A/N: This has been sitting on my computer in pieces since December. First I thought it would be pure smut, but that wasn't coming together and in the end, I needed to just get it done so I could move on with my Skyrim story, A New Kind of Family, and also the main story for Finola and Bran, Release from the Chains. A personal indulgence perhaps, but I ventured inside Bran's head during the time Finola sought him out while Sebastian was gone, expanding on their developing relationship. And there is some smut too. Hugs and kisses to my friends - Biff McLaughlin for her beta magic and Zute for the supportive high-fives. Any errors are mine alone from messing with the text after it was beta read.

If you have any thoughts, comments, or ideas, please drop me a review. Thanks for reading!

…You Get What You Need

Bran awoke to an empty and cold bed. His pulse quickened at the thought of Finola leaving him once again, another lonely morning after they had shared such passionate moments the night before. All together naked, he threw on a silken robe and headed for the stairs. The smell of onions assaulted his senses – burning onions – and his stomach lurched.

"Geoffrey! Anna!" Bran's head jerked from side to side searching for his staff as he ran past the now cold fireplace. "Damn it!"

Sprinting down the hallway, he saw none of his servants in attendance, and while that was odd, his chief concern was not having his house burn down. Bran kept moving until he pushed the doors to the kitchen wide open. He stopped in his tracks then. Finola was scrambling about, mouthing silent expletives. Smattered with flour from head to toe, a wooden spoon flailed in each of her hands as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Damn onions making me cry…." he heard her mutter.

She was a remarkable sight, and his heart beat faster just looking at her cheeks flushed pink under the dusting of white flour. The hair at her temples was damp, curling in little ringlets as she swiped her hands across the apron and blew out a loud sigh.

"At least you had the sense to wear an apron," he remarked.

"Don't you dare make fun of me, Bran." The wooden spoon in her hand was pointed directly at his throat.

He moved the spoon away, and then tucked a few untamed strands of hair behind her ear, his voice gentle as he spoke. "I wouldn't dream of making fun of you." There was a chuckle buried just under the surface of his reply, but surprisingly, she ignored his comment. Progress….

"Maker, Bran. Cooking shouldn't be this hard," she huffed, scrapping browned bits of burnt vegetable matter from a skillet. "I thought I'd make breakfast, but…."

"Have you ever cooked before?"

"Of course I have, you idiot."

Nothing like being called an idiot first thing in the morning. He raised an eyebrow at her angry tone. "Name calling in frustration? That is so unlike you."

"Sorry," she mumbled. "And I have cooked… once or twice... when I was a girl."

He threw back his head and laughed at her innocent bluster. "Then why in the Maker's name did you think you'd suddenly be perfect at it?"

Finola dragged the back of her hand across her forehead. "I didn't think it would be so hard."

Bran peered over her shoulder, his nose wrinkling. "You know you are supposed to slice the onions first, right?"

"They are sliced," she said between gritted teeth. "Well, perhaps they're a bit thick, but sliced nonetheless."

"What exactly are you attempting to tame there anyway?"

"I am making you egg stew," she said, attempting a confident smile. "I've poached the eggs in oil, but frying the onions seems to have taken a bit of a turn… and then I boil it all in wine and vinegar!"

"Sounds… interesting."

She made a face and turned her attention back to the sizzling pan. "When you say something is interesting you really mean it's terrible." Eying him again, she blinked as if slightly hurt by his tone, and then she lifted her chin. "You can starve then!"

"No snits. Remember our deal?" As he touched her cheek, his eyes went soft. He tilted his head a little and smiled. "It is the effort that counts, my dear." She waved off his praise, but he could tell she was quite pleased with his kind words.

"Are you going to taste it at least?" With a stricken look upon her face, she stood there with her arms akimbo.

"Well, I guess I... have to?"

"Don't sound so enthusiastic." Folding her arms across her chest, she didn't say anything at all for half a minute, but when she finally spoke, the words came out all together. "I have been down here slaving like a dog this morning and this is the thanks I get for it. You're nothing but an ingrate, Bran Wyndham." She jerked away from him.

He couldn't say how many of her little fits of temper he had endured over the years, but he did know that every minute of it was pure bliss. And utter torture. He wanted this woman so urgently he could hardly breathe. And yet with every breath he took, he knew it to be a colossal mistake to even consider pursuing her openly just yet. However, he fully expected the fop of a chantry brother to make a wrong move, and when he did, Bran intended to swoop in and take Finola. No question.

He looked at her with a devilish gleam in his eyes. "I'm not hungry, Finola, not for food," He almost grinned at the grumpy look on her face but refrained. "I hunger for you, and that desire must be assuaged." His lips moved to her ear, his tongue swirling around it sensually. He caressed her with increasing intimacy, alternating pressure and speed as her breathing grew unsteady. His fingers toyed with the belt on her robe. "Have you eaten some fruit? You smell like… berries." He nipped the enticing curve of her neck, where the robe had slipped a bit. "Will you taste like them too?" he asked, making her smile in spite of everything.

Finola trembled in his arms, but would not give in to his seductive charms. "I refuse to kiss you… until you taste my breakfast."

A finger came up to gently swipe her bottom lip. As innocent as she was, somehow she knew instinctively how to drive a man wild with lust. Just looking at her with her lips apart in mute surprise, her eyes wide open, aroused him beyond all reason.

"Well? Are you going to try it or not?"

"Do you at least have some antidote at the ready?" He ducked before she could land the blow to his jaw.

"Ooh, Bran, you're faster than I thought. I'll have to remember that." She nodded admiringly while getting a spoonful for him to eat. "Just try it. Please?"

News of the hour, he thought. Seneschal Bran poisoned to death by the Champion's celebrated egg stew. Trying to find some humor in the situation, however ironic, he nodded with a little chuckle. A quick softening of her mouth made his heart warm, until the spoon came up to his lips. Then he shuddered. Surely the smell of it had to be worse than the taste of it. But no. The burnt onion slice soaked in oil slithered across his tongue toward his throat, the eggs' sulfurous tang mingling with it. When his gag reflex challenged him, Bran took a deep breath and willed it away.

Her face fell as she sighed. "It's horrible, isn't it?"

"It is," he said as it caught in his craw. He did his best to finish swallowing the offending morsel without choking, and then cleared his throat before washing away the unpleasant aftertaste with a big mouthful of Orlesian wine. "But I am delighted you think enough of me to risk life and limb in the kitchen."

"I did try," she pouted. "Really hard."

Maker, she's like a child sometimes, he thought, so petulant and entertaining, so easy to… love. He was pleased with her consideration, thrilled actually, but damn it, he knew where all this admiration was leading – straight into a tunnel without light. Damn the consequences, he thought impulsively.

"Come here," he growled, pulling her close and peppering her throat with kisses. "I know you tried, Fin. I'm only teasing you. And I am… encouraged by your thoughtfulness." He squeezed her hand. She looked at him; her eyes seemed to strain with a guilt-ridden emotion. But a slight smile curved her lips and she returned the gentle squeeze.

"So, what are we to eat now?" she asked.

"Why don't you go have a bath and I'll bring up a platter of assorted canapés for us to snack on in between other, more exploratory, activities."

"Oh, I like the sound of that." He intentionally wore a mischievous smile to speed up her heart beat. She returned his contagious grin though she looked a bit like a child gazing upon her hero. "Maybe you can instruct me on the finer aspects of oral pleasure, as you promised last night."

Heat shot through him with the strength of a fiery blaze, and without thinking, he grabbed the back of her head to pull her closer. She whimpered, and the sound was like touching a match to already hot tinder.

"Finola dear, careful what you say to me." There was calculated power in his voice — and a promise of things he knew she could not even begin to imagine. "That could be mistaken for a subtle plea to throw you on the table and fuck you until you can't breathe."

"Maker, Bran, you do know how to turn a girl on."

"I should hope so." He was as hard as a rock, aching, his body making urgent demands, but he wanted so much more from her. A part of him knew he needed to go slow. If this was to last, she had to know he wasn't using her. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to take her right then. "Now, get yourself cleaned up and I'll join you shortly."

She paused before leaving and eyed him. "Would you… would you really do that?"

"Fuck you on the table? In a heartbeat if I thought you were ready for a little roughness." He pressed against her again, squeezing her against the wall, his hands moving to grab at her backside. Hauling her up against his stiff cock, his lips left hers for a moment. "However, I think some more instruction is in order. As you know, I can be quite assertive, and I don't want to scare you off."

"Yes, you… you can be." His touch was making her wet enough, but his words were causing a flood. "But what exactly… would you…?"

The rest of the question flew from her head when he buried his face in the curve of her neck and whispered in her ear. "I would have you willingly surrender to me, without hesitation and without question. No struggling… unless I told you to struggle, of course." He met her wide eyes, and lifted her short robe up, his hands roaming under it to slip between her thighs with just a hint of a tease. He moved his hand over her ribs and breasts with soft touches and caresses only, and all she could do was nod her head and moan. "And you would gladly part your legs and wrap them around my body as I fucked you deep and hard, savoring those noises you make, until we both come."

He kissed her, his tongue thrusting inside her mouth, searching and taking, branding her as his. Heat rose from her skin, warming him, and he knew his touch burned her, causing her to ache as he did.

Staring intently into her perplexed gaze, his hands touched her hips, drawing her slowly toward him. "I assume you get the picture now?"

His fingers were doing that, and he wanted a coherent answer? "I… do," she breathed. "But if you tease me one more time, I might have to kill you."

"Tease you?" he groaned. "You've teased me for the last two days… shamelessly," he said, stroking her curves and kissing her lips.

"Well, I only tease the people I like. So consider yourself one of the lucky few." She put her head on his shoulder. "But I am not who you think I am most days."

"Whoever you may be, I am fortunate to have you here with me now." She laughed at that.

"If you can say the same tonight, I may believe you." She continued laughing as she strutted off, but before she turned the corner, she bent over so that he could see right up her robe.

Bran laughed even louder at her bright smile, yelling to her as she trotted away.

"Tease!"

"You love it!"

Maker help him, he did love her sass, as madly and thoroughly as he loved the woman herself. But what he loved most of all was her happiness, the way she took such delight in everything they had done together so far. Over the last two days, she seemed to have shed years of disquiet, her dull and miserable existence taking on new meaning as she broke free from the constraints of everyday life.

She trusted him, and she could say and do anything with him and not feel as though he would judge her for it. He had changed her, the deepest core of her, her perception of herself. He had set her free. If only she knew what he had done for her.

A short while later, Bran returned to Finola with a platter of food. She was in the over-sized bathtub, her head back, her eyes closed. He set the tray down and stripped off his clothes.

When she looked at him, she was startled by his bareness. Finola wondered if he often walked around totally naked, not to mention his seemingly ever-present hard on. "Are you aroused every minute of the day, Bran?"

"Of course not." He climbed into the bathtub so fast the water sloshed over the sides. Stretching his legs out, he positioned one foot at each side of her hips, and she did the same with her feet. "You and your wanton nakedness are the cause of my arousal."

"Please," she drawled. "Spare me, Bran." Normally his candid words embarrassed her or enraged her. Now, he saw a little hint of delight through her phony indignation.

"You make me hard, Fin." Instead of running his fingers over her breasts, like he wanted to, he caressed her hips under the water, then grasped her waist, pulling her gently against his erection. "Your body, your scent, the little sounds you make." He started to kiss her neck and shoulders. "When you ramble on about nothing and then flush with embarrassment you arouse me." He slid his hand from her cheek to the back of her head. His fingers tangled into her dampened hair, warm against her head. "And that was a scandalously indecent question, by the way."

"You're rubbing off on me," she breathed. "Pretty soon I'll be the second biggest pain in the ass in Kirkwall."

He laughed, agreement plain in his smile. "As long as you remember who's number one."

He leaned forward to cover her mouth with his. When she sank into him, sighing against his mouth, his tongue slipped between her lips. Heat raced through his body and pooled in the pit of his stomach when she pulled him closer. She had no idea it would be like this until he showed her, and if he had his way, he'd show her the truest sense of pleasure. He'd help her discover the part of her that hungered for a strong man to take control. He'd show her the strength of submitting to him, rousing the lust he'd glimpsed in the depths of those heated eyes, using her own passions to unshackle her from oppressive thoughts.

He'd make her see they were meant to be together.

"I intend to show you delights you can hardly imagine. And I know you are curious." He gave her a penetrating look of longing. "But never doubt that you arouse me more than any lover I've ever had." His hand guided her to his throbbing erection, closing her fingers deliberately around him.

Her breathing sped up at the intense feel of him; his swollen length was rigid and hard. Yes, she was curious, but even more, she seemed on fire for him. Bran thought she never, in her wildest dreams, would have believed a man could make her feel this way, achy and needy and wanting so much more. And he felt the same for her.

Her grip was so firm and strong, it was almost painful, and he groaned when she continued stroking him, even more enthusiastically than before. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes for a second, enjoying the hot rush of pleasure.

"You don't know... what you do to me," he said, his voice low and husky.

"If it's anything like what you do to me, then I expect it to be highly effective."

He grinned at that. "You're testing my resolve, are you not?"

She leaned in and kissed him, then put the soap in his hand and guided it to her breasts. "Feel free to test mine."

Slowly he began to rub the slippery soap across her breasts, tuning himself to her, refining his touch to her responses, even as she released her hold on him. He tweaked her nipples, then he massaged them leisurely with featherlike touches until they tightened into hard beads before soaping her curves again.

"Oh, that feels nice," she mused.

His hands slid over her breasts, slick with lather, and he pinched her nipples harder. She gasped from the erotic sensation. "Am I hurting you?"

"No…well, yes, but…."

A smug smile lit his face. "Pain and pleasure do go hand-in-hand at times." He pinched her again, then squeezed her breasts hard, and her hips thrust forward. "You seem to like it well enough." He slid one hand into her tousled hair, his smile feral as he moved in and brushed his lips over hers, gently nipping with small sensual bites that made her tremble with desire for him. He flicked his tongue down her neck to the hollow of her throat and on to the curve of her breasts. "What would you have me do now, my dear?"

"More…."

"More what?"

"More of… that."

He captured her nipple between his teeth and she cried out, arching her back and thrusting her flesh more firmly into his mouth. "So sweet…." The thrum of his voice vibrated through her, straight to her core. His tongue made one long, lingering caress over her breasts that had her moaning. "Where to touch you next…." Not a question, but a statement of things to come. He slid backwards and guided her, turning her around so her back rested against his left side. This big tub was a good investment after all. Now he had better access to her and slowly ran his fingers down her thighs, pausing to spread her legs apart.

"And how hard shall I touch you?" He stroked his fingers up the inside of her thigh, and his thumb flicked across her clit. "Or how soft? Anything you want of me, Fin, you've only to ask." His smile was as wicked as the gentle finger between her legs, his palm cushioned comfortably against her.

"You've proven your point," she whispered, her eyes averted, her cheeks blooming bright as crimson roses. "My resolve has weakened."

"It certainly has." Bran smiled as he kissed a trail from her neck to her lips, and she squirmed beneath him. "To the bed then?"

"Please," she whispered, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire. "I don't want to wait."

Tangled in each other's arms, they kissed all the way to the bed and then collapsed, not bothering to towel off. She lay back and opened her legs in a brazen moment, and his gaze widened as he drank in the entire sight of her. Maker, but he almost groaned aloud.

He laid atop her at once, his mouth finding hers and devouring it. She kissed him back with every ounce of her being, her hands sliding into his hair and holding him there as she did. Then she let her hands drift down over his body. With her fingers, she traced the column of his spine, pressing him still closer to her.

"What would you like now, Finola?"

"Let me do something for you." Without waiting for his response, she took control of the moment by rolling him onto his back and lifting herself over him. She kissed his chest as he had kissed hers before, sucking his nipples, nipping at him, coaxing a groan from him.

She slid back further, her lips quickly claiming his hard cock. Her head gently bobbed up and down, her hands cupping his balls, toying with them as she rolled them between her fingers gently. Then she slid downward, and kept going. Bran gulped. He couldn't believe it. She took his entire length down her throat. She clasped his hips with both hands and moaned, sliding her hands up and down, and digging her nails into his flesh.

"A hidden talent?" he managed to say, though his voice sounded rough. Then he swallowed hard. "Or have you… researched?"

"I've read some books, heard some talk over the years." With her hand, she began to pump while making purring noises, her lips wrapped around the tip of his manhood. She stopped just long enough to add one more thing. "Isabela fancies herself the queen of all things oral, and I'm a quick study, as you've said."

He noted the determination in Finola's glittering eyes, the spirit. "Do continue... practicing."

She was here in his bed doing things with her mouth he had only dreamed of, and he battled the raging need that mingled with the sting of jealousy, the thought of her like this with another man plaguing him, even though he knew she hadn't done this before.

While she sucked with increasing eagerness, she explored the bounty spread before her. She took time to lick and taste him, pausing to stroke the smooth skin beneath his balls with a feather light touch that sent a shiver through his body. But he was content to let her explore, even though her skills needed some work; no whore at the Rose had ever made him feel the warmth he was feeling at that moment.

Studying the resolute features of her face, he watched her brows furrow as she concentrated on her movements, on the sensations she wanted to evoke, the taste and fullness of him in her mouth making her moan softly. She moved her head side to side as her tongue flicked back and forth over his tip, and he clutched her hair, his fingers massaging into her scalp.

"Finola," he said, his voice straining. "I don't want to come just yet." Nearly stripped of his celebrated control so quickly, he flipped her over onto her back in a fast, rough move, to graze his teeth over her shoulder. "You purposely hid your talents from me, you naughty girl," he whispered against her neck, biting and kissing her, rubbing his light scruff over her skin. "Had I known you wanted to pleasure me, I would have suggested foregoing the bath for a while."

She grinned as if she had just been very clever. "But it wouldn't have been as entertaining if I had ruined the surprise."

"Proud of yourself then?" She flashed a bigger smile, and his heart flipped watching her eyes darken. "So many surprises, I hardly know what to expect from you next." The moment he touched her wet folds and slid his finger forward, she spread her legs wider. "You're beautiful," he whispered. She moaned almost inaudibly as his fingers smoothed across her. Then he drove his finger inside her, beckoning with deft movements. He looked into her eyes. "Do you like when I touch you?" She sighed in reply. "Yes or no?" he prompted. "Answer me."

"Yes." Her eyes glazed, her breathing growing shallow. "Please, Bran… no more teasing."

How had he ever survived without touching her? His finger circled and pressed, her moans music to his ears as her hips thrust forward. In truth, he did want to tease and arouse her, but not upset her and ruin the moment.

"Do you wish me to fuck you now?" He rose up so his hands were at either side of her head, his cock against her belly. "Would that please you?"

She nodded. Her eyes were dreamy with excitement, but Bran still saw a flash of fire that told him someday she would make him pay for his teasing. The thought nearly undid him. "I want to hear the words, Fin. Say it out loud."

She brushed her hands along his chest, straining to speak the truth with the words he wanted to hear, but all that came out was a whimpering plea. "Please…."

Bran took his cock in hand and placed it against her clit, rubbing hard enough to get a reaction from her. "Please… what?"

A shiver of excitement rippled along her skin, and she trembled from the strength of her need. "Please…." She swallowed hard. "…Fuck me."

"Good," he growled hungrily, quickly positioning himself to enter her. "Now?" he asked hoarsely. At her feverish nod, he pressed forward and slid into her, thrusting himself deep with his full length. Andraste's tits, but she's tight.

Even after the previous days' passions, he still couldn't believe it was happening again. Here she was, naked below him, panting and mewling, and she was with him and not that idiot she was obsessed with. He knew things would have to go wrong - either now or shortly afterward, she will think she has made a mistake and leave him behind - but even if it was only this week, he hoped it was enough.

She was tight and hot and wet around him, but he opposed the voice in his head begging him to fuck her fast and hard and make her scream and never forget. So he took care to ensure those glorious noises she made were from pure pleasure. As he pressed into her over and over again, he thanked the Maker for his excellent self-control, or he'd surely come every time she let out a soft cry when he hit just the right spot.

She had changed him over the years, banished the senselessness in his life by just being herself with him. How could he let her leave him? How could he live life happily without Finola beside him, loving her? It seemed like he'd always been in love with her - but he was certain he was only a substitute. And he feared one thing, something he had done many times before with nameless faces. He feared she would cry out someone else's name when she climaxed.

The closer she got, the harder she pulled him to her. Legs wrapped around his waist, forcing him deeper into her with every thrust, and fingers running through his hair making him rumble low and happy like a dog getting his belly rubbed. He knew they were both almost there, but even when he felt her sink her teeth into his shoulder, he kept himself in check.

He heard her whisper his name, breathlessly, sensuously, practically begging with only a word, and desire for her raced through his blood. He wanted to show her everything, all that could be. But his own body begged for release as he crushed her mouth with his. She said his name again, but this time it was on a shivery sigh and she arched up to meet him. She wrapped her arms around his neck he kissed her, his tongue moving against hers, tracing her lips, devouring her.

His pace nearly tripled. All he heard was her quickening breaths until her fingers tightened in his hair and his name tumbled from her lips loudly, desperately. He watched her face, saw the emotions that stole across her soul when she came. He lost himself in her then, giving every part of himself over to her, his brain, his body, his straining, aching cock. He gave her everything, his orgasm roaring through him, the pleasure blinding him. At the peak, he bent his head and kissed her. He'd never been so perfectly content, and he was sure he never would be again.

He was still on top of her, gasping and his heart thudding, and although his arms felt like jelly, he kept himself from collapsing. It took him a moment to catch his breath, and when he opened his eyes, the sight stole it away again. Her hair framed her face with a few strays sticking to her forehead, her cheeks stained pink from the exercise and a little from her usual reserve, and her chest rose and fell slowly as her breathing returned to normal. She stroked his face lovingly as he stared at her, dazed from his near out-of-body experience.

"Stay inside me a while longer. Please, Bran."

He thought he had died and gone to the Maker's side. Could she be…? In the past, she treated him with cold indifference many times, but he assumed that was just an intuitive play at coyness. Certainly, the last two days said otherwise. Loving her as he did, he reveled in the fact that she wanted to stay joined with him, that she was his, if only for this short time.

"I'll do my best, Fin." She laughed softly as he lay there, his arms hugging her to him with fierce passion. When he saw her eyes close, he reached over and pulled the sheet over their sweat-soaked bodies. They were silent as they caught their breath, but he planted kisses on her lips and cheeks, her nose and eyelids. He rolled to his side, holding her close to him, careful to stay inside her. He stroked her face, her eyes still heavily lidded, and she said his name again as if it were a priceless treasure to be guarded.

Then she stared at him, her eyes unblinking and confused, and he assumed she was already rethinking her mistake and wondering where her pious prince was.

"My ego is deflating, you know." She looked at him, puzzled. "You're thinking of another man when you're in bed with me, are you not?" His lips curved into a small smile, but his eyes had gone flat and guarded.

Finola ran her tongue over her bottom lip. "I was not thinking of another man. I was merely thinking of how… surprising it is to be with you like this. All these years we've been friends, I haven't really known you, have I? You are far more… caring than I've ever given you credit for."

This was quite a compliment coming from her. "Well, you've given me a few surprises, too, Fin." They looked at each other and couldn't stop looking. Something was happening between them, and they'd both be lying if they denied it.

"Do you think it's possible for us to simply be friends after this?" she asked in a hushed voice.

The muscles worked in his jaw, and he lowered his hand, not letting her forget what his touch had done to her. Yes, it was something deep and frightening, but he knew she was every bit as aware of where this dalliance might lead as he was.

"Anything is possible, Finola." He gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead. "And we are still the best of friends." It might destroy him, but if that's what she wanted in the end, that's what he'd give her.

"Perhaps a dose of reality is necessary, Bran." A flush warmed her cheeks, and she averted her gaze. "I should check in with Varric and you should head to the Keep and do some work for a while. We can… have dinner together later, if you like."

He wasn't sure if he should be glad she wanted to spend the time with him, or pissed off because she was avoiding her true feelings. "I'll cook for you this time. What is your favorite food?"

"Well, I adore a good lamb stew," she said, rising from the bed and walking to her messy pile of clothes on the other side of the room.

Bran kept his head on the pillow and smiled as he watched her dress. "As it happens, I have an old family recipe that's sure to please you."

"You won't try to poison me as revenge for this morning, will you?"

"Tempting, but no," he said as he stood and walked toward her. Gently taking her face in his hands, he kissed her on the lips softly . "I know you're concerned about all that has happened between us," he whispered, "but don't be. I will not push you into anything you are not willing to give freely. Let's just enjoy this time now, and allow the fates to worry about tomorrow." His fingers caressed the nape of her neck, and she fixed her eyes on his again.

She hesitated, unsure of herself, and studied him; most likely to be sure she wasn't misinterpreting his proposal. Then, deciding to trust her own instincts, she placed her hands in his and accepted his advice. "You know I trust you, Bran. I do." She traced her fingers down his cheek, so gentle against his skin. "More than ever. But I've really got to run for now. I'll see you tonight, okay?"

He nodded. Her arms wrapped around his neck, embracing him tightly, and he pulled her closer to him. She held on to him, diving into his very soul with a passionate kiss before walking out the door.

He saw the love in her eyes, he was sure of it. And for the first time in ages, he had made love to a woman. It was not mechanical sex with some Hightown trollop or screwing some faceless whore. Making love. The words rolled around in his head. The tenderness was there with Finola, the care and satisfaction, the cuddling and whispering together. They had made love and it was just as breathtaking that morning as it had been the night before. What made her punish them both this way?

One day she will listen to her heart instead of her head. Let her play games for now.

No matter the outcome at the end of the week, he would watch and follow. After all, he was a very patient man and he was willing to wait for her while she gathered confidence in herself. He was willing to wait quite a while.

But Maker, help me…