his chest.
‘It’s your choice, belleza. If you want me to kiss you, you’ll have to make the first move.’
Chapter Three
Brianna hesitated, and with every second that passed between them, she sensed the caged sensuality of him. Slowly, her hands moved up his chest, to the powerful shoulders, and then to rest upon his face. She drew her fingers over his lips and was rewarded with a light kiss upon her skin.
Inside, she was quaking. She wanted him, despite all the reasons it was a mistake. What he offered was only temporary. He was going to leave and nothing between them could last. He’d offered her an escape from the loneliness. But what lay broken inside her couldn’t be healed by one man’s touch.
‘Not yet,’ she whispered, holding his face between her hands.
The words hung between them in a promise she didn’t know if she could keep. Or if she should even try. She let go of him and picked up the bundle, continuing up the winding spiral stairs, until at last they reached the top. The wind was stronger here, and her hair whipped against her face. Arturo came up beside her, his hands resting upon the stone edge. He didn’t look at her, but she saw the tension in his posture.
When he saw the landscape before him, there was an invisible shift. He stared at the mottled green and snowy-white hills that shifted into flat-land, down to a grey sea. The faint smile upon his lips stole her breath away.
When he turned back, his dark eyes held hers captive. ‘It’s beautiful. Like nothing I’ve ever seen before.’
She nodded, but couldn’t answer his smile. His earlier words resonated within her: You’ll have to make the first move.
Confusion spiralled inside her, wondering why he’d conjured up these lost feelings. It had been so easy to ignore the advances of other men of her clan. They were like brothers to her, kind men, but she couldn’t imagine being with one of them.
Not like Arturo de Manzano.
It must be because he had also lost someone. There was a bond between them, of facing the death of a loved one. The only difference was that he’d managed to lock away his grief and live again. The way she longed to.
She heard herself telling him of the different tribes that lived here. Of the Ó Phelans who had been an enemy when her father was young, and of how the MacEgans had grown stronger against the Norman forces.
‘They married their enemies,’ she said. ‘My father wed Genevieve, by order of King Henry.’
‘You speak of her as if she’s not your mother.’
Brianna shook her head. ‘No, she isn’t. My mother stole me away from my father when I was a young child. I didn’t understand what happened at the time, but she made choices she regretted. In the end, she took her own life, from her sadness.’
An unexpected flare of hurt gripped her heart. ‘I was alone for a time. I couldn’t understand what I had done wrong, that my mother would rather die than be with me.’
Arturo came up beside her, resting an arm over her shoulder. ‘You were just a child.’
‘I know. And Genevieve took me in, becoming my mother in all but blood.’ She accepted comfort from his presence, leaning her head against him.
‘You were fortunate to have your family,’ he said. ‘And they care a great deal for you.’ He reached for the bundle of food and opened it. She tore off a piece of bread and they sat down to eat, while she told him about the other places nearby.
‘Where is the Norse settlement?’ he asked.
The question jolted her from her mood and she pointed out the area near the woodlands. ‘It lies a half-day’s journey from Laochre. At one time, my great-grandfather’s sister wed one of them, and there was peace between us. Even when the Normans attacked, the Lochlannach kept to themselves.’
She faced him, keeping her voice steady. ‘But during the last few years, it’s been difficult. There have been raids on several occasions.’
‘Without success?’
She nodded. ‘King Patrick’s men kept them out. Last year, they attacked the homes on the outskirts.’ A chill came over her, and she gripped her shoulders. ‘Murtagh was … not a good fighter. He was the son of a miller, and though he was strong, he’d never had any training.’
Fixing her gaze away from him, she refused to let the dark feelings intrude. With her throat aching, she added, ‘One of the men stood apart from the others. Murtagh mistakenly thought he was the leader, and he went to challenge him while I stayed behind.’
In spite of her best efforts, a tear broke free. ‘I begged him to stop, but he charged the raider. The man’s spear caught him in the stomach, and it took hours for my husband to die.’ A harshness coated her voice. ‘I went to kill the Lochlannach, but the soldiers from Laochre held me back. The king drove them away, and they haven’t returned since.
‘A few days later, they sent gold as a body price for my husband’s death.’ Bitterness swelled within her, and she shook her head in disgust. ‘As if that would bring him back.’
‘Killing the Norseman won’t bring Murtagh back, either.’ His hand rested upon the small of her back, warming her.
‘Would you have waited at home, if an enemy had slain your wife?’ she questioned. ‘Or would you have avenged her?’
His silence was the answer she wanted to hear. Reaching for the flask of wine, she took a drink and passed it to him. His mouth rested upon the place where she’d sipped, and once
