Page 17 of Kilty Plea
With him holding her so gently, but with anger in his tone?
Flamingo feathers, she wished she could see his expression!
“I didnae ken that,” he reminded her, his hands moving to her shoulders. “Remember, Flora? That was yer Abbot’s idea, no’ mine. I agreed to take ye to the next village—.”
“Please—.” Her voice broke on a sob. “Please.”
Only, she wasn’t certain what she was begging for.
Please dinnae leave me.
Mayhap he heard the unspoken words, because with a muttered, “Fooking hell,” he shook his head and pulled her into his arms.
‘Twas becoming a familiar place to be held, tucked up under his metal chin, and Flora felt…
Warm.
Protected.
Safe.
One hand stroked her back as she sobbed against his chest and he murmured soft nonsense words.
But he didn’t promise to take her with him.
The fire had died down by the time he finally released her, and Flora felt drained. The exhaustion and fear and anger were still there, but the exhaustion was winning, dulling everything else to a vague throb in the back of her soul.
She’d needed the cry, aye.
But more, she’d needed his comfort.
Ducking hill, how she’d needed that.
How she craved it, even more.
“Get in the bedroll,” he commanded, his tone clipped.
Her eyes flashed up to meet his, or where she guessed his eyes would be. “Why?” She was too wrung-out to be afraid or excited at the thought of sex with this man.
“Because ye need to sleep.” Oh, mother’s love, he was still angry. “I’ll sit up and watch the fire.”
She was already shaking her head but was uncertain why she was being stubborn. “Nay, ‘tis yer bedroll. I’ll sit up whileyesleep.”
He watched her for a long moment, that helmeted head tipped to one side, before he blew out a breath. “Climb into the bedroll, Flora,” he commanded again, only this time he sounded resigned. “I’ll join ye.”
Her breath caught, wondering if that meant her terrible seductionhadworked. Mayhap something showed in her face, because he held up his hand, palm out.
“We’resleeping, Flora. If we’re ever going to fook, ‘twill be becauseyewant it, no’ because of something ye think I can do for ye.”
Keep me with ye.
But she was too exhausted to make sense of the jumble of emotions in her head and her heart, so instead of continuing to argue with him, Flora sank down onto the bedroll and pulled the heavy cloak atop her.
She watched through heavy eyelids as Payton built up the fire again, saw to the horse, then went outside the firelight to piss. He was out there a long time, and she was almost asleep by the time he returned.
He stepped over her and settled behind her so his back was to the rock, and placed his hand on her hip. When he tugged, her arse settled against his front—just the way they’d been all day—and the back of her head thwacked against the steel of his helm.
He slept with it on? Surely that wasn’t a rule of the Hunters?
