Page 65 of The Guardian's Bride
“Out of the mouths of babes.” He scowled playfully. “And here I thought I was handsome and virile, like Sir Lancelot of old.”
“You are very handsome,” she said. And virile, a thought that sent soft lightning through her. Suddenly shy, she petted Bean’s head, scrunching the dog’s ears. “I heard a noise and wondered if someone had come to fetch me for Colban.”
“He is asleep, and so is Marjorie. All is well.”
“I was going to go up in a little while, but I do not want to disturb them.”
“Let them rest.” In his arms, Bean stretched for more head rubs, and squirmed enough that he set her down, then gave her a little push through the doorway. “Up you go.” He shut the door quickly. “She will squeeze right back through here if I leave it open.”
“Where does it lead?”
“To my chamber. These two rooms are connected.” He watched her for a moment. She felt a tug, hard and sure and nearly physical, between them. Her heart beat so loudly shethought he might hear it. “I should go,” he said. “You need to sleep.”
“So do you.” The pull to be near him felt insistent.
He grasped the iron latch, turned. “Thank you. I am glad you were here for the lad. If you had not caught him, he could have been injured more seriously.”
“The arm will bother him for a bit, but will heal.”
“Such things happen. When I was young, I often fell, tripped, climbed, jumped, broke, or bruised myself. Aunt Jennet threatened to pack me in wool and shut me in a box until I was older. I believed her, and worried whenever she got the yarns out.”
She laughed. “Colban is very like you. He even has a dimple in his chin, I see that now. He is a happy child. And so happy you are home.”
“I am not home enough. But Marjorie and Aunt Jennet are good for him. He likes you too.” His voice softened and his eyes sparkled. “Go rest.”
“I will look in on your lad early in the morning.”
“Aye.” He pulled on the latch. “Good night.”
“Good night.” She did not want him to leave.
Aedan opened the door, then closed it so fast she thought the dog had bolted toward it. He turned, reached out, and pulled her into his arms.
The kiss was sudden, tender, deep—not the impulsive kiss shared on the longship, but a kiss of passion and certainty. She melted like butter at the first touch of his lips, at his hands on her waist.
He drew back in a natural question, and she answered by circling her arms around his neck, pressing to him. His hand cradled the back of her head, her hair spilling loose down her back as she leaned into his sure embrace. The wonder of thatswift, surprising kiss and the sense that it declared something honest and real between them thrilled through her, crown to toe.
She had wanted this, scarcely realizing it, but her body knew before her mind or heart just how much she wanted this with him. A soft moan escaped her, pleasure and desire, and his next kiss covered it. Cupping her face in his hands, he pulled away, touching his brow to hers.
“Och, lass, we cannot—”
“We can.” The words surprised her, out before her usual reason could take over.
“God in heaven,” he murmured, and pulled her hard against him to kiss her again, the firm response of his body stirring her body too, so that heat shivered through her. He leaned back, his height such that her toes all but came off the floor.
But then he set her on her bare feet. “I did not mean to disturb your rest.”
“You are not disturbing it,” she whispered. “Suddenly I am not tired.”
“Ah, and what shall we do about that, hey?” He brushed her hair back, tipped her chin up, kissed her.
“You could stay for a bit,” she said in a rush.
“Could I?” It was not a request—it was pondering. “I am not sure.”
“I just—do not want you to go yet.” She felt a new urge to act on her feelings before the moment was lost to doubt, to reason. She was learning something from him, feeling her protective caution beginning to shake loose, like leaves from a tree.
“Rowena,” he said, taking her hand. She turned, hoping he would sit with her—but a sharp pain stung through her ankle and she winced, unable to put weight on it.
