Having cleared the caked blood away, Alana added pressure to the wound to see if she could finally staunch the bleeding. “Caring friendship. Is that what we have?”
His gaze slid to hers, his green eyes dark. “Aye,” he said and there was no deception in his tone.
“Hold this,” she ordered, gesturing to the cloth on his arm. “Apply heavy pressure,” she added and gathered the linen strips and another large piece of cloth. “Say that we are as ye say.” She met his eyes, but quickly looked away from the intensity in which he watched her. “What would ye call me?”
Rory cocked his head to the side.
Once again she felt her cheeks flush under his scrutiny. “Ye dinnae need to answer that,” she said quickly. “’Twas a daft question.” She pushed his hand away. Lifting the wet cloth, she was happy to see that the bleeding had mostly stopped and applied the dry cloth afore beginning to tie the strips around it to hold it in place.
“Nay. Ye cannae back out of a question like that once asked. Hmmm. What nickname shall I give ye?” He made a show of tapping his index finger on his chin as if deep in thought. “I could call ye Little Mouse, but ye arenae meek, so that wouldnae fit. Icicle, but nay, ye arenae cold and frigid.”
“Ye jest,” she remarked when he could not hold his chuckle back any longer.
“Aye.” He captured a lock of her hair and twirled it around his fingers. “I shall call ye Bluebell.”
Alana was taken aback at that. “The flower?”
“Aye. ’Tis vibrant and colorful. Bold and beautiful and has a way of spreading its joy across the land.”
She was speechless. No one had ever said aught as kind to her as that. “Ye must see me different than anyone else I have kenned. Theywould ne’er say such things aboot me.”
“Then they are fools.” He tugged her hand and she fell against him. He tucked her hair behind her ear and let his fingers slowly trail down her cheek. “Or blind to no’ see it. Mayhap they are both.” He nodded. “Aye. They are blind fools to no’ see ye as ye should be seen.”
Their faces were so close. Their mouths only inches apart. What would it feel like to kiss him? Wicked thoughts swirled through her mind. Would he kiss her? Did she want him to? She searched his face. His deep green eyes that looked at her right now as if she meant e’erything to him. A warmth swirled in her belly, coursing through her blood, making parts of her awaken. Parts that she didn’t ken needed to be awakened. Instinctively, she leaned closer to him, her lips slightly parted.
His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips and then back to her eyes again. She wanted to plead with him to kiss her. To offer her this one boon.
But she didn’t have to plead. Strong arms encircled her waist, bringing her even closer to him. His mouth crashed onto hers. She gasped in surprise for a brief moment, but then gave into the temptation of Rory’s lips. The wickedness of his tongue as he ran it along the seam of her lips, pushing gently for entry. She acquiesced with a sigh and then a moan escaped as his tongue invaded her mouth.
His large hands rubbed her back, then moved to her waist, then lower until they cupped her bottom and he maneuvered her so she straddled his lap.
She pushed her hands through his hair, scraping her nails against his scalp afore grasping his shoulders when he broke the kiss and moved his lips to her neck, peppering her with kisses along the sensitive skin, then her jawline, then down to her collarbone. It was too much and not enough all at the same time.
Her breaths came in short bursts as she gulped for air. “Rory,” she whispered.
Suddenly, he stiffened, his lips stilling against the column of her neck. He lifted her from his lap and sat her on the ground next to him. “My apologies. I shouldnae have taken such liberties with ye.” He stood awkwardly and walked stiffly away.
What had happened? She did not ken. Other than she wanted to feel his lips upon hers again. She picked up her blanket and moved it over near his. This night she did not want to sleep on opposite sides of the fire. When he returned, he looked at the blankets.
“We shouldnae.”
Two words. That was all he said. Leaving the obvious unsaid betwixt them. She kenned why. But if she was going to be married to someone that could be a monster. Or old enough to be her grandfather. Nay. She would like pleasant memories to think on to get her through her days, but even moreso her nights.
Realizing she wasn’t going to move, he dropped down beside her, lying on his back. She settled beside him, not touching him, but close enough to feel the warmth of his body.
He brought the plaid over to cover her and in a voice just above a whisper, he said, “Sleep weel, Bluebell.”
She remained silent and smiled, liking the way he spoke the nickname he gave her and happy that he allowed her to sleep beside him without complaint.
Chapter Thirteen
The next dayRory lead Alana higher into the mountains. Here the paths were steeper, more slippery, and treacherous, making their footing loose. Their chances of sliding and falling were higher than when they were lower and on more stable ground. The air was colder up here. Not so cold that they could see their breaths in the air, but they would be able to soon.
As they’d hiked today, he kept thinking about the night afore. He had overstepped his boundaries. That Alana had let him surprised him more than aught. That she had enjoyed it and appeared to want more? Well, that was a dream come true. And a dream he had not had ever afore.
With her sleeping beside him last night, he had barely got any sleep himself. He was too aware of her closeness. How easy it would have been to pull her into his arms and bury his face in her neck. Her breasts. Her sweetness that he kenned would be naught less than divine.
He let out an exasperated breath. He needed to change the trajectory of his thoughts. Thinking of Alana in those ways made his walking most uncomfortable. As discreetly as he could, he adjusted himself and continued to move toward the man that would take her away from him.
