Page 29 of Claimed
Tears escaped then, trickling down Drew’s cheeks. Usually, she hated to weep and would scrub away any treacherous tear. But tonight, she cried silently, her eyes squeezed shut, her chest aching.
14
Beyond Repair
DREW SLEPT BADLY. She passed most of the night staring up at the smoke hole in the tent roof, at a patch of star-strewn sky.
She’d wept at intervals too, when the pain in her chest got too much—whenever her thoughts turned to Carr.
Moments from their tryst in the oak woods haunted her. The feel of his mouth on her neck. The way he’d kissed her as if she was a feast he’d been hungering for his whole life.
He was right—it had been a claiming. As she recalled the intensity of their passion, Drew broke out into a cold sweat.
It wasn’t the fevered images of their joining that reduced her to tears, but all the kindnesses he’d shown her over the years. Unlike every other man close to her—except for her half-brother, Craeg—he’d never tried to change her. He’d never once implied that she was too aggressive, too mouthy, or too self-centered.
Carr loved her exactly how she was.
And she knew she’d never be accepted by anyone like that again.
An ill mood plagued her when she emerged from her tent. It was a chill, misty dawn. The warmer weather and brighter days had disappeared, and winter’s gloom settled over the world once more—almost as if it sensed Drew’s dark humor this morning.
Aidan was bent over a small griddle, frying up oatcakes.
“Morning, milady,” the young warrior greeted her with a smile. “No butter or honey to go with these I’m afraid … but they’re fresh at least.”
Drew favored him with a wan smile and took the two cakes he passed her. They smelled wonderful, yet she had little appetite this morning.
“Thank ye, Aidan,” she murmured, before biting into a cake and forcing down a mouthful. As she ate, Drew glanced around. Without even realizing it, she was looking for Carr.
He’d plagued her thoughts all night, had made sleep near to impossible. And when she caught sight of him saddling the horses behind the tents, her chest constricted. Carr had his back to her, yet she could see by the rigidity of his shoulders and back, his jerky movements as he swung a saddle onto a horse’s back and did up the girth, that he was unhappy.
She was the cause.
Drew’s fingers tightened around the oatcake. If she was a braver person, she’d approach him now and make a proper apology. The man deserved that at least.
I am brave,she reminded herself, setting her jaw.This needs to be done.
Leaving the fireside, she circuited the edge of the tents that two men were starting to take down and marched up to Carr.
Hearing someone approach behind him, he turned.
Drew’s breathing caught when she saw his face; she was sure she looked pale and strained this morning, but he looked worse.
Dark shadows smudged under his eyes. He almost appeared unwell.
Drew stopped a few feet back from him, aware that she was still clutching her uneaten oatcakes. Holding out the one she hadn’t taken a bite from, she smiled. “Here … I don’t imagine ye have eaten yet.”
Carr shook his head, his expression stony. “Keep them for yerself, milady … I shall break my fast when I’m done here.”
The cool formality of his tone cut her deeply. Gone was the man who favored her with slow smiles, who’d shared two jugs of wine with her, and who’d spoken of his past. This morning he was ‘Broderick’, the aloof guard. He was virtually a stranger.
And yet Drew wasn’t that easily put off. Lowering her hand, she kept the weak smile plastered to her face. It was her armor; without it, she’d crumple. “Carr,” she began, her voice catching. “I have to say this … for I might not get a chance later … I’m sorry. I had no idea ye felt the way ye do. If I had, I wouldn’t have asked that favor of ye.”
His gaze shadowed, and a chill prickled Drew’s skin.
I’ve just made things worse,she thought dully.He’s angry now.
“I’m not sorry,” he replied roughly. “And I won’t be … ever.”
