He swallowed thickly, loneliness and desire mingling inside him to make a dangerous concoction.
I want ye too, lass,he wanted to say.How could I not?
He didn’t say that, though, because words were difficult. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed her.
Chapter 13
Commotion
The kiss shot through Freya’s veins like ice water. She barely had time to register the fact that he was kissing her—again—before she was pulling back.
“I’m sorry,” Brendan burst out, eyes wide. “I shouldn’t have. That wasn’t?—”
“Do ye mean it?” Freya interrupted. “Are ye going to regret it in a moment, or tomorrow, or the day after? Is it just because ye are still a wee bit delirious?”
He winced. “That’s a fair comment. I-I don’t think I’ve been fair to ye, Freya. I explained things badly, and I’ve kept things from ye.”
She swallowed, holding his gaze. “What sort of things? A secret wife somewhere?”
He chuckled, and shook his head. “Nay, nothing like that. I’ve not been honest with ye about who I am. Ye, ye told everybody who ye were right away. There’s no dishonesty with ye, Freya, no disguise. But me, I’ve been wearing a mask for as long as I can remember. I told ye once I was an unlucky man, and I hold to that. Disaster and danger follows me, and any man with a shred of decency would want to protect the ones he cares for. Even if that means keeping them at arm’s length.”
“Ye have certainly done that,” Freya responded, trying for a wry smile. “I don’t know when to give up, do I?”
Brendan reached out tentatively, fingers grazing the curve of her cheek.
“Stubborn as a mule,” he whispered, and it really did sound like a compliment. “Heaven help the man who gets in yer way, lassie.”
She lifted her own hand, placing it over his where it lay against her cheek.
“I’ve never thought much about men before,” Freya admitted, feeling nervous for some reason. “Never thought much about marriage, until my father agreed to a match I couldn’t live with. And then I met you, Brendan. I can’t explain it, but ye… Ye fascinate me. I can’t stay away.”
“I don’t want ye to stay away,” Brendan responded, his gaze hungry. “I know I should want ye to stay away, to be safe, but gods curse me, Freya, I wantye.”
She kissedhimthen, diving forward and fitting her lips to his, fingers curling around his neck. His arms slid around her waist as if it were the most natural position in the world. Desire snaked through her, hot and insistent, and when she felt his warm palm on the curve of her thigh, she gasped aloud.
Brendan pressed his lips against the side of her neck, where a pulse point thrummed under the skin. Then, somehow his hand wasunderneathher skirts, skin on skin, and Freya could think of nothing else but the points of contact.
His hand skimmed higher, dancing along her inner thigh now, and Freya’s breathing grew more and more ragged.
“Ye have no idea how lovely ye are,” Brendan breathed, his words a whisper against her neck. His fingers slid against the join of her legs, tracing out a line, and Freya jolted without meaning to do it, and tightened her grip around his shoulders.
A gasp was allthat escaped her lips.
They layin the bed together, afterwards. Freya couldn’t quite remember at what point they’d moved from the fur rug by the fire into the bed, only that Brendan had made as if to lift her up bodily, and she’d shrieked and slapped his shoulder, reminding him of his fresh wound.
He’d laughed at that, wrapping his arms around her and calling her his clever little healer. Freya smiled at the memory, curling up tighter around him.
They were both naked, skin heating against skin, the blankets, and furs tangled around them. The bed was narrow, only large enough for one, so Brendan lay on his back and Freya curled herself around and over him, careful not to jostle his wound.
He’d told her by now how he’d gotten the initial cut, and how it had been damaged and opened up further.
“They didn’t follow me here, though,” he remarked idly, winding a lock of her hair around his fingertip, admiring the color in the sunlight. “We’re safe.”
“I don’t feel safe,” she admitted. “I never feel safe anymore. What are ye going to do? They’ll make trouble for ye. And if that barkeep led them to ye once, he can do so again.”
“Ned knows my routes, to be sure,” Brendan conceded, “But he doesn’t know where I live, or where I go besides his pub. I’ll not see him again, and I’ll change my routine. I should have done it before, but I like the sameness. I like that idea ofsomethingabout my life being familiar.”
She tilted her head up at him. “What were ye, then? Before?”
