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Even he had to know it was a game, that she would return whatever he gave her. It didn't matter. What mattered was the moment, and it was wonderful, watching him in his element, his eye assessing every piece, telling her the stone and the origin and sometimes the value with no avarice in his assessments. None of that hunger and longing from earlier. This was pure fun. And, admittedly, some flattery, as he'd find a piece that "matched" her eyes or would "bring out" the red in her hair or one that wasn't good enough for her.
"The right piece must complement you," he said. "The perfect . . ." He stopped. Then he nearly dove into the next pile, making her laugh as he shoved aside jewels and coins, digging like a bird chasing a worm down a hole. He snagged his goal and pulled it out.
"Yes, this. This." It was a bracelet of gold, one that would weave up a woman's forearm. Delicate and intricately designed, with etched birds.
"Doves," he said.
"Oh! Yes, I've read about them."
"A man down the street from us raised them for sending messages. They were perfect, all white, as smart and as gentle as anything you could imagine. But I once saw a hawk twice their size try to steal a fledgling from a nest, and the dove drove it off." He held up the band. "That's you, Ash. Smart and beautiful and gentle, but ferocious, too, when you need to be."
Her cheeks burned as he put it onto her arm.
"It fits like it was made for you," he said with a grin. "Do you like it?"
She ran her fingers over the gold, only now seeing the tiny onyx in the birds' eyes, and the incredible intricacy of the metalwork. "It's amazing."
"Like you."
Her cheeks blazed hotter. She opened her mouth.
"Uh-uh. Don't duck the compliment, Ash. I've had enough honey wine to say anything I like and not be held responsible for it in the morning. Just know that it's the truth. I might complain about being in the middle of the blasted steppes, on a mad quest to wake dragons. But there's no place I'd rather be than with you. Wherever that is."
His brown cheeks darkened, as if he'd gone too far. Then he took a wineskin from under his cloak and gulped it.
"No regrets," he said. "Not tonight."
He handed her the skin. She might have thought she'd had enough, but she suddenly felt the need to drain the entire thing. Get so drunk she would stop blushing and do something mad and rash and definitely unwise. Be unwise for once in her life. Of course she did nothing of the sort. She took a gulp, heat surging through her, and then she handed it back.
Ronan put the skin under his cloak and grabbed her hand. "Come on. Let's go visit your dragons."
They went over to the beasts.
"So we stay then?" she said, as she sat beside the whelps, petting one and feeling the slow beat of its heart. "Until the ritual."
"You're going to wake dragons, Ash. You can't walk away from that. You'd never forgive yourself."
"There's no guarantee--"
"But you're going to try, and it's only one more day. Moria has Tyrus and Daigo. Aidra and Jorn have my aunt, and while that's not the best situation, a few more days in her care will not harm them."
"I know but . . . you worry."
He shrugged and said nothing.
"You could go on ahead," she said. "I'd understand--"
"Don't."
"But--"
"Tell me I can't leave," he said, the wine flush leaving his face as something like panic touched his eyes. "If you truly want to make this easier, tell me I can't leave. That you need me."
She hesitated. Then she said, "Because you feel guilty if you choose not to leave."
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"I feel . . ." He shook it off and gulped more wine. "None of that. Not tonight. Just don't tell me to go, Ash. Don't make this my choice. Tell me you need my help and remind me that I'll be home soon, and that an extra day will make no difference, and my brother and sister will be fine."
