Page 73

What a fool he had been.

He had kept his distance from her body, yes, but not from the rest of her. Not from her laughter, or her stubbornness, or the way she watched him train when she thought he couldn’t see.

Somewhere along the way, she had slipped past every defense he had, and he hadn’t noticed until it was far too late.

Now he couldn’t look at her without wanting more.

He dragged a hand through his hair and forced himself to breathe. He was a grown man, a laird. He had faced down countless armies and survived.

Yet, here he was, lying in bed with the woman who had cried out his name again and again as he pleasured her.

“What about ye?” she asked softly.

He didn’t understand at first. Then he followed her gaze downward, to where the blanket did very little to hide his erection, and he understood perfectly well.

She didn’t know what to offer. He could see it on her face—the uncertainty, the willingness, and the not knowing. Her innocence was more alluring than any practiced touch he’d ever known, and that was precisely why he would not take a single thing more from her tonight.

“Daenae worry about it, wife.”

“But—”

“Daenae,” he said again, more gently, “worry about it.”

But she was going to worry about it. When had she stopped thinking about it just because he asked her to? The fact was that she hadn’t. It was her fiery personality, the one that had drawn him in that day at the inn.

She studied him for a long moment. Then something in her face changed. It softened and opened, like a door left unlatched, and she smiled at him.

It was not the sharp smile she used like a blade, nor the polite one she gave to strangers. It was something small and warm and entirely new, and it went through him cleaner than any sword.

“So ye’re a good man,” she said, as though she’d just discovered it and was rather surprised. “I’m almost shocked.”

It was a joke. That much was clear from the look in her eyes.

He huffed a breath that was almost a laugh. “Nae good enough to deserve that smile, certainly.”

She bit her lip. He almost kissed it again.

Instead, he rolled onto his back, pulled the blanket up over them both, and put a careful handspan of mattress between them. It was the hardest thing he’d done in years, and he’d once held a bridge alone against nine men.

The candle had nearly drowned in its own wax. He watched the light shrink on the ceiling and listened to her breathing slow.

“Evander?”

He thought she’d fallen asleep.

“Aye.”

“Thank ye.”

He turned his head. She was lying on her side, facing him, her hands tucked beneath her cheek. Her trust felt heavier and more precious than any sword he’d ever carried.

“What for?”

“For nae… pushin’ me on.” Her voice was very quiet. “Tonight. Any night. And for protecting me that night at the inn.” She hesitated. “I had frozen, did ye ken that? When that man cornered me against the settle, I couldnae move. I hadnae frozen like that since I was sixteen.”

He went very still.

His first thought was not pleasant. He had heard stories. Of course he had. If anyone had so much as laid a hand on his wife, even well before he met her, he wouldn’t let it stand. He would find out who that man was, drag him to his lands, and make sure he regretted ever laying a finger on his wife.