Page 37 of The Falcon Laird
“Sweet rood, you are exhausted,” He led her to a wooden chest, where she sat. He sat beside her. “My lady, you have saved our lives by saving all this storage.”
“But now that you know, what will you do?” He saw uncertainty, even fear, flicker in her eyes.
“I made you a promise,” he said softly. “Think you I will not honor it?”
She shrugged. “You are a Sassenach knight.”
“Not here. In this place, I am but a man.” His heart began to pound; he was acutely aware that her shoulder was pressed against his arm, her body warm beside his own. “Did you think I would summon the nearest garrison to cart this stuff away?”
“I was not sure. But I had to show you and take the chance you would not betray me again.”
“Christian—” He sighed. “I have not betrayed you. When I took you from Carlisle, I surely did not know that you imagined me some warrior saint, or at least a Scottish knight, and exalted in your eyes.”
She looked away. “I do not exalt you. Nor do I trust you.”
“You trust me some,” he said. “Else you would not have shown me this at all. You might have sent Dominy and Will down here in secret to haul up what was needed. We have to appease that great appetite of yours.”
She laughed reluctantly. “This is for all our well-being. But do not let the English know of it.”
“I will not. Did Henry and the English hurt you so? Do you mistrust me because of their deeds?”
She stood, folding her arms. “You saw how gently the English kept me at Carlisle.”
He stood too. “I did. And I should tell you King Edward trusts me even less than you do.”
She looked surprised. “He doubts you? Why?”
“A tedious epic, my lady. But it is so. Now, look for whatever you need to bring out of here now. I will carry that and yourclàrsach—is that the word?—up to the tower. What shall we have for supper?”
“Barley and beans, perhaps, and onion. There is a salt here too. Dominy can make a soup.” As brushed past him, Gavin reached out and laid a hand on her arm.
“I am not your enemy.”
“I do not know that for sure.”
“But I know it. Upon my honor, I know it.” He raised his hand to touch the side of her face, then the soft, cool mass of her shortened hair. “There is no need for war between us, lady.”
She watched silently in the warm circle of torchlight. He stroked the back of her neck, touched her shoulder. She drew in a little breath and closed her eyes for a moment.
Deep within, he felt a steady pulsing rhythm in his body that urged him to draw her closer. When he did, she did not resist, though it surprised him—he was prepared to let her go. But when he eased his fingers along her neck, she tipped her head back and drifted her eyes shut.
“This bitterness cuts both of us,” he murmured, “and I am weary of it. As are you, I think.”
Christian sighed and laid a hand on his chest. He knew she needed to leave here, needed rest. But he wanted, just for a moment, to feel comfort, give comfort, to touch her soft skin, feel the cool weight of her hair. He wanted to feel her forgiveness—that more than anything else.
But desire edged him toward more. He wanted to pull her into his arms, kiss her, love her, his wife. He rubbed her shoulder, felt her gradually relax as an infusion of warmth spread through him. Yet he felt something finer, a sense of peace and wellbeing here in this silent, ancient chamber hidden in the heart of the promontory.
He lowered his head, felt her breath warm his mouth. “You asked me to be just a man here.”
“I did,” she whispered. Sudden fire plummeted to his loins at her words. His heart pounded like a taut drum. He traced the shape of her cheek, her chin.
“You are so finely made, like silk and velvet.” He rested a hand at her back. She glided closer, without protest. “At the abbey, when you were ill, you were not so distrustful of me.”
“I felt safe then,” she breathed.
“You can feel safe now,” he whispered. His mouth hovered over hers, and he grazed over her lips, sending a lightning strike through his body. The gentle kiss he gave her was an aching, silent question. Her lips moved beneath his in acceptance, giving the answer he craved.
Drawing in a breath, he pulled her closer and kissed her, breathless and deep, fitting his mouth gently over hers. She tipped her head back as he sank his fingers in the glossy silk of her curls.
