Page 31 of Love Me Forever
Brianna wanted to draw closer to him. It was an unrelenting ache and it startled her. She wanted so badly to feel his body against hers. She sighed as quietly as she could so not to disturb him. Her hands simply itched to touch him, and in places she thought she would never want to touch a man again. Instead she kept a distance from him. She thought it safer and much more proper, though she wondered if her fears made the decision for her.
She sighed again and turned away from him to rest on her side.
He in turn turned on his side and faced her back. He had given himself a sound silent thrashing since they had gone to bed. He had been a fool for kissing her the many times he had. Now he could think of nothing but touching her and kissing her in far more intimate places.
He was a man who took pride in controlling his emotions, his passions. But at the moment he felt like a young lad who was eager to taste a woman for the first time. That would not do. Not do at all. So he kept his thoughts neutral, fighting the urge to reach out and draw her to him, touch her, kiss h e r . . . and make love to her.
Damned, if he was not in trouble.
He moaned in frustration and turned his back to her back.
The night continued on, and it was not until they both fell into a deep slumber that they drifted into each other’s arms and settled there for the night.
* * *
The weather turned frigid,and Royce added extra logs to the fire. Still there was a chill to the cottage from the incessant wind outside. It seemed to creep through the cracks and crevices and slip past the fire’s warmth to torment the flesh.
Brianna had been up and about that morning with Royce’s help. She was steady on her feet and suffered only minor pains and aches, though on occasion her lower back would trouble her. Royce had told her that the bruise had been severe and was continuing to heal. He insisted she not stand too long, for prolonged periods on her feet caused her back great discomfort.
She was, however, becoming bored with her confinement and lack of mobility. She simply wanted to do for herself without asking permission from Royce. He continued to make certain she did as he directed, and though she understood he did so from concern, she wanted her freedom returned to her.
After Arran had run off, she tasted freedom like she had never known before. She had been grateful to her brother, Ian, and her sister-in-law, Moira. They both had helped her through a difficult situation. And Moira had helped her to rebuild her self-esteem and gain her freedom.
Brianna had grown accustomed to making her own choices, and she intended to keep it that way.
She did not want to seem ungrateful, for Royce had done much for her, but she wished him to understand how she felt.
She sat in bed, the pillows tucked firmly behind her back, and the wool blankets tucked around her and his fur cloak thrown across her legs. Her blue shawl was wrapped around her shoulder for added warmth, and she had pinned her hair up with a comb.
She felt comfortable and confident when she turned her attention to where he sat at the table working on his arrows. She was not prepared for the way her heart jumped at the sight of him. The firelight reflected off his dark hair and cast a partial shadow across his face, concealing his scars and making him a man of mystery.
She thought the shadows not only concealed his face but his identity as well. The shadows kept him well hidden from prying eyes and perhaps from himself. Why, then, did she find this mystery man so very appealing?
Why did the shadows not disturb her? Why did she feel she understood him? And why did her heart pound so strongly in her chest when she gazed upon him?
“Did you need or want something, Brianna?”
“I would like to talk with you.”
He did not hesitate. He placed the arrow he worked on down on the table, wiped his hands with a clean cloth, and walked over to the bed.
She watched him. He moved with purpose, as though every step were orchestrated, every motion intentional. He was a man of confidence with a touch of arrogance, yet he possessed a tremendously caring heart.
He sat beside her on the bed. “I am at your service.”
She had not thought of him that way, but he was actually at her service. When she needed something, he was there. He looked after her every need, and here she was about to do what? Be selfish when he was being unselfish.
He wanted her to follow his orders because of her own foolishness. If she had not attempted to get out of bed on her own he would never have ordered her to obey him. And he really did not order her about and he gave her choices. He had asked her when she wished to do things.
He had never really forced her to do anything, not even kiss him.
“Deep in thought again?” he asked and leaned close to steal a faint kiss.
Her heart simply melted and she felt guilty for her selfish thoughts.
‘Tell me what troubles you, for the worry is clear on your face.”
She bit at her lower lip, no longer feeling the urge to discuss the matter with him and wondering what to say to him.
