"Ye found me," she said, and her voice came out smaller than she meant it to. "Ye always do."
She didn't say the rest of it. That she had sat in that hut in the dark and known, with a certainty that frightened her, that he would come. That she had not once doubted it.
He made a sound between a sigh and a groan, leaning back as she reached for the basin a maid had brought. The water rippled in the firelight, crimson blooming across its surface as she dipped a cloth and began to clean his wound.
He hissed between his teeth. “Ye enjoying that, lass?”
“Hardly,” she muttered though a ghost of a smile touched her mouth. “But if ye keep talking, I might press harder.”
“Ye threaten a wounded man?”
“Ye’re lucky I daenae shake sense into ye.”
He laughed, a sound that made her chest ache. “Ye already do, more than ye ken.”
She swallowed hard, her eyes fixed on the gash along his arm. “Hold still,” she murmured. “Ye’re lucky the blade didnae cut deeper.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it,” he said quietly. “It was ye.” Her hand froze. “Me?”
“Aye. Ye gave me something to fight for.”
Scarlett said nothing for a long moment. She pressed the cloth carefully to the wound, her hands steady, her eyes not quite meeting his.
"Then ye'd better heal," she said at last. "I've no intention of being the death of ye. Ye’ve done enough tonight.”
His hand caught her wrist. “Enough?” he repeated, his tone rough. “I’ll never be done where ye’re concerned.”
Her heart thudded painfully. “Robert…”
“Daenae look at me like that,” he said, his thumb tracing the line of her pulse. “Like ye’re afraid of what I’ll say next.”
“I’m not afraid,” she lied.
He smiled faintly. “Aye, ye are. I can feel it.”
Scarlett tried to pull free, but he held her firm but gentle. “Ye cannae say things like that,” she whispered. “Not when ye’ve made rules… rules about no love, no feelings.”
His eyes darkened. “Aye. I made them. Thought I could keep them.” “And ye cannae?”
He let go of her wrist only to touch her face, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. “And what if I told ye I cannae keep those rules anymore?”
Her voice trembled. “Ye’re speaking nonsense.”
“Am I?” he murmured. “Tell me, Scarlett, when ye thought I wouldnae come for ye, did ye feel nothing?”
“I was afraid,” she admitted quietly. “Afraid for yerself?”
“For ye,” she said before she could stop herself.
He drew in a slow breath. “Then ye ken what I mean.”
Scarlett shook her head. “It’s not the same. What ye’re feeling now, it’s gratitude or guilt or something tangled in the storm. It’ll fade.”
Robert’s lips curved, not quite a smile. “Then I’ll wait and see.” “Ye’ll what?”
“I’ll wait,” he said simply. “If what I feel fades, I’ll tell ye. But if it doesnae, and it willnae, then I’ll nay longer be pretending anymore.”
She stared at him. The fire crackled softly, shadows moving across his face. He looked like a man who had run out of places to hide and had decided, somewhere between the hut and here, to stop trying.
