So I Married a Sorcerer (The Embraced #2)(49)

When she reached the top, she slipped over the railing and Sister Fallyn wrapped her up in a cloak. By the time he reached the railing, they had disappeared belowdecks.

He glanced toward the dinghy he’d abandoned. His hat was there, and his jacket with the notice about Gunther’s competition. His mask was floating a few feet away.

Stefan and Ansel were in another rowboat, approaching the abandoned dinghy. They would tow it in, along with the boat Brigitta had used for her escape.

If only she had waited. He was determined now to let her decide her own destiny. But apparently, she didn’t trust him, either, so she’d felt compelled to take matters into her own hands. He would have to be careful she didn’t uncover any more of his secrets. She knew his face now, but she still didn’t know his true identity.

Ye’ve lost before. Everyone ye loved. Her words came back to him. Did she know more than he thought?

And why did she go limp every time he touched her? She’d scared the shit out of him when she’d sunk underwater. He had to know what was going on. Hell, he wanted to know all of her secrets.

But he needed to figure them out, without telling her any of his.





Chapter Twelve

He was indeed handsome.

Don’t think about him, Brigitta told herself as she peeled off her wet shirt in the privy. If it hadn’t been for Rupert’s interference, she would have escaped. Blast him!

She unfastened her belt and let the baggy breeches slide to the floor. Sweetheart, are you eager to undress me? Good goddesses, had he really said that to her?

Stop thinking about him!

The minute she’d landed on deck, Sister Fallyn had flung a cloak around her and whisked her down the steps to their cabin, all the time thanking the goddesses for her safe return. After gathering up her cream-colored convent gown and one of Sister Ellen’s old shifts, they’d headed down to the privy.

And now, Sister Fallyn was standing guard outside the door. “Wash up quickly!” she yelled. “We can’t have ye catching a cold.”

“Aye, Sister!” Brigitta dropped her sodden shift on top of the white shirt and breeches. He was indeed very handsome. And in his hurry to rescue her, he’d taken off his mask. Did that mean he cared more about her than preserving his secret identity?

Who was he really? She suspected his real name wasn’t even Rupert.

She undid her braided hair, then slipped inside the stall that Jeffrey had called a shower. Perhaps it would be like a rain shower? Whoever Rupert was, he was very clever with all his inventions.

On a shelf, she found a jar of soap. She lifted it to her nose and sniffed. A woodsy, smoky scent. Very masculine. Like Rupert. Don’t think about him.

She pulled a lever and gasped when a barrage of cool water cascaded over her head.

Gooseflesh broke out over her skin. Brr, she would definitely need to be quick about this. She lathered up her hair, then remembered how he’d smoothed a hand over her head, checking for injuries. He’d touched her face and her mouth.

With a shiver, she recalled the brush of his mouth against hers and how his breath had brought her back to her senses. He must have thought she was unconscious, but she hadn’t been. The minute he’d touched her, another vision had struck her hard, sucking her down into memories so dark and painful she’d thought she might drown.

She shook her head, determined not to dwell on him any longer. But when she lathered her breasts, how could she not remember the way he’d looked at them? Even now, just thinking about it, her nipples grew tight, and her breasts felt full and achy. And the sound he had made, somewhere between pain and desire. Don’t think about it!

When she soaped up her hips, she recalled his hand on her rump, giving her a boost. And when she washed her legs, she could almost feel his legs brushing against hers.

Dear goddesses, she felt … strange, as if some sort of desperate need was overwhelming her, leaving her hot and breathless.

She pulled the lever to let a gush of water cool her down and bring her back to her senses.

But she still couldn’t wash away the vision that had shot through her the second he’d touched her.

Don’t leave me, he’d whispered to her before pressing his mouth against hers. The words had served as an eerie echo to the first voice she’d heard in her vision.

“Mother,” a young male voice, a younger Rupert, had cried as he’d leaned over, resting his face against a stone crypt. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m so sorry.” An older male voice had sounded like Captain Landers. “How did she die?”

Another man had answered, “We all believed her husband and eldest son had been brutally murdered. She knew the same fate awaited her and the younger boy if they were captured. When the soldiers came for her, she ran up the nearby mountain. They chased her until she … she fell off a cliff to her death.”

Brigitta had felt Rupert’s reaction like a knife to the heart. Pain so fierce, it had dragged her underwater.

“What about the younger brother?” Captain Landers had asked.

“No one knows,” the other man had replied. “He may have died with her, but if so, his body seems to have vanished. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll make sure this boy vanishes, too.”

“Don’t leave me,” the adult Rupert had whispered, then he’d ended the vision by sharing his breath.