Page 36 of Under the Mistletoe
“Keep walking if you want me to kill her.” The stench of the guy’s breath soured her stomach as the sting of his blade pressed into her neck.
Her fingers brushed the leather from the hilt of the foul man’s knife. What did Rand want her to do, stab the guy? Her gaze found Rand’s, and he gave the slightest nod.
Oh, he did.
She swallowed. Her stomach rolled at the notion.
“Trust me!” Rand’s voice carried as he emphasized those words. “I want to keep her alive.”
As much as she’d watched the field training, Astryn had never raised a weapon in her life, but she was out of options. Her hand wrapped around the worn leather handle of the knife, and she locked eyes with Rand again. He inched forward.
Astryn closed her eyes as she pulled the blade and, with everything she had, thrust it into what she hoped was the muscle of his leg.
“Ahhh!” The man stumbled forward, and Astryn pushed away from his loosened grip. She stepped aside as Rand advanced, his eyes never wavering from the attacker.
Rand strode over to the thug, who was holding his dagger in a quavering hand in a feeble defense. Rand sent the dagger flying with a flick of his sword and kicked him to the ground.
He glanced back to Astryn, then nodded. “You did good.”
Rand untied a leather strap from his leg, pulled the man’s hands away from the blade in his leg, and tied them behind his back. The blood was already soaking his pant leg. “I’d leave that knife there. I don’t have any way to stop the bleeding if you pull it out.”
The guy cursed at Rand and collapsed, unconscious from pain or maybe loss of blood. But it didn’t matter. He couldn’t hurt her now. She raised her shaking hand to brush away her hair, but it was stained with blood. That horrible man’s blood.
Rand stood over her. “Are you all right?”
She tried to answer, but an invisible weight seemed to be pressing on her chest. Her legs began to shake and then gave way. She landed on her knees, then dropped to a sitting position.
Rand knelt beside her in the dirt. “Astryn, are you hurt?”
She rubbed at the blood on her finger. “I can’t get it off. It won’t come off.”
Rand cupped her hands in his, covering the few drops of blood. “You’re safe, Astryn. Everything is going to be okay. Are you hurt?”
“I couldn’t stop him. They took me.” She tried to shake her head, but the movement was jerky. What was wrong with her? “I tried to leave a trail. I thought. I hoped?—”
“You did good, Astryn. Real good.” Rand brushed her hair away from her face, still scanning her for injury. He must have been satisfied because the tension in his shoulders finally loosened, and he crushed her to his chest, cradling her head. Was he shaking? “I found you. You are safe now.”
The tender words came out just above a whisper, and the gentleness of the moment broke her last thread of control. Her body trembled as a stream of tears poured forth. Here in Rand’s arms, shewassafe. She didn’t have to be proper. Controlled. She was free to feel it all.
The fear. The relief. And especially the unfairness. How could she love and be loved by a man so perfectly, and yet she would never be—could never be—his?
“Close your eyes and picture your little glade. What did you call it?” His hand smoothed over her hair.
“Craghaven.” She didn’t lift her head. Once they moved apart, the moment would vanish forever. Wrong or not, selfish or not, she wasn’t ready to let it go.
“Picture yourself in Craghaven. Sitting on your rock, soaking your feet in the cool water as the man you love builds you your little cottage.”
Astryn drew a slow breath, memorizing everything about the moment. The warmth of his skin coming through his tunic. The steady pounding of his heart, his musky scent that intoxicated her being. Even his breath against her cheek soothed her.
Astryn struggled to remember why this couldn’t work—why he couldn’t be hers.
“What does this man I love look like?”
Rand stilled as his heartbeat under her hand doubled in speed and his hold on her tightened.
She shouldn’t have asked that. But she wanted him to say it. Admit that he loved her, wanted her as much as she wanted him. To dream that perfect dream with her, of a world where he wasn’t only the man who rescued her but also the man who knew her heart so well that he’d carve out a quiet place in the glade for just the two of them.
But he didn’t say that. He just held her tight because he already knew the truth she refused to acknowledge. This was but a stolen moment. Nothing more.
