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“Were you serious when you said I could leave?”
His jaw twitched, shifting to the left. “I was. You can go if it is truly your wish.”
Her right eyebrow lifted. “You aren’t stopping me?”
He shook his head, even as his chest lifted in an exasperated inhale. “No.” The word came out long and drawn in clear battle against himself.
She glanced at the mare to her left. “Then saddle my horse.”
His left fingers rolled inward for moment, uncurling as he inclined his head toward her and moved to the sidesaddle. Silently, he lifted it and set it on the horse, tightening the girth. The saddle secure, he stood straight, his hand going to the long neck of the horse. He set the bridle in place, attaching it, then grabbed the reins and led the horse to the block outside the stall.
Her breath held, Sloane stepped up on the block and mounted the horse.
Avoiding Reiner’s sharp stare, she fiddled with her skirts, arranging them about her legs.
He led the horse two steps toward the opening of the stable, but then stopped abruptly, turning around to her. “You don’t know what you’re doing, Sloane. The trouble you have involved yourself in. You still don’t remember anything and you have no idea what awaits you out there. It’s not safe. You—”
“I ken what I’m doing, Reiner. What I have to do.”
“Do you?” He shook his head, but shifted the reins about the mare’s neck and handed them up to her.
She took them, settling the leather in her hands.
His hand drifted downward, landing on her thigh. “You don’t have to do anything, Sloane. Not here. Not for me.” His hand slipped off her leg and he took a step backward.
She stared down at him, her gaze caught in his. The breath in her chest froze in place, her lungs tightening until her chest started to hurt. He was letting her go. Giving her the freedom she was so desperate for.
She had to leave. Shehadto.
But her hands were frozen on the reins. Her legs still.
“Why aren’t you leaving, Sloane?”
She couldn’t look away from him. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t?”
She shook her head, her eyes still locked with his.
He took a step forward, his fingers lifting to rest on her knee. Holding her in place or touching her one last time she wasn’t sure. He cleared his throat. “Can I wager a guess?”
“If you wish.”
“You feel safe here. Safe with me. And that—” He pointed to her left arm. “Whatever happened to cause that was not safe. It was horrific. And you know in your gut you don’t want to retreat to that place. Don’t want to have to face whatever it was that happened to you.”
Her lips pulled in for a long moment before she exhaled. “Maybe.”
“So stay.” The words left him, raw and guttural.
Slowly, his hand lifted from her knee and he held his palm up to her.
For all his golden brown eyes swore that she was safe here—she felt it from him, felt it in her bones—she feared she was making a horrid mistake.
But everything Reiner had done for her—aside from those first days of holding her captive in a room—had proven him honorable. He’d treated her with respect, welcomed her in his home, at his table, with his niece. He wasn’t a monster. Wasn’t about to cause her harm. If anything, he was a harbor. A harbor against the turmoil of not remembering. Against the sobering reality of her mangled arm.
She drew a breath deep into her lungs, her voice shaking as she exhaled. Her gaze dropped to his upturned palm. “I don’t want to want to stay.”
“I know.”
