Fifteen
Brodee awoke with Patience in his arms. Her warm body was curled around his, her hand on his bicep, her head against his shoulder, and the feeling of complete satisfaction in his chest. It terrified him more than any enemy he’d ever faced. He carefully extracted himself from her sleeping form, dressed, and then started for the door. The sun was just beginning to rise, and a good bout of training with his sword would help clear his head.
But when Patience whimpered in her sleep and thrashed about, he rushed back to her, kneeling beside the bed. “Shh, lass,” he whispered as he brushed her hair away from her face. She immediately quieted and stilled. He stayed by her side until her sleeping became even once more and then made his way to the rocky shore to work through the knots she had unwittingly created within him.
A salty breeze blew over him as he went through the paces of a fight, swinging his sword in arcs, ducking, jabbing, slicing, and lunging, but his mind would not clear of Patience. He stabbed the point of his sword into the ground and sat to look out at the sea. Waves lapped the shore, and the sun glinted off the blue-green waters.
Memories of his joining with his wife came back to him in exact detail. Her eyelashes fluttering against her olive skin. The slope of her cheekbones and the long sleekness of her legs. Her moans and whimpers of pleasure, and the warmth of her thighs locked around him. The way they’d found perfect harmony in movement together, and the way he’d lost himself while inside her.
It was the last thought that caused him to curse. He had to do better at controlling how she made him feel or he would soon find himself consumed by her. Yet he didn’t want to give up what they’d experienced last night, nor did he want to hurt her. She’d said she did not care if he gave her all of himself, but she had said it after he’d said he did not want soft emotions of love ever again.
His mind churned as he stood there. If he could be two different people—The thought stilled him. He could, in a sense. Why could he not give her passion and tenderness at night, but in the day, keep a distance? No hand-holding, no grazes of their fingers, no lingering looks. Respectfulness and protection, yes. Honor always. But he could draw a line that he would not cross, one by which he only allowed himself to feel for her at night. If he could control himself that way, he had no fear of falling into her, of her becoming the thing that could hurt him the most.
“Brodee?”
He started at Patience’s voice, every nerve in his body singing to life. Unchecked joy rose in him at her soft, husky tone. His first instinct was to gain his feet, pull her into his arms, and kiss her senseless until they possibly—no, definitely—ended up back in his bedchamber. Uncontrolled happiness was not good. Intemperate responses were not for him. He would contain his emotions, and in doing so, he would control anything he might feel if he ever lost her.
“Aye,” he answered.
He rose slowly and turned to her, her loveliness hitting him like a punch. It robbed him of breath and the ability to think for a moment. Her dark hair blew around her shoulders, strands of it whipping across her face. Her light gown molded to her breasts and contrasted her skin to perfection. Her eyes shone like two dark rocks polished to flawlessness. Her full, rosy lips were turned down. He wanted to kiss those lips. Instead, he clenched his teeth together and sent up a prayer.
Thoir neart dhomh.
“What do ye need strength for?” Patience asked, frowning at him.
He felt his lips part in shock. He’d spoken his thoughts aloud? His wife had passed on her tendency to blurt her most private thoughts. He went from clenching his teeth to grinding them. He’d have nothing but nubs left if he didn’t gain needed control immediately.
“Brodee?”
“Strength to have tolerance to teach ye today,” he snapped, then winced when she looked momentarily upset. But then his warrior wife’s face grew angry. That was better. He didn’t want her to be vexed with him, but it was preferable to her being hurt.
“If ye dunnae wish to work with me today—”
“’Tis nae that.” He jerked a hand through his hair. What the devil could he say?It’s not you, but it is. You are too soft. Too warm. Too kind. Too lovely. Too enticing.But most of all, she reminded him too much—dangerously so—of forgotten pleasures. Like how a smile from someone he cared for expanded his chest. How the simple act of holding hands with someone who meant something to him made his fingers twitch to curl tighter. How waking beside a person who had a piece of him could cause his breath to catch in his throat. How when he looked at her he could not help but hope that one day they had daughters who looked just like her and sons who would protect her and their sisters. He finally settled on, “I’m weary this morning, ’tis all.”
Unmistakable relief touched her features. “How long have ye been awake?”
“Since before dawn.”
“Ye did nae get much sleep. Tomorrow morning ye should stay abed longer.”
God, he wanted to, but not to sleep. He inhaled a long, slow breath. Here was the perfect opportunity to show her how their relationship would be. “I’m nae going to become lax simply because ye are now my wife. I’m nae going to change.”
She bit her lip but nodded. “Of course nae. I suppose ye should go to bed earlier, then.”
The mention of bed brought images of her naked body to mind. The irritation he felt at himself nearly choked off his ability to speak, but he managed to spit out, “Are ye ready to train?”
Her response was to whip out her dagger from the sheath at her hip and point it at him. “Aye,” she said with a grin.
They spent the better part of two hours working on her defensive skills, and Brodee was careful during that time to only touch Patience when it was absolutely necessary. And by the exasperated looks she gave him, he got the feeling she wanted his touch just as much as he wanted to give it. But he had drawn the line for himself and he damn well intended to stay on the right side of that line.
“Come,” he said abruptly when they were done training.
Patience nodded and sheathed her dagger. “Where are we going? Would ye like to take a walk or go riding?”
He’d like to do both. More than he wanted to do anything else. More than he wanted to see to his duties, which was precisely why he would not do either.
“I’m laird, Patience. I dunnae have time for walks and riding.” He hoped that would put an end to that. He did not want to hurt her.
