Page 74 of The Thief
Fair point. But I know Alastríona well enough to know she'd rather fight beside us than hide while others die protecting her. She's got her father's courage, her father's loyalty.
Also her father's stubborn streak.
"I'll handle it," I say.
The meeting breaks up, everyone heading to their positions. Denis to coordinate with our external security. Malcolm to check weapons and ammunition. Danny to brief the men who'll be holding the house with us.
And me? I have to convince the woman I love to let me put her somewhere safe while I walk into a war zone.
Should be interesting.
CHAPTER TWELVE
alastríona
I wake up to the feeling of being watched.
Not the unsettling kind that makes your skin crawl, but the warm, careful attention of someone who's been awake for a while, studying your face like they're trying to memorize it.
Freddie's dark eyes are the first thing I see when I open mine. He's lying on his side, head propped on his hand, looking at me with an expression I can't quite read.
"Hey," he says softly, his voice deep and rough.
My skin tingles at the sound. "How long have you been watching me?"
"An hour or so. Didn't want to wake you."
There's something different about him this afternoon. Calmer, maybe. Like lying beside me has settled something restless inside him.
"Did you sleep?" I ask.
"No, I was content just watching you."
The honesty in his voice makes my chest tight. When was the last time someone looked at me like I was something precious?
"Oh," I mumble softly, unsure what I should say.
He reaches up and brushes a strand of hair from my face. The touch is gentle, reverent, like he's still not quite sure I'm real.
"We should probably get up," he says, but makes no move to leave the bed.
"Probably."
But neither of us moves. We lie there in the morning light filtering through the expensive curtains, close enough that I can feel his breath on my face, see the flecks of gold in his eyes.
"Alastríona."
My name sounds different in his voice this morning. Softer, more intimate. Like it belongs to him now.
"Yeah?"
"When you said you wanted to try this, did you mean it?"
"I meant it."
"Even knowing what's coming? What I might have to do today?"
I study his face, see the worry there; the fear that violence will change how I see him, will make me run back to Belfast and never look back.
