The Mammoth Book of Irish Romance Part 50

He released her wrist and picked up the board. "Be cautious of what you ask, my lady. We shall play. But understand there is a cost for winning and losing. Let us sit by the fire."

He set the board on the carpet and grabbed two pillows from the bed, tossing them next to the game. He waited until she'd taken position on the other pillow.

"Since you're so taken with the hare, 'tis yours to play. I'll play the fifteen hounds. Place your hare in the middle of the board. I'll place my hounds along one side of the board, like so." Devlin arranged his pieces in a line.

"The point of the game is for you to capture as many of my hounds as possible before they can surround the hare so it is trapped and cannot move. The hounds and hare can move to any empty s.p.a.ce, including a diagonal move. The hare can jump over the hounds, capturing them. The hounds cannot jump. Are you ready?"

"Yes," Branna said. "Before we start, I wish to make a wager."

Devlin raised his brows. "A wager? I am intrigued. What should we wager?"

"If I am victorious, you will help find the chalice."

"You think I know under which rock it lies?" Devlin watched her toy with a wooden hound.

"You are master of Hollylough, every rock is of concern to you." Branna laughed and then turned serious. "My aunt insists your family is evil."

"Mayhap your aunt is right."

"I do not believe you are evil nor was your father. I do believe there is much more to you than you say."

An explosion of hunger and need fired inside him. She might be in more danger than she realized. "Is this your heart's desire?"

"Aye."

She hesitated and then asked, "What is your heart's desire?"

Devlin felt himself pulled to reveal more than was wise. This little minx could easily set upon his heart with her quick mind and innocent words.

Devlin kept his face neutral and his words vague. "I imagine 'tis the same as yours, to right the wrong cast upon us." Then he asked, "If you fail to win, what have you to lose?"

"I have not much to give."

The beat of forbidden desire, strong, thick and unrelenting hammered within. She had more than she knew.

"If I win, I shall require a melody from your sweet lips."

"A song?"

"Aye, a song of your choosing. You have a melodious voice and I wish to hear it. Do you accept?"

"Aye, I'll accept those terms as a wager."

Devlin remembered the soft caress of her hand and the taste of her tears. "It's traditional to hallmark such a wager with a clasping of hands."

Branna stretched her arm out to him. Devlin took her small hand in his, and squeezed lightly. When she would have pulled back, he held fast.

A primal force inside him demanded more. Giving in to the need, he pulled her to him, until she leaned into his arms, bracing her other hand on his chest.

Antic.i.p.ation thickened the air in his lungs. He whispered, "I'm not a traditional man. I wish to mark our wager with a kiss."

Devlin released her hand and cupped his palm around the nape of her neck, drawing her face to his. Slowly, lazily, never breaking eye contact, he lowered his mouth and captured her lips. He wasn't prepared for the sweet taste of her, silky and warm. Instead of pulling away like he'd planned, he wanted more and teased her mouth with his tongue, gaining entrance.

The soft sound of her sigh whispered through him with her need and hunger. Starving, he stroked deeper into her open mouth.

Her touch on his chest burned into him and he had to steel himself not to ravish her, no matter how badly he wanted her. That would not accomplish his goal.

Sanity returned slowly and Devlin reluctantly released her lips. He eased her limp body off his and took a deep breath.

"Now I'm ready to play."

Branna stared at him with aroused, heavy-lidded eyes. "Play?"

Devlin chuckled, pleased she was as affected by the kiss as he. "Yes, muirnin. We were about to play a game of Hounds and Hare."

They played the game until the fire burned low, casting shadows and radiant warmth throughout the room. Each move Devlin made with his hounds was sufficiently countered by a deft move by Branna's hare. She expertly played the game, capturing more than enough of his hounds.

"I believe, my lord, I have captured numerous hounds so they can no longer trap my hare. Hence I win."

Devlin was pleased with her prowess. "So it would seem. On the morrow, before I return you home, we will search for your chalice."

Branna yawned, her eyelids drooping. "I do not wish to appear rude, but 'tis sleep I now need."

"I wasn't expecting guests this night. I have no other chambers readied. Please slumber comfortably in my bed and I shall take up residence by the fire."

She sat on the enormous bed, the sight of her there pleasing him. "Thank you for your kindness. My aunt was wrong. You are not the evil incarnate."

Devlin knew otherwise. "Sweet dreams, muirnin."

Branna blew out the candle by the bedside and untied the bed curtains, allowing them to drape around the bed, coc.o.o.ning her in privacy. Not wanting to soil Devlin's s.h.i.+rt, she slipped out of its comfort and folded it neatly, then placed it at the foot of the bed. She slipped between the coolness of the sheets in only her chemise. Although Lord MacKenna had shown her every courtesy, she couldn't be too careful with her modesty.

Branna brushed a finger over her lips. Except for that kiss. His kiss had been neither courteous nor modest, but had fired in her wonderful sensations she'd never before experienced. Enough so that she wanted more.

Four.

Devlin awoke to red embers glowing in the fire, and silence. Only it was not silence that had woken him. He listened intently, his hand on his sword. Soft whimpers came from his bed. Branna.

He rose naked from the floor and padded to her side, throwing the bedclothes about his shoulders. She thrashed beneath the fur covering. He felt her forehead, worried she may have caught cold in the rain. Her skin was damp, yet not feverish. A gasp escaped her lips.

Branna bolted upright and screamed, the sound chilling in the predawn dark. Devlin dropped the scrunched coverlet in his hand and grabbed her shoulders.

"Wake up, muirnin. 'Tis a bad dream. You're safe."

"The dogs!"

She thrashed, trying to get out of the bed, her eyes wide and hair wild about her face. Devlin shook her but couldn't wake her from the clawing tentacles of the nightmare.

In desperation, he pulled her to his chest and held her tight.

"Shush, Little Raven." He stroked her hair and crooned into her ear, drawing out the night terrors. "The dogs are gone. They can't hurt you here."

She relaxed, some of the tension leaving her body. He sat on the bed and pulled her closer, on to his lap.

"They're coming for me. I must hide."

Devlin couldn't speak. Her warm breath on his bare chest sent s.h.i.+vers through him. He realized the bedclothes had fallen from his shoulders. Her chemise had been pulled low, exposing one pert breast.

"I can't die like my mother."

Devlin found his voice, a ragged whisper. "I won't let you die."

He ached to kiss her but he shouldn't get involved. She was too dangerous, too innocent. He had no future to give her. Tomorrow he would rule the h.e.l.lhounds. A pit of hopelessness opened in his stomach. He had to send her away.

Devlin eased back.

"Don't leave. Hold me. I need you. Don't you want me?"

Devlin almost choked hearing those words. He'd felt protective of her since they'd first met. Yet his feelings for her were more complex. He admired her strength. She brought light to his darkest hollows.

"Aye, I want you."

"Love me. I need this. I need you."

Devlin saw her clear blue eyes, free of the nightmare. Hope flared within him. "You understand what you're asking? I will not seduce you."

"I know. You are a good, caring man. Even if it's just this night, I want you."

"You are certain?"

She breathed, "Aye."

Devlin crushed his mouth to hers, their tongues entwining as Branna opened to him. He'd never tasted anything sweeter than the honey of her mouth. Devlin hungrily deepened the kiss and followed her down as he laid her back on the bed.

Branna plunged her hands in his hair, stroking through the dark, silky ma.s.s, keeping him close. She almost groaned when his mouth left hers, but moaned with pleasure as he planted wet kisses along her neck and shoulder, suckling gently at the hollow of her neck.

His lips moved downwards across her shoulder and collarbone to the top of her breast that had popped out of her chemise. She angled her body towards him, begging him, the tingling antic.i.p.ation almost unbearable.

His tongue moved lower, clamping around her nipple, his tongue striking and swirling the taut peak. s.e.xual excitement curled in her stomach, pooling moisture between her legs. Slipping her arms around his magnificent back, Branna stroked his hard muscles, from neck to b.u.t.tocks.

Branna's chemise had ridden high and was bunched around her thighs. Devlin slipped his hands beneath the folds, caressing her bare thighs. Her belly fluttered as his palms slid up her soft skin and over her ribs. He closed his eyes and savoured the exquisite feel of her.

He raised her up and pulled the chemise over her head, exposing all of her. He planted light kisses to her cheek, tracing its curve.

"I won't hurt you. Do you trust me?"

Branna reached up and smoothed his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. "I trust you."

Devlin awoke, his body curved around Branna, her head resting on his shoulder. He held her close, revelling in the feel of her. He felt warm and more content than he could ever remember.

Although his body was tight with need, Devlin slipped out from beneath Branna without waking her. He walked naked in the frigid early-morning air to the washbasin and sluiced cold water over his skin, was.h.i.+ng away the night's pa.s.sions.

Branna. She'd made him feel like he could have a future on earth. She was the one person who knew him. She'd touched his heart. He would love to have more of her. A lifetime would suit him.

Knowing it was impossible, he donned his drawers, a green tunic, surcoat and a mantle lined with fur, without the help of his chamberlain. He fastened the mantle at his neck with a brooch. He pulled out his sword. He needed a sparring match to numb his mind to what he had to do. A life with Branna could not be.

Devlin had his own destiny to fulfil. His life had been mapped and he'd trained for this moment.

He paused to admire Branna, lying warm and soft, nestled into the bedding, her hair spilling dark on the pillow. Devlin turned and closed the door on the sleeping woman and his heart.

Devlin slid over the bench and sat beside the large, behemoth of a man at the long wooden table within the great hall. Uncle Hugh slapped him on the back. "'Tis almost midday, my boy. What has detained you?"

Devlin preferred not to mention Branna. "Only the mundane duties of this castle."

"Those will soon not be yours to bear."

Devlin chose to say nothing. He grabbed a plate of food and nibbled from it. "My father. How did he die?"

Uncle Hugh looked at him in surprise. "We've already discussed this, years ago."

"I know, but humour me and speak it again."

"The night before he took his rites, he was accidentally attacked by the hounds. No one knows why."

"He didn't wish to marry?"

"Marry? Where would you have heard this?"

"Here and about."

"Well, there was a woman who captured his eye."

Devlin glared at him. "What happened?"

Hugh sighed. "They were in the chapel with the priest when the dogs burst through. She didn't wish to die and pushed your father towards the dogs, hoping they would be occupied, allowing her to escape with her life. Unfortunately, this was not her destiny and she perished as well."

"Why did you not tell me this before?"

"I thought to protect you from the hurt of knowing your father was betrayed by a woman he loved. I didn't want you to be misguided and make the same mistake."

Devlin smiled, trusting his uncle's words. Branna had been young. Her grandmama had obviously filled her head with false information. Such a magic chalice surely didn't exist.