A Soldier's Salvation (Highland Heartbeats Book 7)(62)

The way he’d press his mouth to hers more firmly after the first taste, how the passion which had built between them over the course of their lives would suddenly break free and consume them both.

Her arms wound around his neck while his wound around her back, enclosing her in a tight embrace she sank joyfully into. Her head fell against his shoulder, her senses full of the scent and taste and even the sound of him as he groaned with every movement of their lips against one another’s.

Each groan increased a delightful tightness, the flickering of the flames she would swear were burning deep inside her body. Inside her soul.

Everything was right. Finally, all was as it was meant to be.

When he lifted his head, she strained toward him, hungry for more. His breathless chuckle broke her free of the daze she’d fallen under.

“A man needs to breathe, lass,” he whispered, smiling softly. “And there are limits to what he can endure without losing control of his better nature. We’ve had many happy times here—but I cannot imagine doing what I long for more than anything else on your aunt’s land.”

She giggled, turning her face to his shoulder to hide her burning cheeks.

“Besides,” he added, sounding solemn, “there’s something standing in our way. We aren’t yet wed.”

She looked up at him, hoping he meant what it sounded as though he meant. “You want to marry me?”

“Not the most expressive way I could imagine asking a lass to marry me—especially once I had always intended on marrying, ever since I was a wee lad—but yes. I can say with all certainty that I do wish to marry ye, Caitlin, if you’ll have me as your husband.”

“Oh, Rodric!” She was ready to sink into another one of his deep, delicious kisses, but he surprised her by dropping his arms from her waist.

His frown startled her, nearly stopping her heart.

“There’s still one thing we have yet to discuss,” he explained. “And you might not wish to carry on with what we’ve discussed once we’re through.”





29





She hardly dared ask. Did she really wish to know what he meant?

When he turned his back, her heart sank lower than ever. He couldn’t bear to look at her. What could be so wrong that he couldn’t meet her gaze?

She drew a deep breath and forced herself to ask. “What is it, Rodric? What could possibly make me rethink my wanting to marry you?”

“Oh, lass.” He looked up at the clear, blue sky—there was no trace of the storm which had torn through the day before, not a cloud visible. “There’s so much you do not know.”

“Tell me, then, if you feel you must.” She wasn’t entirely certain she wished to learn whatever it was, seeing as how it seemed to tear him apart. He punched one palm with the other fist, looking down at the ground now. He walked to the river, and she followed him dutifully, prepared to listen.

She loved him. He’d saved her life. She owed him that much.

“The questions you asked yesterday,” he reminded her, staring off across the river as he did. “You asked about the sort of men we were, what we did together. Why we traveled as we do.”

When he sat, she sat. Her feet were still bare after spending the night on her aunt’s floor, and she extended her legs until they touched the surface of the water. She felt horribly soiled, in need of a long bath and at least a fortnight’s sleep.

Rather than prompting him, she waited for him to continue. It was becoming clearer with every passing moment that he referred to the things he’d done in the past.

After his performance in the woods, using the dirk so quickly and efficiently to cut a man down, there was no doubt in her mind that he’d killed before—after the war had ended.

How did that make her feel?

“I’ve done things I’m ashamed to share with you,” he murmured, turning his head ever so slightly, so she could make out most of his face. “And I’m afraid I haven’t much to offer you in the way of a home or wealth. There’s still so much uncertainty.”

She frowned. “No home? What about your house?”

“My…?” He laughed softly. “Aye, I didna explain that far, did I? I won’t be taking over in Alan’s stead.”

“You won’t?”

He met her gaze, shaking his head. “I named Padraig leader instead.”

She laughed, clapping her hands in glee. “He’s perfect! You’re so clever to see it.”

“You see it, too?”

“Of course. It’s as if… he is so much like your father, but he has your sensibility as well. I couldn’t imagine a better choice.”

“Not even me?” he asked, feigning shock.

“Not even you—because I know you never wanted the position, whereas he’s at least gained experience after managing things for Alan.”

“Aye, which was exactly how I saw it.”

“We think alike, I suppose.”

Instead of turning to her for a kiss or a sweet word, he turned his face away again. “Even so, this means I have nothing to offer at all. We can live at the house—Padraig has already insisted upon it, in fact—but what good would that do? You’d live in a house not your own, one in which you’d have little say. You should have your own home, your own family.”