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“They touched you.”
Eyes closed, she nodded into his chest as though that made sense. It did. And it didn’t.
He was a killer. He’d taken them all down so quickly, so effortlessly, that the fear of hell should be coursing through her.
It wasn’t. And that was wrong. Wasn’t it?
All she wanted were his arms around her.
It took several more minutes of silence before she could drag a real breath down deep into her lungs. Shifting her head along his chest, she opened her eyes, staring down at the tips of his bare toes.
“I’m sorry I stole your boots. I thought I was just coming out here for a moment so the pup could do his business, and then I was coming back up and crawling back into bed. I thought I would be quick. I shouldn’t have come down here. This was my fault.”
“I don’t care about my damn boots. This was not your fault, Vic.” He leaned back, nudging his fingers on her chin and he tilted her face upward. “Do you hear me? Not your fault. You didn’t ask to be attacked.”
She nodded.
He bent down to pick up the dog, and then ushered her back inside.
They still had a long day ahead of them.
{ Chapter 13 }
On her own horse, Victoria settled her skirts around her legs and Rafe attempted to not stare at her left leg, hoping to catch a glimpse of skin.
He’d seen more of those legs than any man had a right to over the past days, yet still he wanted more. Under the smoothest skin, her long and lean muscles had flexed anytime he’d brushed against them. His knuckles. His wrist. His fingertips.
He was, frankly, surprised he hadn’t managed to lick her calf at some point.
Victoria was not one to sit in a drawing room—he’d discovered that in their conversations. Her body loved to ride, to move, to do anything in the outdoors, and it showed in the sculpted lines of her legs.
That she currently sat astride the horse, trying to make her skirts reach the tops of her boots, hadn’t helped with how she needed to cover herself. The stables had an extra horse for her, but no sidesaddle. So riding astride would have to do. Not at all proper, she reminded him.
He’d only scoffed a laugh at that. Nothing about their journey had been proper, including the many days she rode astride while in front of him.
Practicality won out in her mind each and every time she had to weigh decorum against efficiency. He admired that about her.
For how he’d initially viewed her as a pampered princess, she was nothing of the kind. If he’d had any lingering doubts on the matter, they were shattered this morning when she had sliced that dagger across the back of that man’s knees.
It’d been a thing of beauty.
Her sliding in the snow, her hair flying behind her, her eyes focused and determined, the blade arched at the perfect angle as she sliced into flesh.
He was getting hard just thinking about it.
“Pup.”
He looked up at her. She’d finished fussing, her hands extended down to him.
Rafe cleared his throat as he attempted to clear his mind and handed the wiggling pup in his hands up to her. She wasn’t about to leave the dog behind and he was past the point of trying to convince her to do so.
As she settled the puppy into the pouch she’d quickly sewn onto the front of her cloak this morning before they left, he pulled free the dagger and sheath he kept in his right boot. He grabbed her left ankle, pulling it out of the stirrup. He loosened the ties of her boot and slipped the dagger and sheath in alongside her calf.
For her, protection. For him, a bonus peek at her leg.
“Your dagger?” She looked down at his fingers retying her boot, curiosity in her eyes.
He nodded. “I think it best if you keep this one on your person.”
