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“Ye dunnae need to love a man for him to be yer lover,” he growled.
Icy contempt swept across her face. “I would nae ever join with a man I did nae love, unlike ye joining with Lillianna,” she growled.
“Perchance I love her,” he rebutted, relieved that Sorcha would not easily give herself to a man and pleased that she was jealous of Lillianna.
Devil take it, he had no right to be pleased.
Sorcha bit her lip. “I did nae ken that—That is, I mean to say, I was led to believe your relationship with Lillianna was—” Her words abruptly halted, and she looked away. “Never mind,” she said in a shaky whisper, making the desire to tell her the truth overwhelm him.
“I dunnae love her,” he said in a low voice. “And I have nae joined with her since returning to the castle. I find I dunne have interest in dallying with her.”
Sorcha slowly turned to look at him once more. “Ye dunnae? Truly?” she asked. The surprised wonder in her voice and the matching look on her face was like a battering ram upon his control.
“Truly,” he affirmed. “I find I want only one woman.” When her eyes widened, he hastened to add, “but I kinnae act upon my desire. Much prevents it.”
A momentary look of sorrow passed over her features, but then her face became inscrutable. “The man I recalled is someone I care for as one would a brother or a sister.”
Undeniable relief that he had no right to have poured through him. “I see,” was all he allowed himself to say.
“In my memory,” she continued, “he is childlike in his mind.”
His brow furrowed. “How do you mean?”
“He is innocent like a child. He is a man, but I sensed he did nae have the ability to act like a man. He is kind and in danger, but from whom I kinnae say for certain. It is someone there. He needs my protection. I fear what may be happening to him in my absence.”
He stared at her openmouthed, silenced by the admiration he felt for her. She was beautiful, so much so that he knew most any man would want her. But it was the bravery she kept displaying that tempted him so much that he raised his hand and brushed it down the perfect slope of her cheek. “It will be fine,” he said gently.
“Ye kinnae ken such a thing,” she murmured, pulling back from him. “I ken the king’s intentions for me. Even if I remember my home, if it is the king’s choice, I will nae ever see it again. I must get back to my home once I recall where it is.”
“I vow I’ll help ye return there,” he said, shocked as the words left his mouth. Still, he did not regret them.
“Truly?” she asked, her astonishment clear in her tone.
“I would leave no innocent to the whims of a cruel, evil person,” he replied, choosing to focus on those feelings rather than his overwhelming yearning to keep her safe and happy.
Her face softened, and a gentle, lovely smile pulled at her lips. “Ye are truly a good man.”
The need to kiss her as he had before pounded through him. He motioned toward the target. “Shoot,” he said in a hoarse voice.
She nodded curtly, withdrew another arrow, and nocked it. He watched intently as she repeated the exact steps she had gone through before. His chest tightened at the familiarity. He liked watching her and learning her habits. What would it be like for her to know him and for him to know her so well that they could anticipate each other’s moods, offer comfort in time of need, or laugh at memories only the two of them shared? He’d never wanted that before. His brothers had those sorts of relationships with their wives. They could cheer up their wives or calm their fears with a touch, and they often shared secret smiles or looks. He’d never been jealous of it. In truth, he’d considered his brothers’ attachments to and concerns for their wives as a weakness that lessened them as warriors.
Sorcha’s arrow flew by him to hit its target true. A grin lit Sorcha’s face, and her joy instantly filled him with joy. He almost gasped as he comprehended that this was why his brothers always did everything they could to please their wives.
Sorcha’s gaze locked with his. “Is that shot acceptable to ye?”
In order to keep the wall between them, he knew he should offer only a gruff reply, but he could not do it. He could not destroy her happiness. “Aye,” he said. “It seems though yer mind has forgotten much, yer body remembers exactly how to shoot. I wonder who taught ye.”
“I wish I kenned,” she murmured. A twinkle came to her eyes. “I wonder if I could best ye in archery as I did in dagger throwing so long ago?”
“Och.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Ye deceived the lot of us.”
“I would nae do such a thing!” she teased. “Ye accuse me only to save yer manly pride.”
“Perchance,” he replied, relenting to her contagious good humor.
“Shall we have a contest, then?” she challenged.
“What would the contest and the prize be?” he asked, intrigued. Besides, he was never one to turn down a contest.
