Page 129 of The Rogue and His Flower

“It’s not that. Just sometimes after that happens, it takes me a while to readjust, to slip back into feeling like myself and not that desperately broken child I once was. Doesn’t help that I’m on my period either,” I admit, wincing a little at the dull ache.

“I hate what they did to you,” he says, anger laced within his words.

“I do too, but please, can we not talk about it anymore? It’s better that way. I don’t want to remember that time. I want to forget it.”

“Of course. I’m sorry…” he apologies, his voice trailing off as his gaze drops from my face to my stomach where my hand is pressed gently against it. “It’s our last few hours together before we have to catch our flight this afternoon. I wanted to take you somewhere, but if you’d rather stay here and rest, that’s okay too.”

“I don’t need to rest. Let’s do whatever you were thinking.”

“But you’re in pain.”

“It’s manageable.”

“I don’t want you to have to manage it,” he says a little gruffly. “I don’t want you to be in pain.”

“It’s no big deal. You get used to it. I’m okay, truly,” I say, reaching for him, but as my hand presses against his, he reaches for me and tugs me into his arms.

“C’mere,” he says, and I let out a surprised laugh as I drop onto his lap.

“Are you feeling okay, Dalton?”

“I don’t like to see you hurting,” he says quietly, and even as his large hand presses against my stomach gently I know he’s not talking about my period pain this time, but how I was last night.

“You helped ease that hurt,” I whisper, cupping his face and clutching him to my chest. “Thank you.”

He nods, his fingers coasting over my stomach, rubbing gentle circles over the cotton of my sundress. “I feel protective of you, Daisy.”

“I know,” I reply, stroking his stubbled check, loving how his arm curls around my back, how comfortable I feel in his arms, howloved. Maybe I’m wrong to assume that, but I can’t help it. I do feel loved in this moment, and even if he’s not in love with me, right now his empathy and kindness is enough.

“I always have…” His voice trails off as he shifts a little, looking up at me.

“I see that now,” I admit.

“You do?”

“Yes. Though, admittedly, every time you interfered with my love life before I thought you were just being an arse.”

He lets out a soft laugh. “I can’t deny that I was an arse too.”

We fall silent, and I feel another surge of love unfurling in my chest, this connection between us tethered not just by the few weeks we’ve spent together since I moved into his home, but byyears of shared memories. Somehow they’ve woven us together, I just hope they’re strong enough to keep us that way.

“Thirty-eight,” he murmurs eventually.

I frown. “Thirty-eight?”

“Yes,” he replies, lifting his hand and gently swiping his finger across my cheek, over the bridge of my nose and across the other cheek. “You have thirty-eight freckles scattered across your face.”

A smile pulls up my lips, as my heart doubles in size at his words. “You’ve counted them?”

“I’ve counted them,” he agrees.

“You know you really are good at making a girl fall in–”

But he cuts me off with a gentle press of his lips against mine, and I don’t protest, I simply curl into his arms, kissing him back.

“This is stunning!”I exclaim, stepping onto the grassy area that leads to a dozen rocks circling a pool of crystal clear water, a waterfall cascading from a cliff face behind it.

“I found it the last time I was here. I’m glad you like it,” he says, grinning. “I thought you might like to take a swim?”

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