Page 104 of Blood of the Thistle

Indeed, satisfaction appeared to have worsened the condition.

His gaze traveled over her face and lingered upon her mouth. He knew now precisely how it felt beneath his, knew the sounds she made when he kissed her in certain places and how readily she had curled herself around him afterward, holding him against her long after their breathing had quieted. He had awakened once during the night to find her still close, her back fitted against his chest and his arm wrapped around her, and instead of leaving the too-small bed and finding his own, he’d pulled her nearer and gone back to sleep.

It was not only her body he wanted.

The admission came as no surprise, truth be told.

He wanted everything with her. He didn’t want her to return to some unfathomable time, not when she so clearly belonged here with him.

Bram knew better than to put a name to any of that.

Beside him, Anastasia stirred.

Her lashes fluttered before her eyes opened, unfocused at first, and then settled upon him. Bram watched recollection arrive almost at once. Her gaze sharpened, color slowly touched her cheeks, and for the first time since he’d known her, Anastasia Ellis appeared to have nothing at all to say.

“Good morn,” he murmured.

“Morning.”

She looked at him for another moment before lowering her gaze to his chest, and Bram waited for her to withdraw.

But no—a small, shy smile touched the corner of her mouth instead, and she shifted nearer beneath the coverlet and laid her hand against his chest.

The fleeting knot in his chest loosened.

“Are you leaving soon?” she asked.

“Soon enough.”

Her fingers moved idly through the hair upon his chest. “Then I’m glad we woke up before you had to go.”

Bram covered her hand with his.

She tipped her face toward him when he bent to her, and the kiss they shared bore little resemblance to the ones that had brought them into this bed. There was no urgency in it now, only the warm press of her mouth and the lingering stroke of his thumb across her cheek. When they parted, Anastasia remained close enough that her breath touched his lips.

He would ride within the hour, and there were men below already making ready, saddling horses and gathering provisions, yet he found no great urgency to leave this bed.

Eventually necessity prevailed, and he decided to give her instructions for his absence.

“Ye should remain within the walls while I am gone,” he said, his fingers still moving idly through the loose hair at her shoulder. “If ye go beyond them, take Etta or one of the house guard with ye. Dinna go into the village alone, and if riders come while I am away, remain inside until Fearchar or my mother kens who they are.”

Anastasia shifted slightly against him but said nothing.

“And dinna ride anywhere without someone accompanying ye.”

“I don’t ride.”

“All the better.”

She made a small sound that might have been amusement.

Bram continued, “If there is aught ye require, tell Fearchar. He has instructions to provide it. Ye neednae ask my mother first, nor trouble yourself over the cost.”

“How generous of you.”

He ignored the faint dryness entering her voice. “And if Etta tries to persuade ye into leaving Craig na Coille for any foolish purpose—”

“Wait a minute.” Anastasia lifted her head from his chest and looked at him. “Has sleeping with me somehow given you the impression that you’re in charge of me now?”