She didn't see his lips move but his words rang in her head. She nodded and in a sensual daze walked back to the hotel.
Chapter 4
"What are you going to tell your sons when they ask why you brought me here?" Eanid asked surprising Bran with the question. She'd been asleep for over an hour and he hadn't noticed that she'd woke up.
They'd reached Aspen Creek a few minutes ago and Bran had turned off the air conditioner and opened the windows as the passed the town's 'business district' to let in the sounds and night air of his home. That's probably what woke her. "I don't suppose 'It's none of your business' will work," Bran said, as he slowed down and turned onto the road that led to his house.
"Nope, not for your sons or your pack. In fact, when you figure it out, I'd like to know, too," she said, and grabbed her overnight bag from the backseat and took a smaller bag out of it. When he brought the Escalade to a stop in the driveway of a large two story house she hopped out.
Eanid was almost to the porch when she noticed he hadn't moved. She turned around to face him but kept walking. "Bran, if you want me to help carry in our stuff, I swear I will. But first, you have to tell me where the nearest restroom is," she barely more than mouthed the words, but he had no problem hearing her.
"Through the foyer, second door on the right," he told her, and laughed when she turned and sprinted inside.
He had their bags secured in his grasp when he noticed her purse sitting on the back seat. He was tired and didn't want to make another trip outside so he started to set down some so he could open the door. He changed his mind and put them all on the smooth salmon colored concrete when he heard Charles' truck turn onto his street and then make its way up his driveway. While he waited for Charles to park he retrieved the purse and shut the door.
"Da," Charles greeted him as he stepped out of the truck and Samuel got out on the passenger side. "What's going on? I thought you were going to be gone a few more days. Sage called and told Anna she saw you drive by when she was leaving the restaurant."
Samuel gave his father a hug and said, "She also said you had a passenger." Bran followed his son's gaze to the flowered bags on the ground mixed in with his own dark blue ones and then to the purse he still held. "I'm guessing it was a female one, Charles" he said dryly, and laughed at the look on his father's face when he dropped it on top of the luggage.
"Is there a problem with her, Da?" Charles asked casually.
"No," Bran answered, "she's a friend. A wolf I knew a long time ago.
"You knew a long time ago," Samuel clarified. "As in, we don't?"
"Exactly," said Bran, deliberately kept his answers as short as possible. "What was so important that you game over here as soon as you found out I was back? It can't be because I have guest."
"No," Charles started to answer him, "Da, Samuel heard something in Washington," but his brother interrupted him.
"That can wait a few minutes," he said, moving to sit on the porch steps. "Da's obviously all right, and I'm curious about his guest. Is she the reason you called Charles and left that cryptic message about being delayed?"
"Yes, she's the reason, and the message wasn't cryptic, it was succinct," Bran said, and leaned back against the hood of Charles's truck. He crossed arms and his kept his posture relaxed as he watched Charles lean against the porch to Samuel's left, his stance unconsciously mimicking his own.
When it became clear that neither one of them was going to say anything until he volunteered more information Bran relented, "I ran into her on the way home, she was on vacation and I asked her to spend it here."
Samuel apparently found his answer lacking in detail, "Ah, but Da, did you ask her to spend it here, in Aspen Creek or here, with you?"
"Does it matter?" Bran asked, his body tensing just a little.
"That would depend on the answer," Samuel's laugh ended in a yelp when Charles' fist came down hard on his upper arm.
"Da, it's none of our business who you invite here," he said, and glared at his brother, "or why. But," Charles shrugged, "if there's something about her you're not telling us that we need to know. . ."
Bran had hoped to put this off at least until tomorrow. After he'd had time to think through all the possible consequences to any decision that was made, before letting his sons chew it over. But it didn't really make any difference. They'd know as soon as they were in the same room as Eanid and he might as well get it out of the way now.
"Besides being a friend, she's also a female who doesn't have a pack. And I didn't want her unprotected while the issue was resolved."
"Doesn't have a pack? How can she not have a pack?" the confusion in Charles's voice was understandable and Bran knew what he was thinking. Wolves moved from pack to pack but there were only two ways to leave a pack, the first was simple; you got the permission of your Alpha to leave and you either joined another or asked an Alpha to live as a lone wolf in his territory. The second way was equally simple but more permanent, your Alpha put you down. Outside of that there was only one way to live as a werewolf without pack bonds and that was to go rogue.
Since none of them knew of an Alpha who would condone the havoc having a female lone wolf in their territory could stir up their was only one conclusion Charles could come to.
"Da", said Charles, looking at the luggage next to the SUV, "I've seen you bring in rogues before but, ah. You've never been so civilized about it before."
"She's not a rogue," Bran said. "Well, technically, I suppose she is," he paused, and had to consciously remind himself that she was under his protection and no one was going to hunt her down. "She's more of a lone wolf, than anything else. Not a danger to anyone."
"She's a lone wolf who is technically a rogue?" said Samuel. "And you brought her to your home to . . .?"
"Visit," Bran said, a layer of steel in his voice that should have been a warning.
"I see," Samuel's slightly questioning, oh so very poised acceptance of Bran's inadequate answer was a deliberate parody of Bran's usual manner.
"Da, did you hunt her down?" Charles said, drawing Bran's attention away from his, at the moment, least favorite son.
"No, I didn't," Bran replied, trying to find his typical imperturbability, "I invited her here just as I said,"
"So, just visiting, huh?" Charles said, as he took a seat on the porch one step below his brother. "You going to find a pack for her?" He elbowed Samuel's leg and made more room for himself. When Bran didn't reply, Charles inquired, "Or is she going to join ours?"
"Possibly," Bran finally answered. He wanted to follow Eanid inside, get something to eat, stretch out on the couch and watch some tv. But Charles was his second and had the right to know about anything that affected the pack. Bran pinched the bridge of his nose and continued, "we haven't come to an agreement about that yet."
"So, if she decides not to join your pack you'll find another Alpha for her?" Samuel asked, as though it was a foregone conclusion.
"No," Bran said.
"No?" Charles sounded surprised. "Just what the hell are you going to do with her, then?"
"Are you going to make her a lone wolf?" Samuel asked incredulously.
"No, I'm not," Bran spoke slowly, enunciating each word clearly.
"You won't make her stay but you won't let her leave?" Samuel said. "Da, have you considered that you might to be too. . .ah, influenced by your friendship to handle this properly?"
"Da, you're going to have to tell us more so we can understand," Charles said, evenly, "What's her name?"
"Eanid," he told him, "Eanid . . ."
Bran watched as Samuel's and Charles' snorts of disbelief quickly became howls of laughter as it sank in that their da, the all powerful, all knowing Marrok, the man who knew so much about so many he creeped out fea, vampire, human and werewolfkind alike; didn't know the woman's last name. Bran shifted slightly to make himself more comfortable while he waited patiently for their amusement to run its course.
He could have stopped them with a single thought. The only reason he didn't was because he knew he'd earned this reaction. He hadn't thought through what he was doing or why. Keeping Eanid with him was all he'd wanted and he'd taken full advantage of her situation so he could do it.
"Bran?" Eanid called. She was standing on the porch looking down on all three of them, her eyes snapping with vexation, the open screen door resting against her barefoot. Her arms were crossed in front of her, one finger tapping out her impatience on her forearm. Her recently brushed long, black hair was loose around her shoulders and her generous mouth was pulled tight in disapproval. With the sleeveless light blue top and white shorts she wore, Bran realized she was more intimidating and more beautiful than any twenty-one year old looking woman he'd ever seen.
At the sound of her voice his boys had immediately shut their mouths and stood up.
"Are those your children?" she said sounding as though she's just spotted a couple of unruly two year old playing in a mud puddle.
Bran nodded. He wasn't a stupid man. Silence was his best chance of ensuring none of that feminine wrath changed direction to come after him. Failing that, short answers of wholehearted agreement were the next best option.
"And do you suppose there's any chance they are unaware you drove almost seven hundred miles today?" Eanid queried, sounding calmer, but still annoyed.
Bran raised an eyebrow at his sons in question and interpreted their shrugs correctly.
"Yes, Eanid, they are aware of it," he told her.
"Really? And do they know you've been away for two weeks and have to get up early tomorrow?" she asked.
"I would think they must," he answered, a slight smile curling his lip.
"Well then, is there any possibility they might be persuaded to bring those bags in for you? So you can sit down and make yourself comfortable while they interrogate you some more about the doings in your own home?" her voice was almost thick with a Welsh brogue by the time she finished speaking.
Though her question had been directed to Bran, she stared at the 'children' in question until they both moved in the direction of driveway. When they did, she went back into the house letting the screen door slam shut behind her. Immediately, she opened it again and said, "Surnames have never been of much interest to me and your da didn't seem to think he should refuse his friendship because I didn't offer to tell him mine. But as you're so all fired up about it, my driver's license says Eanid Barton. Do with that what you will."
She disappeared into the house again but kept her voice loud enough for them to hear her as she continued, ". . . disrespect their own da, and him standing there like a dummy letting them act like loons . . ."
"Da," Samuel said, "we're sorry. We didn't mean anything."
"No, I know," Bran said, absently, still staring up at the door where Eanid had stood, "it's fine. Really."
"I guess we've been put in our place, big brother" Charles said, "come on, let's get this stuff inside and show Eanid we can mind our manners when we put our minds to it."
"Take your time," Bran told them. Without acknowledging them, he strode into his house.
She was in the study, curled in a large leather club chair, looking through a coffee table book of black and white photographs. He stood in the doorway and let the memory of what she'd just done sweep through him again. And this time he let himself feel every one of the emotions she'd stirred in him.
Bran knew he had the love and respect of many people. Not least of all, his sons. There were wolves and men who would lay down their lives without question just because he asked it of them. He had good, strong friendships that were equal in give and take. He had once been blessed with the love of a good woman. A very good woman and part of him would always love her.
But never before -- not in all his considerable long life -- had someone done for him what Eanid had just done.
She'd protected him.
Protected his feelings and his privacy. Not because she thought he wasn't capable but because his discomfort bothered her. She hadn't cared that they thought her being in his home was odd. She'd cared that he was getting annoyed. That he was inconvenienced, that he might be embarrassed. And her concern that he was being pushed too far had nothing to do with demon of rage that lived inside him or the disapproval of the Marrok. But because she knew he was tired from driving and would rather go inside and relax than listen to their foolishness.
He was in awe of her, he was humbled by her. And she didn't have a clue.
"Eanid," he said. She had to have known he'd been standing there but had let him take as long as he liked to speak.
She smiled over at him from where she sat. "Bran, did you see their faces when I finished with them?" she asked, "Your Samuel was blushing and I thought Charles was going to hide under his truck."
"Eanid, come here," Bran said, and held out a hand to her.
She set the book down and uncurled from the chair. "Is something wrong?" she asked, stepping around the table.
"Only that I need to touch you almost as much as I need to know you want me to," he said.
When she reached him, he held her tight. His hands ran over her body molding her to him, his face buried in her hair.
"Bran, you feel so good," she breathed, and his arms tightened for a second.
"I'm glad I found you again, Eanid," he said, as he let her go, "I'm glad you're here."
"So am I Bran Cornick," she told him. "Now why don't you tell your boys they can come in. I think they have something to tell you that doesn't have anything to do with the rogue you brought in."