Page 113 of The Silversmith

He stopped and looked at me.

“Will you lay in bed with me?” I asked, loneliness crawling up my skin.

His eyebrows rose. “Aryella, that’s a terrible id—”

“Please,” I rushed out, another piece of my heart cracking open. “I won’t tempt you. I promise. It’s just… you make me feel safe and warm and… please.”

He ran his hands over his face and through his hair with a tortured groan.

“Please,” I said again.

“Fuck.” He bent over to unlace his boots.

My exhale carried the tension away, and I grinned even as he uttered grumpy profanities under his breath. But when he looked at me, his eyes were soft and yearning.

The bed groaned beneath his weight. He reclined next to me, hands behind his head. Too far away from me. He watched my every move like he was afraid I would spontaneously combust. With the way my skin burned with awareness and anticipation, I thought I might. Careful not to irritate my wound, I slid slowly beneath the covers, facing him.

His body radiated heat so soothing that tension in my muscles dissipated when my body settled against his. I felt exhilaratingly aware. Free and elated. My cheek rested on his chest, altogether hard and soft, and I slid my hand over his broad, muscled torso, crumpling a piece of his shirt in my fingers. Overwhelming was the urge to slide my hand under his shirt and feel him bare.

But I’d promised not to tempt him.

“Is this okay?” I whispered.

The flames beneath the hearth were bright enough only to illuminate the tightness in his handsome features. He gave me a single, sharp nod and lowered one arm. Like a collector would treat a treasure, he wrapped it around me and pulled me into his side. His fingers curled over my ribs where he circled his thumb in gentle strokes but didn’t dare travel up or down into more dangerous territory. Even if I wished he would. His careful touch warred with the longing in his eyes, proof that he would keep me close and use those flames of rage to protect me, even from himself.

I closed my eyes and surrendered to exhaustion in his arms.

It was the sweetest sleep of my life.

At one point in the night, I woke up to him spooning me. His arm was tight around me and our legs were intertwined. I gasped and stilled when I felt him gloriously hard against my backside. Through our clothes. Just from lying in bed with me. I didn’t know much about a man’s desire, but I knew what that meant. My throat worked through a swallow and, even while drowsy, arousal rushed through me.

But when I tried to turn to face him, he locked me in position. “Be good,” he grumbled into my hair, “and go back to sleep.”

I forced a heavy sigh and obeyed.

When I woke the next morning, he was gone.

Chapter twenty-seven

Istared at his note for an hour. Paced back and forth in front of it. Thought about ripping it up and throwing it into the fire.

Gemma had once told me about a man who left without a goodbye after a passionate night together. It was a shitty thing to do, she’d said, and should it ever happen to me, I’d be smart to never speak to that man again.

Nothing had happened between Gavin and I last night, not really. No passion, at least nothing pursued. We hadn’t even kissed. We’d shared a bed. He’d kept me warm and gave me the best sleep of my life, nothing more.

And, of course, there was his… well, I think he liked laying with me.

Still, I stared at the note and felt anger and sadness grip me by the throat and drag me down into a place of solitude I never wanted to go again.

I have some business to attend to. I will be back soon. I promise. I’ve left you food and water. Eat. Change your bandage around midday. You are safe here, but do not leave this cabin under any circumstances. Please.

I rolled my eyes after reading it for the twenty-fourth time, aware the final word had been nothing more than an appeasing afterthought.

The man gave commands, not pleas.

I trusted his word, that he’d be back, but that didn’t stop anxiety from planting its sour roots in my belly.

My stomach’s demanding growl dragged my attention away from the note. Thankfully, he’d left me plenty of food. Bread, jerky, hard cheese wrapped in wax, canned pears, and a jar of walnuts. The water from the faucet next to the bathtub was clean, the fire was strong and comfortable. I even noticed a few books resting on the chair beside the wall—the chair he’d planned to spend the night in before I coaxed him into bed with me.