“’Tis more than you wanted to hear.” He grunted. “More than I expected to share.”
“I appreciate your trusting me enough to tell me. How has your daughter handled her loss?”
He glanced toward the loft, and lines of concern deepened on his brow. “Órlaith didna talk for months. Even now, she tends to be shy. I pray she can finda way to heal.”
Lathir touched his shoulder; he tensed. “With your love and compassion, I have confidence you will help her overcome her grief. Your daughter is blessed to have such acaring father.”
“I far from think her staying with me is a blessing. Quite the opposite.” The bench scraped as he stood.
“I lost my mother during my birth,” she said as he started to move away. “But like you and Órlaith, my father and I are close.”
He met her gaze.
“Through his stories,” she continued, needing him to understand the importance he held inÓrlaith’s life, “I have come to know my mother, to love her. Your daughter has memories of her mother, you to share more, and your love to helpÓrlaiththrough whatever challenges lie ahead.” She thought of Rónán. “Many children dinna have even that.”
He released a frustrated exhale. “I know. ’Tis selfishto want more.”
“Nay. ’Tis difficult to losethose we love.”
“Aye. I thank you. To sleep with you, now. You are exhausted, and your warmth will be welcomed by your man.” He walked to a pile of blankets, made a pallet near the fire, then settled, his back to her.
Lathir finished her meal. As she cleaned her bowl and mug, Rónán murmured under his breath. She turned.
Rónán lay on his side, where she’d left him asleep, his breath even, errant shivers rippling across his body. The lines of pain that’d streaked across his handsome face earlier were but faint twinges. That the threat to his skin had passed was a blessing.
On the ship, she’d rested against him to share warmth, but they’d both been fully clothed. Nor could she erase the images of his body, the tempting curves, the power. What would it be like to have him holdher, want her?
Warmth crept through her, and for a moment she allowed herself to imagine his gentle touch, his kiss. She smiledat her whimsy.
Nor, with the fisherman believing they were wed, did she have another place to sleep. Assuring herself that his lying naked against her was naught she couldn’t handle, Lathir walked over, lifted the cover, andclimbed in bed.
As the fire snapped in the hearth, she listened to his slow, even breathing. Too aware of him, she said a silent prayer, wrapped her arm around his side, and edged her body flush against his.
His scent of man and a hint of sea filled her every breath as she rested her head within the curve of his shoulder, and a sense of peace filled her.
On a shudder, his body relaxed.
Pleased, she closed her eyes, but doubted, with her every fiber aware of him, that she’d sleep.
Chapter Five
A deep ache pulsed through Rónán’s body, invading his sleep. At the scent of charred wood, he gave a rough exhale. Another blasted night aboard theAodh.
He shifted, pressed against Lathir. Through the murky haze, he awaited the creak of joints as the battered cog lumbered upanother swell.
The pallet remained still, and the soft crackle of fire filled the silence.
With a frown, he opened his eyes. Firelight glinted off Lathir’s gold hair as she lay next to him. Tensing in realization, he shifted his gaze, took in the simple hut, a loft overhead, chests stacked against a side wall, and several bundles of dried herbshanging nearby.
Vague memories of clinging to a rope and jumping from the ship’s rail, then slamming against the icy stone rolled through his mind.
Then naught.
Where were they? Whosecabin was this?
The door scraped open.
Muscles burned as Rónán shoved to his feet. Wavering, he reached for his dagger. His hand skimmed along flesh. God’s truth,he was naked!
