Free The Devil of Jedburgh by Claire Robyns

silent too long and Breghan had turned from him to descend the stairs.
    Arran caught her wrist before she reached the second step, then he slid both hands around her waist and brought her back to him. “We’re not done.”

    She pushed out of his arms, glaring up at him. “I meant to thank you for choosing a handfasting over marriage. At least this way I know for certain we will be done after a year.”
    “Hush, I come to make a truce.”
    “A truce implies both sides have the power to negotiate.” She stepped to the side and Arran grabbed her wrist in case she thought to rush off again. She didn’t struggle, merely gave a pointed look at the hand restraining her. “I’m already defeated by mere fact of my being a woman. The only thing left now is for you to claim your victory.”
    “Jesu, Bree, I’m trying to apologise.”
    “For what?”
    “For—for—” Why couldn’t she just accept his apology? How was he supposed to express the unease that had folded over him as the day grew long? He didn’t know what he was sorry for and he didn’t know how he was going to put it right.
    Arran threw his hands up, inadvertently tugging her close. Only for a moment, a single heartbeat before his hand opened and she spun away. Long enough to smell the sweet heather on her hair and be left with the sensation of soft curves. The words he hadn’t been able to find tumbled out. “I didna choose this handfasting for revenge or punishment, Bree. I simply wished to have more time with you.”
    “That’s a lie.” She backed up until she hit the opposite wall. “Last night, you said that even were you free, you’d never marry me.”
    “I will never marry you,” Arran confirmed. “’Tis why I have no right to keep you for a year.”
    “You no longer want to be handfasted to me?”
    Arran put aside temptation and reevaluated his position. He wanted sons. He wanted heirs for Ferniehirst. Surely somewhere, in all of Scotland, was a woman to be found who’d meet his requirements. ’Twas a dream he wasn’t ready to relinquish. Breghan could never be more than a brief detour and he’d be a bastard to force her hand. “I’m giving you the choice.”
    “My father will kill me.” Her eyes rounded on him. “He’ll think I’ve finally pushed you too far and that you’ll no longer have me.”
    “When McAllen hears my intentions were never honourable, he’ll blame me.” Arran held out his hand. “Come, you have naught to fear.”
    “No, wait.” Breghan didn’t take his hand. “I need some time to…to think.”
    Arran let his hand fall to his side as he watched her brow wrinkle. Breghan could pretend to contemplate her options, but they both knew she’d take this chance to be free of him and the arrangement she found so humiliating.
    Meanwhile, Arran was warming to his decision. Yes, a part of him was irrevocably drawn to Breghan. She intrigued him, heated his blood, stirred his wants and needs. A woman like her could be infectious.
    And infections were oft incurable and fatal.
    He barely knew Breghan and already he’d begun to doubt the foundation of how he planned to live his life.
    What havoc would an entire year wreak?
    What had started out as a noble gesture to release Breghan from his selfish whim was fast becoming a necessity.
    “This is truly my decision?” she asked at last.

    Arran nodded. The sooner he put her out of his mind, the sooner he could renew his search for a more suitable wife. The sooner he could stop worrying about how much or little Breghan might influence his views on what he wanted in that wife.
    Breghan pushed away from the wall. “I need to speak with my father.”
    “He’s in the hall with the priest.” Arran led the way and was met by the huddle of women gathered at the foot of the stairs. He walked through the thick of them to reach Lillian. “Your daughter and I have come to an understanding. Would you stay here with Breghan while I bring McAllen out?”
    “An