Careful? God help me, I’ve never wanted to be more careless in me life.
For a long stretch, they rode through the storm in silence. Scarlett let the rain wash over her until it felt like her skin was singing. Every shift of Robert’s body against hers, his thighs bracketing her, his chest at her back, and his arm firm at her waist was magnified by the closeness forced on them.
At last, she couldn’t hold her tongue. “Ye ride like a man with iron in his spine. Not a word, not a glance, just stone.”
His chest rumbled behind her. “And ye ride like a lass who cannae keep still. Squirming as if the saddle bites ye.”
Scarlett snorted, turning her face up to the sky, rain streaming over her lips. “Better to squirm than to sit silent and grim, like death on horseback.”
Robert leaned closer, “Would ye rather I whisper sweet nothings, then? Sang ye ballads through the mud?”
Her cheeks flamed though the rain hid it well. “Oh, spare me. I’d rather the thunder than yer attempts at poetry.”
He chuckled. “A relief, then. Leon’s the bard, nae me.”
She shook her head, droplets flying. “Sometimes I think ye like the silence too much. As if words might crack the armor ye wear.”
His hand tightened briefly at her waist. “Armor’s kept me alive.” “And lonely,” she shot back before she could stop herself.
For a moment, she feared he’d ignore her or worse, cut her down with something cold. Instead, his voice came quietly.
“Do ye think yerself a stranger to me?”
Her heart leapt, a traitorous thing. She tried to smother it with sarcasm. “What else should I call it when ye cannae spare more than three words strung together? Stranger suits well enough.”
This time, his laugh startled her. “Ye’d rather I woo ye with words, then? Sweet lines like Leon spouts at lasses in taverns?”
She sniffed though her lips twitched. “It wouldnae kill ye to try.”
“I’d make a poor poet,” he admitted, his voice warm despite the grumble.
She turned, rain dripping down her jaw, studying him. “Aye, but ye’d make a worse gaoler.”
His brow furrowed. “Gaoler?”
Scarlett lifted her chin though her pulse raced. “Ye speak of liberties revoked, rules and bargains. Sounds more like a prison than a marriage bed.”
The silence that followed was heavy, thick as the rain between them. She half expected him to bristle, to cut her down with a single sharp word. Instead, he leaned closer, his mouth near her ear.
“Ye’d run wild without me.”
Scarlett’s breath hitched. Her answer came sharper than she intended. “And I’d enjoy every second.”
The horse plodded on, rain splashing around them. Robert’s laugh came again, low and rough, but this time it lingered. “God help me, lass, ye just might.”
She swallowed, her cheeks burning despite the rain cooling her skin. Finally, she bit it apart, “Tell me something, Robert.”
His chin lowered against the rain. “What sort of something?”
She hesitated then blurted, “Ye and Leon. Ye fight like brothers, yet it’s different. He teases ye without fear, and ye let him. Why?”
Robert gave a short huff that might’ve been a laugh. “Because he’s earned it. Most men I’d put flat for half the words he spits. Leon kens when to push and when to hold his tongue.”
Scarlett tilted her head just enough to catch his expression from the corner of her eye. “So he’s the only one ye’ll suffer mocking ye?”
“Aye. And even then, he tries me patience.” His hand shifted slightly at her waist, the pressure of his grip reminding her who was in control. “But he’s loyal. Fiercely. He’d bleed for Gundor and for me. That’s rare.”
Scarlett chewed her lip, rain running down to her chin. “He makes ye laugh.”
