Page 66 of The Guardian's Bride
“What is it?” He took her elbow.
“Just—naught.”
“When you have said that before, it was something. You are in pain. What is it?”
“My ankle,” she admitted. “When I moved just now, it gave out a little. I twisted it on the steps when I grabbed Colban. Clumsy of me.”
“Not clumsy. Those steps can be treacherous, and Marjorie said there was a water spill. Can you walk?”
“It will be fine.” She took another step, felt a shot of pain, halted.
“Let me see.” He dropped to his haunches.
She drew up the long hem of her linen shift and stuck out her bare foot and ankle. In the flickering candlelight, she saw the darkening bruise on her outer ankle and part of her foot.
“No walking about the hills for you, lass.”
“It will heal. I put some ointment on it and will bandage it.”
He took her foot in the palm of his big, warm hand, and she rested her hand on his shoulder for balance. “I could bandage and splint it for you.” He grinned up at her.
“Truly, it will be fine soon.”
He set her foot down and stood. “Sometimes it is good to ask for help. Who heals the healer, hey?”
She blinked at his honesty. She was accustomed to treating others, solving their issues, but rarely asked for help herself. Yet Aedan had been there for her at Yester, on the water, and elsewhere, just when she had been most vulnerable. His help had felt natural, easy to accept.
“I will rest it and see how it does,” she said, and took a careful step. Another knife of pain stabbed through her foot. Wincing, she hopped.
“Come up,” he growled, and swept her into his arms. She set her arms around his neck as he tilted his head, looking at her quizzically, wondering. Then he kissed her again, holding her in his arms as he stood. These were not the tender kissesventured before, nor the shy kisses of years ago with her youthful husband, a sweet memory packed away in her heart, memories she had all but released.
These were powerful, startling kisses, welcome as a hearth on a cold night, kisses brimming with heat as his lips moved with hers, slaking and giving. Soon she was breathless, feeling their two hearts pounding together as one kiss became another and still another, luscious and deepening with every breath. He turned with her in his arms, and she knew that at the slightest hint from her, he would set her down, step away, end the freedom of this moment.
She did not want that. She wanted strong, honest, deep kisses, wanted his love to surround her. She wanted to shake off the caution she had worn like a caul, and let passion rise in her impulsively. The craving cascaded through her. The pain disappeared, forgotten in the circle of his arms.
Cupping his new-shaven jaw, she tilted her head to open to the slipping tease of his tongue, felt her body ache, surge for more.
He sucked in a breath, pulled back. “Lass, you are all I could ever—but I cannot.”
“But—”
“I mean I cannot hold you like this for long. My knee—that wicked scar.”
“Oh! Set me down, do. In there.” She indicated the sleeping chamber.
“Aye, my love.” He nuzzled his nose to hers. “Though what we may be tempted to do in there may not be the best course yet.”
My love.She heard that and little else, just savoring the sense of being enveloped in his bold spirit, his strength. Something was shifting within her, changing. She cared for him so much, more than anyone she had ever—loved, she thought. The feelingwas more than being held secure. It was an urge to reach out and surround him too. She had been the cautious and practical one among her sisters since childhood, reinforced by the tragedy of her first marriage, and made stronger by her work as a healer. But now she needed, wanted, to break free, not let caution hem her in again.
Chapter Eighteen
Carrying her, heknocked the door open and strode in to set her on the bed. The small, dim tower room with its curved walls formed a snug space in the light of a single candle as she sat. Aedan sank beside her, the rope-slung bed creaking and sagging under him. She laughed a little at that, remembering the bed in the tavern where they had talked and laughed, where she had begun to truly grow fond of him, of his size and strength and humor. She reached up to cup her hand on his newly bared cheek, the skin warm and gritty under her palm. He kissed her again, lightly this time, and set an arm around her.
Her heart pounded. She yearned, wanting him and yet, she was hesitant, her thoughts tumbling—push and pull, courage and fear.
He rested his cheek on her head. “This is madness, this between us, so quick, so sure. What is it?”
“I wonder too. Whatever it is, I like it,” she whispered. Cozy against him, she was aware of a fire building within her. “But I am not sure what I want just now.” Though her body knew, she was not sure she was that bold after all.
