Page 21 of An Outlaw’s Desire

Pitt hoped Galven would be all right. But, he now had the stone circle to himself. An opportunity he might not get again.

Careful to avoid the hidden ice, he made his way around the stones. Memories teased him from the shadows. While his days as a squire hadn’t always been easy, he’d had plenty to eat, friends, and a safe place to sleep.

He hesitated in front of the towering stone where he’d kissed Blythe. Pitt touched the spot where he’d chipped off the piece he’d left in her carriage. Regret drove deep. If only things could have been different with her.

A sound reached him: A woman’s voice.

He glanced toward the noise but couldn’t see her from where he stood.

Was she the woman from before?

“…there?” came the dulcet voice, carried on the breeze.

Instinct told him he should leave. Now.

Instead, he headed toward the voice. Toward her.

Snow and ice crunched. She approached the monoliths.

Silently cursing his idiocy, he struggled to rein in the desire to see her.

“A-are you there?”

She sought the guards? Why?

Mayhap she, too, had slipped and gotten hurt.

Hellfire. He might be an outlaw, but he’d been raised to place a damsel’s wellbeing above his own.

A woman, limned in moonlight, walked between the stones ahead. Her long cloak, covering her from head to toe, drifted in the wind. As his gaze skimmed over her, he caught the glint of knife in her hand.

At least she’d had the sense to carry a weapon. He’d not underestimate, though, what she could do with that dagger.

Glancing about, she moved into the stones.

A warning about the ice leapt to his lips. If he spoke, he’d betray himself—

She skidded. Cried out.

Before he could stop himself, he rushed toward her.

Blythe’s hands flew out. Her head was going to hit stone.

She couldn’t break her fall.

Couldn’t stop—

Running footfalls. Arms grabbed her, yanked her away from the monolith. With a gasp, she landed on her side—not on the ground, but against a hard, male body.

One of the guards had saved her. The widower?

Relief coursed through her, while his breath rushed against her cheek. As she sank against him in the darkness, she caught the scents of leather and earth clinging to him.

Closing her eyes, she fought a tremor. She could have been badly hurt. She could have fallen on her dagger, if it hadn’t dropped to the ground. As though aware of her thoughts, his arm around her waist tightened in reassurance.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He didn’t answer, just nodded once. As her hood had been dislodged in the tumble, his chin rasped against her hair.