Page 93 of Ashes of Betrayal

She’d done it.

She was through.

Pushing herself up, she peered into the murky Albian dawn, where snowflakes fluttered like apple blossom from a purple sky. She realized then that she was trembling; the strength of her Shee form had deserted her. Her muscles were weaker, her body softer and more ungainly. It would take her a few moments to get used to it.

A cry ripped from her throat. “Cailean!”

“I’m here.” Strong hands grasped her under the arms and dragged her forward, from under the shadow of the stones. “I’ve got you.”

An instant later, Cailean scooped her up, crushing her against the wall of his chest, and carried her down the hill, away from The Ring of Caith.

Still shaking, Bree clung to him.

The scent of leather, smoke, and clove wrapped itself around her—and the tension that had knotted tight under her ribs slowly released.

At the bottom of the knoll, he set her down. Feannag and Skaal were waiting for them under the bare, snow-encrusted branches of a hazel tree that grew on its own, a few yards back from the woods.

Cailean gently took hold of her chin and raised it so their gazes met. Her husband looked frozen to the marrow. The tips of his nose and ears were red, and his breath steamed in the gelid air.

“You’re bleeding,” he said, his thumb sweeping below her lower lip, and coming away red.

“It’s nothing,” she gasped. “I bit my tongue on the way through, that’s all.”

Cailean’s gaze dipped right then, his eyes narrowing as his hand lowered to her shoulder guard. Bree stiffened, knowing that he’d seen where the arrow had scored the boiled leather. “Were you attacked?”

“Aye.” She swallowed. “Mor’s raven spotted me yesterday … and she sent her bodyguards after me … the same ones who tried to abduct Lara.” She shuddered then as the realization of how close she’d come to being captured hit her. “They nearly had me.”

Cailean breathed a curse. He cupped her face then, staring deep into her eyes.

In the dim light of dawn, his gaze was dark, anguished.

An ache rose under her breastbone. “It’s all right,” she whispered, covering his hand with hers. “I’m here now … where I belong.”

Cailean stared down at his wife’s lovely face. The pale morning sun highlighted the freckles that dusted her nose. Frank hazel eyes, filled with centuries of knowledge, stared up into his.

The curves he remembered well strained against her leather vest and tight leggings. She was much shorter in her Marav form. Of late, he’d gotten used to his wife hardly having to lift her chin to meet his eye; she felt a little different in his arms. More fragile, softer. She no longer smelled of rose. But the husky timbre of her voice was the same as before.

“You are,” he replied, wishing his voice didn’t sound so naked, so vulnerable. Gods, he’d worried about her these past two days. He’d tortured himself with visions of her captured and executed.He hated feeling so useless. His wife had been running for her life, and he’d been standing around, freezing his balls off, while he waited for her.

Bree’s full lips curved then, even as her eyes gleamed. “It’s done, Cailean,” she whispered. “I’m Marav again … like you.”

“I would have loved you the same, even if you’d remained Shee,” he reminded her, his voice catching.

She swallowed. “I know.”

Silence fell then, The Whistle shrieking around them as the snow swirled. A blizzard was rising. However, they remained locked in each other’s arms.

The pressure in Cailean’s throat tightened. He wanted to catch hold of this moment in his hand, like a snowflake. But just like the delicate fragment of ice, time couldn’t be held prisoner. Nonetheless, the exhilarating relief that swamped him, under the looming shadow of The Ring of Caith, ignited a warmth deep in his chest—one not even the biting wind could dull.

He had his wife in his arms once more, and now their life together could start properly.

He became aware then that he could no longer feel his feet.

They needed to get out of this bone-numbing chill. While he’d been waiting for her, he’d built a shelter out of pine boughs on the edge of a clearing within the woods. He couldn’t wait to take his wife into their shelter and love her long. Heat ignited in the pit of his belly as he anticipated entangling himself in Bree and sinking deep into her.

Dragging himself out of distracting thoughts, ones that had turned his prick to wood inside his breeches, Cailean focused on practical matters. He needed to move before his feet turned to lumps of ice. “Are you hungry?”

She nodded. “Starving.” She lifted a hand to stroke his jaw, shadowed now by a few days’ beard growth. The night before, he’d cleaned himself with handfuls of snow—a bracingexperience that left his teeth chattering like dice. However, he hadn’t bothered to shave. “I’ve barely eaten anything since we saw each other last … there wasn’t any time.”

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