“Understand what?” she asked and forced herself to step away from him.
“Distance will make no difference,” he cautioned.
“You are making no sense.”
“It will take time for you to grasp, to accept.”
Bria shook her head. “If you explained, I might just grasp it, though whether I accept it or not remains to be determined.”
“You have no choice. Fate has decreed it,” Kaelan said.
“I believe I will take my leave now and when you decide to explain it—whatever it may be—you can let me know,” Bria said, the heat in the cottage too much even though the hearth’s flames had nearly died.
“It is too soon—in time.”
She shook her head again, her brow puckering. “A fever might explain your odd behavior.”
She reached out to touch his brow.
He stepped back out of reach, his dark eyes flashing with concern. “I do not think you should do that. Not right now.”
“You may have a fever,” she said, worried.
“I have no fever,” he insisted.
“Why refuse my touch now when only moments ago you asked for help in removing your vest?”
“I wanted to confirm what I knew was so, even if the time wasn’t right.”
“There you go making no sense again.” She stopped him when he went to speak. “And do not say—in time I will understand.”
“Those words hold truth?—”
She interrupted him. “That does not presently serve me well.”
“But will, eventually.”
Bria sighed. “I am leaving. Drink the brew and tomorrow you will make more sense.”
She stepped around him and almost reached the door.
“Bria.”
His voice drifted over her like a gentle whisper but with the strength of a shout that wrapped around her and wouldn’t let go.
She turned and he was there, right behind her. His arm slipped around her, drawing her up against him. His lips settled on hers in a warm, tender kiss that promised so much more, and the sensation surged too strong through her, darkness swallowing her whole.
Chapter Five
Driochmor
The Forbidden Land
Bria woke slowly. The quiet of her cottage settled around her before her thoughts could fully take hold. For a moment, she did not move.
The faint light of morning filtered through the narrow window, soft and familiar, resting across the table near the hearth and the small things she had left there the night before. Nothing appeared disturbed. Nothing out of place.
And yet…
