“Ye daenae make this easy,” she whispered. “Wasnae trying to.”
“Ye should be resting.”
He leaned closer, his breath warm against her skin. “And ye should stop running.”
Her pulse stumbled. “Running?”
“Aye. Ye run every time ye feel somethin’ ye cannae name. But I see it, Scarlett. Every look, every word ye try to twist into jest. I see ye.”
She tried for a laugh that wouldn’t come. “Ye think ye ken me so well, do ye?”
“I ken enough to know ye’re worth every rule I’ve broken.” Her heart twisted. “Robert…”
He lifted her chin, his thumb tracing her jaw. “Say ye daenae feel it,” he murmured. “Say ye want me gone, and I’ll walk out that door.”
Scarlett’s lips parted, but no sound came. She wanted to end it before it consumed her, but the words refused to form.
Instead, she whispered, “Ye should sleep.”
Robert’s hand fell away, but his gaze lingered. “Aye,” he said softly. “Perhaps I should.”
She turned to leave then paused when he spoke again. “Scarlett.” “Aye?”
“Thank ye.” “For what?”
“For being worth fighting for.”
Her breath trembled. She didn’t turn. “Rest, Robert,” she said and stepped toward the door.
But his voice stopped her once more, quiet, almost reverent. “Say it….”
She turned slowly. “Say what?” “That ye willnae leave,” he urged.
Her chest tightened. “How could I leave,” she whispered, “if that would mean leaving me heart behind to ye?”
For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then Robert exhaled sharply as though the words had struck something deep. A curse slipped from his lips, and before she could think, he crossed the space between them and caught her face in his hands.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was everything they’d held back, fierce, desperate, aching with all they’d denied. She met him with equal hunger, fingers clutching his tunic as if to steady herself.
When they parted, their breaths mingled, uneven and trembling.
“Ye cannae keep doing this to me,” she whispered. “Pushing me away then pulling me close.”
“I tried,” he muttered. “God forgive me, I tried to keep the rules I made. But the moment I thought ye were gone, all that mattered was finding ye. Holding ye. Breathing again.”
Her throat tightened. “And now?”
“Now, I cannae pretend any longer.”
He kissed her again, slower this time. The touch deepened, tender where the first had been fierce. His hand slid to her neck, his thumb brushing her pulse. Scarlett shivered beneath his touch, heat unfurling where fear had lived before.
When his lips left hers, they trailed to her jaw, her cheek, the hollow below her ear. His control wavered, frayed by want.
“Robert…” Her fingers curled in his sleeve. “What are we doing?”
He looked at her, eyes dark and unguarded. “What we should’ve done the first night ye came to Gundor,” he said quietly. “Stop fighting what’s already ours.”
Her pulse faltered. “Ours?”
