He hooked his arm under her legs and another around her back and bolted to his feet to carry her over to the bed and drop her down on it before it was too late and he lost not only control but his mind. He couldn’t recall ever not only needing but wanting a woman as much as he wanted Purity right now. Where had his control gone?
“I am not kind,” he said, sounding like he growled and glad for it.
Purity raised herself up on her elbows. “No, you’re not. You ended a remarkable kiss when it wasn’t necessary.”
“It was necessary,” he argued and when she went to protest, he yanked aside the hide hanging between his legs. His shaft jutted out stiff and proud, almost touching her face. “It was necessary since I refuse to couple with you before we’re properly wed.”
Why in heaven’s name did she have the urge to touch it? That strange thought had her lifting her eyes up to his and saying quickly, “You should return to the chair.”
Arran did just that without speaking a word, his heart pounding and his shaft aching. He had gotten to a point when he needed a poke he’d find a willing woman to accommodate him. He had felt nothing for the woman, she had been a means to an end—his need being satisfied. Not so with Purity. There was something about her that he still couldn’t grasp, couldn’t figure out, but it was more than a poke, and more than a need that he wanted her to satisfy.
After a few minutes of silence, Purity said, “Arran, I’m truly glad you told me about your scars.” He didn’t respond and she hadn’t expected him to. She turned on her side after pulling the blanket over her and prayed sleep would come fast.
Arran silently argued with himself for having told her. He should have never done it and yet part of him was glad he had. They were to wed and she should know how much he had changed. And she certainly had to know how wrong she was thinking him kind. It was obvious and he wished she wouldn’t be so blind to it.
He silently cursed, annoyed at himself and more annoyed that his arousal refused to abate. His control was slipping and he wouldn’t have that. If he couldn’t control something so minor, how would he be able to keep command of anything?
Memories. Harsh memories, that was what he needed to think on. The face that had been burned in his memory shot up in his mind. He’d been a fierce looking man. Scars and pure evil marred every curve, line, and wrinkle on his face that may have one time held fine features. No more. Evil had won out. Evil had control of him.
He hoped that somehow, someday, he’d have the pleasure of killing the monster.
Arran didn’t know when he had fallen asleep, though he’d been glad for it, and glad he had learned to exist on little sleep. And glad he had woken before Purity. He hurried into the rest of his clothes and headed outside and after seeing to his horse, he headed into the woods with plans to hunt to see them fed.
His thoughts were so chaotic that he found himself cursing several failed attempts at snaring an animal.
“Looks like luck and skill isn’t with you today.”
Arran turned, his dagger in hand, annoyed he had failed to hear someone approach, though relieved to see… “Brother Noble.”
The brown-robed figure kept his distance, his head bowed and his hood down low so that no one could look upon him and no one wanted to. He was a leper. He resided at Stitchill Monastery and delivered messages to and from the monastery. Arran had met him shortly after his release and he had taken messages back and forth between Arran and Royden, keeping Arran updated on what went on at home.
“You do well?” Arran asked.
“As well as can be expected for one whose flesh is rotting away,” Brother Noble said and turned away coughing. He turned back, clearing his throat, though it still sounded raspy when he spoke. “Any luck finding your sister?”
“Not yet, but I have hope.” A sudden thought hit him and he was quick to say. “I have a favor to ask of you, Brother Noble.”
“Ask. If I can grant it, I will,” he said.
“I need you to perform a wedding ceremony.”
“Who wishes to wed?” Brother Noble asked.
“Me.”
Chapter 7
“Marry you now?” Purity asked, not sure she heard him correctly.
“We don’t know what awaits us on our return home,” Arran explained. “Brother Noble can wed us, then register our marriage with the monastery. Once you’re my wife, you’re—”
“Under your rule, your dictate,” she finished.
“Under my protection,” he corrected. “You’ll be safe with me and with no worry of your future.”