The admission alone brought a sting of guilt. Kaelan had done what he believed necessary to protect her. Nay, not simply believed, he had protected her.
The moment he realized the danger, he acted without hesitation. He had sacrificed what should have been a cherished memory for both of them to ensure her safety. She understood and appreciated it and loved him all the more for it.
Yet understanding did not change how she felt.
She could not help but think how different it would have been if they had remained in the cottage where they could have taken their time. Where they could have come to know each other intimately, grown comfortable with each other, and spoken of the future that awaited them.
Never had she thought that joining with her husband for the first time would be shared on a cold stone floor while danger rushed toward them. Never with fear pressing at her from every side.
Bria sighed softly. The troubling part was not the disappointment itself. It was how quickly she tried to dismiss it.
Her entire life had been spent easing the worries of others. She soothed frightened children, grieving mothers, anxious husbands, and lonely elders. Whenever pain touched someone, her first instinct was to help carry it.
But when sorrow belonged to her?
She always pushed it aside, gave it no thought as if it were not important. As though her own feelings mattered less than everyone else’s. The realization unsettled her more than she cared to admit. Perhaps that was why Kaelan unsettled her as well. He never seemed willing to let her hide from her own feelings.
“You are thinking too hard.”
Kaelan’s voice startled her and she watched as he opened his eyes, not heavy from sleep, but wide awake.
“I thought you were asleep,” she said.
A faint smile touched his mouth. “I was.”
The answer immediately made her suspicious. “You were not.”
“A short while perhaps.” His hand brushed gently through a loose strand of her hair.
The tenderness of the gesture nearly undid her.
“You are troubled.”
She shook her head. “Nay.”
Kaelan’s brow lifted.
She sighed. “Perhaps a little.”
“More than a little.”
His voice held far too much confidence.
Bria frowned at him. “You sound remarkably certain.”
“I know exactly what troubles you.”
That caught her attention. “You do?”
“I do,” he said firmly. “And I suspect you are already preparing to convince yourself it should not.”
Bria looked away from him. The frustrating part was that he was right.
“I understand why you did it,” she said quietly.
“I know.”
His answer surprised her enough that she looked back at him. There was no defensiveness in his voice. No attempt to explain himself, only understanding.
