Branded By Etain Read Online Free

Étaín. The pride on his face could not be denied, nor the love.
    Brand inspected the others present at the high table. He had made it his business to know who was who in Caul Cairlinne.
    Étaín’s two younger sisters stood on either side of the king. Irvin, a distant relative, stood at the left end of the table speaking with a couple of his warriors. To the right of King Mac Eiccnigh mac Dalagh, three of the men who stood as Caul Cairlinne’s elderly council watched the assembly while sipping from brass goblets. Five women who had seen at least two score summers stood whispering and grinning at the line of young women before the high table.
    Two men on either side of the dais put long curved trumpets to their lips and blew. A series of triumphant, melodic blasts echoed around the great hall.
    “Hear ye, hear ye,” one of the elders on the dais yelled.
    “The ear of corn has been planted, the bull slaughtered,” another declared.
    “’Tis time for The Choosing,” the last shouted.
    “Princess Étaín, do you choose or not?” King Mac Eiccnigh mac Dalagh asked, his sole focus on his daughter.
    The hall fell silent. Every pair of eyes in the packed chamber trained on the petite Princess.
    “I do.” Étaín gave her basket to a young girl. She gathered her skirts, spun about, and glided in Brand’s direction.
    The throngs parted. Loud shushes ricocheted around the cavernous chamber.
    Brand edged away from the wall and under the light of an overhead torch. His chest burned with the effort to draw breath. He could not haul his gaze from her and was aware of only her, his princess.
    She halted two paces in front of him and tilted her head back.
    The silence was absolute. Nary a cat meowed, nor a person muttered, not even the wind dared whistle.
    His seed nigh burst from his cock when she placed her tiny hand on his forearm and said, her voice ringing and clear, “I choose Brand of Bärvik as my husband for a year and a day.”
     
     

Chapter Two
    Étaín’s declaration reverberated through the hall and resonated in Brand’s ears.
    She had chosen him .
    Inordinate pleasure coursed through Brand, and a blast of energy akin to the one that preceded every battle spiked a blood rush straight to his cock.
    Her palm scorched his forearm, and the faint pink of her trimmed fingernails formed a marked contrast to the sun-bronzed skin of his wrist. For a heartbeat, the sensuous sight of her flesh on his paralyzed him, but the gathering in the hall began a buzzing conversation, and his warrior discipline kicked in.
    Brand dropped to one knee, captured her wrist, brushed his lips slowly over each knuckle in turn, and repressed a grin at her sharp little gasps. He stood and locked their stares together. “I am honored, Princess.”
    Relief eased the knotted tendons in his neck. Brand signaled Nikolas to tell his captain, Thorkell, to stand down, and realized with a start he knew not what happened next.
    As if she read his thoughts, she whispered, “You must also choose me before all.”
    He glanced down at her, squeezed the small hand he held, and bellowed, “I choose Princess Étaín to be my wife for a day and a year.”
    After a moment, he added, to ensure all knew his immediate intentions, “From this moment onwards.”
    Delight darkened the tawny hue of her eyes. She peeked up at him from under lush brown lashes. “’Tis the custom to bind our wrists.”
    He accepted the silvery stream of ribbon she offered him and looped the fabric around both of their wrists before knotting it.
    Brand twined their fingers together. “My lady wife?”
    “We wait for the rest to choose, and then we sit at the dais and enjoy the feast until my da dismisses the assembly.”
    Where their flesh met, he burned. ’Twas as if she branded him with her touch. The throngs packing the great hall dissipated. He could not concentrate on anything but her, was aware of only her.
    She took swift breaths. The low, scooped neckline of her leine