Page 45 of Beyond Dreams

“Okay,” she interjected, “I can think of a dozen words to describe today’s misfortunes, butadventureis not one of them.”

Ignoring this, he went on, “Your kiss is still fresh on my mind. Warming each other is probably nae a guid idea. I dinna mind consummating in this setting, even with this pain and the continued rain, but I would guess you might reject the idea.”

A shocked gasp and widened eyes preceded her next argument. “I said warm each other, not grope and...and nothing else. God, is that all you think about? Just because I kissed you doesn’t mean I am ready for—and seriously? Out here?”

Duncan grinned, enjoying her discomfiture. “I’ve got a bonny wife, who just proved her worth tenfold this day—and that cameafterher bold and brilliant kiss. Och, and she treated me to a pleasing view of her slender legs—how do you get them so smooth looking? So aye, I’ve got coupling on my mind.”

“Such a man,” she accused, but not with any true disgruntlement that he could detect.

“Fine and I’ll table the coupling for a later time,” he allowed indulgently. “But why kiss me, Holly? If nae to advance the union?”

“Honestly, at this point, I have no idea,” she said pertly. “And I’m already starting to regret it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her shoulders slump, saw her tip her head back with resignation.

“That’s not true,” she said then, a sigh chasing her words. “ I take it back. The truth is and this will make no sense to you, I’m sure, but I saw you talking to your horse earlier and it struck me as something that...a good person would do. Like, I can’t imagine a jerk doing that, being nice to his horse, speaking so gently to him.”

“You kissed me because I spoke to the destrier?”

“Partly,” she answered, her cheeks pinkening. She busied herself, kept her face turned away from his probing gaze by using the dagger to scratch lines into the roots of the tree poking through the ground on her far side. “But also, if you must know, because you looked pretty good standing there in the flowers. Of course now I’ll probably never want to come back here, not to be tormented by the image of dead bodies lying all around.”

A full ten seconds passed before Duncan commented. “Pretty guid, aye?”

Holly turned her face and flashed a brilliant smile at him. “That’s all you heard, isn’t it?”

“It’s nae everyday a lass says she finds me handsome.” Oh, he liked this version of his wife very much.

She lifted her wrapped hand, extending her forefinger. “Which, technically, I did not say. But you are and you know it, but funny...I wouldn’t have thought you the type to go fishing for compliments.”

He couldn’t recall or imagine that he ever had. “Only from my wife.”

“And only as part of your foreplay, no doubt,” she accused. “Revving the engine of attraction?”

He had no idea what that might mean but knew one truth. “’Tis a guid thing, aye? That I find you beautiful and you ken mepretty guid.”

“Definitely better than the alternative,” she agreed. “But seriously, Duncan, I’m not undressing a dead man or wearing his clothes.”

Returned to grimness—the idea didn’t sit well with him either—he challenged her, “You’ll rethink that when its dark and cold and you’re then forced to scurry around by moonlight, undressing the bloated bodies.”

“Ew, Duncan, that doesn’t help.” She dropped the dagger and wiped her hand on her skirt. “I still think I should walk back and bring help to you. No one is coming.”

“Too late now, lass, with darkness nigh.”

She widened her eyes again at him, forcing her brows into the middle of her forehead. “Which is why I wanted to go earlier.”

Reaching out his good arm, he took her hand from her lap, drawing her gaze to him. “They’ll come,” he reiterated, squeezing his fingers around hers. “This is safer. We’re nae moving. But we need their clothes.”

Holly groaned aloud, rolling her head a bit, amusing for how she resembled a bairn just now, whingeing about something she really didn’t want to do.

He next employed a little manipulation, same as she’d done with him earlier when she’d wanted him to move. He shifted, pretending that he might stand. “I’ll get it.”

“No, you won’t,” she was quick to argue with him, surging to her feet. “Ugh, fine. I’ll do it.”

She bent and collected the dagger but did not strike out immediately. First she squared her shoulder and fisted her hands, mumbling something aboutfourteenth century nonsense, which wrought a chortle from Duncan that he was barely able to keep inside, before she marched forward with purpose.

She grumbled throughout the entire ordeal, her jerky statements and sentiments coming in bursts and waves to Duncan, some louder and more annoyed than others. He grinned repeatedly and thought about how funny Fate was. If his wife had not pleaded to get to know him before their marriage was made whole, if she’d not spied the wildflower glen, which the denizens of Thallane regularly overlooked, if she’d not kissed him, if they’d not been set upon by outlaws, if she’d not—even now—proven how resilient and resourceful she was, chances were he’d have lain with her on their wedding night and thought little of her afterward. He’d not have been given this opportunity to become smitten with his own wife.

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