Page 120 of Mark of Love (Love Mark 3)

“We leave within the hour,” she announced.

Guess that meant our amazing night together was officially over.

With a groan, I flopped back on top of the bedding, mourning the dream I’d had of waking up and spending more time in her arms. But that would apparently have to wait.

“Aye aye,” I called back, lifting my thumb in the air.

Cat-form Holly jumped onto my chest, meowing. So I spent a minute petting her as she arched her back into my hand and turned in a circle before jumping off again, done with me, and dashed off to chase a leaf fluttering by.

Then I got my ass out of bed and helped the others prepare for the day.

Two hours later, I steered our group left, off the main roadway, and down an overgrown path. “Whoever we’re going to see sure doesn’t get out much, do they?” Melaina noted.

“Nope,” I answered.

She huffed, not appreciating my one-word answer.

“How much longer?” she asked.

“Maybe fifteen minutes,” I said. “It’s straight ahead on this trail.”

“Well then, why are we lollygagging? Let’s get there already.” She rode ahead as if disgusted with how slow we were going, when we weren’t going that slow at all.

Not that I minded. Glad for a moment alone with Quilla, I stalled Holly’s progress until my mate rode up beside me.

“Hey,” I murmured, studying her side profile. “You doing okay?”

She sent me an odd look, her brow wrinkling with confusion as she said, “Yes. Of course.”

“Good.” Finding it hard to read her contemplative mood, I added, “You’ve just been quiet this morning, that’s all.”

“Not much to say,” she answered, adding nothing to that.

“So…” Giving up polite discretion, I finally went blunt and asked, “No regrets, then?”

She blasted me with another confused frown as if the question completely baffled her. And I swear if she asked what I thought she might have regrets about, I might actually strangle her.

Metaphorically, of course. I’d never physically hurt her.

Then she answered, “No. Never.”

I hadn’t thought I’d been worried about her answer, but when I released a long breath, I realized I’d been scared shitless that she might be ashamed of what we’d done together.

“Good,” I repeated on a stiff nod, hoping to mask my self-conscious doubt. Then, because I had no idea what else to say, I added the obvious with a careless shrug. “Me neither.”

Except this wave of immense relief rolled off her, telling me—fuck—I hadn’t been the only one worrying about my mate’s stance on the night before. Jesus. She’d been worrying this whole time about me having regrets? Inconceivable.

“I woke up, wishing we could go back to last night and do it all over again,” I admitted.

An achingly hopeful expression lit up her brown eyes as she bobbed her head, silently agreeing. Shifting Holly closer to her horse, I reached for her face, and she leaned in to receive the touch.

But before I could make contact, Melaina startled me by saying, “Well, I’ll be damned. Would you look at that?”

“What?” Quilla asked, jerking away and turning toward her aunt.

Melaina stopped in her tracks and gazed up into the trees where she pointed. I followed the direction of her finger and heard chattering from a high branch before a brown furry blur darted past.

“You mean that squirrel?” I asked, confused.

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