Her body trembled beneath his gentle touch, more so at the desire darkening his gaze. Wanting him with her every breath, she cleared her throat. “I think ’tis best if you leave.”
With a soft curse, his breathing ragged, he released her. “However much I want you, you canna be more than a duty. Whatever is between us ends here.”
“I see,” she said, aching at his rejection.
A frown furrowed his brow and he began to pace. At the hearth he paused. “You couldna, nor do I expect you to. There is much about me that you dinna understand.”
“Thomas, an explanation is unnecessary. As you stated, I am a duty.”
“I didna mean it like that!”
“Then how did you mean it?” she asked, feeling foolish prolonging their discussion when it would deliver naught but more hurt.
“If you became pregnant with my child,” he said with exasperation, “I would have to marry you.”
“Have to?” she whispered, her heart fragmenting into tiny bits, collapsing beneath the slide of blood that wept like tears.
“Blast it, I am explaining this poorly.” He stormed over and caught her shoulders.
“Release me,” she said, her words ice, needing to protect her fragile composure. With a slight shove she’d shatter. A fate she refused to allow him to witness.
“Alesone—”
She broke free, walked to the entry, and jerked the door open. “Leave!”
Chapter Fourteen
Thomas grunted at the shot of pain as he worked his way down the turret. After he’d mishandled his discussion with Alesone, agony he deserved. Mishandled? A kind word for telling the lass she was naught but a duty.
He winced as he set his foot on the next step. She had every right to be furious. He’d botched the situation like a battering ram shoved in mud. Nor with his words in a mire had he been smart enough to quit.
Aye, he was a bloody ass. Hardly the Templar known for his finesse in dealing with difficult situations, a warrior sought out by kings.
He shoved his foot onto the next level. He’d meant to seek her forgiveness, to make her understand how important she was becoming to him.
Except as her eyes filled with yeaning, trust and desire had held his, the tatters of his hard-won calm had collapsed.
Never had a woman made him lose control, or made him want her with such mindless disregard. To allow the bond between them to continue to strengthen would do naught but create further complications.
Shoving aside memories of her silky skin, of how her taste infused his every thought, Thomas grimaced as he took another step down. Though he’d made a debacle of the situation, however poorly achieved, he’d achieved his goal of placing distance between them.
He should be happy, pleased by the fact.
Emotion clogging his throat, he reached the great hall. He scanned the large chamber filled with lingering scents of venison, porridge, and herbs from the earlier meal.
Empty benches lay shoved against trencher tables where a short while before knights had broken their fast. In the hearth, a fire blazed bright, illuminating the tapestry upon the wall emblazoned with his family’s heraldry. In the center, and spun from threads of deep red and white, a vine pattern framed a knight’s helm atop an intricate weave, which had graced the great room since Dair Castle was built.
’Twas as if he could blink and nay time had passed. He would still be a child, and his entire family alive.
With an unsteady breath, he struggled against the wash of emotion. However difficult, he needed to face his past.
Thomas shifted his steps to offset the discomfort and made his way toward the entry. He nodded to several women working to clear the trencher tables, bent to pat of one of the deerhounds lurking close by in hopes of an errant scrap, then continued. At the door he glanced back, thankful nay one followed. For the task ahead, he wanted to be alone.
Flurries thick with the whip of snow lashed him as he stepped outside. Tugging the door shut, he stared at the graveyard near the far wall. An ache burning his soul, he tugged his cape tighter and started across the bailey.
With each step his chest squeezed tighter, but he pushed on, needed to face the consequences of his actions.
Frozen ground crunched beneath his boots as he paused before the somber display, the weathered gravestones like bleak sentinels against the stark, ice-hardened ground. A lump in his throat, his gaze settled on the first of four gravestones closest to the curtain wall.
