Rising Fire (20 page)

“I would prefer not to leave here,” she admitted. “'Tis the only place I've known.”

He wanted to pass on word from Gavin but feared upsetting her. Her next words gave him the opportunity he needed.

“I know you have been through the village. Have you seen . . . him? Them?” she asked.

She smiled, but it was forced, the trembling in her lower lip exposing her vulnerability to anyone watching or listening. He stopped his thumb from touching her lip, as he wanted to, tucking his hand under his leg to keep from raising it to her face.

“Aye. This very morn,” he said. “I saw Gavin on my ride through the village to the hills. He asked about you.”

“How does he fare?” she asked. “Was my moth—Fia—with him?”

She had stopped calling them mother and father already. From the way her gaze flitted over to Lord Hugh's as she mentioned them, he suspected it was her lord father's decision to end that custom.

“He seemed well,” he lied. “He wanted to know about you and your new life here in the keep.” That part was true. “Has Lord Hugh forbidden you to leave the castle?”

“Not forbidden, nay,” she replied. “He asked me to
remain here until I learned . . . until I learn what is expected of me as his daughter.”

He heard the hesitation in her voice and, from what Gavin had told him, he knew the reason—Lord Hugh was teaching her how to use her power over fire.

“And you agreed?” he asked, watching for signs of truth or lies in her answer.

“I have agreed, though sometimes I simply want to wake in the morning and find myself back in Gavin and Fia's cottage.”

“He is a hard taskmaster, then?” He leaned back, enjoying the few minutes of conversation with her.

“Aye, very,” she admitted. “But I have so much to learn and so little time in which to do so.”

He was about to ask her about that, and he suspected it had to do with the bad feeling he had, but Lord Hugh interrupted then.

“Sir William, excuse my poor manners,” he said, standing. William and Brienne did so. “I must give Eudes a document from my chambers. Brienne, please keep our guest entertained in my absence.”

A blush crept up her cheeks at his request, and she nodded, clasping her hands in a way that showed how pleased she was to be asked. Within a few moments, all of the men followed Lord Hugh out of the chamber, leaving him alone with Brienne.

“Are you truly well and pleased by this change in your circumstances, then, Brienne?” He sensed something deeper in her that he could not name. Some ambiguity clouding her joy. “No regrets?” He would be leaving soon and wanted—nay, needed—to know she would be well.

“I do miss them,” she said. “I miss Gavin and Fia, I miss telling them of my day, asking their advice. I miss knowing my place and what is expected of me.” She glanced around and leaned closer. “You noblemen have so many rules to follow.”

“
We
nobles,” he corrected. “You have joined our ranks now, Brienne.” He watched as she thought on that.

“Oh, aye.” She nodded and glanced off over his shoulder for a moment. “Who could have thought that a simple word of acceptance from one lord could have changed my life so much?”

And that sentiment described his life as well, for with one word from the king, one acknowledging word, William's life could be as he wished it to be. He noticed she was now watching him closely.

“That could be said for you—could it not, William?”

Had she read it in his eyes? Or just known the secrets of his heart? “Aye, it could be, Brienne.”

He had never spoken of his bastardy to a woman before, never exposed what he considered his unworthiness as he had to her. Another connection he felt that tied them together in some way. And yet he would be leaving soon to report back to the king. Leaving her here.

“But your father has raised you and mine will not.”

“Who is he, William? Who is your father?”

Any temptation to reveal it to her—and his heart wanted her to know his truth—stopped at the sound of steps down the corridor outside. He waited to see if Lord Hugh returned.

“Sir William,” a servant said to him with a bow. “Lord Hugh is detained with matters he must see to and wishes you to remain at your pleasure here.” Then the man turned to Brienne. “Your lord father bids you
to see to Sir William's comfort and to escort him to the yard when he has finished.”

With the extraordinary message delivered, the man left, and as his footsteps and his presence faded, William understood that this was planned. A battle strategy, plain and simple, for no nobleman would leave his unmarried daughter alone with any man not related by blood and rarely with one related by marriage.

And yet here they sat. The bigger question was—did she know? Brienne stood in the heavy silence and brought a pitcher of wine over to fill his cup. He covered it and shook his head.

“I have had enough wine this night. But my thanks.”

She placed it down and returned to the seat next to him. “Have you eaten your fill? These”—she picked up a small, sticky, folded pastry and held it before him—“are my favorites.”

“Here only a few days and you already have a favorite?” he asked.

“There is a chance I will discover something more pleasing, but for now this is my choice.”

She nodded and brought it closer to his mouth, offering it to him. He opened and took a bite, careful not to touch her fingers as he did. There was an intense burst of sweetness, and then a spicy flavor filled his mouth. He could not identify the flavor, but it was quite good. He watched her eyes as she brought the rest of it to his mouth. This time his lips touched her fingers as he took the rest of it in.

He grasped her hand, holding it to his mouth, and licked the rest of the sweetness off her fingers, one by one. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened as he suckled first one, then the next, then the next.
William knew that the sweet flavor of the pastry was not the one he wanted to savor—he wanted the woman sitting next to him. He tugged her closer and kissed her mouth.

She leaned in to him then, her hand sliding along his arm and up onto his shoulder to steady herself as she kissed him back. Her tongue slid along his lips, and she murmured her surprise at the sticky coating that remained from the pastry on his lips.

“Sweet,” she whispered against his mouth.

“Aye, sweet,” he whispered back, plunging his tongue deeper inside her mouth.

Their tongues played and swirled, and he sucked hers into his mouth. She learned quickly, for she did the same thing to his, and he savored the taste that was only her. A mixture of innocence, curiosity, and desire.

He took her by the shoulders and pulled her across his legs, never breaking the touch of their mouths. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kisses until they both were breathless. Drawing back, he watched as she lifted her hand and traced down his cheeks and along his jaw.

“You terrified me,” she admitted to him. “When you first arrived here, you were so stern and forbidding.”

“When did I stop terrifying you?” he asked, curiosity now his to suffer.

“I think I still am a bit,” she whispered, pressing her mouth against his. He tilted his head and kissed her again.

“You do not look terrified,” he teased.

“You were the first man from outside the village and castle who spoke to me. You are a man of war. You come from the king. All of those were good reasons to
fear you,” she explained. All the while her finger teased his skin.

“You do not look frightened now, Brienne.” She looked well kissed and bolder than any woman he'd kissed before. “When did you stop?”

“When you came charging after me when those men took me, no matter the danger to yourself.” She stroked along his jaw and outlined his lips. “When you tried to tell me about the dangers of men like you.” Her finger slid along his face and circled his ear, making him shiver. “When you touched me.”

Her body arched against his, and for a moment he wanted to lay her on the table and finish what they'd begun that day in the forest. To peel off the layers she wore and taste every inch of her skin until she opened for him. His breathing became even more ragged, and the battle for control was nearly lost when she slid her hands into his hair and pulled his face to hers, kissing him with abandon.

“But mostly when you held me in the rain,” she whispered when she could speak again.

The footsteps coming down the corridor finally reminded him of their location and stopped her—stopped him—from moving forward. Instead he lifted her from his lap and put her back on the chair. Standing, he adjusted his breeches and walked a few paces away, as though retrieving the pitcher of water had been his intent all along and not the utter and complete ravishment of the lord's newly claimed daughter.

The person turned in to a chamber before this one and he let out his breath. Though the cockstand that never disappeared when he was near her would argue, the moment, the madness, was over.

“Brienne,” he began. “I apologize for my behavior. I . . .”

How could he explain it to her? She was an innocent. Though if she continued gazing at him with her luminous eyes and well-kissed mouth, he might not be the man of honor he proclaimed himself to be.

“I should return to my chambers. I am certain you will be awake early and be asked to help the lady prepare for her journey.”

She stood then and nodded at him. “Let me show you how to reach the main floor,” she said as she walked from the chamber.

He took her hand and pulled her to a stop then.

“Brienne, I will be leaving soon, returning to the king and then on to my lands.”

“You must leave?” she asked. “My father . . .” She did not finish her words then. It was the first time he'd heard her refer to Lord Hugh as simply her father.

“I will not leave without speaking to him first,” he replied. She nodded. “I wish . . .”

He might wish and he might want, but he would not burden her now with the promise or hope of something that was impossible between them. Not now that she was claimed and recognized and would be a great heiress regardless of her illegitimacy. He did not finish the words he'd begun. He just pulled her to him and kissed her gently. A farewell, for he knew he would leave soon after Lady Margaret and her entourage did in the morning.

They walked wordlessly, the silence growing heavy between them. When they reached the stairway that would take him down to the main floor and to the door to the yard, they paused.

“You know that you need only send word if you need me?”

She searched his face. “So, you are leaving?”

“'Tis time, Brienne. You must get on with your life, and I must with mine.”

“Your father? You will seek his acknowledgment now?”

“I am beginning to believe that is not the most important thing.”

“Then what is, William?” she asked as he took the first step that would separate them.

“I think I need to know who I am no matter what others call me.” The smile was both sad and knowing, and the tear that tracked down her cheek was nearly his undoing.

“Ah.” She nodded. “Words of wisdom I have heard as well.”

He left then, turning and forcing his feet to move away, step by infinitely harder step. The door closed behind him, and he continued across the near-empty yard.

As he reached the main keep and entered the side door, William realized that for the first time, it had been just them—just William and Brienne, a man and a woman, with no concern over powers or dangers or threats or positions or others.

He realized that he would miss that most of all when he left.

William reached his chambers and closed the door behind him, never realizing he was being followed.

B
rienne knew full well what Lord Hugh was doing. He'd asked her to make William welcome so that he could persuade him to join their endeavor. If allowing a man access to his unmarried daughter would be that persuasion, Lord Hugh would allow it.

And he had.

As much as she'd like to think that her virtue would be too high a price for his cooperation, men like her father cared little for anything so insignificant as his daughter's honor. She had no doubt that he thought of her in the same cold and calculating way in which he thought of Adelaide. Her sister's betrothal would bring him something he wanted or needed, and so she'd be sent off to accomplish his goal.

She watched William walk back to the keep through the crack in the doorframe and knew that no matter what her father intended to offer him, he would turn it down if it meant betraying his king and his honor.

Even if her father offered her as the compensation for breaking his oath to the king.

Lord Hugh had left them alone. He'd sent someone
to interrupt at just the most inopportune time, thwarting any attempt to seduce her directly. She also knew with a certainty that he would offer her as bed play to the knight soon. She'd seen the whores who offered their services in the village do the same thing to increase the gold or trinkets that they got in return. Build a man's lust until he would pay the price. This dinner and Lord Hugh's timely absence played out just like that.

William was not the only one who would expect to pay the price for his father's approval. Brienne had entered into this night knowing full well that her father manipulated her. Something so keenly desired would have a dear price, but after years of waiting and wanting, she was now willing to pay it in order to excel at her fire powers. At first she'd decided she would allow this one expense, for there was still so much to learn before she could understand it all.

But there had been a moment during the meal when she'd decided that this night would be for her and not her father or anyone else. William had been watching her throughout the meal—also part of her father's planning—and she watched him as he described his visit to the west of Scotland. His face lit and the smile softened his features until she wanted to reach out and touch him.

Which she had done, once everyone was gone.

Her body throbbed from his kisses and the strength in his embrace. Her blood heated, from desire not from the power in it. The taste of his mouth and the sweet she'd fed him lingered yet on her tongue. She wanted to feast on him, to touch more than just his hand or his face. She wanted . . .

Him.

For herself. Not as a pawn in some plan.

Looking around, she saw no one. She listened and silence greeted her. Everyone, including the servants, had retired, knowing the busy and early morning they faced. Peeking through the crack once more, she saw that he'd reached the steps of the keep.

If she could not have him forever, could she instead have him for this night?

She was across the yard, using the shadows to cover her movements as she went, before she realized she'd made the decision. He'd gone in the side door, so she followed, not wanting to lose him since she did not know her way around the main keep yet. Creeping along the edge of the hall, she passed by those who slept here, careful not to wake anyone.

He'd already entered the chamber when she reached the floor above. She watched as light escaped underneath the door and knew which was his. Brienne waited for a minute or two before his door, gathering her courage, then lifted the latch as quietly as she could and slipped inside the chamber.

He stood naked by the bed.

She must have made a sound, for he had his dagger in his hand and turned to face whatever threat had entered in seconds.

He stood naked in the light of a sputtering candle.

Brienne could not have looked away if her life depended on her doing so. She'd seen him clothed and seen him fighting in only his breeches. But to see every muscle and limb, defined and covered only by the flickering shadows of the candle, took her breath away.

He was magnificent. His brown hair barely touched the wide shoulders that tapered to a thinner waist and
hips. Strong, muscular thighs rippled as he moved. Curly, dark hair covered his chest and narrowed as it formed a pathway down past his waist. And that part of him that hung between his legs was as well formed as the rest of his body.

And when it began to thicken and rise, she knew she'd felt it when she'd sat on his lap in the alcove.

“Demoiselle, what are you doing here?” he asked.

He made no attempt to cover himself, and she was glad of it. If nothing else came of this night, she would have the memory of him standing like this forever. But she could not put words together while he stood there naked.

“You should not be here,” he said, walking to her and reaching for the door. “What if someone saw you?”

“I was careful,” she explained, finally able to speak.

He opened the door a bit and peered out into the darkness as she watched and waited.

“I will dress and escort you back,” he said, grabbing the garments that lay in a pile at his feet.

The movement made the flame of the candle flicker and threaten to go out, so she took care of that, making it burn a little brighter so she could see every inch of him. He glanced at her and then the candle and back again as though he suspected something, but he turned back to dress.

“William,” she said, walking to his side and touching his shoulder. It was warm beneath her fingers. And strong. And hard muscle. “I did not wish this night to be over yet.”

“Brienne, this is not a good idea. There will be hellish consequences if you are discovered in my chambers. Hellish for me, worse for you, I think.”

He did not pause in trying to pull on his breeches, so she did what she needed to do to distract him. She lifted her hand and kissed him instead. His skin was hot, and his indrawn breath let her know he was affected by her kiss. He spun away and shook his head.

She did not let it stop her. If pain had not stopped her from pursuing the truth of her beginnings, pleasure—or the promise of it—would not stop her now. So she used the truth now.

“You will leave on the morrow, and I will be left here to live at my father's whim and will. I just watched him toss Adelaide into a marriage that she had no say in,” she began. “I understand it is a daughter's duty to obey and accept his wisdom, but I am not accustomed to his ways.”

She took a step toward him again and lifted her hand to touch him, this time his chest, outlining the ridges of muscle down to his stomach with her fingers.

“I pray you, William, be with me tonight. Let me make the choice before my father takes it from me.”

She could see the desire and the wanting flare in his eyes as though he controlled the fire. His fingers curled into fists and released, over and over, as if he was trying to keep from touching her.

“Brienne,” he whispered, his voice full of longing and hoarse with passion. “You know that I want you. I have wanted you from the moment I saw you. There is something between us I cannot explain.”

She could. She could tell him what she knew. She could do it now, but she knew her father planned to on the morrow. Brienne wanted to have him this night before the knowledge of their fates was known.

“Shhhhhh,” she urged, placing her finger over his lips. “Kiss me. Kiss me now.”

And, like a storm, he did. Overwhelmed by his touch, she let him have his way with her. He slid his hands into her hair and shook it free of the braid. Then he brought her to his mouth and kissed her until she was breathless and unable to speak. Brienne held on to him, sliding her hands over his skin and feeling the way his body responded to her touch.

She felt him tug on the laces of her gown and stood in his embrace as he pushed the gown off her shoulders and down to her hips. Her shift followed, exposing her breasts to him. When she tried to cover herself, suddenly shy about him seeing her, he laughed.

“Oh no,
chérie
,” he said, gently lifting her arms and caressing the sensitive tips of her breasts with the backs of his hands. “It is only fair that I get to see you as you have seen me.” He eased her gown and shift down over her hips then and let them fall to the floor. “Ah,
magnifique
! As I thought you would be.”

For a moment, Brienne's boldness skittered away, leaving her trembling. Then his hands began their magic, and heat flowed through her. This heat was the one he created as he cupped her breasts and lowered his mouth there. Her breath escaped in short gasps with each touch of his tongue. But when he began to tease with his teeth and then sucked on the tips, her knees buckled and she fell against him.

William caught her, sliding his arm beneath her legs and carrying her to his bed. He laid her on top of the bedcovers and climbed up next to her. Now his body touched hers from shoulders to feet and everywhere in
between. The hard maleness pressed against her hip now, and she felt its sleek flesh against her skin. She reached out, curious about how it would feel in her hand, but he stopped her.

“Not yet, Brienne. Touch me anywhere but there.”

She thought this was her choice, but her body quickly fell under his control. Her body ached and throbbed as his fingers explored and caressed every inch of her. He teased her skin, kissed her breasts and her mouth, moving, always moving and giving attention as he did. When he suckled her breasts, the heat and moisture gathered between her legs, and she arched against his hand with each inch he moved closer to touching her there.

When he drew circles with his fingers, gently touching across the top of her thighs, onto her hips and across her belly, she cried out. Everything within her tightened, tightened, tightened until she could not breathe. Her legs fell open and she grabbed his hand, needing it . . . wanting it . . . there.

“Do you want something?” he whispered against her ear. “Should I touch you . . . here?” he asked as he finally slid his fingers into that place, and she let out a sigh of relief at his touch. “Ah, so hot, so wet for me.”

Relief turned quickly to something else as he explored the folds of her flesh there, with his finger and then fingers, rubbing slowly, then faster. Just as she thought she would burst somehow, he would ease the pressure until she moved away from some edge.

He praised her in his language with words she could not understand. His mouth and his tongue never stopped, and he moved them at a pace that had her arching
against his hand and his mouth, begging for something. Whatever lay just . . . there . . . out of her reach.

He arched against her hip, sliding the length of him at the same pace, and she wanted to take him in her hand and hold his flesh, but every intention fell away when he slipped one finger inside her. Her body thrust up, trying to take him in deeper, but he laughed and withdrew it. Then he moved it in a circle, from outside to inside, harder, then softer, faster, then slower.

She was going to die. She was going to explode in the flames of passion he stroked.

“Please,” she begged.

“Now?” he asked before licking his way back to her breasts. His hand did not stop its torment, and her hips lifted off the bed, begging as she had.

All it took was one slight rub against some small place in the folds between her legs and it pushed her to the place that waited. Her muscles tightened and then shuddered, the channel leading to her core spasmed and throbbed, and everything in her let go until she fell. She released the scream trapped within her throat, and he caught it with his mouth, kissing her and thrusting his tongue as he did his finger until she was . . . empty.

The first thing she realized was that his breathing was now normal and even against her ear.

The next thing was that she had not fallen at all. She had flown in his embrace, for his arms held her securely against his body as they lay on his bed.

The last thing she noticed was that he was still hard against her hip.

She tried to turn and found her body would not
obey her commands. So empty and so tranquil, all the longing and desire that had filled her was satisfied.

“
Magnifique
,” she whispered, imitating his accent of the word.

“Aye, you were,” he said. “Like fire in my hands.”

She opened her eyes and met his gaze then. Had he meant that?

“You have not . . . You did not . . .” She glanced down at his flesh between them.

“Nay, Brienne,” he said, kissing her face as he leaned back and looked at her. “As much as I want to, you are not mine to claim. I could not take what is meant for another.”

They lay in silence, and Brienne savored the feel of him on her skin. A few minutes passed, and she felt him slide away from her and climb from the bed. The candle had sputtered out, unnoticed by either of them at the time. Now he lit it once more and dressed in his breeches and shirt. She watched his every movement, fighting the urge to touch him again. He did not try to hide or turn from her as he did so, allowing her to gaze on his body as he slowly covered it with his garments.

“Come,” he said, holding his hand out to her. “'Tis time for you to return to your chambers before they know you are not there.”

Knowing she could not stay the night did not lessen her reluctance to leave him now. They'd had their moment of passion and pleasure and, if he did leave on the morrow, she would remember it.

He handled her as though she was a precious thing, and she allowed his care as he helped her with her shift and gown. Looking down, she laughed then, seeing that she still wore her stockings and shoes.

“You were in some haste,” he teased.

Soon she was dressed and her hair gathered in a loose braid. Too soon. He snuffed out the candle and opened the door to check the corridor before guiding her out. They just missed being found by one guard on the main floor; only his quick action of pulling her behind him into the shadows in the corner and shielding her with his body saved them.